I've developed a Pinterest addiction. This is not a joke. Nor does
it imply that I'm doing a lot of baking and crafting, Instead, I spend
hours scrolling through the "humor" section, clinking on links, and viewing things like a list of Joey and Chandler's 25 best friendship moments (despite
the fact that I did not own a TV during Friends' entire run) or 96
amazing animal photos. During these hours I am neither grading papers,
planning classes, talking to my family, nor getting to bed on time. I
finally downloaded a program that lets me block webpages from myself.
Yesterday I had Pinterest and Facebook blocked until 11:00 at night.
Then I stayed up until 2:00 getting my fix anyway.
I
am 44 years old. I am a responsible adult. I have to download a
program, sarcastically called "Self Control," in order to get myself out
of the labyrinth of Pinterest time wasting. I'm pretty sure this is
not a good sign. So, Zoloft. You're doing awesome on the "Less Rage"
thing. But I need you to back off on the "Zoning out Takes Precedence
over Life" thing.
Friday, October 11, 2013
In which my kids make me feel good.
Yesterday I was singing in the car, making up some nonsense song to
entertain myself. "Linden did this at you!" announces Oak, twirling his
fingers near his ear. I laugh.
"I didn't say you are crazy," she says, "I just said you're weird."
"Mama's not weird; she's AWESOME!" exclaims Oak.
Some of the conviction in his voice came from the fact that he was arguing with his sister--and was on the parentally approved side of the argument for a change--but I'll take it.
-------------------------------------------------------
We read a story about a kitten going to school as a Show-and-Tell item. Linden says, "If they do show-and-tell in 2nd grade, I'm going to bring you!"
"What would you tell?" I ask, genuinely curious.
"I'd say, 'This is my Mama Doll. She's the biggest toy ever! She likes to wear earrings, and hug me, and read."
That about sums it up.
"I didn't say you are crazy," she says, "I just said you're weird."
"Mama's not weird; she's AWESOME!" exclaims Oak.
Some of the conviction in his voice came from the fact that he was arguing with his sister--and was on the parentally approved side of the argument for a change--but I'll take it.
-------------------------------------------------------
We read a story about a kitten going to school as a Show-and-Tell item. Linden says, "If they do show-and-tell in 2nd grade, I'm going to bring you!"
"What would you tell?" I ask, genuinely curious.
"I'd say, 'This is my Mama Doll. She's the biggest toy ever! She likes to wear earrings, and hug me, and read."
That about sums it up.
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Doing my son's laundry
Pairs of pants: 12
Pairs of socks: 13
Pairs of underwear: 3
Seriously? I guess we need to start micromanaging that.
Pairs of socks: 13
Pairs of underwear: 3
Seriously? I guess we need to start micromanaging that.
Saturday, October 5, 2013
A Few More Things Parenting Has Taught Me
1. If a kid lays down during the day, even for a few seconds, that kid is sick.
2. Costco is a restaurant. Sweet Tomatoes is a fancy restaurant.
3. The evening allows enough time for two, maybe three of the following: making dinner from scratch, eating dinner as a family, doing dishes, listening to each kid read aloud for 20 minutes, supervising each kids' 20 minutes of homework, any of us getting any of our chores done. Yet all of these things should be happening. Plus, I hear some people bathe their kids occasionally. I have no idea where they get the time.
4. In event of soccer practice, there is time for soccer practice and Taco Bell. That's it. Oh, and you're supposed to bring a chair to soccer practice. I didn't know that the first time I went. On the plus side, soccer practice = Mom's reading time.
5. Saturday morning cartoons (or DVDs) exist so parents can sleep late and/or get it on.
6. Minecraft is a thing. Applesauce in a little tube is a thing. I knew that My Little Pony was a thing, but I didn't know they have Cutie Marks (gag).
7. Barbie movies don't suck as badly as I thought they would. I'm not saying I make them an option on family movie night, but I think I prefer them to the movies where live action dogs make fart jokes. The books based on the Barbie movies, however, are garbage.
