Holpineville

Monday, I'm in Love*

Don’t you wake up with some song going through your head?  I do. Carl apparently does. Why else do people sing in the shower?  Rod says no, not him, and gives me that look that faintly says, what kind of weirdo are you, anyhow?  For me, the daily tune is not even a song I like, necessarily.  But I dutifully share it with the kids to get them moving some mornings, and they tell me “no singing!”  So, I switch to speaking in foreign accents, and then they tell me not to talk that way.  Life around here can be such a drag.

Here is Carl’s latest school picture.  I am hopelessly in love.

 

Oh, wait, that’s not it.  That’s his Auntie Heather. I love her, too, and it’s so easy to get them confused. Here’s Carl:

 

 Somewhere, there’s another picture of Heather that looks just like that. 

Also, I found a picture of Heather at four, wearing a bikini and it looks like my son cross-dressing.**   

  

Oh, Ruby got her school picture taken, too, but it’s nowhere near as adorable as the little Carlitos Buckarito’s.  She fixed her hair funny, her eyes don't normally look like that, and she didn’t even open her mouth so you could see all the missing teeth.

 

What do you wrap up on Christmas for the child who wants nothing?  I know it’s early for me, the don't-rush-it-enjoy-the-season-shop-later slacker, to even think of Christmas, but I’m a bargain hunter, you know, and I’m trying to plan ahead a bit this year.  Carl has a list of things he wants that keeps growing: Nerf dart gun, Lego Jungle Cutter, Lego Troll Warship, Lego Batman Somethingorother, Ninja turtle toys, guitar, balls, skateboard, Skippyjon Jones/Captain Underpants/Captain Raptor/Scooby books, pocketknife (only in his dreams), more dot-to-dot-books, “monster pen” (?), art supplies, etc., etc.   With him, I am trying to manage expectations:  Santa brings ONE THING.  Mommy and Daddy will get you something, but not everything on your list. Grandma usually gives you clothes.  Grandpa tends to give money, not stuff, etc. 

Ruby, though, isn’t making much of a list.  Lately she’s not into anything in particular.  So asking her to tell me what she wants for Christmas isn’t getting me much feedback.  Today, Ruby gave it some deep thought, and her list consisted of a stuffed cat (because apparently none of the 65,439 we already have is quite right), and a robot kit or a sewing (I think she means needlecrafts in general) kit.  She might like a book, too, or some clothes, maybe, she mumbles. 

I feel some need to maintain child present parity, so that just isn’t a satisfying answer for me.  I have a couple of minor ideas, but she's only six and already she's a tough case.  She is not a traditional-toy kid.  Maybe I will give her IOU’s for Girl Time Outings with Mommy or Big Kid Time with Daddy; she seems to like experiences and individual attention more than things.  But, that doesn’t unwrap well, compared to giant toy boxes.   It is a good thing I have a month to figure it out.

 

* My apologies to the Cure for mangling their song.  But today is, in fact, Monday.

** Double apologies to Auntie Heather. You've aged well, sugarplum.

Not Flunking Pre-K

Can I admit to being relieved?

I had my first official conference with Carl’s teacher today.  And guess what?  He’s doing fine!  Better than fine even; Ms. Teacher says Carl’s working at the level he needs to be or above in every area, and that his behavior has been much better and generally acceptable for the past few weeks.  She says he has very strong verbal skills (that’s probably a euphemism for "mouthy," but I'll take it), and we celebrated his immense progress in writing.  I also learned that he likes to pal around with the older kids, and is generally doing a good job of choosing his work every day; his latest strong interest is the animals of North America work—he’s been very carefully writing a list of them each day: “bald eagle moose raccoon bison”.  

We noted that Carl is very hard to redirect when he’s focused on something, and that he can be a bit resistant to direction in general….but overall, I was pleasingly surprised.  In fact, I think Carl’s first pre-k report card is better than Ruby’s first one was, in terms of hard numbers, but then all the teachers grade differently. 

