Maybe it was because I've eaten nothing but sugar and refined carbs for the last few days, or maybe it was the lack of a decent nights sleep. Whichever it was, I haven't laughed so hard in awhile.
I was sitting on the couch next to Jeremy while he was channel surfing. I had my new iPod-touch in my hands and was playing mahjong while listening to music. In general, not really paying attention to the man holding the remote at the other end of the sofa. Something on the t.v. caught my attention and I looked up.
"What are you watching?" I asked.
"Bond, James Bond," Jeremy answered in fairly good Sean Connery impression.
I was again totally absorbed in my new toy when I foolishly asked, "Awww, isn't there anything decent on?"
Sean replied, "You mean Bond isn't decent?!?"
Realizing my faux pas I quickly corrected, "Oh I didn't mean that."
So he started surfing some more and paused at the National Geographic Channel. Which, it just happened, was airing a documentary about some African tribe.
"Ahhh," Mr. Connery said. "Indigenous breasts. Now that's decent."
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Two Bananas
They sat together at school. I was informed of this fact by the petite six-year old girl on Monday, when I went to help Hannah's class make gingerbread houses. They sat together, and their names rhymed. The first-grader made doubly sure I knew these important facts. I have been hearing about this friend of Hannah's for months. It was a delight to finally meet her. I finally realized why every new stuffed animal, every Mii, every character on Nick Jr.com has now been named in honor.
"See, we're both Bananas. I'm Anna Banana, and she's Hannah Banana," declared Anna.
Of course. What else would they be?
"See, we're both Bananas. I'm Anna Banana, and she's Hannah Banana," declared Anna.
Of course. What else would they be?
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Yeah, I know...it's been awhile.
I'll share a quick story:
I walked upstairs to go to the bathroom and I smelled the tell-tale stink of nail polish.
"Are you playing with nail polish?" I asked, thinking this was a rhetorical question. I looked into the girls' room. They were waiting for Daddy to finish putting them to bed, supposedly, both in Ruthie's top bunk.
"No," Ruth said, succinctly. I went to the bathroom to do my business and think for a minute whether or not I believed her. The whole upstairs stunk. I wasn't home all evening. For all I knew the stench was left over from earlier. As I was debating, Hannah knocked on the door and sheepishly said, "Mama, Ruth and I were playing with nail polish." She knew what her fate might be for lying, and quickly calculated she might bail herself out with the truth.
So I lectured and disciplined Ruthie for lying, sneaking, and for using nail polish in one's bed. I let Hannah know she was also in trouble for playing with nail polish, but gave her praise for telling the truth. I let her know it "could have been worse." That finished, I sent them back upstairs to finish their bedtime routines.
A little bit later, Mr. Mel went up to put the girls to bed, and decided he was going be The Intimidator, giving yet another lecture on lying. "So, I hear you weren't honest with Mama about the nail polish. Lying is a very bad..."
PTHHHHFFFFFTTT! Hannah ripped a loud one. She giggled. Eyes wide as saucers staring at Daddy, she covered her mouth. Jeremy tried to hold back his laugh.
"People who lie..."
PBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hannah ripped another one, still trying to hold her giggles back with her hands. Jeremy took two deep breaths, turned his back on the girls to contain himself, and then started all over again.
"Ok, here's the deal. If we catch you ever lying again..."
Pbttttttht! (giggle)
"I will personally..."
Pfffffft Ptttttt (giggle)
"Uh..."
PBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBTTTTTTTTTT!
"BWAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAAAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Jeremy never did finish his lecture.
I walked upstairs to go to the bathroom and I smelled the tell-tale stink of nail polish.
"Are you playing with nail polish?" I asked, thinking this was a rhetorical question. I looked into the girls' room. They were waiting for Daddy to finish putting them to bed, supposedly, both in Ruthie's top bunk.
"No," Ruth said, succinctly. I went to the bathroom to do my business and think for a minute whether or not I believed her. The whole upstairs stunk. I wasn't home all evening. For all I knew the stench was left over from earlier. As I was debating, Hannah knocked on the door and sheepishly said, "Mama, Ruth and I were playing with nail polish." She knew what her fate might be for lying, and quickly calculated she might bail herself out with the truth.
So I lectured and disciplined Ruthie for lying, sneaking, and for using nail polish in one's bed. I let Hannah know she was also in trouble for playing with nail polish, but gave her praise for telling the truth. I let her know it "could have been worse." That finished, I sent them back upstairs to finish their bedtime routines.
A little bit later, Mr. Mel went up to put the girls to bed, and decided he was going be The Intimidator, giving yet another lecture on lying. "So, I hear you weren't honest with Mama about the nail polish. Lying is a very bad..."
PTHHHHFFFFFTTT! Hannah ripped a loud one. She giggled. Eyes wide as saucers staring at Daddy, she covered her mouth. Jeremy tried to hold back his laugh.
"People who lie..."
PBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hannah ripped another one, still trying to hold her giggles back with her hands. Jeremy took two deep breaths, turned his back on the girls to contain himself, and then started all over again.
"Ok, here's the deal. If we catch you ever lying again..."
Pbttttttht! (giggle)
"I will personally..."
Pfffffft Ptttttt (giggle)
"Uh..."
PBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBTTTTTTTTTT!
"BWAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAAAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Jeremy never did finish his lecture.
Monday, December 15, 2008
What ever shall I do with them?
I walked upstairs to go to the bathroom and I smelled the tell-tale stink of nail polish.
"Are you playing with nail polish?" I asked, thinking this was a rhetorical question. I looked into the girls' room. They were waiting for Daddy to finish putting them to bed, supposedly, both in Ruth's top bunk.
"No," Ruth said, succinctly. I went to the bathroom to do my business and think for a minute whether or not I believed her. The whole upstairs stunk. I wasn't home all evening. For all I knew the stench was left over from earlier. As I was debating, Hannah knocked on the door and sheepishly said, "Mama, Ruthie and I were playing with nailpolish." She knew what her fate might be for lying, and quickly calculated she might bail herself out with the truth.
So I lectured and disciplined Ruth for lying, sneaking, and for using nailpolish in one's bed. I let Hannah know she was also in trouble for playing with nailpolish, but gave her praise for telling the truth. I let her know it "could have been worse." That finished, I sent them back upstairs to finish their bedtime routines.
A little bit later, Jeremy went up to put the girls to bed, and decided he was going be The Intimidator, giving yet another lecture on lying. "So, I hear you weren't honest with Mama about the nail polish. Lying is a very bad..."
PTHHHHFFFFFTTT! Hannah ripped a loud one. She giggled. Eyes wide as saucers staring at Daddy, she covered her mouth. Jeremy tried to hold back his laugh.
"People who lie..."
PBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hannah ripped another one, still trying to hold her giggles back with her hands. Jeremy took two deep breaths, turned his back on the girls to contain himself, and then started all over again.
"Ok, here's the deal. If we catch you ever lying again..."
Pbttttttht! (giggle)
"I will personally..."
Pfffffft Ptttttt (giggle)
"Uh..."
PBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBTTTTTTTTTT!
"BWAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAAAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Jeremy never did finish his lecture.
"Are you playing with nail polish?" I asked, thinking this was a rhetorical question. I looked into the girls' room. They were waiting for Daddy to finish putting them to bed, supposedly, both in Ruth's top bunk.
"No," Ruth said, succinctly. I went to the bathroom to do my business and think for a minute whether or not I believed her. The whole upstairs stunk. I wasn't home all evening. For all I knew the stench was left over from earlier. As I was debating, Hannah knocked on the door and sheepishly said, "Mama, Ruthie and I were playing with nailpolish." She knew what her fate might be for lying, and quickly calculated she might bail herself out with the truth.
So I lectured and disciplined Ruth for lying, sneaking, and for using nailpolish in one's bed. I let Hannah know she was also in trouble for playing with nailpolish, but gave her praise for telling the truth. I let her know it "could have been worse." That finished, I sent them back upstairs to finish their bedtime routines.
A little bit later, Jeremy went up to put the girls to bed, and decided he was going be The Intimidator, giving yet another lecture on lying. "So, I hear you weren't honest with Mama about the nail polish. Lying is a very bad..."
PTHHHHFFFFFTTT! Hannah ripped a loud one. She giggled. Eyes wide as saucers staring at Daddy, she covered her mouth. Jeremy tried to hold back his laugh.
"People who lie..."
PBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hannah ripped another one, still trying to hold her giggles back with her hands. Jeremy took two deep breaths, turned his back on the girls to contain himself, and then started all over again.
"Ok, here's the deal. If we catch you ever lying again..."
Pbttttttht! (giggle)
"I will personally..."
Pfffffft Ptttttt (giggle)
"Uh..."
PBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBTTTTTTTTTT!
"BWAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAAAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Jeremy never did finish his lecture.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Where in the world is...Canada???
Meaning no offense to the Canadians, I feel the need to say, Canada has been a pain in my side for the past few weeks.
For social studies, Joshua had to re-create the entire map of canada. He was given an 8 1/2" x 11" photocopy of Canada. He had to draw a grid on said photocopy. Then he had to draw the same grid, double sized on a rather large piece of paper. Joshua was expected to draw the outline of the Canadian landscape, which, my OCD son did, very meticulously. It was perfection. Canada should be so proud. Meanwhile, Jeremy and I were pulling out our collective head hairs, or at least having them turn grey because Joshua's perfection was costing him valuable time. The due date lingered in the near future, and it didn't look as if he was going to ever finish rendering the outline of the map.
Over Thanksgiving, we went away, and Joshua spent his vacation drawing,
and drawing
and drawing
and drawing.
Until one day, he finally finished the outline. We cheered. All of us. Even Ruthie and Hannah.
And we didn't see Canada for about a week. Suddenly, in the back of Jeremy's mind, this niggling thought made him wonder why we hadn't seen Canada for a week, when up to that point, we saw Canada every single day for at least two hours per day. Suspicious, Jeremy asked Joshua, "Um Josh, Where's your map? Don't you have to color in the provinces and label stuff?"
"Huh?" Joshua said with his typical deer in the headlights expression. "OHHHH the MAAAAAAP! Yeah, The map, um. Uh. Ummmm. I don't know." He started his standard crying and freak-fest. "OH NO!!!!!!! WHERE'S MY MAP! IT'S DUE ON WEDNESDAY!!! I KNOW I HAD IT IN MY BACKPACK. HAVE YOU SEEN IT? HAVE YOU SEEN IT? HAVE YOU SEEN IT?"