8. If you have the right kind of friends, with the right size of kids, you basically never need to buy any clothes for your kids besides socks and underwear.
9. The library has always been one of my very favorite places in the world. Since having kids, I've discovered what the item check-out limit is (100), and that today's library offers free events like Lego Time and Game Night. Add to that the fact that our library backs onto a park with biking paths around a lake, and you've got an entire day's free outing right there. I honestly can't love the library any more than I do already, but if I could, I would.
10. Zoloft makes me a better mom.
If you're wondering where the mushy stuff is, well, I did know going into this that there would be moments of awesome, times when I loved my kids so much I could physically feel my heart trying to pop out of my chest. And I knew there'd be lows. This list represents things I was just oblivious to in The Time Before Kids.
2. Costco is a restaurant. Sweet Tomatoes is a fancy restaurant.
3. The evening allows enough time for two, maybe three of the following: making dinner from scratch, eating dinner as a family, doing dishes, listening to each kid read aloud for 20 minutes, supervising each kids' 20 minutes of homework, any of us getting any of our chores done. Yet all of these things should be happening. Plus, I hear some people bathe their kids occasionally. I have no idea where they get the time.
4. In event of soccer practice, there is time for soccer practice and Taco Bell. That's it. Oh, and you're supposed to bring a chair to soccer practice. I didn't know that the first time I went. On the plus side, soccer practice = Mom's reading time.
5. Saturday morning cartoons (or DVDs) exist so parents can sleep late and/or get it on.
6. Minecraft is a thing. Applesauce in a little tube is a thing. I knew that My Little Pony was a thing, but I didn't know they have Cutie Marks (gag).
7. Barbie movies don't suck as badly as I thought they would. I'm not saying I make them an option on family movie night, but I think I prefer them to the movies where live action dogs make fart jokes. The books based on the Barbie movies, however, are garbage.
8. If you have the right kind of friends, with the right size of kids, you basically never need to buy any clothes for your kids besides socks and underwear.
9. The library has always been one of my very favorite places in the world. Since having kids, I've discovered what the item check-out limit is (100), and that today's library offers free events like Lego Time and Game Night. Add to that the fact that our library backs onto a park with biking paths around a lake, and you've got an entire day's free outing right there. I honestly can't love the library any more than I do already, but if I could, I would.
10. Zoloft makes me a better mom.
If you're wondering where the mushy stuff is, well, I did know going into this that there would be moments of awesome, times when I loved my kids so much I could physically feel my heart trying to pop out of my chest. And I knew there'd be lows. This list represents things I was just oblivious to in The Time Before Kids.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Hops like a bunny
Oak tells me, “Mom!
My friend at school is going to bring me a tarantula tomorrow! She says I can keep it!”
My eyes bug out, and with admirable restraint, I manage to
not quite shriek, “No! You may not get a
tarantula.”
“No, Mom, it’s okay!
She says I can really have it!”
“No.”
“But it already has a little house to live in, and she’s
giving me that too.”
“No.”
“But Mom! She’s
bringing it tomorrow!
“Nope. No
spiders. Besides,” (in a lame attempt to
apply logic and/or push the blame elsewhere) “she can’t bring a spider to
school. It’s against the rules.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I read it in the Parent Handbook. No poisonous spiders at school.”
“But Mom, why don’t you want me to get it? Are you afraid or something?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“But Mom, it’s so cute!
It just hops, like a bunny!”
Okay, if you can think of something more disturbing than a
tarantula that hops, then please do NOT tell me about it. The fact that he thought this would make me
more amenable to his suggestion, plus the general hilariousness of comparing a
gigantic spider to a fluffy bunny made me burst into laughter, which just hurt
his feelings.
And then he tried to convince me to let him get a monkey
instead.
We are really cat and dog people, all four of us, but the
Winemaker has serious allergies, even after five years (!) of weekly shots. Husbands who are perpetually stuffed up, and
occasionally have to go sit on the porch to catch their breaths, are one
thing. Winemakers who can’t smell are
another problem altogether.
Anyone know much about turtles?