I know, you already knew the kid was brilliant, but now we have supporting data!

This entry brought to you courtesy of a Cutco knife

Last summer, a friend asked me if I’d sit through some kid’s C*tco knife sales demo; something about points and raising money for college and it would be a big favor if I’d just listen, no obligation to buy, etc., etc. sort of like Tupperware or Mary K@y.  My kids were being really annoying through the whole thing and the sales guy was sweet, and lo and behold, somehow I ended up buying a knife or two.  They’re the finest quality, I can assure you, as I just used one to slice bread and my left index finger. 

So, while I sit here and wait for the bleeding to stop, I offer a one-handed update:

I also broke a bottle a while ago in an unrelated but similarly graceful incident, and I’m thinking maybe I should refrain from driving and avoid power tools today. 

I have caught Carl’s cold and I’m feeling icky and exceedingly not happy about it.  There’s a big Montessori conference at school which I’m helping with this weekend, too.  Ruby composed a song at her piano lesson, about dinosaurs, and we’ve been treated to it over and over and over.  Carl has been drawing a lot this week: aliens with bombs, bats, “smooky” houses, bad guys, shooters, and other assorted macho subjects.

Parenting question re tree climbing:  how high is too high?

The story: Carl’s crazy, ultra-daring friend likes to climb a big magnolia tree on an empty lot across the street from school, and now Carl wants to do it, too.  The first time was fine, he got up there and then came down.  But yesterday he wanted to get into the tree again, so I said okay.  After I boosted him onto the lowest branch, I looked away for a second, and he was suddenly way, way above my head.  15 feet up, maybe? For the record, Carl wasn’t scared, and he got down fine eventually.  In theory, I think kids should climb trees, take minor risks, have fun.  And I tried to sound chipper and supportive of the little chimp. 

But I was inwardly panicking as I stood there at the bottom.  My baby, way, way up there!  I couldn’t reach him at all!  No safety harness!  I had sweaty palms, knot in stomach, and was resisting the urge to used my stern frightened voice and order him down.  What if he slipped? Would he find a way to fall clear to the ground and …. break his neck?  A concussion, maybe?  Or just a minor broken bone?  Or, more likely he’d hit a bunch of branches on the way down and scrape his face off, plus break a bone.  What were the parents driving by thinking? ”Lady, are you nuts, letting your four year old do that?”  or “Gee, that looks like fun, good thing someone’s getting a little exercise…” 

What do you think? Normally I am too much of a worry wart, but isn't this a special case?

Here is Carl in the tree:

 

 

 

and here he is doing the monkey hang from a lower branch:

P.S. My finger’s still bleeding, which is unusual for me.  How can you tell if it needs stitches?

 

I Won't be Hurt if You Say No to Thanksgiving Dinner in Holpineville

Carl, on the way home from school: “Mom, can we kill a chicken?”

Me: “Uh, kill a chicken???”

Carl: “Please, can we?  I really want to!”

Me, cautiously: “Why do you want to kill a chicken, Carl?”

Carl: “So we can have Thanksgiving!”

Me: “Oh! I get it. (Imagine my vast relief that I don’t have to drive to the psych ward.)  But Carl, most people have turkey on Thanksgiving.”

Carl: “Okay, then I want to kill a turkey.”

Me. “Carl, whaddya say we just buy one at the store?  I don’t really like having to kill my own food.  I’m not even sure exactly how you’d do it.”

{Now imagine long conversation between Ruby and Carl and me, discussing various means of killing birds.  Ruby thinks you chop the feet off first, then the head, Carl is going straight for the neck, etc.}

Carl: “Okay, Mom, we can buy it.  I want to eat it cold.”

Me: “Cold?  I think I’d probably cook the turkey first.  You wouldn’t want to eat it raw.”

Carl: “Yes, I would, Mom!  I want a raw chicken.”

I knew we'd been moving away from strict vegetarianism a bit, but still....

