Yesterday, I had a lot of house prep tasks on my list. The boys had already spent Good Friday hooked up to their respective electronic devices and I decided it was time to put them to work.
I called them to my bedroom where I explained that if they wanted to be able to buy a big house in Ohio, we would need to do lots to clean up this house so that people would want to spend lots of money on it. This lit up Firstborn's face as predicted. Lastborn was not quite so interested.
I listed off the tasks that they could do for me. Clean their room, put away the folded laundry. Vacuum the stairs, clean out my car... To each Firstborn offered to help. He's earning money for a skateboard and a game device, so he is incented. Lastborn sat quietly until the last job, packaging up the bottles and cans for return, was listed. Silence from both boys. I asked Firstborn again thinking I could divvy up the jobs Firstborn had claimed to make it more even. But he complained that working the bottles and cans made his back hurt.
So, I looked to Lastborn who gave me that, "you're not going to put me to work are you?" look.
Looks like you have bottles and cans then.
He acquiesced and we proceeded to the garage to give the instruction. This is Lastborn's first time on bottle duty. I showed him the trash can where we store the rinsed bottles and cans and I gave him a couple of trash bags and boxes to fill the bottles and cans so we can transport them to the grocery store. He happily began his task and I moved on to a painting job.
A while later I came across him washing his hands. I noticed that the knees on his pants were grimy.
"how did your knees get so dirty," I asked.
"It's a long story," he replied head bowed.
Note to Lastborn: If you want to avoid explaining an incident to your mother, the phrase "It's a long story is not the way to do it. Mom loves long stories.
"come on, tell me. I'd love to hear it."
"No!"
The more he protests, the more I think, this has to be a good one.
Firstborn gets in on the action.
"Tell me!" he says.
Still Lastborn remains mum.
I leave the room and hear the two of them talking in conspiratorial tones. I wait for the talking to subside and return to the room. Now Firstborn looks really guilty. He says, "I know the story now, but I'm not telling. And it wasn't very long."
I smile, "I knew that. But what happened."
With a mixture of amazement and disgust, Firstborn relays that Lastborn, having emptied the trash barrel as far as his almost 7 year old arms could reach, then tipped the can over and crawled in to get the last ones out. Even a barrel full of rinsed bottles and cans can have some residual soda in it. So the knees were covered with soda and dirt.
Lastborn then announced that this was a very dirty job and he should be on the TV show, Dirty Jobs.
Maybe next time, I will show him how to tip the cans out of the trash bin instead of crawling in. But you can imagine after him seeing the TV show Dirty Jobs with Mike Rowe crawling into all sorts of dirty confined spaces, that this must be what I had in mind.
Add this to the list of possible future careers for Lastborn. At least it's better than starring role in Puppetry of the Penis.
Sunday, April 08, 2007
Friday, March 30, 2007
Paragraphia
"I am an apprentice in wizardology. I am best at divination: I can tel how the future of the royal family is, and I am their loyal protector of their future. I am also the prophecy maker. I can tell the future by looking at the stars and ground, and seeing if it is common or not. I am also a loyal friend of Merlin. I am the guardian of the balance between good and evil. I am also good at stuff like potions and charms. I'm always looking for more adventures. I live wherever the wind takes me or the future (north, south, east, and west). The only thing is is that surprisingly, I am only an apprentice. "
It never fails to amaze me how he makes these words fit together. Although I have never heard of checking the future by looking at the ground and when I asked him what the ground looked like when it is common, he could not clearly answer. He kind of rolled his eyes at me like, "Mom. You don't know anything."
And then, just when you are thinking that this young genius is so advanced in his vocabulary, he reminds you that he's just a boy with phrases like "good at stuff like." It's important for a 4th grade boy to be "good at stuff like..."
It never fails to amaze me how he makes these words fit together. Although I have never heard of checking the future by looking at the ground and when I asked him what the ground looked like when it is common, he could not clearly answer. He kind of rolled his eyes at me like, "Mom. You don't know anything."
And then, just when you are thinking that this young genius is so advanced in his vocabulary, he reminds you that he's just a boy with phrases like "good at stuff like." It's important for a 4th grade boy to be "good at stuff like..."
One of those important stages in life
A couple of weeks ago, Firstborn's teacher pulled me aside from an after school program and told me that Firstborn was having problems seeing the board. So she had sent him to the nurse for a vision screening. He failed.
We made an appointment with my eye doctor and went last night.
Firstborn was quite funny. He was convinced that the eye appointment would require something (like a needle) being stuck in his eye and despite reassurances from both myself and the doctor, he had a very hard time relaxing. But he was still quite funny. He couldn't tear his eyes from his book to start the exam. Obviously, the problem could be defined at that moment as distance vision issues.
As she tried different lenses on him, he would provide a running commentary on how the letters looked. The question, can you see this better or this? didn't seem sufficient. Well the first one, the letters are smaller but clearer. On that one, the letters are in italics. She was impressed that he knew that word. Children of this generation are introduced to Microsoft Word before they are introduced to dictionaries. They know these words.