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Stretched Out
The kids' English is AMAZING. Oak still has some grammar errors ("Did you saw her?") and vocab gaps that result in a lot of "The thing did the thing to the thing." But Linden--you'd never guess she isn't a native speaker. Today I used the word "vulnerable" and she wanted me to define it, then break it down for her a few times so she could practice saying it.
But there are two errors they make that I hope stick around awhile longer. The first is that they've conflated "join" and "enjoy." So when Oak is still working on his ice cream after the rest of us have long finished he'll smugly tell us, "I'm enjoining it." For some reason, I find this so charming that I've started using it as well, which only adds to the confusion.
The other one kills me. Occasionally Linden will politely say, "Mama, I think you're kind of stretched out, because you're being kind of crabby." Yes, I am stretched out. Not in a loose, yoga kind of way, but in a stretched too thin kind of way. I reply something along the lines of, "Yes, I am feeling kind of stretched out right now. I'd better take some deep breaths, huh."
School starts next week. We are broke*, and are waiting for tomorrow's paycheck before we can buy school supplies. The Winemaker has mono, and although I am theoretically safe, having had it in high school, I came home today with a 102 temperature. I've been at inservice all week, feeling like crap, and trying to wrap my brain around, coincidentally, about 102 different apps and functions as my school gears up for a one-to-one student iPad initiative. I am stretched out.
*Of course, when I say "broke," it's middle-class broke, where at least I have a job and the cars are crap but paid off and we've already paid the mortgage this month, but we're down the wire on cash flow. I know there are scarier kinds of broke to be. It's hard for us, when we used to have two incomes and live below our means, to have to be all, "No milk until Friday," and "thank God the kids don't care if their back-to-school clothes come from Goodwill." But we have plenty, really.
But there are two errors they make that I hope stick around awhile longer. The first is that they've conflated "join" and "enjoy." So when Oak is still working on his ice cream after the rest of us have long finished he'll smugly tell us, "I'm enjoining it." For some reason, I find this so charming that I've started using it as well, which only adds to the confusion.
The other one kills me. Occasionally Linden will politely say, "Mama, I think you're kind of stretched out, because you're being kind of crabby." Yes, I am stretched out. Not in a loose, yoga kind of way, but in a stretched too thin kind of way. I reply something along the lines of, "Yes, I am feeling kind of stretched out right now. I'd better take some deep breaths, huh."
School starts next week. We are broke*, and are waiting for tomorrow's paycheck before we can buy school supplies. The Winemaker has mono, and although I am theoretically safe, having had it in high school, I came home today with a 102 temperature. I've been at inservice all week, feeling like crap, and trying to wrap my brain around, coincidentally, about 102 different apps and functions as my school gears up for a one-to-one student iPad initiative. I am stretched out.
*Of course, when I say "broke," it's middle-class broke, where at least I have a job and the cars are crap but paid off and we've already paid the mortgage this month, but we're down the wire on cash flow. I know there are scarier kinds of broke to be. It's hard for us, when we used to have two incomes and live below our means, to have to be all, "No milk until Friday," and "thank God the kids don't care if their back-to-school clothes come from Goodwill." But we have plenty, really.
Monday, August 19, 2013
Busily ignoring Back-to-School ads
I'd like to pretend that the slowdown in my summer blogging is because I've been too busy having FUN. But mostly we've just been chugging along. I have never (ever ever ever) been one of those teachers who gets all antsy in mid-July and has their classroom decorated and their first three units planned by this point in August. Yes, I like my job. But I prefer not-working. Even on a day like today, which consisted of thrilling events such as a trip to Target (for socks, no less), Goodwill, and the pharmacy; about seventy billion petty arguments between the kids; and a ridiculous amount of screen time for them, just so I could read a bit more of this really great mystery I got yesterday.
The Winemaker has mono. I had it when I was fourteen, and the main effects were: a) acquaintances assuming I'd gotten in by kissing someone, thereby looking at me with new respect, b) being able to sleep in without getting scolded, and c) not having to take freshman PE. Basically, a win all around.
