Go-Rill-A

Five years ago I learned about, what I now refer to as, The Dreaded Rain Forest Project.  I wouldn't mind the exercise...if it were realistic for a first grader. But it isn't. The scale of the project is more appropriate for a fourth to sixth grader. In other words, The Dreaded Rain Forest Project is a parent-project. One hundred percent.  We parents get to show off our craftiness in the first grade halls. Yes indeedy.  The children pick an animal. They write a report about their animal in school. Then the parents get to make a life-size replica of said animal to hang in their re-created rain forest. Don't get me wrong, the re-creation is cool. The entire first grade hallway is decorated with trees, fake vines, and rain forest animals...made by the parents.

A then-first grade Joshua, came home with his papers detailing all important information. He chose a python. Python, a snake. I can handle that. True sized? No problem. So I dyed socks because I couldn't find green ones. I let him sponge paint the 'scales.'  We used sharpie marker to draw the eyes. I hot glued the body together, and Joshua stuffed his snake. He still has it. It hangs off the bottom of his loft bed. I thought, "Ugh. Never again. This was a pain in the neck." And it was just a sock snake! A SOCK SNAKE!  I entered the classroom to drop off his python, only to discover most parents did their children's project. There was this anaconda that stretched the entire perimeter of the room, crafted from chicken wire, and plaster strips. Yeah, a first grader did that, sure.

I survived The Dreaded Rain Forest Project without realizing two years later, I'd have to do it again. Yay me. What does Ruthie choose? A Kinkajou.  What the heck??? So I googled it. It's cute, furry, with huge eyes. Ah. Now I know why we're doing a project on the kinkajou.  Ruthie is a sucker for anything cute, furry, with huge eyes.

This time I was smarter. We made it two-dimensional, and Ruth did almost all of it. Her idea. Her execution. I gave her some hints how to make the animal easier. And I drew the face.  I didn't care if it looked like a first-grader made the animal. It's a first grade project.  Not a parent project. So what if a spider monkey that looked as good as a gund-brand stuffed animal hung from the fake vines wrapped around the lights? Hey wait, do I see the remnants of a cut off tag? No? Dang. Some mom is really good at sewing. I could be good at sewing if I wanted to. Sure I could. I'll just get to that in between studying for biology and turning in the next weaving for Fatherless.

After suffering through another year of The Dreaded Rain Forest Project with yet another child, a frightening thought occurred to me.  I. have. to. do. this. AGAIN. Oh snap.

For the last three years, I've been praying they'll stop doing The Dreaded Rain Forest Project at our school. Over the last six months I've been slowly counting down, holding my breath for when the packet of papers came home with Hannah.  Here it is. The Dreaded Rain Forest Project. In all it's Rain Forest glory.

Jeremy and I were sitting at the table, eating a late dinner, while the kids were getting ready for school tomorrow.  Hannah plopped The Packet down on the table.  "Here.  We're doing a rain forest."  Jeremy looked at me. I looked at him. We sighed and looked down at the paper.

"Dear Parents, Your child has chosen Gorilla for our rain forest unit. Students are making a replica at home with the help of a family member (ha!). Blah blah blah.  Please make the replica as true to size and colors as possible. Blah blah blah.  Your truly, Mrs._______"

Jeremy and I busted out laughing. I'm not sure it was out of humor or hysteria, but hey, it was better than crying. True to size? A gorilla?  Leave it to Hannah the pipsqueak to pick an animal three times her size.

Hannah said, "What's so funny?"
"Nothing," answered Jeremy.
I lied, "You know in Tarzan when he said 'Go-Rill-A?'"
"Oh yeah," Hannah giggled. Then she read the paper, "Dear parents, your child has chosen Go-Rill-A." She wandered her way upstairs saying "Go-Rill-A" when Jeremy turned to me and said, "Life-sized? Are you kidding me?"

Gotta love The Dreaded Rain Forest Project. There will be pictures. Oh yes. I think there has to be.

I survived!