Shopping with Daddy (Amended!*)

Oh, that Rod.  He cracks me up.  Just now, he took Ruby and Carl shopping.  Both kids are still a little tired from their sleepover Friday night (now, there’s a story!), and this morning, Carl woke up with his eyes glued together with green snot and he’s still oozing and looking and acting a little pathetic.  Thus, you might infer that this wouldn't necessarily be the best day to take them shopping.

But, Rod and the kids had their semi-regular Sunday morning biking-at-the-park date with friends today, and Rod has determined that Ruby needs a bigger bike NOW.  Wait until Christmas?  Oh, yeah, that might be a good idea, but she really needs one, the pink Barbie one is vastly too small, says Rod.  Carl is also too tall for his bike, but Rod wants to wait to get Carl a new one until he can ride without training wheels.  Rod says Carl just needs practice and the promise of a new bike will be an incentive; I think developmentally he’ll get better as he approaches five and we should just get him the new one now, but I have agreed to defer to Rod’s Greater Biking Judgment. 

Bikes are harder to shop for than you might expect. Target, etc. carry very few models, and we’re definitely not looking for the high-end bike shop kind.  So… (cue the dramatic music) Rod and the kids are off to the Big Toy Store!  Where there is more than one bike to choose from.  Where, I am sure Mr. Snotty Face Crabby Carl will be completely understanding about buying a shiny new big ticket item for Ruby and nothing for him. Right?

The weekend so far has been quietish.  The sleepover wasn’t so good: Ruby threw a sobbing tantrum at bedtime, which her friend responded to with a lot of passive aggressive self aggrandizing commentary. The friend eventually fell asleep while I was calming Ruby down in another room.  Carl’s friend just wouldn’t settle down at all; he was making noise and keeping Carl awake, and he calmly kept asking to go home.  Finally I decided that might be a good idea and called his mom.  Carl was very sad about it, though.  Rod and I were both wiped out by the whole thing.  We won't be having another sleepover anytime soon. 

Saturday morning was nature class, and Ruby came home all excited about campfire cooking.  She insisted on making apples baked in foil and S’mores for dinner.  The only hitch was that Rod had to go in to work on Saturday afternoon, so I got to light the grill for the first time in recent memory.  I followed all the directions very carefully, and it wouldn’t light.  And it wouldn’t light.  And then it lit, and went out.  I was getting all angry at Rod, because this inanimate object wouldn’t work (he should have been there to do it, you know, and we have a crazy grill that Rod made, not a Weber like normal folk, which surely would work better, etc., etc.) but finally something caught fire and stayed on fire….although not firey enough, Rod had to do a lot of flame boosting and we couldn’t eat that luscious grilled zucchini until late.   And after the kids were in bed, all the carbon monoxide detectors went off, which was exciting.  Apparently my open kitchen window drafted in just enough grill exhaust to trip them.  The kids slept through it, which doesn't really inspire confidence in the technology-- what good is an alarm if it doesn't wake the people it's supposed to save?

* They are back.  Ruby has a new bike.  Carl does not, and yet everyone is still speaking to one another.  If anything, Carl is in a better mood.  All Hail the Power of Daddy.

 

About the outfit:  it's a sheer, small adult size overlayer kind of top from our dress up bin.  The pants?  Well, last year's too big yoga pants are this year's painted on crops. I guess we should be glad she has to wear a uniform to school.

 

First Grade Civics

Ruby is worried about you McCain supporters.  One of her friends has politically conservative parents and she keeps asking me why they would vote for him and not Obama.   I thought about saying “I dunno, makes no sense to me, why don’t you ask them?” but no, I tried really hard to explain that there are different philosophies about government, that neither side is necessarily right or wrong, that when there are two candidates, you listen to them, you read what they have to say about the things you think are important, you pick one, and then you hope for the best no matter which wins.   