We found his commentary entertaining.
The result was that his vision is at negative 2. I have no idea what that really means, but he will need to (and want to she assures me) wear glasses all the time. I'm told this is a puberty thing. Boys can lose their vision at about 10 or 11. It came from nowhere. Neither his father or I have problems with distance vision related to anything but advanced age.
Firstborn was very sad about getting glasses before his appointment. He's already having difficulties at school with peers being mean. He saw this as yet another thing to draw negative attention. But after the exam and trying on the different lenses, his attitude has changed. He can see clearly now. I teased him that maybe the reason he doesn't like girls yet is because he can't see how pretty they really are. Of course this "grossed him out."
After the appointment, we tried on glasses. He wanted gold. The saleswoman tried to steer him to something that would blend in to his face and coloring a bit better. Right before we settled on a pair, Firstborn caught sight of some Prada plastic rimmed glasses. Fashion rims with thick arms in a butter cream and tortoise color. I think they were women's glasses, but the sales woman was having a ball with him by then. She let him try them on. He was convinced they were the glasses for him. So she asked him, "but what would your second choice be." So he chose the ones that the saleswoman and I liked.
Then we had to look into goggles (like these, but the red bits are white) since he will be playing soccer in 2 weeks. He loved this clear plastic and white trimmed pair of goggles. He wore them while we did the paperwork. Towards the end of our visit, he asked if he could wear the goggles all the time and just skip the glasses. This is a boy who didn't want to stand out earlier in the day.
So, as we are waiting for the saleswoman to swipe my card, Firstborn begins this story about what he thinks his father should make for an appraiser hat for next years Destination Imagination tournament. It is a typical Firstborn story with lots of detail interjected parenthetically into long sentences, all delivered in a stream of consciousness, without any form of punctuation, at the speed of light. Sort of like that last sentence times 10! Everyone in the office (the staff, the waiting patients, the doctors) stops what they are doing to listen. When he finishes, the sales lady sits down and says, "I can't believe you just said that whole thing without taking a single breath! That was amazing."
She takes my money and we leave. Firstborn is happy because he will be able to see soon. He finds the 1 to two week wait a bit too long. I'm glad he is happy and can see the silver lining in this. I think it helped that I pointed out that all the cool kids at school seem to have glasses. And he pointed out that his one enemy does not. So maybe glasses are cool.
We made an appointment with my eye doctor and went last night.
Firstborn was quite funny. He was convinced that the eye appointment would require something (like a needle) being stuck in his eye and despite reassurances from both myself and the doctor, he had a very hard time relaxing. But he was still quite funny. He couldn't tear his eyes from his book to start the exam. Obviously, the problem could be defined at that moment as distance vision issues.
As she tried different lenses on him, he would provide a running commentary on how the letters looked. The question, can you see this better or this? didn't seem sufficient. Well the first one, the letters are smaller but clearer. On that one, the letters are in italics. She was impressed that he knew that word. Children of this generation are introduced to Microsoft Word before they are introduced to dictionaries. They know these words.
We found his commentary entertaining.
The result was that his vision is at negative 2. I have no idea what that really means, but he will need to (and want to she assures me) wear glasses all the time. I'm told this is a puberty thing. Boys can lose their vision at about 10 or 11. It came from nowhere. Neither his father or I have problems with distance vision related to anything but advanced age.
Firstborn was very sad about getting glasses before his appointment. He's already having difficulties at school with peers being mean. He saw this as yet another thing to draw negative attention. But after the exam and trying on the different lenses, his attitude has changed. He can see clearly now. I teased him that maybe the reason he doesn't like girls yet is because he can't see how pretty they really are. Of course this "grossed him out."
After the appointment, we tried on glasses. He wanted gold. The saleswoman tried to steer him to something that would blend in to his face and coloring a bit better. Right before we settled on a pair, Firstborn caught sight of some Prada plastic rimmed glasses. Fashion rims with thick arms in a butter cream and tortoise color. I think they were women's glasses, but the sales woman was having a ball with him by then. She let him try them on. He was convinced they were the glasses for him. So she asked him, "but what would your second choice be." So he chose the ones that the saleswoman and I liked.
Then we had to look into goggles (like these, but the red bits are white) since he will be playing soccer in 2 weeks. He loved this clear plastic and white trimmed pair of goggles. He wore them while we did the paperwork. Towards the end of our visit, he asked if he could wear the goggles all the time and just skip the glasses. This is a boy who didn't want to stand out earlier in the day.
So, as we are waiting for the saleswoman to swipe my card, Firstborn begins this story about what he thinks his father should make for an appraiser hat for next years Destination Imagination tournament. It is a typical Firstborn story with lots of detail interjected parenthetically into long sentences, all delivered in a stream of consciousness, without any form of punctuation, at the speed of light. Sort of like that last sentence times 10! Everyone in the office (the staff, the waiting patients, the doctors) stops what they are doing to listen. When he finishes, the sales lady sits down and says, "I can't believe you just said that whole thing without taking a single breath! That was amazing."