    Mar 28, '09 6:43 PM
for everyone
In just a few hours, I get to give four of the seven kids contained within this house back to their mother, my sister. I'm a little bleary eyed. My nerves are still semi-intact. I've totally enjoyed my nephews and nieces.

 I've diffused at least half-a-million fights....

...excuse me, make that half-a-million and one...

Prevented three near-deaths, wait...make that four.

I've counseled and consoled. Run interference.  Managed feedings (not meals, feedings). Bought out the grocery store. Spoiled them with chocolate chip pancakes, pop tarts, and donut holes. (Though one day I had to disappoint them with bowls of corn chex).

I scolded, lectured, instructed.  Loved, snuggled, and cuddled. Ran baths, supervised showers, and stopped minor floods.  Dried tears, shared giggles. Said bed-time prayers, calmed night time fears. Thwarted nefarious plans. Used the wisdom of Solomon to decide who got to sleep on the floor. (Only kids could fight over who gets to sleep on an air mattress). And determined who got to sleep on the hide-a-bed.

I even managed to throw a mini-birthday party for my mom and paint my studio floor in the middle of it.

Tonight, I'm celebrating with a margarita.  Or two.

And tomorrow I'll, maybe, summon up some energy to put everything back to where it was before the hurricane. Nah, Monday. Monday is soon enough. Right?

Mmm...tastes like chicken

She's a funny kid. I don't just mean her interests and her demeanor. Hannah has wit and comedic timing. She calculates when something will be funny to say or do.  And usually, she's right.

So this morning they were all sitting around the breakfast table half-awake, groaning about the PSSA's (PA's standardized testing - no child left behind!) and other topics. Josh began a conversation about these recently discovered bacteria in the upper stratosphere, when he asked Jeremy, "What do they eat?"
Ruth said, "Maybe they're cannibals!"
To which, Hannah started singing the jingle, "Cannibal's chicken soup, Possibilities!"

We laughed, when Jeremy said, "Gee, I wonder what would be in THAT soup. Mmm...tastes like chicken!"

In which Ruth manipulates Us to go to the Opening night cast party...

We've known for awhile that the tradition is to chow down at a local diner after opening night. The diner knows the cast and crew is coming, and they let us have their 'party room.'  But what no one figured on, was how LONG The Sound of Music really is. By the time we greeted the family and friends who came to watch and the kids got their costumes off and hung up it was pushing quarter of eleven. This isn't, by any stretch of the imagination, late for the average teen, but Hannah was starting to get that delirious look in her eye, the maniacal laugh that accompanies it, so I knew phase two of "Operation Meltdown" was following closely behind.

"Can we go to the cast party?" Ruthie asked me. I wanted to say no. I really did. I wanted to go to bed, get them into bed. Joshua might have been able to hang with the Big Dogs, but the girls were going to make us suffer the next day.  So I did my usual cop-out.

"I don't know. Go ask your father," I said.

She walked over to Jeremy, made her eyes bigger and more round, and said in her practiced sweet feminine voice, "Daaaaaaaddy? Can we go to the cast party?"

"It's late." He said, "And we need to get you to bed."

On command her eyes filled with water. Her little lip quivered.  She wiped a tear away.  He looked at me. I looked at him. And I knew I was hopeless.  "Com'mon Daddy. It's not every year they'll get to be part of a high school musical."

Jeremy sighed and said, "O.K."

We got to the diner, only to find out they had one waitress on duty.  Apparently, the owner thought we weren't going to show up. Because the musical ran so late, we got to the diner way past the time we were expected, so he sent the other gal home.  Which meant it took a very...long...time...to get our food.  Jeremy and I hung out with the other parents while the kids took over the other half of the restaurant.  I told Josh, Ruth, and Hannah they could have anything they wanted.  Hannah wandered over to my table and put her head on my shoulder. Her face had lost most of it's color, her eyes were bloodshot and weary. I felt bad.  "Mama, I don't want to eat anything."