"Calm down. Settle down. Joshua knock it off," I threatened as he tossed the house without really looking for his map. "Maybe you took it to school."
"Yeah! Maybe I did!"
"Ok, Son. Here's the deal. You don't find the map at school on Monday. You're restarting the project. I don't care if you only have three days until it's due. Something is better than nothing," Jeremy said. Joshua knows he's in deep when Daddy calls him "Son." His eyes grew big as saucers, as he weakly nodded.
Monday afternoon, he came home from school and I immediately asked him if he found his map. "No," he replied, distressed.
"Then you'll restart your project."
"I'm just going to look for an hour more around home."
"NO. You. Will. Not. It took you forever to draw the map in the first place. You will not waste another hour looking for it. You will start the Canada Project over again."
He attempted to get into my face. He tried arguing. He nearly lost his life.
About thirty minutes later, I saw this strange paper sticking out of our humongous mound of mail, bills, and school work that sits on our kitchen counter. Pulling it out, I unfolded it revealed Canada in all its glory one more time. "I found your map!" I hollered out to Joshua.
"YOU DID?!??" YAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Joshua shouted as he bounded down the stairs like a herd of elephants. Happy as a clam, The Boy added his labels, colored in his provinces, and managed to finish putting Canada together barely in time.
Wednesday morning was a Band Morning, and on Band Mornings, I carpool two other sixth graders. They got into the car with their maps and Joshua took one look and cringed. My heart dropped to my stomach. "You mean we had to color in the water, label it "Canada" and draw a compass too?" Joshua asked his classmates.
I sighed. "Do you mean to tell me you didn't read the directions thoroughly?" I asked. He had the wisdom to look sheepish. "Well, you have fifteen minutes before morning announcements. Maybe you can at least label your map "Canada" and put your compass on. You'll only lose a point or two for failing to color in the massive amount of water."
I watched the kids walk through the school doors and sighed the maternal sigh of relief that signals the end of a major school project. I thought nothing more of Canada for the rest of the day. I even felt rather light and carefree. Until The Boy came home.
He rushed through the door in a panic, "Did you happen to see The Map in the car?"
"What. do. you. mean?" I asked through clenched teeth.
"My map. Of Canada? I have to finish it and take it back to school" He asked smartly. He nearly died a second time.
"Don't take the tone with me, Son. I saw you walk through those doors with your map. It's gotta be somewhere at school." Joshua must have had a real death wish. He had the gall to ask me to take him back up to school so he could look for it again. "You've got two feet," I said, my teeth clenching tighter. "Walk."
I was a little frustrated with his Social Studies teacher. I couldn't figure out why she'd make him bring it back home for three lousy little parts to the project. Just take the points off, I thought. As Joshua was up at his school frantically searching, I decided to try and see if his teacher had left for the day yet.
"Hi, This is Joshua's Mom. He's up at the school right now looking for his map."
"He's here now?" his teacher asked.
"Yes. I know he walked in the doors with it. I know he had band this morning. I was just hoping when you see him, maybe directing him towards the band room to look for the map. By the way, why does he have to bring it back home to finish it? I thought it was finished." I lied a bit through my teeth.
"I never even saw the map. He never turned it in," She replied.
"He never turned it in?" I wanted to beat my head against the wall. In the space of about four hours from the time he entered the building to the time he had Social Studies Joshua managed to lose Canada. I sighed. I told the teacher about the family propensity to wander around aimlessly with items in their hands until they just set it down. It's a terrible affliction that affects Jeremy, Joshua, and Ruthie. Hannah and I are the only ones that ever know where anything is, where anything belongs, and what we've done with our stuff after it's been in our hands. Canada could have been ANYWHERE in his elementary school. I sighed again. "So, if he doesn't find it. I guess you should just give him a zero. Because if he loses a letter grade for each day it's late, he'll have a zero anyway. You have no idea how long this map took him to make. He'll never have another one made by the end of this week, even."
"I can't give him a zero!" She said incredulous that I'd even suggest such an idea. "The Map is worth 100 points. He'll fail social studies! If he doesn't find the map, maybe I can give him some other assignment to do. Because he has to turn in something."
"That sounds more than fair to me. Well, when you see Josh, just see if he can get into the band..." I got cut off by The Boy walking in the back door, map in hand. "You. Brought. The. Map. Home. Why did you bring the map home?" I asked, too tired to care anymore. I forgot I was holding the phone and his teacher was on the other side. She started to laugh.
"He brought it back home?"
"Yes. I can send him back up."
"No. No. That's ok. I'm on my way out. Just have him turn it in tomorrow. I won't take any points off since he does have the map."
"Thank you so much. I am sooo sorry."
Joshua then proceeded to open up The Map and started to finish coloring the water. I beat my head a few times against a wall.
Canada, once again safe in his backpack, Joshua went to Chorus today. Here's hoping he doesn't lose it again.
For social studies, Joshua had to re-create the entire map of canada. He was given an 8 1/2" x 11" photocopy of Canada. He had to draw a grid on said photocopy. Then he had to draw the same grid, double sized on a rather large piece of paper. Joshua was expected to draw the outline of the Canadian landscape, which, my OCD son did, very meticulously. It was perfection. Canada should be so proud. Meanwhile, Jeremy and I were pulling out our collective head hairs, or at least having them turn grey because Joshua's perfection was costing him valuable time. The due date lingered in the near future, and it didn't look as if he was going to ever finish rendering the outline of the map.
Over Thanksgiving, we went away, and Joshua spent his vacation drawing,
and drawing
and drawing
and drawing.
Until one day, he finally finished the outline. We cheered. All of us. Even Ruthie and Hannah.
And we didn't see Canada for about a week. Suddenly, in the back of Jeremy's mind, this niggling thought made him wonder why we hadn't seen Canada for a week, when up to that point, we saw Canada every single day for at least two hours per day. Suspicious, Jeremy asked Joshua, "Um Josh, Where's your map? Don't you have to color in the provinces and label stuff?"
"Huh?" Joshua said with his typical deer in the headlights expression. "OHHHH the MAAAAAAP! Yeah, The map, um. Uh. Ummmm. I don't know." He started his standard crying and freak-fest. "OH NO!!!!!!! WHERE'S MY MAP! IT'S DUE ON WEDNESDAY!!! I KNOW I HAD IT IN MY BACKPACK. HAVE YOU SEEN IT? HAVE YOU SEEN IT? HAVE YOU SEEN IT?"
"Calm down. Settle down. Joshua knock it off," I threatened as he tossed the house without really looking for his map. "Maybe you took it to school."
"Yeah! Maybe I did!"
"Ok, Son. Here's the deal. You don't find the map at school on Monday. You're restarting the project. I don't care if you only have three days until it's due. Something is better than nothing," Jeremy said. Joshua knows he's in deep when Daddy calls him "Son." His eyes grew big as saucers, as he weakly nodded.
Monday afternoon, he came home from school and I immediately asked him if he found his map. "No," he replied, distressed.
"Then you'll restart your project."
"I'm just going to look for an hour more around home."
"NO. You. Will. Not. It took you forever to draw the map in the first place. You will not waste another hour looking for it. You will start the Canada Project over again."
He attempted to get into my face. He tried arguing. He nearly lost his life.
About thirty minutes later, I saw this strange paper sticking out of our humongous mound of mail, bills, and school work that sits on our kitchen counter. Pulling it out, I unfolded it revealed Canada in all its glory one more time. "I found your map!" I hollered out to Joshua.
"YOU DID?!??" YAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Joshua shouted as he bounded down the stairs like a herd of elephants. Happy as a clam, The Boy added his labels, colored in his provinces, and managed to finish putting Canada together barely in time.
Wednesday morning was a Band Morning, and on Band Mornings, I carpool two other sixth graders. They got into the car with their maps and Joshua took one look and cringed. My heart dropped to my stomach. "You mean we had to color in the water, label it "Canada" and draw a compass too?" Joshua asked his classmates.
I sighed. "Do you mean to tell me you didn't read the directions thoroughly?" I asked. He had the wisdom to look sheepish. "Well, you have fifteen minutes before morning announcements. Maybe you can at least label your map "Canada" and put your compass on. You'll only lose a point or two for failing to color in the massive amount of water."
I watched the kids walk through the school doors and sighed the maternal sigh of relief that signals the end of a major school project. I thought nothing more of Canada for the rest of the day. I even felt rather light and carefree. Until The Boy came home.
He rushed through the door in a panic, "Did you happen to see The Map in the car?"
"What. do. you. mean?" I asked through clenched teeth.
"My map. Of Canada? I have to finish it and take it back to school" He asked smartly. He nearly died a second time.
"Don't take the tone with me, Son. I saw you walk through those doors with your map. It's gotta be somewhere at school." Joshua must have had a real death wish. He had the gall to ask me to take him back up to school so he could look for it again. "You've got two feet," I said, my teeth clenching tighter. "Walk."
I was a little frustrated with his Social Studies teacher. I couldn't figure out why she'd make him bring it back home for three lousy little parts to the project. Just take the points off, I thought. As Joshua was up at his school frantically searching, I decided to try and see if his teacher had left for the day yet.
"Hi, This is Joshua's Mom. He's up at the school right now looking for his map."
"He's here now?" his teacher asked.
"Yes. I know he walked in the doors with it. I know he had band this morning. I was just hoping when you see him, maybe directing him towards the band room to look for the map. By the way, why does he have to bring it back home to finish it? I thought it was finished." I lied a bit through my teeth.
"I never even saw the map. He never turned it in," She replied.
"He never turned it in?" I wanted to beat my head against the wall. In the space of about four hours from the time he entered the building to the time he had Social Studies Joshua managed to lose Canada. I sighed. I told the teacher about the family propensity to wander around aimlessly with items in their hands until they just set it down. It's a terrible affliction that affects Jeremy, Joshua, and Ruthie. Hannah and I are the only ones that ever know where anything is, where anything belongs, and what we've done with our stuff after it's been in our hands. Canada could have been ANYWHERE in his elementary school. I sighed again. "So, if he doesn't find it. I guess you should just give him a zero. Because if he loses a letter grade for each day it's late, he'll have a zero anyway. You have no idea how long this map took him to make. He'll never have another one made by the end of this week, even."
"I can't give him a zero!" She said incredulous that I'd even suggest such an idea. "The Map is worth 100 points. He'll fail social studies! If he doesn't find the map, maybe I can give him some other assignment to do. Because he has to turn in something."