She takes my money and we leave. Firstborn is happy because he will be able to see soon. He finds the 1 to two week wait a bit too long. I'm glad he is happy and can see the silver lining in this. I think it helped that I pointed out that all the cool kids at school seem to have glasses. And he pointed out that his one enemy does not. So maybe glasses are cool.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
paint colors
Well. I've chosen the color for my new kitchen. We will go with Naive Peach. I really wanted worldly peach, but the real estate agent warned me that it might scare off the buyers.
Where do they come up with these color names. . .
Where do they come up with these color names. . .
Monday, March 05, 2007
Challenge words
Lastborn got a 100% on his spelling pretest today. So he gets the challenge word list. While I am proud of him, I really don't like the idea of spelling tests being graded in first grade to start with; considering that this is a new concept to them and that the teachers are already pushing the concept of inventive spelling on the kids. Some of the first graders have not mastered phonics enough to read at a rudimentary level, and letter transpositions are still common in first grade. So how are these kids expected to be able to have graded spelling tests already. It's not age appropriate.
So, I would be happy if my child got his perfect paper and then was not asked to take the test again on Friday. That would be enough for me.
But no, in our ever more competitive quest for the perfect genius children, it can't be enough. No. Instead, we must challenge the first graders. Lastborn was given 6 challenge words: Sentences, thunderstorm, freezing, contractions, directions, and cooperative. Tonight, he must look up the definitions of these words and write them down. Thursday, he must put them in alphabetical order and write a sentence for each one.
Now, Lastborn has not yet learned how to use a dictionary, and his skills at alphabetizing words are still a bit weak. The only dictionary we have at home is one that was issued to Firstborn in 3rd grade. While is is more basic than any of my dictionaries, the definitions are still a bit long for a first grader to have to write down. Just teaching him the layout of a written definition was hard enough. He sat down at the dining room table and cried as he asked me what he was supposed to do. Then, when I found the first definition for him, because there was no way he was going to navigate a 400 page book to find a definition, he nearly cried because he didn't even understand what the words defining the word sentences meant.
Let me point out here that the wording on this homework assignment was, "Your child's homework will be Monday night to find the definition of each word and write it down." Refraining from correcting her grammar, let me point out that this sentence implies to me that the work should be done by Lastborn, not me. It also implies that he should be writing down the definition he finds. The definitions in the 3rd grade dictionary are totally not appropriate for a first grader. For example: Sentence - A combination of words which express a though, beginning with a capital letter, ending with a period.
We will also ignore the inaccuracies of this flowery definition to express our horror that our first grade son, who's handwriting is not too bad for a first grader, but is in occupational therapy for handwriting/grip issues would have to write six of these definitions for homework.
Thankfully, halfway through, he figured out how to put the definitions into his own first grade words. Sigh. But will that be enough for Uber Teacher who seems to want to ever increase the challenge provided to her cunning tutees.
Methinks I smell a parent assignment here.
So, I would be happy if my child got his perfect paper and then was not asked to take the test again on Friday. That would be enough for me.
But no, in our ever more competitive quest for the perfect genius children, it can't be enough. No. Instead, we must challenge the first graders. Lastborn was given 6 challenge words: Sentences, thunderstorm, freezing, contractions, directions, and cooperative. Tonight, he must look up the definitions of these words and write them down. Thursday, he must put them in alphabetical order and write a sentence for each one.
Now, Lastborn has not yet learned how to use a dictionary, and his skills at alphabetizing words are still a bit weak. The only dictionary we have at home is one that was issued to Firstborn in 3rd grade. While is is more basic than any of my dictionaries, the definitions are still a bit long for a first grader to have to write down. Just teaching him the layout of a written definition was hard enough. He sat down at the dining room table and cried as he asked me what he was supposed to do. Then, when I found the first definition for him, because there was no way he was going to navigate a 400 page book to find a definition, he nearly cried because he didn't even understand what the words defining the word sentences meant.
Let me point out here that the wording on this homework assignment was, "Your child's homework will be Monday night to find the definition of each word and write it down." Refraining from correcting her grammar, let me point out that this sentence implies to me that the work should be done by Lastborn, not me. It also implies that he should be writing down the definition he finds. The definitions in the 3rd grade dictionary are totally not appropriate for a first grader. For example: Sentence - A combination of words which express a though, beginning with a capital letter, ending with a period.
We will also ignore the inaccuracies of this flowery definition to express our horror that our first grade son, who's handwriting is not too bad for a first grader, but is in occupational therapy for handwriting/grip issues would have to write six of these definitions for homework.
Thankfully, halfway through, he figured out how to put the definitions into his own first grade words. Sigh. But will that be enough for Uber Teacher who seems to want to ever increase the challenge provided to her cunning tutees.