"Are you sure? You don't want anything? Not even a pancake?" I asked.
"Pancake?" Hannah's head jerked up from my shoulder, her face perked up. "Yeah, sure. I'll have a pancake," she said skipping back to her booth.

Finally the food started showing up at our quadrant, but the waitress forgot two of us at our table. By the time we ate, and paid, it was well after 1 am.  Joshua finally reached his breaking point and said, "Mama, Daddy? Are we going home yet?"  Ruth, still jazzed from the performance and getting to hang out with her 'friends' danced the whole way to the car singing "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you Daddy! Thank you! Daddy! Thank youuuuuuuuu!!!"

I'm glad we went, even though I'm bleary eyed this morning. We made fond memories last night. Memories, I hope, will last them a life time.

In which Hannah has her first lesson about little boys...

She came running into the house, tears streaming down her face, and threw herself at my arms.

"MY LOVE TANK IS EMPTY!" she wailed.
"What happened?" I said, smoothing her hair, pulling her up on my lap.
"I jus knee a ug," she hiccuped between sobs.
"What?" I couldn't understand her through the tears.
"I jus knee a ug!" she said a little more hysterical.
"A hug?" She nodded. I pulled her closer to me. "What happened outside? Did someone hurt you?"
"No. I jus duh lie be pigged uh" Hannah said.
"Honey, I can't understand you. You need to try and calm down." I coaxed.
"I jus. duh. lie. ih. when. kids. pig. me. uh!" she said, her chest heaving.
"You don't like it when kids pick you up?"
"Yeaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh" Hannah wailed again.
"Who picked you up?" I asked.
"Oooooooowwaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
"Owen?"
"yeeaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!"

I tried to suppress a giggle. Owen is probably the only child in our neighborhood who is smaller than Hannah despite being seven months older than her.  The mental image of Owen heisting Hannah up in the air cracked me up. Since I was going for sympathy, I didn't think she'd appreciate my amusement.

"Oh Hannah, little boys play rough. They don't know how to be nice to little girls, because they're rough with each other. Don't you ever see Joshua with his friends? What do they do? They greet each other by tackling each other to the ground and then wrestle.  It will be YEARS before little boys learn how to act with girls. They're like sixteen, no, maybe more like in their twenties...well, actually, I'm not sure boys ever really learn how to act around girls. They still like to pester, and tease, and pick on, and tickle even when they're all grown up. But when they're really little, well, it's kind of like gorillas who have to pound their chest. Show off...Actually, even when they're old too..."

Hannah's let out a watery giggle over the gorilla comment.

"So, Owen probably likes you, and decided to show you the only way he knows how."
"I don't like it." Hannah said, as she wiped the tears from her eyes.
"I know, Baby. No little girls does. I was picked on plenty."
"Can I go watch T.V.?" Crisis averted. She slid off my lap and made a b-line for the living room.
"Sure." I said.

Joshua came in the backdoor a few minutes later.

"So, what happened? Did Owen pick Hannah up?" I asked.

Joshua looked a little sheepish while he demonstrated with his arms as he explained, "Yeah, you know. He did one of those big bear hug, wrestle like things, like all little boys like to do to one another. Hannah didn't like it." His expression told me he was well familiar with making a little girl cry at some point in his life. He blushed as if he was the accused tormentor.  At least Josh recognized what happened. I've been working on him for years on how to interact with girls, more specifically, not to punch, grab, shove, yank on hair, etc.  He just still doesn't quite understand WHY we don't want to be wrestled to the ground in an enthusiastic display of friendship and camaraderie.  He seems to trust me on this, even if he doesn't quite 'get it.'  I think perhaps the increasing interest in the opposite sex might have something to do with my credibility on the subject matter.  I have informed him tackling your heart's desire is a lousy way to get a girlfriend.

At least Hannah has the benefit (or maybe the disadvantage, depending on point of view) of having a big brother.  Maybe the male mind won't be quite the mystery to her otherwise.



But then again, maybe not.