"That sounds more than fair to me. Well, when you see Josh, just see if he can get into the band..." I got cut off by The Boy walking in the back door, map in hand. "You. Brought. The. Map. Home. Why did you bring the map home?" I asked, too tired to care anymore. I forgot I was holding the phone and his teacher was on the other side. She started to laugh.
"He brought it back home?"
"Yes. I can send him back up."
"No. No. That's ok. I'm on my way out. Just have him turn it in tomorrow. I won't take any points off since he does have the map."
"Thank you so much. I am sooo sorry."
Joshua then proceeded to open up The Map and started to finish coloring the water. I beat my head a few times against a wall.
Canada, once again safe in his backpack, Joshua went to Chorus today. Here's hoping he doesn't lose it again.
Sunday, December 07, 2008
Birthday Week, Day One
Some hate their birthdays. I love mine. I love it so much, I stretch it out as long as I can. It's my birthday week. No wait, it's my birthday month. It's a month of using my birthday as an excuse to do anything I want and not feel guilt. "It's my birthday, I'm gonna sit at home and read all day." "It's my birthday, I'm not cooking and we're going out to eat." Jeremy says we go out to eat a lot during my "birthday." Hmm.
December is not my birthday month, but it is Joshua's, and since I've set the example, we've started the celebrations early. Last night we took him out to eat, where ever he wanted. He wanted to go to Friendlies. The kids always want to go to Friendlies. It's not a bad place, just gets a little old after awhile.
After we ate, we walked to the front register to pay our bill. There was a huge "Crane" game in the front filled with medium sized stuffed crap. Ok, some of the animals were kinda, sorta cute, but mostly it was crap. Joshua begged, "Please, can I play the crane. Please, Please?"
Normally I say no. "Well, ok, it's you're birthday and it's only 50 cents. You only get one shot though."
"YESSSSSSS!!!!!" Josh shouted. He studiously planned his strategy, talking it through with Ruthie. That one is too buried. This one is sticking out, but nothing good to grab onto. That one might be easy, but I don't really like it. Finally they settled on the monkey with the santa hat, after Jeremy said, "Just put the coins in already, and play." It was snowing outside, and he was feeling twitchy about driving home. It had just started collecting on the roads and he wanted to avoid the idiots who continue to drive at normal speeds despite the fact that the roads are not quite plowed and salted.
Joshua inserted the coins. He carefully and meticulously directed the Claw towards Santa Monkey. He hit the button and the Claw grabbed onto the monkey and picked it up. Holding our collective breaths, we watched the monkey drag across the other stuffed crap. The Claw dropped the monkey into the bin, and the kids cheered.
"I was sure that it would drop it when I saw it dragging over the other toys," Jeremy said.
"Yeah, me too," I replied.
The excitement in the car was almost uncontainable. The kids chattered about what Joshua would name the monkey. Jeremy leaned over to me and said, "Spank."
Joshua said, "Yeah, Spank would be a good name for the monkey."
"Uh, no. You cannot name the monkey Spank." I glared at Jeremy who was silently laughing so hard he was shaking.
"Why?" asked Ruthie.
"Because. I. said. so." I glared even harder at Jeremy who was now wiping tears from his eyes.
"Yeah," he added trying to sound like he wasn't still laughing at his own wit. "Spank wouldn't be a good name for the monkey."
Subject matter dropped, the kids settled on the name "Zub." We returned home. The Boy opened his birthday present, Mario Kart for the Wii, and proceeded to talk about his good fortune over Zub the Monkey, declaring this to be "The Best Birthday Ever."
This morning, the kids were still feverishly chatting over The Crane.
"I still can't believe I won," Joshua said.
"I know!" Ruthie added.
Hannah in her six-year-old wisdom said, "That's because, Josh, you were One With The Crane. You became The Crane."
December is not my birthday month, but it is Joshua's, and since I've set the example, we've started the celebrations early. Last night we took him out to eat, where ever he wanted. He wanted to go to Friendlies. The kids always want to go to Friendlies. It's not a bad place, just gets a little old after awhile.
After we ate, we walked to the front register to pay our bill. There was a huge "Crane" game in the front filled with medium sized stuffed crap. Ok, some of the animals were kinda, sorta cute, but mostly it was crap. Joshua begged, "Please, can I play the crane. Please, Please?"
Normally I say no. "Well, ok, it's you're birthday and it's only 50 cents. You only get one shot though."
"YESSSSSSS!!!!!" Josh shouted. He studiously planned his strategy, talking it through with Ruthie. That one is too buried. This one is sticking out, but nothing good to grab onto. That one might be easy, but I don't really like it. Finally they settled on the monkey with the santa hat, after Jeremy said, "Just put the coins in already, and play." It was snowing outside, and he was feeling twitchy about driving home. It had just started collecting on the roads and he wanted to avoid the idiots who continue to drive at normal speeds despite the fact that the roads are not quite plowed and salted.
Joshua inserted the coins. He carefully and meticulously directed the Claw towards Santa Monkey. He hit the button and the Claw grabbed onto the monkey and picked it up. Holding our collective breaths, we watched the monkey drag across the other stuffed crap. The Claw dropped the monkey into the bin, and the kids cheered.
"I was sure that it would drop it when I saw it dragging over the other toys," Jeremy said.
"Yeah, me too," I replied.
The excitement in the car was almost uncontainable. The kids chattered about what Joshua would name the monkey. Jeremy leaned over to me and said, "Spank."
Joshua said, "Yeah, Spank would be a good name for the monkey."
"Uh, no. You cannot name the monkey Spank." I glared at Jeremy who was silently laughing so hard he was shaking.
"Why?" asked Ruthie.
"Because. I. said. so." I glared even harder at Jeremy who was now wiping tears from his eyes.
"Yeah," he added trying to sound like he wasn't still laughing at his own wit. "Spank wouldn't be a good name for the monkey."
Subject matter dropped, the kids settled on the name "Zub." We returned home. The Boy opened his birthday present, Mario Kart for the Wii, and proceeded to talk about his good fortune over Zub the Monkey, declaring this to be "The Best Birthday Ever."
This morning, the kids were still feverishly chatting over The Crane.
"I still can't believe I won," Joshua said.
"I know!" Ruthie added.
Hannah in her six-year-old wisdom said, "That's because, Josh, you were One With The Crane. You became The Crane."
Monday, December 01, 2008
New Toys!
And it's not even Christmas yet!
My new toy is a digital camcorder. Now I can really bug the world with videos and such. It's a low-end deal, but a step up from the video clips my daughter's point and shoot camera can make. I'm actually impressed with the quality for the price we paid. I'm really surprised. The kids have been posing and making lots of funny faces and we learn how to use the camera.
We also got a new computer today. This one, that I'm currently typing on, is at least five years old...maybe older. Jeremy is standing behind me getting the new puter all set up. I'm a little intimidated by Vista's look and feel, but I'm sure I'll get the hang of it. Eventually.
Jeremy was trying to shut the computer down and accidentally put it in hibernation mode. He said, "Oops. I didn't mean to make it hibernate."
"Do you know how to 'wake it up?' " I asked.
Hannah said, "Yeah, sure. You wait till spring. 'Cuz you know, it's hibernating. Get it? Hibernating? Spring? Get it?"
Rim shot.
Merry Christmas to me!
My new toy is a digital camcorder. Now I can really bug the world with videos and such. It's a low-end deal, but a step up from the video clips my daughter's point and shoot camera can make. I'm actually impressed with the quality for the price we paid. I'm really surprised. The kids have been posing and making lots of funny faces and we learn how to use the camera.
We also got a new computer today. This one, that I'm currently typing on, is at least five years old...maybe older. Jeremy is standing behind me getting the new puter all set up. I'm a little intimidated by Vista's look and feel, but I'm sure I'll get the hang of it. Eventually.
Jeremy was trying to shut the computer down and accidentally put it in hibernation mode. He said, "Oops. I didn't mean to make it hibernate."
"Do you know how to 'wake it up?' " I asked.
Hannah said, "Yeah, sure. You wait till spring. 'Cuz you know, it's hibernating. Get it? Hibernating? Spring? Get it?"
Rim shot.
Merry Christmas to me!
Friday, November 21, 2008
Bedtime Rituals
On Tuesdays and Thursdays, Jeremy works a second job teaching computer programming night courses, which means he doesn't come home until a little after 9pm. This also means, I'm supposed to be the one putting the kids to bed on those nights. And it stands to reason that these same said kids will attempt whatever they possibly can to stay up until Daddy walks into the door. After all, they haven't seen him since 7:30 that morning.
As much as Jeremy pretends to be disappointed in me for letting them stay up late, he is equally thrilled to see them when he walked into the door. Last night, being boring predictable mom, I started a reading a book to them, "The Akhenaten Adventure" from The Children of the Lamp series. I figured a story before bed would be a great way to settle down. I had no sooner closed the book, and told them to go upstairs to brush their teeth when Jeremy came home.
"DADDDY!!!!!!!!!" they cried and swarmed him before he could take off his jacket and deposit his laptop case on the floor. "Daddy! DADDY DAAAADDDY!!!!!!!!"
"I missed you"
"We were reading a book"
"Did you have a good day at work?"
"We had beans and rice for dinner."
"I got my drums practiced"
"What did you have for dinner."
"STOP! I was talking to Daddy first!"
"No I was!"
"NO ME!"
"GUYS! You're always talking when I'm trying to talk!"
"Can we do barrel races?"
Barrel races? Oohhhh barrow races, as in wheelbarrow races. Uh, hmm. Wheelbarrow race?
Now, from the time Joshua was little, Jeremy had bedtime duty because I was too tired by the end of the day. I was home alone with the kid, all day, every day. One more moment with him was going to risk shortening his life span. It was a survival thing. And Jeremy really liked bedtime with the kids. Typically, after dinner, he takes over, and I disappear. Quickly.
I am not usually privy to the bedtime antics of the household. So I was a bit confused when they started jumping up and down and cheering, "Yeah! Barrel races! Lets have barrel races! Please please please!??"
Jeremy said, "Ooooh kaaaaay, but this time Hannah, I wanna see if you can actually make it up the stairs."
"I can do it. I can! I can!"
"Hannah you can't do it. Mama, watch this, she'll get about two steps up, and can't make it," Ruthie said.
"Yeah, she never makes it all the way up." Joshua added with his almost-twelve year old wisdom.
I held my breath. The mom in me wasn't too sure I really wanted to know about these "barrell races" and yet, it was clear this wasnt the first time. I was pretty sure Jeremy wouldn't do anything that would risk their lives. At least fairly sure. I decided to withhold judgement until I saw what was really going to happen.