Methinks I smell a parent assignment here.
Saturday, March 03, 2007
The best party ever
To me, the finest art in these fourth grade paragraphs is how to put these words together into a single plot. It's amazing what Firstborn comes up with. Really.
Remember the best party ever? Yeah, we had some great trout and cherries. The memories are still there too. The food attracted animals and we had a really fun battle against the wolves and monkeys. we battled them with axes, caught them with sacks and put them on shelves. We had the time of our lives.
Remember the best party ever? Yeah, we had some great trout and cherries. The memories are still there too. The food attracted animals and we had a really fun battle against the wolves and monkeys. we battled them with axes, caught them with sacks and put them on shelves. We had the time of our lives.
Friday, March 02, 2007
Adopting dog after foreclosure
Firstborn's spelling paragraph for 2/25/07
Today, I rolled out of bed; It was a special day for me. As long as I do all of my chores, I could adopt a pet. I haven't decided if it would be a canine or a feline, but from life experience it would just give me more pleasure. Then, still in January, I heard a startling discovery. They were trying to foreclose on us! Then I discovered the rare julip plant. I sold it for enough money to quit the foreclosure. I planted an acre more, therefore it will never happen again. I finally decided on a lovable red wolf. Then, an hour later, I got home and slept until another adventure arrives.
I love the way he always seems to slip his "life experiences in there."
Today, I rolled out of bed; It was a special day for me. As long as I do all of my chores, I could adopt a pet. I haven't decided if it would be a canine or a feline, but from life experience it would just give me more pleasure. Then, still in January, I heard a startling discovery. They were trying to foreclose on us! Then I discovered the rare julip plant. I sold it for enough money to quit the foreclosure. I planted an acre more, therefore it will never happen again. I finally decided on a lovable red wolf. Then, an hour later, I got home and slept until another adventure arrives.
I love the way he always seems to slip his "life experiences in there."
What's in Ohio
For months now, when I mention to someone the upcoming move to Ohio, the response always seems to be an incredulous cry of "but what's in Ohio?"
Yes, it's true that people on the East coast seem to think the world is flat and all falls off the edge on the other side of the eastern mountain ranges. Somehow, across this vast abyss of the central US lies California and maybe the coffee houses of Seattle. But other than that, it's just a great empty pit.
In the past, my response has always been "corn."
To me, that about sums it up. I have no experience in the flatlands. I've been as close as the western faces of the Alleghenies, and across the Abyss to California, but the heartland is still a mystery to me with only my father's childhood stories of the storms visible from miles away across the flat expanse to fill in the blanks. That and various stories of the dust bowl that do nothing to build the romantic image of the flatlands.
But now, after watching HGTV, I have hope. There is something in Ohio besides corn (to which I and my youngest son have an allergy). And no, I'm not talking about the giant basket thought I'm sure it's quite breathtaking. I'm not talking about the huge amusement park in northern Ohio either. It's duct tape! That's right. Duct tape. In Avon Ohio, the duct tape capital of the world.
So now, when someone asks "what's in Ohio?" I can respond confidently,
"Duct tape!"
Yes, it's true that people on the East coast seem to think the world is flat and all falls off the edge on the other side of the eastern mountain ranges. Somehow, across this vast abyss of the central US lies California and maybe the coffee houses of Seattle. But other than that, it's just a great empty pit.
In the past, my response has always been "corn."
To me, that about sums it up. I have no experience in the flatlands. I've been as close as the western faces of the Alleghenies, and across the Abyss to California, but the heartland is still a mystery to me with only my father's childhood stories of the storms visible from miles away across the flat expanse to fill in the blanks. That and various stories of the dust bowl that do nothing to build the romantic image of the flatlands.
But now, after watching HGTV, I have hope. There is something in Ohio besides corn (to which I and my youngest son have an allergy). And no, I'm not talking about the giant basket thought I'm sure it's quite breathtaking. I'm not talking about the huge amusement park in northern Ohio either. It's duct tape! That's right. Duct tape. In Avon Ohio, the duct tape capital of the world.
So now, when someone asks "what's in Ohio?" I can respond confidently,
"Duct tape!"
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth...
Lastborn has finally lost his first upper front tooth. Because he already had a large gap between his front teeth, the resultant gap looks even larger. In fact, it looks a bit like someone knocked out his whole upper row.
Given the smirk he always tends to wear, the image of this being the result of a knuckle sandwich is even more believable.
Not only does he look quite toothless, but the gap is strongly affecting his speech. His pronunciation is very different. He seems to be tripping over his lips. And he as begun to stutter again . This time, not only on the beginnings of words, but also on the endings.
Oh. And we keep forgetting to put the tooth under his pillow so the fairy can stop by. Must remember tonight.
Given the smirk he always tends to wear, the image of this being the result of a knuckle sandwich is even more believable.
Not only does he look quite toothless, but the gap is strongly affecting his speech. His pronunciation is very different. He seems to be tripping over his lips. And he as begun to stutter again . This time, not only on the beginnings of words, but also on the endings.
