Holpineville

Where the Fun and the Mess are Never Ending

Carl is sweet and good natured and sporadically affectionate.  However, he is not moved to perform acts of kindness and disinterested generosity as often as, say, Ruby is. Thus, I was quite touched when he spontaneously decided to make a "surprise breakfast" for Rod and me this weekend.  He started planning Saturday, when he got out a tray and loaded it up, refusing to tell me what it was for, but instructing me not to get out of bed in the morning when I "heard the thump sound."  Carl asked for help in stashing the tray in the refrigerator and obliquely asked about things Rod might like for breakfast.  

I thought he might have forgotten overnight, but no, the next morning Carl somehow managed to get the tray out of the refrigerator and all the way upstairs to the bed, without spilling the following: a cup of milk, a cup of raspberries, a cup of cheddar bunny crackers (purchased as part of the "take a child to the grocery store and pay extra" tax), a banana, and a pear.   Then he went back downstairs to get Rod a plate with a pear and a banana.  It was very sweet. 

Can someone direct me to a suitable martial arts class?  Last week I took Carl to a trial jiu jitsu class.  It was nearby, mostly conveniently scheduled, sort of affordable, and a good mix of boys and girls ages 3 to 6.  Carl was excited about trying it out, until the day it was time go.  Then he reverted back to his toddler barnacle stage, wrapping himself around my thighs and burying his head in my stomach, and being a complete nervous pill besides.   I was about to give up and go home when he finally agreed to help the teacher teach the class. 

But it didn't go well.  Carl seemed to like the individual activities (rope climb, monkey arm hang), but most of the class involved working in pairs and he either refused to be paired off or the teacher didn't pair him off, and at the end he told me he hated it.  Also, I wasn't so thrilled with the way the teacher managed the class time, and well, to me it just seemed a little....violent?  All that grabbing and pushing and wrestling? 

As I was telling Rod about this, I asked "so are there any martial arts classes that are, you know, a little less violent?  With less focus on learning how to beat people up?"  And Rod looked at me like, "well, my goodness, I sure did marry a crazy stupid person, how did that happen?"  and he gently explained that most martial arts had to do with, you know, defending one's self.  And he asked "what exactly are you looking for, then?"  To which I could only reply, "well, like yoga, maybe, with some macho power moves and yells?" 

So dear readers, what are the differences among karate, jiu jitsu, tae kwan do, capoeira, aikido, kung fu, judo, kendo, etc.? Which is best for an energetic oversized five year old with a squeamish mother? Our quest for the Right Class continues.

Carl and I finally planned his upcoming fifth birthday party, which will be at one of those indoor, giant inflated things to bounce on places.  I'm not so excited about it, because it's not a very original idea and it will cost me money, but in the pro column, let us note that it is easy to plan and I won't have to clean house.    Now if I can just figure out what to give him.  Oh, sure, there's Legos, but it seems to me Mommy and Daddy should be a bit more original in their gift-giving.  A friend of a friend offered up a chihuahua mix puppy and I thought it was destiny, or at least kismet, but Rod still says no.  Maybe the party will be the present.

Ruby opened up a bit about the things she feels she needs to work on at school: getting faster at doing basic addition/subtraction/multiplication, reading long numbers out loud, and maybe spelling.  She also thought it would help her to have a chart of things she needs to work on, including those items plus reading and piano practice, for instance.  She seems to like charts, and I know at school she figures out what she's going to do when using a chart called her "work plan" for each week. So, I need to help her pull that together.  This fall, Ruby's taking an extracurricular creative writing class, piano, and the same dance/theater class she did last year.  This is a little more busy than I originally bargained for, but we can't give up the latter two, and the first one is a pilot program we want to get started at the school, so I'm sending her to it.  Also, I have relented and agreed to let her join the Girl Scouts, so she can live out her dream of selling cookies, and that means another meeting or two each month.

In other news, the pulmonologist said that my pneumonia was indeed a weird looking case, but he thinks I'm making a fine recovery....it just takes weeks for one's lungs to clear out, sorry about that, honey.  We spent the weekend swimming, working on a volunteer project, going to sleepovers and various kid and adult parties, and doing stuff around the house.  I'm in a cleaning out frenzy, sparked by Ruby's relocation to Carl's room and an upcoming children's consignment sale, where I hope to make a million selling off the kids' outgrown clothing and no-longer-treasured belongings, assuming I can sneak them out of the house when they're not looking. 

