Since moving here to OH, I have been struggling with entering a new phase in my life. I've been a mother of older children and in my 40s for a few years now. But back in Tewksbury, I was able to avoid admitting that I was aging because members of my mother's group often had younger kids and even the ones with kids my kids' age, were still about 10 years younger than me. In fact, through my entire motherhood, I've been about 10 years older than my peers. This has helped me think young, I tell myself.
All the mothers' groups rejected me here. :-( Some didn't like that I worked and others didn't like that my kids were past preschool. OK. I'm fine with it. A couple sessions with my therapist and I'll be fine. Really.
I found New Neighbor's League and felt better that at least I can get out of the house and socialize. I attended my first event and felt a bit down. All the women I met were old. The entire room was old save a few faces across the room. OK. I'm being mean here. They were not all old. But they all seemed to be at least 10 years older than me. Ah. The shoe is on the other foot now. But I am finding it hard to "act my age."
Another new stage is entering a child into middle school. Last night was the open house. DH was out of town, so I had to drop the kids with my lovely, wonderful neighbor. Yes, the one who took care of Nova while we went out of town. I arrived at the event a few minutes late after dropping the kids off late and getting Nova out for one last potty break before leaving her at home. A few other parents stood outside the Gym with me. We were the overflow. We struggled to hear the principal speak about how wonderful the teachers were. They dismissed us to our children's advisory teachers. But where? Advisory is like homeroom, but the teacher is expected to do a bit more than take attendance. She/he is expected to advise.
We had no maps (except for the parents of the nice kids who brought their maps home to share. My kid was purposely not nice.) We only knew the names of the advisory teachers. This was not a good idea overall. It led to a lot of pushing and shoving. And I might add here that the school is a really weird layout. It was originally a completely open space/wall-less building. They gradually sectioned it off into pie piece shaped classrooms arranged around smaller circular rooms. An absolute mess for changing classes.
After asking for directions (because I'm not a guy), I found my way to the advisory room for Firstborn where I got a map and class schedule.
The good news, Firstborn's advisory is very nice. One of the nicest groups she has had. They even helped her set up the classroom on the first day. It is a mixture of 6th, 7th, and 8th graders and they are all like a team.
Next I moved on to gym where I found out that Firstborn has a woman gym teacher even though all the boys think the male gym teacher is theirs and the girls all think the female gym teacher is theirs. He takes 7 weeks of daily gym, has 14 weeks off and then takes 7 more weeks of daily gym. Interesting plan. They have to run a mile once a week and they have to change clothes for gym but they don't have tacky uniforms like we used to.
Then came science where his teacher has broken them up into Survivor-style teams and they have each picked a team name. She promises no one will be voted off the island. They are mostly exploring science this year. Firstborn will find this quite easy.
In science, I ran into a woman I had been standing outside of the gym with at the beginning of the night. We compared schedules and found that we were in different classes next, but ran into each other again at "lunch." She promised she wasn't following me, but struck up a conversation. We both had English Language Arts with Firstborn's advisory teacher after lunch. They didn't ring the bell at the end of lunch so the two of us walked into ELA late, looking sheepish. How did those other parents know that lunch was over when we didn't? I hope we don't get a referral over this (that's what they call their discipline warning system).
During our "lunch" this woman and I talked a bit about our kids, both sons. She commented that she was desperately trying to find another one of the "younger moms" to lean on when she found me. I laughed. I've never been one of the younger moms at a school gathering. I explained this to her and she insisted that I looked much younger than the others. I told her I was in my forties and she looked at me in amazement. I think it was that deer-in-the-headlights look I was sporting that threw her off. She thought I was in my early thirties. What can I say, I'm well preserved.
So for one more night, I can feel younger than I really am. This helps when recovering from the first open house at middle school. I had heard about these. Now I got to experience one. It was chaotic, but I like this crazy woman who followed me around all night and told me I look young.