Anyway, Ruby watched some election night TV with me, and I think the maps confused her.  She’s trying hard to understand how McCain could have won our state and still not be our president, like she thinks you get to be president of whatever states you win.  My attempts at explaining the electoral system aren’t getting through, it seems.  She’s worried about what job McCain will have now, and what will all the people who voted for him do? Grit their teeth and endure, I said, the way I did the last eight years with a president I didn’t like, and then she asked why I don't think he's doing a good job, and I started listing all my gripes dating back to before Mr. Smirky was even governor, and Ruby looked a bit shocked, and I finally slowed down and apologized for the digression. 

I’m not doing a whole lot better explaining federalism and checks and balances.  Ruby also seems to believe that once you get to be president, you get your way, and really, where’s that pony we were promised?  So now we’re discussing why presidents can’t just make things happen, and in fact why being a new president just now is likely to be especially hard.  Then Ruby started asking about armored limousines and assassination attempts, and thankfully we got to school, all before my first cup of coffee.

I just spent the morning listening to kids in Ruby’s class read, and also sneeze, cough, and sniffle.  Ruby’s teacher is out with strep.  I feel like dipping myself in hand sanitizer every time I get out of there, and I am not a germaphobe.  Tonight, we are hosting the kids’ little Republican friends over for a sleepover.  I don’t especially feel like it, but the kids have been begging to do it, and I think it’s our turn to host.  I am very tired from a week with a lot of appointments and volunteer time-wasting, and so really, the kids should be all tuckered out  and will go to bed early, too, right?

Last night, I went to a training session for a new neighborhood patrol group.  It seems the only real difference between being on the neighborhood patrol and just driving around and calling the cops when you see something suspicious is that you get a magnetic sign to put on your car when you’re doing the former.  Our neighborhood doesn’t have quite enough volunteers to get started yet, but when we do, I’m ready!  Later, Rod and officially marked the 21^st anniversary of the day we met with well, you know, a celebration.  I bought champagne from the liquor store outlet, and he got me some really beautiful flowers from the markdown rack at the grocery store.  It's maybe not a match made in Heaven, but somedays I think it's at least close.

Boys are Different, Vol. 965,432

Ruby finally got her first (hurricane-delayed) report card of the year.  It might as well have been covered in puffy-paint hearts, rainbows and glitter.  Her teacher said blush-producingly nice things about her in the comments and she got extremely high “marks.”  I don’t know why they even bother with report cards, because it’s not like these are real grades based on hard data.  At best, these are indicators of whether your kid is making adequate progress in various rather squishy and ill-defined categories.  

More to the point, I don’t know that Ruby could do much to change the outcome.  Sure, she could probably work a little harder some days, and in fact I wish she would, but I don’t think that would yield better grades based on this system.  Sure, if she made up her mind to be a Bad Kid and stopped doing work, maybe eventually she’d get the “skills still developing toward the benchmark” checkmark, instead of the “exceeds benchmark” S+.  But Ruby’s default setting seems to be conscientious work and a clever enough brain, and I’m guessing she’ll continue to do fine no matter what teacher she has or what Rod and I do or don't do.  We fawned over and roundly congratulated her on the good report anyway, of course.

By contrast, this week I have been anxiously conferring with Carl’s teacher every day over whether or not today was a “good day.”  A “good day” is one in which Carl does not physically bother the adjoining children during circle time, listens to his teacher’s requests to stop when he’s doing something obnoxious, and if invited to come sit next to the teacher (which is NOT an honor, but a control technique), he actually does it, instead of refusing or arguing.   I don’t think Carl is by any means the worst-behaved child in class, but he is one of the physically bigger and stronger ones, and it sounds like he’s the strongest-willed.   His teacher is a good sport and keeps (correctly) stressing that Carl will get better as he gets older.   I also note that he hasn’t been sent to the school office yet, the way I know some misbehaving little boys have, but that’s little consolation.  I do think he was even more of a pill sometimes last year, at his other school, so age does seem to be giving him a bit more self-control.