Ruby's garden has yielded a handful of okra, one Japanese eggplant, two poblano peppers, and two banana peppers.  Rod and Ruby made fried okra last night and it was actually good.  Ruby even liked it, so score one for the garden!

I was all excited for my kids to hear the President's speech this morning, because I think the ruckus over that was completely and utterly ridiculous (and yes, I'd feel the same if it was one of my least favorite presidents from the other party giving the speech), and that it's useful to have an authority figure other than Daddy and me telling them that education is important, hard, and worthwhile.  Plus, I discount the whole "political brainwashing" argument: I know I watched plenty of Reagan speeches on school time in the 80's, and I managed not only to survive, but to become the bleeding-heart liberal that I am.  My kids are way smarter than I am and they can think for themselves.  But, I guess Carl's teacher decided the class was too young, and Ruby's class was out at one of their ancillary classes at the same time, so I guess I'll have to summarize it for them later.

Warm Spell

(Yes, 1-0-8)

I hate summer.  I just had to say it once this year!

It's not a good idea to leave a sealed can of soda in your car when you park at the airport for a couple of days:

 

Moving on:

Yesterday, at a swimming pool barbecue, Carl-the-semi-vegetarian decided he liked hamburgers: "Mom, I want one of those meat things with two covers (bun) and ketchup, okay?"  And he ate two enormous burgers and cadged another to take home for lunch today.  I was worried he'd barf, but he didn't, and he ate strawberries and a cookie along with it all.  This morning, Carl had two giant bagel-store bagels with cream cheese for breakfast.  I had to force myself to refrain from giving him the whole lecture on bread exchanges and bad carbs.   He's not even five yet...I hope it's just a growth spurt.  So far for lunch, he's had two small peaches and one bite of the above burger, so perhaps he was just doing a major refueling.

Ruby pulled me aside on Wednesday to whisper in my ear that a boy at camp told her he loves her.  Later, in the car she said that Fellow Camper (FC) said that and asked her to dance ("holding my arm like people do when they get married.")  "He says I'm the beautifullest girl he's ever met!" 

I tried to remain in non-judgmental observer mode. "Wow.  So what did you think about that?" And Ruby babbles on for a while.  I try to say that she doesn't have to reciprocate, and that she should be kind, because it would be awful to say that to someone and have them laugh at you or be mean.  I say that no one everhas said that to me, and it certainly didn't happen when I was six-going-on-seven. 

We agreed that they're a bit young to be discussing love.  Maybe, I said, he just meant that he really likes her and wants to be her friend, but he couldn't think of another way to say it.  "He must mean that I'm beautiful on the inside," said Ruby.  "Sure," I said, "because you are."  "Well, replies Ruby, "the outside is just skin and clothes and stuff." "Yeah," I agree, "but you have really nice skin; you're a very pretty girl, too."

Later, I told another mom about it, and she replied that her son and another boy in the class think FC is a big dork.  The next morning, I got to meet FC and his mom in the camp parking lot.  FC does have a bit of a dork aura about him, but I have always liked that.  And, he was also very articulate and cute and sweet to Ruby.  FC's mom said something about having heard all about Ruby from FC, and I replied that I'd heard he gives good compliments.  FC's mom gently explained that FC has a lot of girlfriends, that he seems to prefer to play with girls, and so even if Ruby is the beautifullest, she's not the first.   

With all the sweating, day camp, and romance, this has been one very full week.  I have been going to water aerobics and with friends to Nia (envision low impact aerobics, done barefoot, to world music and with a large helping of New Age mumbo-jumbo on the side).  I went to the back doctor (dull and expected, but depressing news) and to the OB with my preggo friend.  Last night, we hosted a baby shower for another preggo friend, today Ruby and I are going to an event that's part of Worldwide Knit in Public Day, and tonight we are having a couple of little kids over for a sleepover.   It'll be fun, right?