First born is doing well in middle school. He was really ready for it. I'm glad I got to see the new-improved (with walls) school and meet his teachers. It makes me feel a bit better to know that they all seem nice and all have a sense of humor. I can rest now.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
After the backache
It did happen. We did go camping. And we are still recovering. I tried to tap into my inner Girl Scout, but this is tough when camping with Cub Scouts. They have a very different view of camping with kids. It includes wild mayhem and lots of kids not taking on responsibility. Very different from my Girl Scout days.
Now, I must point out that when I committed to this trip, it had been a very balmy 75 to 80 degrees for over a week. Indeed, our entire summer has been comfortable with only occasional days over 88 degrees. So I prayed for the cool weather to last. But God, Having a very sick sense of humor, or perhaps answering the prayers of someone more faithful than I deigned to up the temps for this weekend, just a bit.
Lastborn's den leader helped me raise the tent. Firstborn was happy to leave this task to us instead of helping out. By the time the tent was up, I asked Firstborn about the whereabouts of Lastborn and heard he was down by the lake. Were there any adults with them? No. Of course not. Just a couple of Boy Scouts who were along for the trip. And, Oh yes, Lastborn was wearing his new white school sneakers.
Firstborn led me down the very steep slope to the lake and there I found him and all the other Cub Scouts and their younger siblings deep in the water, throwing mud from the lake bed at each other. Oh. Joy. The Boy Scout who had been watching them had wandered off, and the kids were all joyously and loudly calling the mud crap. Along the banks of the lake, rows of little shoes and socks faced the water's edge. None of them were white, not even formerly white. You know what that means... Lastborn is still wearing his new white sneakers.
Because they were already sopping wet and dirty, I didn't pull them out of the water. I'm fairly easy with my ability to save a child from shallow water though I didn't relish the idea of having that responsibility.
After a while of this, we herded all the kids out of the water and back up the hill to change into dryer clothes. The lake had become the big draw of the weekend. And this is one of the areas where I really differ from the Cub Scout philosophy. While each child has to have a parent/guardian with them on the weekend, there is still an overall feeling that someone else will watch these kids. But the leaders are not tasked with teaching any camping or safety skills. They do this well in Boy Scouts, but not in cubs. The end result is that every Cub Scout outing is a big flirt with danger for everyone involved.
On the high note, Lastborn loved the tent and found another boy to play with; one whose parents were unwilling to let him run wild by the lake. They spent Saturday morning running between our two Coleman tents using the "doggie door" as Lastborn named it. It is really a "cooler access hatch" according to Coleman. In other words, you can lay on your sleeping bag and reach out this door into your cooler for a beer. Just what I need on these Cub Scout outings.
Now, on Friday night, there must have been about 20 mosquitoes in our tent. I couldn't understand how they got in there. I was on the kids constantly about zipping up the fly and Lastborn had not yet discovered the "doggie door." But they were there, and with the 80 degrees we were still getting at 11:00 at night, we all had to pile into our hot sleeping bags for relief. Finally, at 3am when I went for a potty break, I returned to the tent and turned my flashlight on to discover these 20 mosquitoes and kill each one of them. Since they had already feasted on me and my sons they left little bloody blotches all over the inside of the tent. It looked like there had been a murder in there. But we were all finally able to sleep and then it started to get cold and it was comfortable in our bags.
Now, I must point out that when I committed to this trip, it had been a very balmy 75 to 80 degrees for over a week. Indeed, our entire summer has been comfortable with only occasional days over 88 degrees. So I prayed for the cool weather to last. But God, Having a very sick sense of humor, or perhaps answering the prayers of someone more faithful than I deigned to up the temps for this weekend, just a bit.
Lastborn's den leader helped me raise the tent. Firstborn was happy to leave this task to us instead of helping out. By the time the tent was up, I asked Firstborn about the whereabouts of Lastborn and heard he was down by the lake. Were there any adults with them? No. Of course not. Just a couple of Boy Scouts who were along for the trip. And, Oh yes, Lastborn was wearing his new white school sneakers.