The goal was to be the fastest walking up the stairs on their hands while Daddy held their feet.
"Me first, Me first!" Ruthie bellowed. Jeremy picked up her feet in his hands, and she started walking wheel-barrow style towards the stairs, and scaled them one by one. I heard her giggle once she made it to the top, followed by Jeremy's thunka-thunka-thunk as he made his way back down the stairs. Next he grabbed Hannah's feet. By this point, for better or worse, I was getting into spirit of the game. After a wobbly start, Hannah moved up the first two steps and hit the landing. Ruth started chanting from the top of the steps, "Hannah! Hannah! Hannah!" Joshua began chanting at the bottom, "Com'mon Hannah. You can do it! Com'mon! You can make it!" All of a sudden he shouted "YEAH!!!!!!!" Hannah made it to the second floor for the first time. Finally it came Joshua's turn.
"Oh no," Jeremy said as Joshua lay on the living room floor on his belly, waiting for his feet to be picked up. "You start out in the kitchen to be fair." Joshua hopped up as only the young can do, and leaped out to the kitchen. Joshua never walks. He runs, leaps, bounds, and gallops. The boys got into their positions and I called out, "On your marks! Get set! GO!!!!!!"
Joshua's hands pounded out on the floor a fast rhythm, slapping down hard as he tried to muscle himself towards the steps. His breath came out in loud gasps as he flew out from the kitchen, past me sitting on the couch, and up the stairs. Even with a handicap, he was determined to win. At the top of the stairs, I could hear the girls jumping up and down and shouting "Go Joshua! Go! GO! GOOOO!!!!!" I heard a loud thump when he reached the top as his body flopped to the floor. Jeremy kissed them all goodnight, sent them to their beds, and came down the stairs still huffing and puffing.
"Now there's a workout" he said as he flopped onto the couch.
"You know," I turned to him and said, "Most people probably don't do wheel barrow races up the stairs to put their kids to bed."
"Well, I'm not most people." He replied.
Thank God for that.
As much as Jeremy pretends to be disappointed in me for letting them stay up late, he is equally thrilled to see them when he walked into the door. Last night, being boring predictable mom, I started a reading a book to them, "The Akhenaten Adventure" from The Children of the Lamp series. I figured a story before bed would be a great way to settle down. I had no sooner closed the book, and told them to go upstairs to brush their teeth when Jeremy came home.
"DADDDY!!!!!!!!!" they cried and swarmed him before he could take off his jacket and deposit his laptop case on the floor. "Daddy! DADDY DAAAADDDY!!!!!!!!"
"I missed you"
"We were reading a book"
"Did you have a good day at work?"
"We had beans and rice for dinner."
"I got my drums practiced"
"What did you have for dinner."
"STOP! I was talking to Daddy first!"
"No I was!"
"NO ME!"
"GUYS! You're always talking when I'm trying to talk!"
"Can we do barrel races?"
Barrel races? Oohhhh barrow races, as in wheelbarrow races. Uh, hmm. Wheelbarrow race?
Now, from the time Joshua was little, Jeremy had bedtime duty because I was too tired by the end of the day. I was home alone with the kid, all day, every day. One more moment with him was going to risk shortening his life span. It was a survival thing. And Jeremy really liked bedtime with the kids. Typically, after dinner, he takes over, and I disappear. Quickly.
I am not usually privy to the bedtime antics of the household. So I was a bit confused when they started jumping up and down and cheering, "Yeah! Barrel races! Lets have barrel races! Please please please!??"
Jeremy said, "Ooooh kaaaaay, but this time Hannah, I wanna see if you can actually make it up the stairs."
"I can do it. I can! I can!"
"Hannah you can't do it. Mama, watch this, she'll get about two steps up, and can't make it," Ruthie said.
"Yeah, she never makes it all the way up." Joshua added with his almost-twelve year old wisdom.
I held my breath. The mom in me wasn't too sure I really wanted to know about these "barrell races" and yet, it was clear this wasnt the first time. I was pretty sure Jeremy wouldn't do anything that would risk their lives. At least fairly sure. I decided to withhold judgement until I saw what was really going to happen.
The goal was to be the fastest walking up the stairs on their hands while Daddy held their feet.
"Me first, Me first!" Ruthie bellowed. Jeremy picked up her feet in his hands, and she started walking wheel-barrow style towards the stairs, and scaled them one by one. I heard her giggle once she made it to the top, followed by Jeremy's thunka-thunka-thunk as he made his way back down the stairs. Next he grabbed Hannah's feet. By this point, for better or worse, I was getting into spirit of the game. After a wobbly start, Hannah moved up the first two steps and hit the landing. Ruth started chanting from the top of the steps, "Hannah! Hannah! Hannah!" Joshua began chanting at the bottom, "Com'mon Hannah. You can do it! Com'mon! You can make it!" All of a sudden he shouted "YEAH!!!!!!!" Hannah made it to the second floor for the first time. Finally it came Joshua's turn.
"Oh no," Jeremy said as Joshua lay on the living room floor on his belly, waiting for his feet to be picked up. "You start out in the kitchen to be fair." Joshua hopped up as only the young can do, and leaped out to the kitchen. Joshua never walks. He runs, leaps, bounds, and gallops. The boys got into their positions and I called out, "On your marks! Get set! GO!!!!!!"
Joshua's hands pounded out on the floor a fast rhythm, slapping down hard as he tried to muscle himself towards the steps. His breath came out in loud gasps as he flew out from the kitchen, past me sitting on the couch, and up the stairs. Even with a handicap, he was determined to win. At the top of the stairs, I could hear the girls jumping up and down and shouting "Go Joshua! Go! GO! GOOOO!!!!!" I heard a loud thump when he reached the top as his body flopped to the floor. Jeremy kissed them all goodnight, sent them to their beds, and came down the stairs still huffing and puffing.
"Now there's a workout" he said as he flopped onto the couch.
"You know," I turned to him and said, "Most people probably don't do wheel barrow races up the stairs to put their kids to bed."
"Well, I'm not most people." He replied.
Thank God for that.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Christmas is coming...
And I have a carol stuck in my head. Not just any carol. Not a nice one about a restful, peaceful evening with shepherds and angels or anything. Nor a lullaby about some kid in a feed bin. Oh no, I've got Good King Wenceslas stuck in my head. Why? Because apparently the kids are singing it in chorus. And apparently they were singing it this morning. Because Jeremy decided to belt it out while shaving:
"Good King Wenceslas looked out, 'pon the feast of Steven
And the snow lay round about deep and crisp and even!"
He paused for a minute then said, "You know they wrote that line just so they had something to rhyme with Steven."
He started singing again, the melody of the second line:
"And when the bus comes round about, then I will be lea-vin...'"
"everyone gathered round are just a bunch of heathens..."
"And when my stomach gets upset then I'll be a hea-vin'..."
Gonna stop writing now, and finish up my wea-vin'.
"Good King Wenceslas looked out, 'pon the feast of Steven
And the snow lay round about deep and crisp and even!"
He paused for a minute then said, "You know they wrote that line just so they had something to rhyme with Steven."
He started singing again, the melody of the second line:
"And when the bus comes round about, then I will be lea-vin...'"
"everyone gathered round are just a bunch of heathens..."
"And when my stomach gets upset then I'll be a hea-vin'..."
Gonna stop writing now, and finish up my wea-vin'.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Generation Gap
Joshua came home from drum lessons with a new book a few months ago called I've Got You Under My Skins. He's been working on learning swing/jazz for about a year. His teacher felt it was time to step it up a bit and learn how to read jazz charts. The book is used in our area for the county jazz band try-outs, or rather, each year a different song from the book is chosen. A student cannot try out for counties until ninth grade. Joshua is in sixth.
One day, a few weeks ago, The Boy was struggling with a particular piece that the book is titled from, "I've Got You Under my Skin." So, Jeremy decided to search you tube to find Old Blue Eyes singing.
As soon as it came up, Joshua nearly shouted, "You mean this is a REAL SONG?!??"
"Yeah. Didn't you know? Irv Cottler, the guy who wrote your book, was Frank Sinatra's drummer?"
"Who's Frank Sinatra?" Josh asked.
One day, a few weeks ago, The Boy was struggling with a particular piece that the book is titled from, "I've Got You Under my Skin." So, Jeremy decided to search you tube to find Old Blue Eyes singing.
As soon as it came up, Joshua nearly shouted, "You mean this is a REAL SONG?!??"
"Yeah. Didn't you know? Irv Cottler, the guy who wrote your book, was Frank Sinatra's drummer?"
"Who's Frank Sinatra?" Josh asked.
Sunday, November 02, 2008
Didje This
Only in my house on an early Sunday morning would I walk into the bathroom to find my husband playing the didjeridoo into the bathtub.
"It's got great accoustics in here."
'Nuff said.
"It's got great accoustics in here."
'Nuff said.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Men!
Thursday night after the ER incident Jeremy and I were bickering.
"You still look terrible. Promise me you won't go to work tomorrow."
"But it's the annual soup making contest," Jeremy protested.
"Seriously? You're going to kill yourself to get to work all over a soup making contest?" I asked incredulously.
He had the gall to look sheepish. I also knew he was stubborn enough to go to work just to submit his soup. Mind you, the man makes good soup, but nothing worth making himself more sick over. But I know this man. I've been married to him for thirteen and a half years, and I know when he gets a bug up his butt, there's no changing his mind.
"Fine. If I take the soup to work for you, will you promise to stay home and make a doctor's appointment?" I asked.
He did settle on this compromise, and set about to making his soup. On Friday, I took the crock pot to his place of employment, and picked up his laptop so he could work from home. The receptionist told me he owed me a dinner. The rest of the company just looked at me if I was crazy. I didn't care. I was willing to do anything to keep him home on Friday. I stopped by his boss' office to let him know I was getting the laptop.
"I had to bargain with him to stay home. I brought his soup in."
"Yeah," his boss said as we laughed, "He was worrying about that on the way to the ER yesterday when I was taking him. Tell him I can do any follow-ups for him, and that he doesn't have to work."
"I'll tell him, but I doubt I'll be able to convince him not to work from home," I said.
When I got home, I found out the doctor wanted to schedule him for a stress test and a few other things. I also discovered his boss called him and told him not to work. Thankfully, he listened to his boss when he wouldn't listen to me. On Sunday, he was still feeling kind of lousy. I tried to talk him into staying home today. He refused. I asked him if it was because he was low on sick days. That's when I found out he has twelve, count them, TWELVE, sick days stored up. Sigh.