Green

I keep thinking that I am going to throw up, but it never quite happens.  A few times, I have even sneezed my traditional pre-barf sneeze, but that’s all.  Otherwise I feel okay, just tired, presumably because Carl kept me up most of the night Saturday.  The queasy has been going on since late last week.  There is no chance I’m pregnant, thanks for asking. What is going on?

 

The kids have colds.  I suspect Ruby’s is trending towards ear infection because she’s so pale and ever-so-slightly-feverish, and since Carl has goo coming out of both his eyes and nose, plus a nasty cough, it’s a safe bet he’s headed that way, too.  I can’t decide whether to go ahead and make them doctor appointments, or wait and see if they are miraculously better tomorrow.   Some kids can just have colds and then get well again, right?*

 

I am worried about Carl’s future nose.  A friend pointed out that his nose looks perilously similar to some of the scarier ones in the family album, the kind where the outer edge of the nostril isn’t as long as the septum, and so the rest of us get a super great view of nose hair and boogers.  It makes me want to start a plastic surgery fund for him, and he doesn't even have nose hair yet.  Can you tell I have issues with noses? For the record, I also worry too much about my children’s future teeth (orthodontist, here we come, at least for Ruby), and skin (I waited until I was 24 to see the dermatologist about my acne, and it would have made such a difference to my self esteem a few years earlier). 

 

I got a cool early birthday present:  a new bike!  Nothing fancy, or at least I think it’s not, since Rod got it for me as one of his patent awards (Rod’s Company:  “Good Job Inventing! You can pick a prize from this catalog of random things!”) So now, I don’t have to be the boring, bikeless mom sitting out the family bike rides Ruby is so fond of organizing.  I haven’t had a bike since junior high, I think, and I haven’t ridden in three or four years, but I managed to get to the park and back alive yesterday. 

 

This week, I have a lot of meetings to attend, mostly kids' school-related.  I also am trying to show our rental property and I need to think of something nice to do for everyone for Valentine’s Day.  Carl has a lot of homework to celebrate the 100^th Day of School this week: bring 100 of something for snack, donate canned goods, do good deeds.  Ruby has another loose tooth.

 

Hmm. I guess I don’t really have anything interesting to say today, after all, so I’ll stop trying.  Hope your Monday is going well.

*Edited to add: I just got a phone call from school. "Hi Mom, it's me, Ruby.  I'm not feeling too good, and Ms. Lynne says my eyes look kind of dull..."  Ugh.

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?

 

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.

 

Ready for a Little Freaky Friday of My Own

I am jealous of my kids.  What a deal they have!  Someone to serve their meals, do the laundry, read stories, and drive them around.  I take them to the library, the pool, museums and parks.  I have been highly accommodating lately of requests for frozen treats, popcorn, books, art supplies, and water toys.  I listen to them complain, I watch attentively whenever anyone yells “Mom!  Look!,”  I take them out to eat, I make up bedtime stories, I help with personal grooming chores, and I play games and toys with them. 

At Ruby’s camp this week, I drop her off in an auditorium where there is live entertainment on stage; then they move on to dance, drama, art, music and games classes, interspersed with snacks and lunch.  Carl’s class has been studying Hawaii and Mexico and other tropical paradises this summer, complete with luaus and fiestas.  They also make art, plant plants, and have show and tell, a creative movement/drama class, water play, snacks, and naptime.  Not a bad way to spend the summer, if you ask me.  I know being a kid has tons of drawbacks, but I could handle a few weeks of that.

Ruby is having a very good camp week. Tuesday she was wriggling with excitement because she learned some string games—you know, cat’s cradle, cup and saucer, etc.  At home, I demonstrated the utility of the Internet and we looked up instructions for some more.  I was surprised at how quickly and well she was learning them.  Wednesday, she brought home some “crochet” that looked like knotting or macramé to me, but Rod looked at it and figured out it really was chain crochet, just done without a hook.  She also said they had been sewing, and one thing led to another and I dug out some supplies and she spent the afternoon and evening embroidering (badly and extremely free form, but with great enthusiasm). 