Firstborn led me down the very steep slope to the lake and there I found him and all the other Cub Scouts and their younger siblings deep in the water, throwing mud from the lake bed at each other. Oh. Joy. The Boy Scout who had been watching them had wandered off, and the kids were all joyously and loudly calling the mud crap. Along the banks of the lake, rows of little shoes and socks faced the water's edge. None of them were white, not even formerly white. You know what that means... Lastborn is still wearing his new white sneakers.
Because they were already sopping wet and dirty, I didn't pull them out of the water. I'm fairly easy with my ability to save a child from shallow water though I didn't relish the idea of having that responsibility.
After a while of this, we herded all the kids out of the water and back up the hill to change into dryer clothes. The lake had become the big draw of the weekend. And this is one of the areas where I really differ from the Cub Scout philosophy. While each child has to have a parent/guardian with them on the weekend, there is still an overall feeling that someone else will watch these kids. But the leaders are not tasked with teaching any camping or safety skills. They do this well in Boy Scouts, but not in cubs. The end result is that every Cub Scout outing is a big flirt with danger for everyone involved.On the high note, Lastborn loved the tent and found another boy to play with; one whose parents were unwilling to let him run wild by the lake. They spent Saturday morning running between our two Coleman tents using the "doggie door" as Lastborn named it. It is really a "cooler access hatch" according to Coleman. In other words, you can lay on your sleeping bag and reach out this door into your cooler for a beer. Just what I need on these Cub Scout outings.
Now, on Friday night, there must have been about 20 mosquitoes in our tent. I couldn't understand how they got in there. I was on the kids constantly about zipping up the fly and Lastborn had not yet discovered the "doggie door." But they were there, and with the 80 degrees we were still getting at 11:00 at night, we all had to pile into our hot sleeping bags for relief. Finally, at 3am when I went for a potty break, I returned to the tent and turned my flashlight on to discover these 20 mosquitoes and kill each one of them. Since they had already feasted on me and my sons they left little bloody blotches all over the inside of the tent. It looked like there had been a murder in there. But we were all finally able to sleep and then it started to get cold and it was comfortable in our bags.Please note: Firstborn had been insistent on sleeping outside with the other Boy Scouts who all got eaten alive. I refused. He hated me. Such is the life of the mother of a tween.
The next day, Lastborn ran around with his friend and Firstborn decided to walk to the beach with the other Boy Scouts. Little did they know that it was about 2 miles away. So Firstborn has quite the tan.
But it got hotter and hotter and I was working on little sleep. So, after lunch, when DH showed up to take the boys fishing, I made the decision that we would pack up the tent and sleep at home Saturday night even if we did stay for the day. I was beginning to feel pretty badly and no matter how much water I drank, I was just feeling worse. I felt this really strong pressure in my head. Like when you hold your breath for too long. It was not fun taking the tent down and packing all our stuff.
So I asked DH to take the boys swimming at the beach and I headed home.
On a funny side note. What happens when a bluebird and a Massachusetts driver cross paths?
Just look at DHs car...
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Upcoming backache
I have signed the boys up for a cub scout camping trip. Last time I went with Ken, we borrowed a tent from the pack. It was not entirely to my liking as it was very well vented and it was a rainy cold night. So I searched online for tents. Target had some nice ones. So did Walmart. So, I narrowed it down to a nice Ozark Trail 6 man tent from Walmart that got some great reviews. At this point, I don't think we will be doing a lot of camping. As it is, one night in a tent will have me pretty well incapacitated for by the next morning. I keep having these visions of the fun I used to have as a Girl Scout. It's just not fun anymore. But I can't keep my boys from experiencing something that gave me such great joy as a kid. And Cub Scouts requires a parent to attend with the child. Not that I can argue with that.