Oh. And we keep forgetting to put the tooth under his pillow so the fairy can stop by. Must remember tonight.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
A spoon under the pillow
We are collectors of snow day superstitions.
When a snow storm is approaching the northeastern US, we perform as many superstitious acts as we can think of in hopes of having a snow day. It has become family tradition and we love it.
Yesterday, we learned of sleeping with a spoon under your pillow. And so we added this new superstition to our bedtime routine last night.
So now, at bedtime on the night before a possible snow storm we:
Lastborn walks like an egyptian.
It would have been horrible if the schools were not closed this morning. But, keeping with family tradition, everyone piled into bed with DH and me and we watched the school closings scroll across the screen. Oh. There's Billerica! That's a good sign. And Lowell, they're right across the street from us! That's a good sign. Lastborn is a pretty good reader, but usually doesn't chant off the names with Firstborn and me because they go by too fast. However, he did read off No. Reading. Only, he read it as the verb to read and the word no.
"Oh! No reading! That's good. I hate to read."
An additional fun memory for our Valentine's day storm.
We've spent a quiet day at home with the fire burning in the fire place and the kids with their noses firmly stuffed into the screens of their game boys.
Firstborn did go out to play in the snow for a few minutes, but ended up with a shirtful of the powdery stuff and had to come in to warm up his swollen, red cheeks.
It's not your typical Boston area storm. Usually, it's warmer here for a storm. No snowmen or snowball fights with this stuff.
When a snow storm is approaching the northeastern US, we perform as many superstitious acts as we can think of in hopes of having a snow day. It has become family tradition and we love it.
Yesterday, we learned of sleeping with a spoon under your pillow. And so we added this new superstition to our bedtime routine last night.
So now, at bedtime on the night before a possible snow storm we:
- Put our pajamas on inside out (even I participated in this one)
- Do the snow day dance (each child has their own self-choreographed dance, but daddy is not allowed because he would just shake his bootie and the boys find that a bit scarey)
- Put a spoon under our pillow before climbing into bed.
Lastborn walks like an egyptian.
It would have been horrible if the schools were not closed this morning. But, keeping with family tradition, everyone piled into bed with DH and me and we watched the school closings scroll across the screen. Oh. There's Billerica! That's a good sign. And Lowell, they're right across the street from us! That's a good sign. Lastborn is a pretty good reader, but usually doesn't chant off the names with Firstborn and me because they go by too fast. However, he did read off No. Reading. Only, he read it as the verb to read and the word no.
"Oh! No reading! That's good. I hate to read."
An additional fun memory for our Valentine's day storm.
We've spent a quiet day at home with the fire burning in the fire place and the kids with their noses firmly stuffed into the screens of their game boys.
Firstborn did go out to play in the snow for a few minutes, but ended up with a shirtful of the powdery stuff and had to come in to warm up his swollen, red cheeks.
It's not your typical Boston area storm. Usually, it's warmer here for a storm. No snowmen or snowball fights with this stuff.
Monday, February 05, 2007
Why we don't attend mass
When everyone turns to shake hands and say, "Peace be with you," Lastborn puts out his index finger and says, "Pull my finger."
Sigh (giggle, giggle)
Sigh (giggle, giggle)
Saturday, February 03, 2007
What I did last night
Thanks to Pam at beancounter, I have a nice video of what I did last night.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d9QwK5EHSmg
Only, it's not so funny with a 19 year old cat. She just can't fight like she used to, and only a couple of pitiful wails accompanied the event.
Spazzy is not doing well. She can't clean herself any more and as a result, has developed a number of matted places in her fur. I have started to brush her out on a regular basis; something I never had to do for her in 19 years.
Yesterday, she started walking funny too. Looks like arthritis in her hips. I would not be surprised if she might be getting fractures in her bones now too. She is very old and has been treated for a thyroid tumor for the past two years. She has been the picture of health otherwise, but I know her time will come soon.
Of course DH is constantly measuring her to see how much sedative would do her in for good.
But every time she climbs into my lap, she starts her motor and purrs so loudly, I can't hear the TV. She's a very happy, if old and feeble, kitty.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d9QwK5EHSmg
Only, it's not so funny with a 19 year old cat. She just can't fight like she used to, and only a couple of pitiful wails accompanied the event.
Spazzy is not doing well. She can't clean herself any more and as a result, has developed a number of matted places in her fur. I have started to brush her out on a regular basis; something I never had to do for her in 19 years.
Yesterday, she started walking funny too. Looks like arthritis in her hips. I would not be surprised if she might be getting fractures in her bones now too. She is very old and has been treated for a thyroid tumor for the past two years. She has been the picture of health otherwise, but I know her time will come soon.
Of course DH is constantly measuring her to see how much sedative would do her in for good.
But every time she climbs into my lap, she starts her motor and purrs so loudly, I can't hear the TV. She's a very happy, if old and feeble, kitty.