To backtrack to ensure a complete historical record, Ruby’s birthday party was pretty good.  I continued in my tradition of spending too much money on party stuff at the last minute.  Many, many kids came, almost too many.  Ruby wore a thrift store gown out of the dress up box and did her own hair extra fancy.  The instructor who was to lead the activity part of the party didn’t show, things were getting crazy and I was about to panic, when in popped the director of the dance studio, and the world’s finest person to lead the action anyway.  She saved the day, and the dancing seemed to be fun for everyone.  But, the delay meant we had to hurry a bit with refreshments, and the set up for serving them was a little awkward.  Plus, Ruby, bless her little control freak heart, had very strong ideas about how things should happen, and it took her a while to distribute the napkins satisfactorily, for example.  And then at pull-string piñata time, Ruby had wanted to distribute the strings or something, but of course once even a few kids had strings, the yanking began, and the piñata was soon empty and the birthday party control freak was sobbing.  But not for long, because then she moved on to a methodical yet arbitrary distribution of the parting gifts for the guests (butterfly activity book, pencil, stickers).  However, Rod and I decided No More Pinatas, at least for her.    

For Father’s Day, Ruby wanted to tie-dye a shirt for Rod.  We did two, just in case something went wrong with one, and we got a kid-sized shirt for Carl to dye in the hope that he would leave Ruby’s work alone.  The dyeing process was really not as horrifyingly messy as I had feared.  The only thing left with permanent stains was me, and my fingernails will grow out eventually, right?  The shirts turned out pretty cute, too.  Rod also got a framed photo Carl made at school, some gum (like the kind he has in his car usually), and Ruby and I ordered him some new ties which should show up here eventually (and likely won’t match, and we’ll have to send them back and try again, but it’s the thought that counts).  We let Daddy sleep in.  I made a nice breakfast.  We had a barbecue with our pool friends, and I think there you have the highlights.  

What more?  Carl was supposed to start a creative movement class sponsored by the same dance school Ruby goes to for ballet, and he had expressed enthusiasm about going when we signed him up, but suddenly he is being an obstinate horse’s ass about the whole thing.  He won’t even enter the classroom, and runs up and down the hall outside being a terror.  He said something about there being too many girls, but I think he just doesn’t want to participate enough to put up with having to follow the rules.  So I withdrew him from the class today.  He’s been talking about playing t-ball or soccer, like some of his preschool friends, so I may look into that for the fall.  Both kids are making good progress with swimming, more in terms of comfort in the water than actual form and skill, but it’s still great to see. 

This week, I am taking all three cats to the vet (but not at once), and I had another long dentist appointment.  Really, her yacht should be paid for by now.  I also started a six-week weight intensive training program at the Y.  I know, it’s a big step for a couch potato like me, and I’m really not in the mood for it, to tell the truth.  I lost a very few pounds earlier this year, I’m not sure exactly how, but it wasn’t easy.  Nothing new has evaporated off my hips in a long while, though,  and my hope is that by publicly committing and making myself accountable to perky Miss Joy, I will regain momentum and get somewhere: stronger, less achy, in the habit of doing the weights again, thinner, something.  My actual vanity goals are to get to attainable Weight X,  at which point I am going to get Y (something I’m not telling anyone about), and to be at least a little healthier when I go to back to the gynecologist/the Executive Physical place/the regular doctor in a couple of months.  And really, I only have sixteen more workouts to go.  How hard can that be?  I figure I can always go back to the sofa after that.

I am also happy about the produce coop we joined. So far, the variety of stuff we get is good, the value for money spent is not too bad, and the quality has been excellent.  I don't know if the organic-ness has anything to do with the freshness, or maybe it's just due to the food not sitting around for days at the grocery store.  Cooking around what comes in our (reusable cotton) bags hasn't been too much of challenge, and there is more comfort than I realized in feeding fruit or veggies to the kids and not having to worry about how much pesticide might be there.  There is also an option of ordering some meals-to-go that are awesome-- and they are raw food and vegan, which I know sounds completely contradictory; I am not that much of a vegetarian hippy and normally "raw food" sends me running for the door.  But see, they are yummy!  And they are so healthy, right, that it's okay for me to order instead of cook, you agree? And it supports small business...