I'm also attending a letter boxing event next weekend with Firstborn. Because it is in a remote area of Ohio, there are few hotels. So we will be camping. It's too far to drive there and back in one day.
All this camping gives reason for a tent. Hopefully, I will gain some camping muscle and I can do this with the boys in the future as well. But because we are not going into this with high hopes, a cheap tent should be fine. Besides, no rain has been predicted here in Ohio for the last 2 months and we are not expecting any more soon.
So, off I went to Walmart only to find that the great cheap tent with the good reviews was all sold out. Big surprise, I know. So I bought a Coleman 7 person tent for what was still a made-in-china-great price. A bit big for 3 people and no, there's no chance that DH will join us.
So last Saturday, I decided that I should set it up myself before we arrive at the camp site. No use making a fool of myself in front of the Cub Scouts. I have some pride you know. Enough pride that I didn't want to set it up in the yard. I chose the garage. With the door closed. The neighbors get enough entertainment without watching me struggle with a tent raising.
I was able to do most of the job myself calling Firstborn in only when it was time to raise the poles. This is a two-person job even for the most experienced, unless you are a giant octopus; which I am not.
The tent looks great and is large enough for a party. I had visions of bringing the dog. We could fit her crate in there. I'm not courageous enough for that yet though. After she goes to her training class next month -- maybe.
Sunday, I decided to take it down. It had aired out enough. The magic is always in the refitting in the duffel it came with. Will it? Take down was a 1-person job. All went well. The tent folded nicely and even fit in the bag with some room. Would the poles fit as well? That would be too much to ask for.
I gathered them together and tried to fit the first folded pole into the plastic bag it came in. There was no bottom to the plastic bag. The pole fell through the sleeve and hit the garage floor. The impact of the aluminum poles against the cement caused the shock cord in the poles to break at every joint. Holy tent pole, Robin! What do you do in this case?
You immediately search the Internet for Coleman replacement poles. It says to call Coleman. So, the next day, I get on the phone with Coleman to see if they can ship me a new pole and maybe a spare. No. They are out of stock and it will take a month for them to get new ones. Is this why the tent is so cheap? There are pole fabricators out there, but that will no way provide 5-day turnaround like I need. What to do?
So Tuesday, I dragged the boys to Jo-Ann Fabrics to find a replacement shock cord. I'll let you in on a secret. Shock cord is really just thin elastic. They have it but not in the thickness of the tent pole I have. I chose the thinner weight one because it could fit in the tiny holes of the pole pieces. I spend the afternoon stringing poles together. It turns out that one package of elastic cord is just the right length for the Coleman 7 person tent poles. Voila! I bought two packages. The second will be slipped into our tent duffel for future repairs. It happened once, it will happen again.
I'm sure I will have stories to tell on Monday. Let's hope I'm not too incapacitated to type.
I'm also attending a letter boxing event next weekend with Firstborn. Because it is in a remote area of Ohio, there are few hotels. So we will be camping. It's too far to drive there and back in one day.
All this camping gives reason for a tent. Hopefully, I will gain some camping muscle and I can do this with the boys in the future as well. But because we are not going into this with high hopes, a cheap tent should be fine. Besides, no rain has been predicted here in Ohio for the last 2 months and we are not expecting any more soon.
So, off I went to Walmart only to find that the great cheap tent with the good reviews was all sold out. Big surprise, I know. So I bought a Coleman 7 person tent for what was still a made-in-china-great price. A bit big for 3 people and no, there's no chance that DH will join us.
So last Saturday, I decided that I should set it up myself before we arrive at the camp site. No use making a fool of myself in front of the Cub Scouts. I have some pride you know. Enough pride that I didn't want to set it up in the yard. I chose the garage. With the door closed. The neighbors get enough entertainment without watching me struggle with a tent raising.
I was able to do most of the job myself calling Firstborn in only when it was time to raise the poles. This is a two-person job even for the most experienced, unless you are a giant octopus; which I am not.