His soup didn't win.
"You still look terrible. Promise me you won't go to work tomorrow."
"But it's the annual soup making contest," Jeremy protested.
"Seriously? You're going to kill yourself to get to work all over a soup making contest?" I asked incredulously.
He had the gall to look sheepish. I also knew he was stubborn enough to go to work just to submit his soup. Mind you, the man makes good soup, but nothing worth making himself more sick over. But I know this man. I've been married to him for thirteen and a half years, and I know when he gets a bug up his butt, there's no changing his mind.
"Fine. If I take the soup to work for you, will you promise to stay home and make a doctor's appointment?" I asked.
He did settle on this compromise, and set about to making his soup. On Friday, I took the crock pot to his place of employment, and picked up his laptop so he could work from home. The receptionist told me he owed me a dinner. The rest of the company just looked at me if I was crazy. I didn't care. I was willing to do anything to keep him home on Friday. I stopped by his boss' office to let him know I was getting the laptop.
"I had to bargain with him to stay home. I brought his soup in."
"Yeah," his boss said as we laughed, "He was worrying about that on the way to the ER yesterday when I was taking him. Tell him I can do any follow-ups for him, and that he doesn't have to work."
"I'll tell him, but I doubt I'll be able to convince him not to work from home," I said.
When I got home, I found out the doctor wanted to schedule him for a stress test and a few other things. I also discovered his boss called him and told him not to work. Thankfully, he listened to his boss when he wouldn't listen to me. On Sunday, he was still feeling kind of lousy. I tried to talk him into staying home today. He refused. I asked him if it was because he was low on sick days. That's when I found out he has twelve, count them, TWELVE, sick days stored up. Sigh.
His soup didn't win.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
My not-so-great day
The phone call felt surreal, like out of a Dali painting, only worse. I got out of the water after teaching my classes, walked to my bag to get my change of clothes, when I heard the music chirping out of my purse. The number was Jeremy's, but not the voice.
"Hi, am I talking to Melanie?"
"Uh, yes," I answered tentatively.
"This is John Doe, Jeremy's boss. I just took him to the ER. He left his phone by accident at work. That's how I knew your number. Don't worry. He seems OK. He was having chest pain, heart palpitations, and dizziness. They took him back right away and did an EKG. Really, I think he was more embarrassed about being pushed in a wheel chair than anything."
"Oh, Ok. thanks. I'll be over there as soon as I can."
I got to the ER right at the doctor walked in to talk to Jeremy about the initial blood tests they ran.
"Your blood work is back. One of the tests we did is an indicator of blood clots. Because of your age, and family history, and symptoms, I thought looking for a clot was more probable, so we ran the test. It is a perfect indicator for a negative, meaning if you get a negative, definitely NO clot. But if it is positive, there are lots of things that can cause a positive. So we have to run more tests. In your case, your numbers were six time higher than the norm. We're going to do a CT Scan of your lungs, and then an ultrasound of your leg to make sure you don't have a pulmonary embolism."
Eeks! So I asked the very first question any mother would ask, "How long is this going to take? My kids get home from school at three o'clock. I need to know if I have to find a babysitter."
"Get a sitter."
Okey Dokie.
Calling for a sitter prompted mass-hysteria in my family and Jeremy's family. He really wanted to keep it quiet, in case it was nothing. But since my first phone call to my sister ended up in her voice mail, I had to call my father-in-law. He called Jeremy's sister. Then, my sister called me back, I told her everything I knew at that point, she called my parents.
Meanwhile, we waited in a three-person room where the curtains did nothing other than simiulate the sense of privacy. In reality, as in all curtained hospital ER rooms, every last cotton pickin' word was fodder for the other patients. In curtain number two, we had Mr-I-ODed-on-Tylenol-but-not-really-that's-just-what-I-told-the-doctors-because-I'm-too-stupid-to-realize-my-bloodwork-would-tell-the-truth. I'm not sure what he really took, but he spent the day keeled over in his bed, with a nurse sitting in a chair making sure nothing more serious happened. They woke him up a couple of times to poke an prod, and then another time to let him know that there was absolutely NO tylenol in his system but "some other very interesting substances were found" but pretty much Mr-OD was completely unobtrusive.
I wish I could say the same for the patient behind curtain number one, Wendy Whiner. She waited approximately thirty seconds after being admitted to start her whine.
"Where is the doctor? It's taking forever. No one knows anything around here."
She looked to be somewhere between 30 and 40, and ranted those very same words at least a million times, peppered with the uncreative curse. When the phlebotomist came to take her blood, she flailed, screamed, whined, and knocked over the lady's tray. To which Ms. Phlebotomy replied, "I haven't even touched you yet." And when she finally did touch Wendy, she said, "Ms. Whiner, it's going to take longer if you keep thrashing around."
I had to give ms. Phlebotomy high marks for not losing her cool.
They took Jeremy out a couple of times, once for the CT Scan, and another time for his ultrasound. The whole time, Wendy Whiner paced, ranted, raved, and cursed. She hollared out at the doctors and nurses. She even tried to coax the pharmacist to give her something to calm her down so she "wouldn't have to be restrained." (Her words, not his). But the person I pitied the most was the poor nurse who had the world's most boring job of sitting in a chair and recording vitals of Mr. OD onto a chart. Wendy didn't seem to get the idea the Bored Nurse wasn't her personal slave. Every five minutes the conversation was the same.
"Can't you just get me a doctor?" Wendy would ask.
"No, I have to sit here and watch him. I'm assigned to him, not you," said Bored Nurse every time.
"There isn't even a call button in here. Why isn't there a call button? Just go get the doctor," said Wendy.
"I can't. I'm not allowed to leave my post."
"HEY!" Wendy called out the door. "HEY YOU!"
Hey You would come in and talk to Wendy who was pacing.
"Can't you get me a doctor?"
"Just get back into bed, Wendy. He'll be here soon," Hey You said.
"Where is he?" Wendy asked
"I don't know," Hey you replied.
"Nobody around here knows NOTHING. Can I get a plate? I'm hungry. When's dinner? Do I get dinner? Where is the doctor?"
Finally after what felt like hours, torturous hours, the doctor came in to see Wendy. He agreed to give her som Adavant to help calm her down. This might have seemed like a good idea, but then she was calling out the door to Hey You to find out why she hadn't gotten her Adavant yet.
That was about the point Jeremy was discharged. He was fine. No clots. No seeming reason for the chest pain and the heart palpitations. I was more than grateful to leave. Enduring this on one Nature Valley Granola Bar that I ate at seven-thirty this morning, while bearing "swimmers' hair," well, it was all I could do to stay in one piece.
"Hi, am I talking to Melanie?"
"Uh, yes," I answered tentatively.
"This is John Doe, Jeremy's boss. I just took him to the ER. He left his phone by accident at work. That's how I knew your number. Don't worry. He seems OK. He was having chest pain, heart palpitations, and dizziness. They took him back right away and did an EKG. Really, I think he was more embarrassed about being pushed in a wheel chair than anything."
"Oh, Ok. thanks. I'll be over there as soon as I can."
I got to the ER right at the doctor walked in to talk to Jeremy about the initial blood tests they ran.
"Your blood work is back. One of the tests we did is an indicator of blood clots. Because of your age, and family history, and symptoms, I thought looking for a clot was more probable, so we ran the test. It is a perfect indicator for a negative, meaning if you get a negative, definitely NO clot. But if it is positive, there are lots of things that can cause a positive. So we have to run more tests. In your case, your numbers were six time higher than the norm. We're going to do a CT Scan of your lungs, and then an ultrasound of your leg to make sure you don't have a pulmonary embolism."
Eeks! So I asked the very first question any mother would ask, "How long is this going to take? My kids get home from school at three o'clock. I need to know if I have to find a babysitter."
"Get a sitter."
Okey Dokie.
Calling for a sitter prompted mass-hysteria in my family and Jeremy's family. He really wanted to keep it quiet, in case it was nothing. But since my first phone call to my sister ended up in her voice mail, I had to call my father-in-law. He called Jeremy's sister. Then, my sister called me back, I told her everything I knew at that point, she called my parents.
Meanwhile, we waited in a three-person room where the curtains did nothing other than simiulate the sense of privacy. In reality, as in all curtained hospital ER rooms, every last cotton pickin' word was fodder for the other patients. In curtain number two, we had Mr-I-ODed-on-Tylenol-but-not-really-that's-just-what-I-told-the-doctors-because-I'm-too-stupid-to-realize-my-bloodwork-would-tell-the-truth. I'm not sure what he really took, but he spent the day keeled over in his bed, with a nurse sitting in a chair making sure nothing more serious happened. They woke him up a couple of times to poke an prod, and then another time to let him know that there was absolutely NO tylenol in his system but "some other very interesting substances were found" but pretty much Mr-OD was completely unobtrusive.
I wish I could say the same for the patient behind curtain number one, Wendy Whiner. She waited approximately thirty seconds after being admitted to start her whine.
"Where is the doctor? It's taking forever. No one knows anything around here."
She looked to be somewhere between 30 and 40, and ranted those very same words at least a million times, peppered with the uncreative curse. When the phlebotomist came to take her blood, she flailed, screamed, whined, and knocked over the lady's tray. To which Ms. Phlebotomy replied, "I haven't even touched you yet." And when she finally did touch Wendy, she said, "Ms. Whiner, it's going to take longer if you keep thrashing around."
I had to give ms. Phlebotomy high marks for not losing her cool.
They took Jeremy out a couple of times, once for the CT Scan, and another time for his ultrasound. The whole time, Wendy Whiner paced, ranted, raved, and cursed. She hollared out at the doctors and nurses. She even tried to coax the pharmacist to give her something to calm her down so she "wouldn't have to be restrained." (Her words, not his). But the person I pitied the most was the poor nurse who had the world's most boring job of sitting in a chair and recording vitals of Mr. OD onto a chart. Wendy didn't seem to get the idea the Bored Nurse wasn't her personal slave. Every five minutes the conversation was the same.
"Can't you just get me a doctor?" Wendy would ask.
"No, I have to sit here and watch him. I'm assigned to him, not you," said Bored Nurse every time.
"There isn't even a call button in here. Why isn't there a call button? Just go get the doctor," said Wendy.
"I can't. I'm not allowed to leave my post."
"HEY!" Wendy called out the door. "HEY YOU!"
Hey You would come in and talk to Wendy who was pacing.
"Can't you get me a doctor?"
"Just get back into bed, Wendy. He'll be here soon," Hey You said.