Still.  I am sad, embarrassed, appalled that it’s my kid who is like that, even if he’s only like that once in a while.  It is so completely foreign to how I acted in school.  I don’t know exactly what to say to his teacher when she reports bad news:  should I be shocked? Angry? How profoundly must I apologize? Do I reprimand Carl right then, or do I just gently start laying a guilt trip on him in front of her?  Am I ever allowed to suggest refinements to her techniques and practices in Little Boy Management?   And how much is it okay to talk about the role of other scurvy rapscallions in the class, the ones I have seen goad Carl into unfortunate behavior? 

The bottom line is I don’t know how to fix it fast.  I have been reminding Carl how he is supposed to act, and congratulating him when he does better, and I think he is trying.  His teacher is patient.  The good news is that he seems to be in an academic growth period.  Carl is doing much better with pencils and scissors than he was.  He’s writing his name and sometimes other letters and numbers, too.  He can finally count above five reliably.  I spy in the window of the classroom a few times a week and Carl is nearly always doing what he’s supposed to.  He’s interested in reading and comes home overflowing with facts and songs he’s learned in circle time (so he can’t be goofing off the whole time).  He’s very interested in maps.  He makes tons of elaborate art projects and proudly brings them home.  He has better spatial sense, in terms of being able to build things and interpret diagrams, than I do sometimes, and he is extremely observant about details (when he’s paying attention at all, of course).

I am reluctantly subscribing to the school of thought that schools aren’t necessarily arranged to best suit the energy level and temperament of little boys.  I used to think that this was bunk, and that some little boys are just jerks with lazy or incompetent parents.  However, Carl is changing my mind.  And mine is not the only boy child I know who’s had a few issues with school.   Montessori schools are better than traditional ones for little boys, I think, because the kids get up and move around a lot and they take breaks, and choose their own work to some extent.  But it’s still hard to take a bunch of high-energy 3/4/5/6 year olds and make them sit still or line up and not touch each other.  Every unscheduled moment tends to devolve into crazy playtime.  And, 8 to 3:30 is a long day at that age.

Who knew that I'd love election day

Ruby lost tooth #7 two days ago.  At this rate, her mouth will be cleared out by Thanksgiving.

Mom's cat, Hank, has the kitty herpes, apparently, which is giving him the very loud sniffles.  So after today's pricey trip to the vet to diagnose this, he gets some fancy medicine, and then in a couple of weeks he goes back for some overdue vaccinations and a tooth cleaning, and because he's so old, all kinds of fancy extras are required. Poor kitty.

Ruby's class did a straw poll today: 2 votes for McCain, 1 for a third party candidate, and 19 for Obama.  So much for living in a red state. Which is funny, because I know a much higher proportion of their parents are on the conservative side. 

I am having a fun day.  Sure, it helps that for once, my vote may not have meant the kiss of death for all my candidates.  But there's just such a sparkly sense of civic pride and hope in the air!  I spent the morning at the school PTO bake sale, watching people come in to vote: old ladies with walkers, gay couples holding hands, families with babies, people in business suits, doctors in scrubs and white coats, the guy with the purple beard and eyebrows. And many stopped to chat, many had nice things to say about the school, some even bought the cookies and doughnuts.

Oooh, the anticipation!  In a few hours, we all get ponies!  Okay, maybe not, but I'm pretty excited, even if I know it's going to be business as usual in many ways, no matter who wins what. Still, the possibilities!

Done

I was at a Halloween/birthday party last night, and I have to report that that Sarah Palin is a surprisingly good dancer.  As is Her Majesty the Queen.  Elvis, by contrast, was a bit of a disappointment on the dance floor. 

Moving on, a lot has happened this week and I, the Mommy, am exhausted.  At one of my old jobs, every time an event or project was over, we had to write up a little summary report.  This was required as proof that our department was actually doing something, and as a reference for anyone who might have to handle a similar matter in the future.  It was also an exercise in self-evaluation:  a time to list your mistakes, celebrate your successes, and try to derive some lessons for Next Time. 