The end is near
Another installment in the 4th grade spelling-word essay series.
What if we were wrong about how we live? I think that it was actually the shockwave from a meteor that made enough oxygen to last a few millenia. What if it was released like a kind of invisible, magical pollen. What if their prehistoric remains do it too? I at least know that some new creature will be emerging soon. I have seen it, the end is coming soon. For generations we have lived in this striking world, but now I hesitate to do everything and misunderstand alot. My tip is to expect the unexpected and unusual.
What if we were wrong about how we live? I think that it was actually the shockwave from a meteor that made enough oxygen to last a few millenia. What if it was released like a kind of invisible, magical pollen. What if their prehistoric remains do it too? I at least know that some new creature will be emerging soon. I have seen it, the end is coming soon. For generations we have lived in this striking world, but now I hesitate to do everything and misunderstand alot. My tip is to expect the unexpected and unusual.
Friday, February 02, 2007
A tribute to a little girl
When I started this website, I wanted to use it as a place where I could share with the world the joys of parenthood. I wanted to write down for all times my impression of the ever-changing people who inhabit my home.
We often hear, they are only little for such a short time. But what does that really mean. Every once in a while, an event will trigger a memory of my firstborn in his very early years. I have forgotten so much of what he was then. He has changed in so many ways; his appearance, his voice, his size and his attitudes. He has learned to deal with so many things in life that he found so difficult when he was 2 and 3. Well of course. We expect that. His life would be so much harder if he still acted like a 3 year old (all the time instead of the passing bouts of 3 year old that we get now).
When I get these momentary pictures of his life back then, I hope that I can remember them forever. They are so precious. But they leave in a matter of days and his current being overwhelms all of what I thought so briefly.
With Lastborn, I have more connection to his past. His smile is so radiant it takes over the whole room. So, when I look at pictures of him from 2 or 3 years ago, the moment comes back to me like crystal; sharp and smooth and without fault.
It helps that I have had the time to savor Lastborn. I was not away at work for 8 hours of his waking days like I was for Firstborns first 3.5 years. It also helps that his personality is so huge and interactive, screaming for recognition. Firstborn dealt with life internally, in his mind and heart with little interaction with us or anyone else for that matter. It was his way and it worked for him.
I'm not up to the task of describing them to someone else though. I think I can write stories for myself, but I don't know if I am up to writing them for others.
This comes up after visiting one of my favorite blogs. Dear Elena is written by a man who lost his daughter (the same age as firstborn) to meningitis last year. I was first drawn to his blog because of the age of Elena at her death and because a child the same age died of meningitis the same month near us. The speed of this infection is daunting, and the subject probably seems like a downer to some, but what he has created in this blog is a miracle. Some posts deal with his and his wife's handling of the healing process that comes from losing a child, and some of his posts are vivid memories of who Elena was. They don't sugar coat her life or make the writer look like the perfect parent. They don't dwell on mistakes he made as a father or how he wishes he could have her back. Instead, they memorialize, in verbal snapshots, a short but full life of a girl who was loved very much.
As I read his posts, Elena comes alive for me just like those memories of Firstborn that snap into my mind at times when I am unprepared to capture them. I'm there in his home watching Elena speed through the house on her turtle giggling and smiling with a look of determination on her face just like I'm there when my Firstborn describes his plans for capturing the toothfairy and becoming a millionaire.
I don't visit Dear Elena often because it is too hard for me. I always get tearful after a visit. But I am comforted to know how her family is doing and I am enriched by the stories of her life.
We often hear, they are only little for such a short time. But what does that really mean. Every once in a while, an event will trigger a memory of my firstborn in his very early years. I have forgotten so much of what he was then. He has changed in so many ways; his appearance, his voice, his size and his attitudes. He has learned to deal with so many things in life that he found so difficult when he was 2 and 3. Well of course. We expect that. His life would be so much harder if he still acted like a 3 year old (all the time instead of the passing bouts of 3 year old that we get now).
When I get these momentary pictures of his life back then, I hope that I can remember them forever. They are so precious. But they leave in a matter of days and his current being overwhelms all of what I thought so briefly.
With Lastborn, I have more connection to his past. His smile is so radiant it takes over the whole room. So, when I look at pictures of him from 2 or 3 years ago, the moment comes back to me like crystal; sharp and smooth and without fault.
It helps that I have had the time to savor Lastborn. I was not away at work for 8 hours of his waking days like I was for Firstborns first 3.5 years. It also helps that his personality is so huge and interactive, screaming for recognition. Firstborn dealt with life internally, in his mind and heart with little interaction with us or anyone else for that matter. It was his way and it worked for him.
I'm not up to the task of describing them to someone else though. I think I can write stories for myself, but I don't know if I am up to writing them for others.