This is not what the Winemaker is experiencing. He can't eat. His throat feels like razors. He's so congested I have to interpret what he says for other people. He has a constant low-grade fever. *Warning* next symptom is gross--He keeps barfing up giant balls of mucus. (Oak late at night: "Can you shut the door to your bedroom? I keep hearing Daddy frow up and it makes me sad.") He was so sick for a day or two that he didn't want me to leave the house, because he was afraid his throat would swell shut and he wouldn't even be able to call for help.
So instead of my usual seize-the-summer August frenzy of back-to-back camping trips and day trips to the beach, we have this excess of movies and books. It's still summery, because when else can I stay up until 4 in the morning finishing a book? Plus, you know, it's sunny outside. In fact, today was downright hot. I celebrated by cooking a casserole. Because of course, on a hot day there's nothing like first turning on 2 burners and then the oven. But it was comfort food. Father's Delight for our poor miserable father.
Did I mention it's his birthday? Yay. Last night he was laying on the couch and said, "I have some birthday requests. Let's not have a big group of people over. And how about a nice cold glass of water?"
So summer fizzles out, but I'm still resisting the end. I find September to be the saddest month of the year, and May to be the most stressful. The rest of the year, I like my job.
In retrospect, the nicest part of this summer may be the time I looked out the back window and saw my two and their neighborhood bestie sitting on a blanket having a picnic in the shade, none of them squabbling for a good seven-eight minutes. They looked so sweet. Now that I think of it, the best aspect of summer this year (not so much last year, during our crazy new-family stage) is watching the kids enjoy their summer. I expected that with Christmas, but hadn't considered that summer is also something magical in childhood. Maybe I didn't expect it because summer hasn't lost any of its shine for me as I aged. Even without the campouts and road trips I'd like to have fit in, there were still popsicles, and slip-n-slides, and two weeks of day camp, a few great day trips, and hours of just playing outside.
The Winemaker has mono. I had it when I was fourteen, and the main effects were: a) acquaintances assuming I'd gotten in by kissing someone, thereby looking at me with new respect, b) being able to sleep in without getting scolded, and c) not having to take freshman PE. Basically, a win all around.
This is not what the Winemaker is experiencing. He can't eat. His throat feels like razors. He's so congested I have to interpret what he says for other people. He has a constant low-grade fever. *Warning* next symptom is gross--He keeps barfing up giant balls of mucus. (Oak late at night: "Can you shut the door to your bedroom? I keep hearing Daddy frow up and it makes me sad.") He was so sick for a day or two that he didn't want me to leave the house, because he was afraid his throat would swell shut and he wouldn't even be able to call for help.
So instead of my usual seize-the-summer August frenzy of back-to-back camping trips and day trips to the beach, we have this excess of movies and books. It's still summery, because when else can I stay up until 4 in the morning finishing a book? Plus, you know, it's sunny outside. In fact, today was downright hot. I celebrated by cooking a casserole. Because of course, on a hot day there's nothing like first turning on 2 burners and then the oven. But it was comfort food. Father's Delight for our poor miserable father.
Did I mention it's his birthday? Yay. Last night he was laying on the couch and said, "I have some birthday requests. Let's not have a big group of people over. And how about a nice cold glass of water?"
So summer fizzles out, but I'm still resisting the end. I find September to be the saddest month of the year, and May to be the most stressful. The rest of the year, I like my job.
In retrospect, the nicest part of this summer may be the time I looked out the back window and saw my two and their neighborhood bestie sitting on a blanket having a picnic in the shade, none of them squabbling for a good seven-eight minutes. They looked so sweet. Now that I think of it, the best aspect of summer this year (not so much last year, during our crazy new-family stage) is watching the kids enjoy their summer. I expected that with Christmas, but hadn't considered that summer is also something magical in childhood. Maybe I didn't expect it because summer hasn't lost any of its shine for me as I aged. Even without the campouts and road trips I'd like to have fit in, there were still popsicles, and slip-n-slides, and two weeks of day camp, a few great day trips, and hours of just playing outside.
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