Could be Great, Could be a Disaster

I know this is small potatoes compared to all you people with real problems and real jobs, but I’m deep in the muck of last minute school fundraiser Gala plans.  Our house looks like a gift shop explosion, except for the mountains of laundry and Tinkertoys in the living room.  I’m having Gala dreams and I can’t decide if they’re nightmares or not.  I still haven’t figured out what I’m going to wear.  I keep thinking I’m done cataloguing donations, and then someone else sends me something cool (lunch with a US Olympics gymnastics team coach!  A week at luxury beach home for nine outside of Acapulco! Helicopter flying lessons!) You should see the air compressor Rod’s donating—he painted little wildcat (school mascot) footprints on it and made “claw” marks.  I’m frantically editing the program and trying to translate my last reminder flier to parents into Spanish.   We have twice as many people with reservations for this event than we did last year.  Dare we dream it might all turn out okay after all?

In other news, one of my kids’ friends got a new bike for his birthday last week, and gave his old one to Carl.  Carl is SO excited.  He keeps talking about his “big boy bike” and wants to go riding all the time.  We have had a couple of brutal arguments about wearing a helmet, but I think he’s starting to understand I will not bend on that rule.  His riding is already much better than Ruby’s during the training wheel phase, and he asks to ride around the park perimeter just like she does.  It took me five years before I could decide it was safe enough for Ruby, and then Carl does it on Day 2 of bike riding.  Second kids get all the breaks.  Lest you think the boy is completely gifted, I also discovered this week that he cannot use a pair of scissors even with help.  Ruby was practically able to do papel picado at this age.  Clearly, Carl’s fine motor skills still have some evolving to do.

Finally, I have decided I hate the way this page looks and it gives me a headache.  So, I pledge a Holpineville mini-makeover sometime in the next month or so.  Any design tips you want to pass along?

Time's A-Wastin'

Gala planning is hitting high-gear, and not-coincidentally I am having a strong urge to play a lot of Web@oggle and Solitaire, or maybe just to hide in the closet with my good ear plugged.  But a week from today, the big night will be over and I will be having recovery coffee and charging people’s credit cards for all the great things they bought at my auction. 

Also on the calendar is the Election Day bake sale at Ruby’s school on Tuesday.  I’ll work a long shift, which I am happy about because it means I can shirk my Gala duties for a couple of hours, and it was fun to do last election day, greeting people, pointing them toward stairs, and taking their money.  But I need to go buy or bake some stuff in a hurry.  Ironically, I have nine boxes of Girl Scout cookies (but no Girl Scout in residence—I am just a sucker), but I don’t think that’s what the bake sale lady has in mind.  More important, I have yet to make up my mind about who I’m voting for, so I have additionally been shirking my Gala duties by taking quizzes on Which Candidate Matches Your Views.  (It’s just too bad Kucinich is already out, because we were born for each other.  And Biden! How can I ever get excited about a candidate again?) I’ve barely even scratched the surface on researching the local races.  It’s hard work being a responsible voter, especially during a week you’ve got other work you’re avoiding.

Yesterday was busy.  We dropped Rod’s car off for yet more fixing, we went to breakfast at Texas Cafeteria, famed for both really cheap & mostly edible food, and the vast array of hunting and fishing trophies on the walls.  Then, we went to the staging area for the Rodeo parade.  Horses, mules, wagons, cowboys, as far as the eye could see.   The kids took one look and decided it was more fun to play in the ditch (okay, the bayou).  Still, it was festive, and then it was off to a bowling birthday party.  It was loud and crowded, but what kid party isn’t?  Ruby decided bowling was lots of fun, and she was very proud of her first spare.  She is already begging to go back.  Carl started out happily throwing bowling balls down the lane (crash!) but soon he was starving, cranky, and tired, and by the end he was telling me that “bull riding is too hard,” so go figure.