This comes up after visiting one of my favorite blogs. Dear Elena is written by a man who lost his daughter (the same age as firstborn) to meningitis last year. I was first drawn to his blog because of the age of Elena at her death and because a child the same age died of meningitis the same month near us. The speed of this infection is daunting, and the subject probably seems like a downer to some, but what he has created in this blog is a miracle. Some posts deal with his and his wife's handling of the healing process that comes from losing a child, and some of his posts are vivid memories of who Elena was. They don't sugar coat her life or make the writer look like the perfect parent. They don't dwell on mistakes he made as a father or how he wishes he could have her back. Instead, they memorialize, in verbal snapshots, a short but full life of a girl who was loved very much.
As I read his posts, Elena comes alive for me just like those memories of Firstborn that snap into my mind at times when I am unprepared to capture them. I'm there in his home watching Elena speed through the house on her turtle giggling and smiling with a look of determination on her face just like I'm there when my Firstborn describes his plans for capturing the toothfairy and becoming a millionaire.
I don't visit Dear Elena often because it is too hard for me. I always get tearful after a visit. But I am comforted to know how her family is doing and I am enriched by the stories of her life.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Boston thinks it's big time
It's so terribly embarrasing.
Last night when I returned home from my night out with the girls, the babysitter and her father were sitting on my couch with big grins on their faces watching the Fox 25 news.
Big doings in Boston today. There was a big bomb scare. We're very important you know. The whole world would like to bomb Boston. Just think of the damage they could do in this major metropolitan city. All the history would be ruined you know.
It turns out, Turner Broadcasting, parent company of Cartoon Network, intiated a guerrilla marketing scheme 2 weeks ago posting a number of magnetic light boards on various popular Boston sites. Each light board sported the outline of a character from the Cartoon Network show Aqua Teen Hunger Force. A Mooninite.
OK. So someone called in and said they saw a suspicious device on a city bridge. Yes, red lights go off. So they arrived at the scene, gingerly picked the device off the bridge, and then (while still on the bridge) shot it with a water cannon. So much for keeping the bridge safe. One would think that a bomb squad looking at the remains of this poor mooninite light board would be able to discern that it probably wasn't a bomb. But no! Instead, the terrorism force in Boston starts running around like madmen looking for others. Destroying some until one was moved to a location out of the direct sunlight and a younger officer recognized that the lights formed this cartoon character. That was about noon. Meanwhile, the subway was closed, hiways were closed , and some hysteria had descended on Boston. But even after police discovered and reported to the mayor that this might be a hoax, the mayor still held on to his belief that ever-important Boston was possibly under attack.
By 5 PM, they had finally gotten word from Turner that this was a marketing scheme and they admitted to the public that they could all relax. But they still arrested the two young men responsible for sticking these magnetic light boards onto metal surfaces around town.
They want to sue Turner.
They are bragging about their ability to handle a terrorist situation.
OK. So let's take a look at this objectively.
1) It took you 2 weeks to discover these signs. Very observant.
2) These signs are up in some 10 other cities in the US. No one in these cities is running around crying "the sky is falling."
3) If someone wanted to use inocuous magnetic light boards as bomb devices, wouldn't they want to bomb where they could do more damage? Say NYC? DC? LA?
Boston, you are not a big city. Stop trying to look like one.
And let these guys out of prison. They were just trying to get a paycheck. If you want to embarras yourself by sueing Turner. Go ahead. Luckily I don't pay taxes in Boston, so it won't be my problem. But I'm warning you. You will come off looking silly.
Last night when I returned home from my night out with the girls, the babysitter and her father were sitting on my couch with big grins on their faces watching the Fox 25 news.
Big doings in Boston today. There was a big bomb scare. We're very important you know. The whole world would like to bomb Boston. Just think of the damage they could do in this major metropolitan city. All the history would be ruined you know.
It turns out, Turner Broadcasting, parent company of Cartoon Network, intiated a guerrilla marketing scheme 2 weeks ago posting a number of magnetic light boards on various popular Boston sites. Each light board sported the outline of a character from the Cartoon Network show Aqua Teen Hunger Force. A Mooninite.
OK. So someone called in and said they saw a suspicious device on a city bridge. Yes, red lights go off. So they arrived at the scene, gingerly picked the device off the bridge, and then (while still on the bridge) shot it with a water cannon. So much for keeping the bridge safe. One would think that a bomb squad looking at the remains of this poor mooninite light board would be able to discern that it probably wasn't a bomb. But no! Instead, the terrorism force in Boston starts running around like madmen looking for others. Destroying some until one was moved to a location out of the direct sunlight and a younger officer recognized that the lights formed this cartoon character. That was about noon. Meanwhile, the subway was closed, hiways were closed , and some hysteria had descended on Boston. But even after police discovered and reported to the mayor that this might be a hoax, the mayor still held on to his belief that ever-important Boston was possibly under attack.
By 5 PM, they had finally gotten word from Turner that this was a marketing scheme and they admitted to the public that they could all relax. But they still arrested the two young men responsible for sticking these magnetic light boards onto metal surfaces around town.