"Where is he?" Wendy asked
"I don't know," Hey you replied.
"Nobody around here knows NOTHING. Can I get a plate? I'm hungry. When's dinner? Do I get dinner? Where is the doctor?"
Finally after what felt like hours, torturous hours, the doctor came in to see Wendy. He agreed to give her som Adavant to help calm her down. This might have seemed like a good idea, but then she was calling out the door to Hey You to find out why she hadn't gotten her Adavant yet.
That was about the point Jeremy was discharged. He was fine. No clots. No seeming reason for the chest pain and the heart palpitations. I was more than grateful to leave. Enduring this on one Nature Valley Granola Bar that I ate at seven-thirty this morning, while bearing "swimmers' hair," well, it was all I could do to stay in one piece.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Get it? Huh Huh? Do ya get it?
Hannah is my comedian. At least she thinks she is.
We were enjoying a quiet dinner. Quiet, because Joshua wasn't home. I don't remember where he was, but all I can say is, it was the first peaceful dinner we've had in awhile. That's probably wrong to say, but it's true. He's loud. He drums. He stomps on the floor. He taps his plate with his fork. He interrupts conversations. He chews like a cow and inhales his food like it's going out of style. And he gets up and down from the table about eighty times in a twenty minute period. For no good reason. Heaven help his future dinner date. Most of our dinners sound like this:
"Joshua chew with your mouth closed."
"Joshua, only put enough on your fork for your mouth. If you have to take three bites, it's too much."
"Joshua quit fidgetting."
"Joshua, why are you out of your chair again?"
"Joshua quit kicking your sister."
"Joshua chew. Don't inhale it. Taste your dinner."
"Joshua, wait till your sister is done talking, then you can have your turn."
I decided to take advantage of the quiet conversation, the pleasant passing of food, by using my built in snitch, aka Ruthie, to check up on The Boy.
"How's Joshua doing in Chorus?" I asked.
"He's OK. He already has one strike. If he gets two more, he can't participate in the winter concert," Ruth said.
"Two more in the next three months? Or does it start over the next Chorus rehearsal."
"Two more in the next three months."
Jeremy and I exchanged a look that said, "Joshua won't be singing in the winter concert." We couldn't imagine him making it three more months without doing anything strike worthy.
Ruth interrupted our telepathy by saying, "He sits with his friends."
Uh-oh I thought, this is why he's in peril of being kicked out of Chorus. "So, who are his friends in Chorus?" I asked.
"Thomas and, Um, Um..."
"Jefferson!" Hannah said. "Get it? Get it? Jefferson. As in Thoooooomas Jeeeeefferson? Get it? Thomas Jefferson is a president. It's a joke. Do you get it?"
Sigh. Hannah don't quit your day job.
We were enjoying a quiet dinner. Quiet, because Joshua wasn't home. I don't remember where he was, but all I can say is, it was the first peaceful dinner we've had in awhile. That's probably wrong to say, but it's true. He's loud. He drums. He stomps on the floor. He taps his plate with his fork. He interrupts conversations. He chews like a cow and inhales his food like it's going out of style. And he gets up and down from the table about eighty times in a twenty minute period. For no good reason. Heaven help his future dinner date. Most of our dinners sound like this:
"Joshua chew with your mouth closed."
"Joshua, only put enough on your fork for your mouth. If you have to take three bites, it's too much."
"Joshua quit fidgetting."
"Joshua, why are you out of your chair again?"
"Joshua quit kicking your sister."
"Joshua chew. Don't inhale it. Taste your dinner."
"Joshua, wait till your sister is done talking, then you can have your turn."
I decided to take advantage of the quiet conversation, the pleasant passing of food, by using my built in snitch, aka Ruthie, to check up on The Boy.
"How's Joshua doing in Chorus?" I asked.
"He's OK. He already has one strike. If he gets two more, he can't participate in the winter concert," Ruth said.
"Two more in the next three months? Or does it start over the next Chorus rehearsal."
"Two more in the next three months."
Jeremy and I exchanged a look that said, "Joshua won't be singing in the winter concert." We couldn't imagine him making it three more months without doing anything strike worthy.
Ruth interrupted our telepathy by saying, "He sits with his friends."
Uh-oh I thought, this is why he's in peril of being kicked out of Chorus. "So, who are his friends in Chorus?" I asked.
"Thomas and, Um, Um..."
"Jefferson!" Hannah said. "Get it? Get it? Jefferson. As in Thoooooomas Jeeeeefferson? Get it? Thomas Jefferson is a president. It's a joke. Do you get it?"
Sigh. Hannah don't quit your day job.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Where's The Beef?
"You have to braise it. I bought three onions. Just use one or two of them. I don't think you need all three. Then stick it in the crock with some salt and pepper and a little bit of water at the bottom."
As if I've never made pot roast. I only cooked for the first nine years of our marriage! I sulked to myself. "I won't be able to do it today. I work. I will spend three hours in bathwater teaching contrary children from 3 months to about 5 years of age, dodging annoying parents, reassuring nervous ones, and then I'll make it home only minutes before the kids get home. After that it's the homework/drum practice/soccer practice/dinner melee followed by the frantic prep for school for the next day, followed by the frantic bedtime routine. Tell me when I will be able to make this pot roast?" I said, grumpy, wanting to be contrary for contrary sake.
"You could do it now, before work."
"You could have done it last night. Or gotten up before work. You wont even be here tonight for dinner. What does it matter. I'll make it Wednesday."
"Whatever," Jeremy shrugged, unwilling to give me the argument I was hankering for.
It turned out the pot roast argument was moot by lunch time that day.
I was just leaving the office at work as my cell phone rang. Not five minutes before, I was talking to my supervisor and friend about the pot roast conversation I had when I was not quite awake. I had just reconciled I was going to make the roast, but probably not in the crock, as there wasn't going to be enough time.
"Hi Mrs. ------------?"
"Yes?"
"This is Joshua's teacher."
Uh-oh. What now. I thought, imagining my son in the principal's office. Figuring I was making a trip to the school before I even heard the laughter in her voice. "Yes?" I asked tentatively.
"I just wanted to let you know. It seems Joshua grabbed the wrong bag this morning on his way out the door. He brought your pot roast to school for lunch." She started to chuckle. "He said, 'Oh no! I brought Daddy's bag with me!' and so I told him to just eat his dad's lunch. Then he said, 'No, you don't understand. Dad never took the roast out of the shopping bag. I grabbed that by mistake.' I asked him 'did you realize how much heavier it was than your regular lunch?' And he said no. So I gave him some money for lunch today."
"Oh! Thank you so much!" By this point I was laughing as was my supervisor who has had the privileged of teaching Joshua how to swim and then coaching him on swim team later. She is well aware of his, shall I say, eccentricities, so to speak. "I'll send in money tomorrow to reimburse you."
"Oh no need. He really made my day. That was the funniest thing I'd ever seen. He wanted to bring it back home, but I told him we had to throw it out. It's been sitting in his locker since 8:30 this morning. I just wanted to let you know so you wouldn't wonder where your roast was when you went looking for it in your fridge."
"Yeah, I don't think I want it back. Thanks for chucking it. Thanks for letting me know" So much for pot roast for dinner.
"No problem. Good bye."
"Bye."
I hung up the phone, and didn't think about the pot roast for the rest of the afternoon until about five thirty when I received another phone call at home, this time from the assistant principal.
"Is this Mrs ----------?"
"Yes?"
"Um, did one of the sixth grade teachers contact you today about, uh, the uh, meat?"
Meat, meat, meat...Oh! The pot roast! "Yes, Joshua's teacher did call me. Too funny."
"Well," She began, not quite sure what to say, "Uh, it's here in the nurse's office. I didn't know if you needed it back, or er, wanted to see it for, um, proof or something, or if you, uhh, wanted us to chuck it for you."
"Oh, I was under the impression it was already in the dumpster. Just get rid of it." My pot roast spent the day in the nurse's office? Too too funny!
"Ohhhh Kay. We'll let the custodial staff to just toss it in the dumpster. Thanks."
I'm sure that went down in the history books for the assistant principal as one of the more unusual phone calls to home.
That night we had quesadillas for dinner.
Sunday, September 07, 2008
Now I remember why I love Motherhood so much...
Joshua is a good kid, with a kind heart, and charming to a fault. That's why he hasn't gotten into any serious trouble with most adults or authority figures in general. However, he has NO IMPULSE CONTROL whatsoever! Now, I'm told by a sea of doctors this is the crux of the ADHD diagnosis, the lack of impulse control. I'm told that the ability to govern impulses is either a) absent in the brain or b) slow to react. In other words, in scenario number two, we all have a "stop sign" in our brains that says "Hmm, notta good idea. Try something else." In a person with ADHD, if there is a regulator at all, that "stop sign" comes up long after the impulse is followed.
This is why I will never be allowed to have nice things as long as my son lives in my house.
Now, at the tender age of eleven and three-quarters, a mother would think that she wouldn't have to hide things like black permanent sharpie markers. One would think. One would think that the "drawing on walls and furniture" stage was long past ooooooh about nine years ago. One would think. However, as I was getting the girls ready for swimming, Hannah-the-tattle-tale came running inside with her bathingsuit in hand and calmly announced, "Joshua wrote on the porch furniture."
Wait a minute. Maybe I didnt hear her right. "Joshua did what? Are you sure that was Josh?"
"Yeah. Come see. Joshua wrote all over the porch furniture with a sharpie marker."
So I walked out the front door behind Hannah who delighted in pointing at the porch glider. "See?"
And sure enough, there was writing on each plastic strap of my glider, and some writing on the opposite porch chair. Now, common sense would say, if I had been Joshua, anyway, hmm, I have a little sister. I could draw on this chair, and she'd probably get blamed. But noooooooooooooooo, it was rather clear who the culprit was. 
(This is what it looks like after he tried rubbing alcohol, then nail polish remover, and finally softscrub with bleach).
(And the other side of the glider)
(Hannah's chair, apparently)I love being a mom.
I love being a mom.
I love being a mom.
I love being a mom.
I love being...