Ruby has a new friend, A.  He’s in another class at school, but they see each other once a week in the magnet-program art class, and, she says at recess “we walk together on the playground and just talk and talk and talk!”  Ruby is very excited about it, treating us to quote-worthy exclamations like “A!  I just can’t take my eyes off him!” I don’t think it’s a crush, exactly, but more that she’s happy to find a friend who wants to play the way she wants to.  She’s been having problems lately with the way her friends who are boys play, and the fact that they all seem to be bonding with Carl, so it must be great to find a boy who’s on her wavelength.  We had a play date at A’s house last week and will reciprocate AG (after Gala) at our house.  A has a little brother who is only slightly older than Carl, so it’s a good fit.  I even managed to chit chat with their mom and didn’t die of shyness and social ineptitude.

Thank you for allowing me to avoid my auction database and box of file folders long enough to write this.  Now, it's back to the grindstone, or maybe off to the grocery store.  Aren't you jealous? 

Mommy Sag-war Drove the Carpool Today*

Only 10 or 11 more weeks of summer vacation, I’m not sure which.  How’s it going?  Fine.  Tiring.  The kids are tired.  I am tired; mostly because of the swimming.  I don’t think I have crossed the line into overscheduling the kids, because the alternative is Unscheduled Mayhem at Home and I don’t deal well with that.  But they are falling asleep pretty hard at night these days.

Ruby has been to Montessori teacher-run camp one week, and this week is Zoo Camp for Over Privileged Kids Whose Parents Require Childfree Time.  It’s a very nice, well-run camp and I think she is having fun.  Probably not learning much of anything, however, and perhaps I am spoiling her? 

Carl still has his nose to the grindstone at Montessori preschool; no vacation for him.  But after camp and school, most days we go to the pool.  It’s amazing how three feet of water (I keep them in the shallow end) and a few friends can occupy them for hours and hours, day after day after day.  Ruby and Carl already have their deep dark tropical tans, despite all that SPF 35 through 50.  Ruby is paddling around without a floatie and willingly putting her head underwater.  Carl doesn’t do much that looks like swimming, but he loves to jump in fearlessly over and over and over and walk through the water.

I am busy this week driving kids around and planning Ruby’s birthday party and our various vacations.  I’m also scheduling the various doctor appointments (nothing critical: blood work to use as evidence in my ongoing argument with my doctor about my thyroid,  eye doctor so I can replace the glasses I lost during the Great Thanksgiving Road Trip, Carl’s ear tube check, Ruby’s 5 year check up, etc.)  Somehow, my brain has found some surplus energy for fretting about landscaping and a couple of home décor projects I have previously ignored for lack of enthusiasm.  (Not that I will be landscaping anytime soon; just that I am starting to think about it.  Look for actual planting sometime in 2008, at this rate.)  Also, hurricane season is here, and I am just waiting for the roof to blow off.  The new regional plan strongly urges us to stay where we are if the big one hits, so that the more coastal residents can have a prayer of getting out of town.  I am fine with that, even factoring in my irrational fear of floods, except when I read the part about 135 mph winds.  Truly, I would like to move to

Oregon

or

Boston

or

Canada

, but Rod says no, and I do enjoy being a kept woman, so I guess I will be here, getting blown away with the kids and the cats.

Rod is trying to avoid going to

Singapore

for work, and I am trying to be nice to him about missing dinners and being on the phone so much and the uncertainty of it all, when I am really quite irrationally cheesed off about the whole deal. If I have to take the turnips on the Mom-sprinkling vacation alone, I may have to throw a tantrum, I’m warning you all now.

Would someone please make Ruby read already?  She is, or was at the end of the school year, so close to cracking the code. But she isn’t reading yet, and worse, she doesn’t have much enthusiasm for the project at all.  She likes being read to, or at least she’d better, because it’s our major form of child entertainment.  She knows her letter sounds, and can sound out some one-syllable words.  But the magical leap, where you can sound out words at a speed greater than one per two minutes, where you can sight read “an” and “a” and “the” and “would” and the like, has yet to happen.

I know I am just too impatient, but some of her friends are starting to do it, and I am worried that over the summer she will backslide and therefore not experience the joy of literacy until next year sometime, so it will be forever before I can say, “why don’t you go read a book, sweetie, while I (take care of housewife detail X)?”  Aside: I promise you, I do not put pressure on her or outwardly exhibit my feelings, truly.  I just wish I could wave the magic wand and make it happen.