The tent looks great and is large enough for a party. I had visions of bringing the dog. We could fit her crate in there. I'm not courageous enough for that yet though. After she goes to her training class next month -- maybe.
Sunday, I decided to take it down. It had aired out enough. The magic is always in the refitting in the duffel it came with. Will it? Take down was a 1-person job. All went well. The tent folded nicely and even fit in the bag with some room. Would the poles fit as well? That would be too much to ask for.
I gathered them together and tried to fit the first folded pole into the plastic bag it came in. There was no bottom to the plastic bag. The pole fell through the sleeve and hit the garage floor. The impact of the aluminum poles against the cement caused the shock cord in the poles to break at every joint. Holy tent pole, Robin! What do you do in this case?
You immediately search the Internet for Coleman replacement poles. It says to call Coleman. So, the next day, I get on the phone with Coleman to see if they can ship me a new pole and maybe a spare. No. They are out of stock and it will take a month for them to get new ones. Is this why the tent is so cheap? There are pole fabricators out there, but that will no way provide 5-day turnaround like I need. What to do?
So Tuesday, I dragged the boys to Jo-Ann Fabrics to find a replacement shock cord. I'll let you in on a secret. Shock cord is really just thin elastic. They have it but not in the thickness of the tent pole I have. I chose the thinner weight one because it could fit in the tiny holes of the pole pieces. I spend the afternoon stringing poles together. It turns out that one package of elastic cord is just the right length for the Coleman 7 person tent poles. Voila! I bought two packages. The second will be slipped into our tent duffel for future repairs. It happened once, it will happen again.
I'm sure I will have stories to tell on Monday. Let's hope I'm not too incapacitated to type.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Georgia: the momma cat
We had Nova fixed on Monday. Not that she was broken, but you know...
It was rather stressful for her considering I had abandoned her for just under 2 weeks and 5 days of that time was with a complete stranger.
So, Monday night, we picked her up at the vet. She was happy to see us, and oh so well behaved. Turns out they had given her a sedative because she had nipped at them when she was coming out of the anesthesia. I expected her to be unbalanced and tipsy, but she seemed in pretty good control of her muscles. She was just quiet.
The cats seemed to pick up on this fact quickly. All evening, Nadia seemed happy to wrestle with Georgia right in front of Nova's face. An act that would normally have Nova trying to join in on the fun. Georgia showed immediate concern. She would walk up to the sofa where Nova was laying with me and she would sniff Nova to make sure she was OK.
That night, when I was settling Nova down for the night, Georgia again came up to her and sniffed her face. A few minutes later, she walked up and cuddled into Nova. Almost like she was trying to comfort Nova. For a few minutes, Nova just sat there at attention. She was in shock. She didn't know what to do with this cat being so friendly. Then she started sniffing Georgia's butt and the magic just died. But it was a touching moment while it lasted.
It was rather stressful for her considering I had abandoned her for just under 2 weeks and 5 days of that time was with a complete stranger.
So, Monday night, we picked her up at the vet. She was happy to see us, and oh so well behaved. Turns out they had given her a sedative because she had nipped at them when she was coming out of the anesthesia. I expected her to be unbalanced and tipsy, but she seemed in pretty good control of her muscles. She was just quiet.
The cats seemed to pick up on this fact quickly. All evening, Nadia seemed happy to wrestle with Georgia right in front of Nova's face. An act that would normally have Nova trying to join in on the fun. Georgia showed immediate concern. She would walk up to the sofa where Nova was laying with me and she would sniff Nova to make sure she was OK.
That night, when I was settling Nova down for the night, Georgia again came up to her and sniffed her face. A few minutes later, she walked up and cuddled into Nova. Almost like she was trying to comfort Nova. For a few minutes, Nova just sat there at attention. She was in shock. She didn't know what to do with this cat being so friendly. Then she started sniffing Georgia's butt and the magic just died. But it was a touching moment while it lasted.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