So if I were to look back on Halloween 2008, I would note that I took on a bit too much, even without meaning to.  The sewing was the biggest time sink.  I finished the costumes, but they cost way too much money and some very late nights, and they are embarrassingly badly made.  It was not especially fun for me, either.  Truly, most people who sew this badly give up on sewing at all, but not me.  I would swear never to do it again, but I know me, and someday I will be sucked up into another wave of enthusiasm for some project of my own, or sweet-talked by the kids, and I’ll commit the same craft crimes again.

I also was assigned to take cookies to Carl’s class for decorating during snack time.  This was a mistake by the teacher first of all.  I could have told her and the rookie room parents it was a Bad Idea, too sugary and way too messy, but I didn’t want to be a party pooper, and hope springs eternal, and all that. My mistake was turning my little assignment into a major project.  I made trips to various stores for specialized supplies.  I always worry about having enough, so poor Rod and I made way too many rolled out sugar cookies the night before.  (Note that I did not just buy cookie dough, or pre-made cookies the way the sensible parents would.)  And then I had to make sure we had enough frosting, but I didn’t want the sticky kind, so I tried two new recipes for royal icing at the last minute, and then I had to find all the application tools, and then I had six kinds of sprinkles and some icing in a can, too.  And another mom brought more sprinkles.  Did you know that children age 3-6 don’t really approach cookie decorating the way adults do?  They don’t, for instance, spread a layer of icing and then apply facial features to the cookie ghost, or a sprinkling of jimmies to the cookie pumpkin.  No.  They build up: layer upon layer of icing and sprinkles and sugar, taller and taller, until the mound of goop slips off the side of the cookie, onto the table and later the floor.  Did I say I made way too many cookies?  And way too much icing?  I’m going to be feeding to the composter 568,000 calories in about five minutes.

So Carl was a penguin at school and Batman on Halloween night.  Ruby wasn’t allowed to dress up at school, but she seemed pleased enough on Halloween night with her princess get-up and the pile of make-up I let her wear.  I also lent her the cape from a witch costume my mom made for me when I was five or six; it, by contrast to Ruby’s dress, had properly finished seams just where they were supposed to me and it fit.  Rod put on his oil rig clothes and went as a roustabout; Ruby gave me her green playsilkfor a shawl and a plastic snake for a wand and said I was Merryweather from Sleeping Beauty (or maybe she meant to say Fauna?).  We went to the aforementioned party and had a good time, although I was so tired I can’t really remember it all.  The gaggle of kids went trick-or-treating for a while, but thankfully not long enough to acquire so much candy that I have to make rules about it today.  Ruby decided that she would rather dance with the adults than watch a video with the kids, and she had a grand time being twirled and dipped and going from partner to partner.  Now, I am looking forward to taking down the tragic Halloween “decorations” that Ruby and Carl installed in the front yard and cleaning up the week-old jack o’lanterns that are already rotting. 

This week we also had a brief visit from Grandma, and I have to say, you people with quality grandparents living nearby?  I am so incredibly jealous of you.  Grandma was here for a conference that kept her pretty booked up, but she worked us in for an enchanted evening of takeout and child distraction.

Ruby lost tooth number six this week, too.  She bravely yanked it free of the last root, so eager was she to force another Tooth Fairy visit. Now she has a three-tooth wide gap in front, and lisps considerably.  There are a couple more loose ones, too.

I guess you could read this and still wonder why I am so completely exhausted.  What if I add that we also had cleaning lady day (requires a lot of preparatory cleaning up), dance classes, a piano lesson, a couple of evening meetings, a lot of peed-on sheets (not mine!), Ruby’s homework tantrums, and school picture day?  At any rate, this week I intend to catch up on sleep, clean up some of the nagging messes, and tackle a couple of pending projects.  Oh, and I’m helping the PTO with the election day bake sale, which is always a surprisingly good time.  Go vote, even you people who will cancel me out.  And if you vote at a school, put some money in the PTO kitty while you’re walking through the building.