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Cape May Adventure
When our Tennessee trip canceled last minute we decided to camp in Cape May, NJ for a few nights. It was quite the adventure. I'm a terrible photographer. I have a few campsite pictures (four to be exact) and a bunch from our second day at the beach. I missed taking shots of mini-golf when The Boy beat Dad by one point. I also didn't get any pictures of the kids charming the Quebec family that camped next to us. However, I did make a slide-show of day two at the beach, which promptly both Josh and Ruth pointed out that Hannah is more prevalent throughout the slide show. I, in turn, pointed out, that A) Ruth dominates the first third of the movie, B) The Boy dominates the middle, and C) Hannah is at the end D) Hannah happened to play near my chair and E) I'm lazy and it was easy to pick up the camera and just shoot pictures. (Really, E is not the reason, but hopefully I was as fair as I could be in taking equal amounts of shots). The video did not capture the wildness of the riptides that caused the beach to close early that day...nor the two accidents that sent ambulances screaming onto the scene. It also doesn't show the shark alert, nor the dolphins that followed the tour boats, as if on cue. But it does show a lot of pictures of my kids playing in the waves, or in the sand. Hannah lost in thought, Ruthie after she wiped out and really hurt her nose (it still hurts, if you're wondering). She really didn't want me to take a picture of her crying, hence the towel over her face pic. So, if you have 6 minutes and 50 seconds to fritter away, here's our vacation pictures:
Monday, July 07, 2008
The Fort
Power tools. Yes, power tools and a hatchet make a mean fort. This is what I learned from my vacation this week. I guess when I was growing up, the boys in my neighborhood weren't allowed access to power tools, so I really had no idea how three guys on the precipice of manhood could create such a monsterpiece with a circular saw and three small hatchets. The circular saw being an indulgence on the part of their, ahem, grandfather, a.k.a. "Pop."
"Are you sure they should be using that?" I asked over the distinct whine of the saw.
"Yeah, they'll be fine," my father said without looking up from his magazine.
"Shouldn't they wear safety goggles or something?"
He looked up over the deck railing, "Hey guys, put on some safety goggles."
Gee thanks Dad.
That's the problem with grandparents. You can override them, but not always easily. And since no one had lost any fingers, and since the older "boys" were living vicariously through their sons, my husband and brother-in-law were agreeable to the power tools as well. I was easily outnumbered. Six to one, as a matter of fact. So with all the grace and dignity one fretting mother can have, I removed myself and pretended the saw whine was coming from the neighbor's house.
Ignoring the hatchets was another problem. Really the whole mosterpiece started with the hatchets my father bought The Boy and his cousins, S3 and Ty. They've been using them for a few months now, whenever we went to the "mountains." And they're becoming more efficient and brazen with these hatchets too. Who knew three boys could fell a twenty foot tree with a twenty inch diameter with three rather small hatchets? Apparently, with enough dogged-determination, they could. And not just one tree, but at least two, I saw, went down for the count. I had wild visions of small squirming bodies stuck under large fallen trees.
"I promise you they were dead," Joshua pronounced after seeing my horror stricken face. "Pop says we can only chop down the dead trees."
"Well, that's a mighty big dead tree." said I, master of the obvious.
"I swear. It was dead. Really it was. It only had like, two branches on it, and no leaves. I swear," he said.
Josh never got that it wasn't the alive/dead factor as much as it was I wanted to shriek, "THAT FREAKIN' TREE IS FIVE HUNDRED TIMES TALLER THAN YOU!??? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR EVER LOVIN' MIND?" Thankfully, I was the epitome of control and self-restraint. I merely sighed and walked back into the house. I figured my mother and sister had the right of things, and promptly buried my nose in a book, transporting myself away into other worlds. What I didn't know, I couldn't worry about right?
They hammered, and they sawed, and they chopped. We saw them for meals, when we demanded they stop and eat. We begged them to bathe. They passed out in their tent after a long, productive, day in the woods. They grunted to us when they passed through the house, most likely en route to find Pop for another power tool.
"You want something to eat?"
"Ungh"
"How's the fort?"
"Mmm"
"Good, great talking to you. See ya around."
"Huh?"
A couple of years ago, the boys built a platform between three trees, slats of wood hammered into a tree to act as a ladder. The main beam/tree began at the platform and angled down to the ground, the whole humongous length of the tree. I'm still marveling how they managed to drag the tree, and prop it up. Angled on either side of the beam, the boys placed smaller logs and boards to form the walls, almost tent shape. Add a make-shift door, and some leaves for camouflage and, viola, a fort to rival the forts of their predecessors.
So, now we're home, and the fort stands lonely, slightly incomplete (but really, is a fort ever finished? This is at least its fifth incarnation), and waiting for the return of the boys. I actually saw my son today, the first in about a week. He looks good. He's actually clean. And, despite the circular saw, he still has all of his fingers. What more could a mom want?
"Are you sure they should be using that?" I asked over the distinct whine of the saw.
"Yeah, they'll be fine," my father said without looking up from his magazine.
"Shouldn't they wear safety goggles or something?"
He looked up over the deck railing, "Hey guys, put on some safety goggles."
Gee thanks Dad.
That's the problem with grandparents. You can override them, but not always easily. And since no one had lost any fingers, and since the older "boys" were living vicariously through their sons, my husband and brother-in-law were agreeable to the power tools as well. I was easily outnumbered. Six to one, as a matter of fact. So with all the grace and dignity one fretting mother can have, I removed myself and pretended the saw whine was coming from the neighbor's house.
Ignoring the hatchets was another problem. Really the whole mosterpiece started with the hatchets my father bought The Boy and his cousins, S3 and Ty. They've been using them for a few months now, whenever we went to the "mountains." And they're becoming more efficient and brazen with these hatchets too. Who knew three boys could fell a twenty foot tree with a twenty inch diameter with three rather small hatchets? Apparently, with enough dogged-determination, they could. And not just one tree, but at least two, I saw, went down for the count. I had wild visions of small squirming bodies stuck under large fallen trees.
"I promise you they were dead," Joshua pronounced after seeing my horror stricken face. "Pop says we can only chop down the dead trees."
"Well, that's a mighty big dead tree." said I, master of the obvious.
"I swear. It was dead. Really it was. It only had like, two branches on it, and no leaves. I swear," he said.
Josh never got that it wasn't the alive/dead factor as much as it was I wanted to shriek, "THAT FREAKIN' TREE IS FIVE HUNDRED TIMES TALLER THAN YOU!??? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR EVER LOVIN' MIND?" Thankfully, I was the epitome of control and self-restraint. I merely sighed and walked back into the house. I figured my mother and sister had the right of things, and promptly buried my nose in a book, transporting myself away into other worlds. What I didn't know, I couldn't worry about right?
They hammered, and they sawed, and they chopped. We saw them for meals, when we demanded they stop and eat. We begged them to bathe. They passed out in their tent after a long, productive, day in the woods. They grunted to us when they passed through the house, most likely en route to find Pop for another power tool.
"You want something to eat?"
"Ungh"
"How's the fort?"
"Mmm"
"Good, great talking to you. See ya around."
"Huh?"
A couple of years ago, the boys built a platform between three trees, slats of wood hammered into a tree to act as a ladder. The main beam/tree began at the platform and angled down to the ground, the whole humongous length of the tree. I'm still marveling how they managed to drag the tree, and prop it up. Angled on either side of the beam, the boys placed smaller logs and boards to form the walls, almost tent shape. Add a make-shift door, and some leaves for camouflage and, viola, a fort to rival the forts of their predecessors.
So, now we're home, and the fort stands lonely, slightly incomplete (but really, is a fort ever finished? This is at least its fifth incarnation), and waiting for the return of the boys. I actually saw my son today, the first in about a week. He looks good. He's actually clean. And, despite the circular saw, he still has all of his fingers. What more could a mom want?
Monday, June 23, 2008
More from Hannah's World
"Look at the Headless Mantis I drew, Daddy."
"But he has a head!"
"Well, he lives in MY world, Daddy. It doesnt have to make sense," Hannah said rolling her eyes. Like Duhhhhh.
"Oh. So, Shoeless Joe would actually wear shoes?" Jeremy asked.
"Yeah, Exactly. You got it. See, I knew you'd figure it out."
I think if she could have patted him on the head in approval, she would have.
"But he has a head!"
"Well, he lives in MY world, Daddy. It doesnt have to make sense," Hannah said rolling her eyes. Like Duhhhhh.
"Oh. So, Shoeless Joe would actually wear shoes?" Jeremy asked.
"Yeah, Exactly. You got it. See, I knew you'd figure it out."
I think if she could have patted him on the head in approval, she would have.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
"What's in your world?"
Some contemplations from Peanut:
On imagination:
"What's in your world?"
Hannah asked me one day, her face all serious.
"What? What do you mean what's in my world."
"In your head. What's in your world in your head? I have 'Hannah World,'" She said.
"Oh. Well, I have a good imagination. Sometimes I imagine different characters and make-up stories."
"Yeah, Me too."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
On Making Friends:
This is Hannah's first year on swim team. She loves to swim, and would be in the water 24/7 if I'd let her. Yet, she was extremely nervous about her first day of practice. She had been swimming with the same instructor, now coach, since she was barely three years old. The summer swim team has different coaches, and different kids. I found her at the breakfast table before practice swirling her spoon around in her bowl. Her little face was down-turned, a furrow creasing her forehead as she was lost deep in thought.
"You need to eat. You have to get ready for practice," I said.
She looked up, her eyes frought with worry, "My tummy doesn't feel like eating," She said.
Hannah loves breakfast. She never ever fights about eating breakfast. I knew something was wrong. "What's the matter, pun'kin? Are you worried about your first practice?"
"Yeah. I won't know anybody!" She stretched her arms wide to each side, her eyes growing large and round as she gestured the word "anybody."
"I'm sure there will be someone there you know. A lot of the kids who swim over the winter where you did, also swim on our team."
She didn't look convinced. I told her she needed to try to eat a few more bites, and then proceeded to bribe her with a trip to the local convenience store for a slushy so she could make it through her first practice.
After practice she was all smiley and bubbly, bouncing as she walked. "I made a new friend!" She announced.
"Oh really? I told you that you'd be ok."
"Yeah, her name is Jane" she said. "It was really easy."
"Yeah?"
"I just opened my mouth and talked to her and now she's my friend. I didn't know it was so easy to make a new friend," she said.
---------------------------------------------------------------
On the virtue of being "brown" :
We were sitting under the pavilion at the pool while Ruth was at her swim practice. Each one of my kids has their own practice time. Another mother was spraying sunblock on her daughter's back in preparation for practice.
"I don't need sunblock. I don't burn." Hannah bragged. "I'm lucky 'cuz I'm brown. "
-----------------------------------------------------------------
On Diving Boards:
The layout of our pool is unique because it is an oval with a shallow outter ring, and then a side walk (we call a cat walk) separating the deep area from the shallow. The deep area is in the center of the pool, and for the most part, it is equal in depth, except near the cat walk, and the diving boards. The average depth of the inner circle is around 6 ft. We have an Olympic pool as well where people lap swim, or water walk. This is where swim team has practice as well. We're fortunate to have such a huge and well kept pool to swim at.