They want to sue Turner.
They are bragging about their ability to handle a terrorist situation.
OK. So let's take a look at this objectively.
1) It took you 2 weeks to discover these signs. Very observant.
2) These signs are up in some 10 other cities in the US. No one in these cities is running around crying "the sky is falling."
3) If someone wanted to use inocuous magnetic light boards as bomb devices, wouldn't they want to bomb where they could do more damage? Say NYC? DC? LA?
Boston, you are not a big city. Stop trying to look like one.
And let these guys out of prison. They were just trying to get a paycheck. If you want to embarras yourself by sueing Turner. Go ahead. Luckily I don't pay taxes in Boston, so it won't be my problem. But I'm warning you. You will come off looking silly.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Question of the week.
Firstborn: Mom? What's your favorite property of oxygen.
Mom: Um. It keeps me alive?
Fun having a budding chemist in the family.
Mom: Um. It keeps me alive?
Fun having a budding chemist in the family.
Monday, December 18, 2006
creative uses of speech
Firstborn was playing Paper Mario.
A new character was added to the game play; Madame Fleurry. The character is a personified cloud, a 40 something diva with exagerated curves and full red lips as any middle aged diva cloud would look.
Lastborn exclaimed "gross" when he saw her. I wanted to find out what bothered him about the new character. I thought he feared the big lipped character would want to kiss all the other characters. This would be gross to a 6 yo.
"She has big boobies," he replied instead.
I was surprised with the answer and wondered what about well endowed women was so bothersome to him. So displacing my disgust at his word choice, I asked, "What's so bad about big boobies. I have big boobies. Am I gross?
"No," he replied. "You don't have big boobies like that. Her big boobies look like but cheeks stuck to her chest."
Well there you have it. But cheeks on the chest are gross. Makes perfect sense to me.
A new character was added to the game play; Madame Fleurry. The character is a personified cloud, a 40 something diva with exagerated curves and full red lips as any middle aged diva cloud would look.
Lastborn exclaimed "gross" when he saw her. I wanted to find out what bothered him about the new character. I thought he feared the big lipped character would want to kiss all the other characters. This would be gross to a 6 yo.
"She has big boobies," he replied instead.
I was surprised with the answer and wondered what about well endowed women was so bothersome to him. So displacing my disgust at his word choice, I asked, "What's so bad about big boobies. I have big boobies. Am I gross?
"No," he replied. "You don't have big boobies like that. Her big boobies look like but cheeks stuck to her chest."
Well there you have it. But cheeks on the chest are gross. Makes perfect sense to me.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Paragraphia II
Another installment in the paragraph assignment saga.
Do you know what my job is? I have to protect the last of the worlds roaming mythological beasts, (but not three headed dogs). I have to create shelters for them. I have to cure the few that are wounded. I have to earn their kinship. I have to return order between beast and man. Finally, I have to stop this tear-down-the-rainforest business. Have you guessed what my job is yet? If you haven't, it is with the Secret and Ancient Society of Dragonologists (S.A.S.D.).
Do you know what my job is? I have to protect the last of the worlds roaming mythological beasts, (but not three headed dogs). I have to create shelters for them. I have to cure the few that are wounded. I have to earn their kinship. I have to return order between beast and man. Finally, I have to stop this tear-down-the-rainforest business. Have you guessed what my job is yet? If you haven't, it is with the Secret and Ancient Society of Dragonologists (S.A.S.D.).
Paragraphia
An installment in a series of paragraphs Firstborn must write weekly. These paragraphs use 15 of his 25 weekly spelling words.
One night my mother volunteered to work at a kennel. The scent of dogs bored her, but she was a responsible instructor. She found a pair of hungry raccoons through a thick board and sent them flying because they were trying to eat the dogs. Then, the next day she found a young student truly trying to loosen a wool coat. She helped him, and he smoothened the wool and gave it to her. She did many things to help around the campus like that and soon she had so many items she did not need to get paid. Then she sold them all and became a billionaire, except she did not sell the wool. The goods led her to a route of good fortune and responsibility.
One night my mother volunteered to work at a kennel. The scent of dogs bored her, but she was a responsible instructor. She found a pair of hungry raccoons through a thick board and sent them flying because they were trying to eat the dogs. Then, the next day she found a young student truly trying to loosen a wool coat. She helped him, and he smoothened the wool and gave it to her. She did many things to help around the campus like that and soon she had so many items she did not need to get paid. Then she sold them all and became a billionaire, except she did not sell the wool. The goods led her to a route of good fortune and responsibility.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
cooties
My friend, C, volunteers in Lastborn's classroom. Her son is also in the class. The other day, she said she passed Lastborn in the hall as the class was going to a special.
She waved to him, and he looked up at her with a big mischievous smile and said, "You have cooties!" and then passed by.
That's my son!
She waved to him, and he looked up at her with a big mischievous smile and said, "You have cooties!" and then passed by.
That's my son!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