And a question:  Does anyone else with multiple children find themselves only buying clothes for the eldest?  I buy about four times as much stuff for Ruby as I do for Carl.  I justify this by noting that 1) Carl’s fashion opinions are thus far limited to “di-so-sore shirt” or “cow-sheep-dog shirt;” 2) Carl has been the lucky recipient of truckloads of hand-me-downs from friends with boys Ruby’s age, 3) polo shirts and jeans/shorts/khakis are all pretty much the same and when you’re growing as fast as he is, the cheap ones will do, and 4) girl clothes are cuter. Anyway, I have lately developed a deep affection for the Children’s Place online outlet, and if you care, there is a big sale at hannaandersson.com.  I have heretofore only bought Hannas at consignment stores, because I can’t afford them, but I may have to break down and order a frock or two today. 

*Carl likes to play Baby Jaguar (him) And Mommy Jaguar (me) when he’s feeling cuddly.  You should hear him meow. 

I Hab a Cold

Somehow, viruses (that looks weird: virae? virii?) are harder for me to deal with since acquiring children, probably because I can’t cope like I used to: flop around on the sofa, skip dinner and fall asleep early.  Also, the arrival of children coincided with the sales restrictions on pseudo ephedrine products, which, in my humble opinion, are the only way to go for a serious snotty-nosed cold, and I never have any of the good stuff on hand anymore.

So, the weekend for me was viewed through the veil of fatigue, fever, and congestion.  But it was busy, busy, busy.  Friday night was the spring carnival at Ruby’s school.  The weather was glorious for this time of year and the kids had a great time.  Carl spent about $10 in tickets going through the trampoline/slide thing over, and over, and over again, but hey—he was easy to supervise!  They had snow cones!  They made miniature art cars!  The grownups had less fun, because apart from being sick, Rod and I had volunteer shifts to cover and many of the organizing grownups were busy yelling at each other.  Really, if I hadn’t felt so crappy, overhearing the “apologies” that started something like “I’m sorry you’re a jerk,” could have been amusing.  But they weren’t. 

Naturally on Saturday the kids were tired and crabby with carnival hangovers, but Ruby had her monthly nature class (salamanders, this time) and Carl had a playdate in the morning.  After Carl’s nap and a long session of convincing Ruby that she would have to stay home if she didn’t rest for a few minutes at least, it was off to Rod’s employer’s day at Splash#town.  Really, nothing fills me with greater delight than facing Rod’s co-workers while wearing a bathing suit, except maybe doing it with red drippy eyes and a snotty nose, too.  I overcame my little insecurities and went, though, and we are all glad I did, because it was a lot of fun for the little people despite some really cold water.  They did not want to leave at all, but Rod and I heartlessly forced them to the car, because it was:

Fifteenth Wedding Anniversary Date Night!

Although the actual anniversary is not until later this week, so the congratulatory high-fives are on hold so as not to jinx it.  We went out for a lovely and expensive dinner that I could almost barely sort of taste, and then sat around talking, which is probably torture for Rod, but he does it to humor me occasionally.  Plus, I think he was afraid to put the romantic moves on me and risk contracting the Virus of Doom. 

Then Sunday we had brunch with friends to celebrate a two-year old’s birthday, and then later we went to the pool we have joined for the summer.  Rod allowed me to use the illness card and stay out of the water, which is good because it was really cold, judging by all the shivering children with blue lips.  Carl did an excellent job of “swimming” with Rod, and seemed to love the water.  He was very angry each time Rod made him get out and come wrap up with me for a few minutes to get warm.  Ruby surprised me by playing independently with her friends in the water the whole time, even getting her head wet.  It wasn’t actual swimming, but she didn’t seem frightened, which is a great sign this early in the year.  Dorks that we are, we ended the evening at a rather icky pizza buffet, but the kids were happy to watch the dough being tossed in the kitchen and they had beer for the grownups, so it could have been so much worse. 

This is the last week of Ruby’s school. I have a lot of nagging errands to run and not much enthusiasm for any of them.  Both kids seem to be coming down with my cold. I am trying to think of something kind and appreciative but not too obsequious or weird for Ruby’s teacher.  Ideas?