Hannah wanted her swimmer's patch badly this year. At our pool, if you want to go off the diving board or swim in the inner circle, you have to have a swimmer's patch. The patch is sewn to the bathing suit and allows the life guard to quickly know who can and cannot swim well enough to be in the inner circle. I told Hannah that she needed to practice a bit before going for her test. The test requires a swimmer to swim freestyle from one catwalk to the other, a distance of about 35-40 yards, a little over a lap and a half of a 25 yard pool. Usually I have my kids practice two non-stop laps in the Olympic pool before going for their test. I figure when they can do that with ease, then the distance from one catwalk to the other won't be such an issue.
However, one day when Hannah wanted to practice, we couldn't go over to the Olympic pool. It was adult swim and the old people get really cranky when kids are in the pool. Nevermind that lane six is supposed to be for kids to swim laps in, and usually my kids actually swim laps. So, we were practicing in the outter ring swimming from one catwalk to the next. The distance is a little longer because it's not in a straight line like the test. Hannah got about half way, swimming past the backside of the diving boards when she stopped, stood up, looked at the diving boards and stated, "I'm going to be SCARED TO DEATH to go off those diving boards." Suddenly the motivation for her patch disappeared.
Yesterday, however she changed her mind, as nearly-six year olds often do, and she went for her swimmers patch. She aced the swimming portion, which was all that Joshua and Ruth had to complete for their patch. Apparently they added a new portion to the test where the child has to jump off the diving board and swim to the ladder. Hannah had resolved she was never going to go off the diving boards but still wanted her patch so she could "Swim in the deep water." I held my breath. I wasn't sure Hannah would make it if she had to climb up the ladder and jump off the diving board.
Tentatively, she climbed the ladder and started inching her way to the edge. She stopped short, terror etched in her face, eyes pinched behind her goggles. She started to cry, "I can't do it!" she wailed inching back towards the ladder. The lifeguard administering the test informed her she wouldn't pass. I came over to her to comfort and encourage her. I looked at her little face, reminded her it really wasn't all that high up (after all, we were eye to eye with her still standing on the board) and then informed her she'd have to re-swim that length of the pool if she didn't get her patch today. The last bit of my speech must have been the magic words because she looked as if she'd rather die than re-swim the first part of the test.
Grim with determination, Hannah inched her way back to the edge of the diving board, her little face set with deep concentration as she fought to suppress the fear. On average, Hannah might be a timid creature, but she does exert a will from time to time that would confound the most strong willed of people. She just has to have the right motivation. Before she could think about the height, or the plunge into the water, she leaped off the board, landing in the water in a very awkward position. She swam to the ladder, climbed out, and pronounced, "That was FUN!"
She got her swimmer's patch.
On imagination:
"What's in your world?"
Hannah asked me one day, her face all serious.
"What? What do you mean what's in my world."
"In your head. What's in your world in your head? I have 'Hannah World,'" She said.
"Oh. Well, I have a good imagination. Sometimes I imagine different characters and make-up stories."
"Yeah, Me too."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
On Making Friends:
This is Hannah's first year on swim team. She loves to swim, and would be in the water 24/7 if I'd let her. Yet, she was extremely nervous about her first day of practice. She had been swimming with the same instructor, now coach, since she was barely three years old. The summer swim team has different coaches, and different kids. I found her at the breakfast table before practice swirling her spoon around in her bowl. Her little face was down-turned, a furrow creasing her forehead as she was lost deep in thought.
"You need to eat. You have to get ready for practice," I said.
She looked up, her eyes frought with worry, "My tummy doesn't feel like eating," She said.
Hannah loves breakfast. She never ever fights about eating breakfast. I knew something was wrong. "What's the matter, pun'kin? Are you worried about your first practice?"
"Yeah. I won't know anybody!" She stretched her arms wide to each side, her eyes growing large and round as she gestured the word "anybody."
"I'm sure there will be someone there you know. A lot of the kids who swim over the winter where you did, also swim on our team."
She didn't look convinced. I told her she needed to try to eat a few more bites, and then proceeded to bribe her with a trip to the local convenience store for a slushy so she could make it through her first practice.
After practice she was all smiley and bubbly, bouncing as she walked. "I made a new friend!" She announced.
"Oh really? I told you that you'd be ok."
"Yeah, her name is Jane" she said. "It was really easy."
"Yeah?"
"I just opened my mouth and talked to her and now she's my friend. I didn't know it was so easy to make a new friend," she said.
---------------------------------------------------------------
On the virtue of being "brown" :
We were sitting under the pavilion at the pool while Ruth was at her swim practice. Each one of my kids has their own practice time. Another mother was spraying sunblock on her daughter's back in preparation for practice.
"I don't need sunblock. I don't burn." Hannah bragged. "I'm lucky 'cuz I'm brown. "
-----------------------------------------------------------------
On Diving Boards:
The layout of our pool is unique because it is an oval with a shallow outter ring, and then a side walk (we call a cat walk) separating the deep area from the shallow. The deep area is in the center of the pool, and for the most part, it is equal in depth, except near the cat walk, and the diving boards. The average depth of the inner circle is around 6 ft. We have an Olympic pool as well where people lap swim, or water walk. This is where swim team has practice as well. We're fortunate to have such a huge and well kept pool to swim at.
Hannah wanted her swimmer's patch badly this year. At our pool, if you want to go off the diving board or swim in the inner circle, you have to have a swimmer's patch. The patch is sewn to the bathing suit and allows the life guard to quickly know who can and cannot swim well enough to be in the inner circle. I told Hannah that she needed to practice a bit before going for her test. The test requires a swimmer to swim freestyle from one catwalk to the other, a distance of about 35-40 yards, a little over a lap and a half of a 25 yard pool. Usually I have my kids practice two non-stop laps in the Olympic pool before going for their test. I figure when they can do that with ease, then the distance from one catwalk to the other won't be such an issue.
However, one day when Hannah wanted to practice, we couldn't go over to the Olympic pool. It was adult swim and the old people get really cranky when kids are in the pool. Nevermind that lane six is supposed to be for kids to swim laps in, and usually my kids actually swim laps. So, we were practicing in the outter ring swimming from one catwalk to the next. The distance is a little longer because it's not in a straight line like the test. Hannah got about half way, swimming past the backside of the diving boards when she stopped, stood up, looked at the diving boards and stated, "I'm going to be SCARED TO DEATH to go off those diving boards." Suddenly the motivation for her patch disappeared.
Yesterday, however she changed her mind, as nearly-six year olds often do, and she went for her swimmers patch. She aced the swimming portion, which was all that Joshua and Ruth had to complete for their patch. Apparently they added a new portion to the test where the child has to jump off the diving board and swim to the ladder. Hannah had resolved she was never going to go off the diving boards but still wanted her patch so she could "Swim in the deep water." I held my breath. I wasn't sure Hannah would make it if she had to climb up the ladder and jump off the diving board.
Tentatively, she climbed the ladder and started inching her way to the edge. She stopped short, terror etched in her face, eyes pinched behind her goggles. She started to cry, "I can't do it!" she wailed inching back towards the ladder. The lifeguard administering the test informed her she wouldn't pass. I came over to her to comfort and encourage her. I looked at her little face, reminded her it really wasn't all that high up (after all, we were eye to eye with her still standing on the board) and then informed her she'd have to re-swim that length of the pool if she didn't get her patch today. The last bit of my speech must have been the magic words because she looked as if she'd rather die than re-swim the first part of the test.
Grim with determination, Hannah inched her way back to the edge of the diving board, her little face set with deep concentration as she fought to suppress the fear. On average, Hannah might be a timid creature, but she does exert a will from time to time that would confound the most strong willed of people. She just has to have the right motivation. Before she could think about the height, or the plunge into the water, she leaped off the board, landing in the water in a very awkward position. She swam to the ladder, climbed out, and pronounced, "That was FUN!"
She got her swimmer's patch.
Monday, May 05, 2008
Things they didn't tell me about parenthood...
...or perhaps things I wouldn't have been able to understand before now:
- How selfish I am
- How much I can hurt
- How much I can love
- How much I can worry
- How angry I can get
- How sad I can feel
- How much guilt I can carry
- How proud I can be
- How tired I can get (both emotionally, mentally, and physically)
- How happy I am
- How introspective I find myself
- How old I can feel
- How much de ja vu I have when I help with homework
- How confused I can be
- How scared I can get
- How overprotective and unreasonable I can become
- How much I miss my babies
- How much I enjoy my pre-teenager (ok, maybe when he's not moody)
- How much laughter we'd share
- How much crying we'd soothe
- How many doctors we'd visit
- How many boo-boo's we'd kiss
- How many dreams we see fulfilled
- How many dreams we'd have to let go of
- How material objects are not so important anymore
- How dirty my house can get
- How bad of a housewife I am (definitely not mrs. clean!)
- How many swim meets, soccer games, spring concerts, talent shows I'd attend
- How I'd forget their first words, and first steps
- How I'd cry when I packed up their baby things and gave them away
- How excited I'd be to move into the next phase of life
- How exasperated by teachers I'd become
- How grateful to strangers who helped me when I needed it
- How much I'd come to respect my husband as a father (he's so much better at this parent thing than me!)
- How much I'd enjoy a field trip to the orchard through my child's eyes
- How many episodes of Sesame Street, Dora the Explorer, Spongebob, H2O, Drake and Josh, Mythbusters, and Survivorman I'd see
- How I could sing all the words to every kid show on the planet by memory
- How many songs on the radio are inappropriate for little ears!
- How many sleepless nights (even well after infancy) I'd endure
- How gross losing that first tooth is
- How much fun to relive childhood through your kids
- How enjoyable, yet wistful, watching your children grow too fast
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Where have I been?
Well, no where really. It's just a busy year for me, I suppose. I've been a bit of a slug since graduating. I took on "real" work (not that domestic goddess isn't a real job, mind you. I found it is more difficult than working in an office!) and that is consuming my time. And I took up reading for a hobby. Nothing worthwhile to report about...mostly fluffy books that help me escape. I don't know when or why I've become so obsessed, but I'm literally reading about a book a day. Sometimes, I have to stretch a book over two days, but not usually. So, that's about all I'm going to post about under this subject heading...I think I'll philosophize in another post, just to keep things clean and simple.
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