Camp Grandma

The next two weeks around here are going to be fairly quiet. Blissfully so.

My family has a tradition of Camp Grandma. It started when I was a child. My cousins and I would take turns staying together at Grandma's house; we were divided fairly evenly by ages. My older cousins and I (stairsteps, J's the oldest, then me, then L, then J2) would show up first, then rotate to each others' houses. Our sisters, all 4-5 years younger, would start at my aunt's house, then go to Camp Grandma.

The result: Our parents all managed a week of kid-free quiet; we had no siblings bothering us; we were able to hang out with girls our own age; and best of all, Grandma got her girls to herself.

We all have fond memories of those weeks in the summer. So when my oldest was old enough, I started lobbying for Camp Grandma to start anew. No cousins, alas, but bonding time with grandparents is always good. So is blissful quiet.

My older two are living the life of Riley now. They are on the lake house this week with my husband's parents, then they move to the farm with my parents. I'm enjoying some bonding time with our youngest. She's so used to being bossed around by the older two . . . now she calls the shots.

She's been playing Wii without interference. She's had me play Hungry, Hungry Hippos and Trouble. The cats are all hers.

Now, that's not to say she's not a tad annoyed that she can't do Camp Grandma this year. She's almost 5, but two weeks is a long time away from home. We moved further away, so unlike years past, it isn't a simple car drive to fetch someone who has gotten homesick.

Next year, we'll probably let her go. I'm going to miss my game-playing buddy, but everyone should have the memories made at Camp Grandma.

Stupid genes

I have, in the past month, figured out that I've managed to send some lovely genes down the line to my kids.

My eldest seems to have inherited the anxiety issues that run through my family in spades. So I'm teaching her meditation and yoga and aromatherapy. That's what works without adding meds to the mix, so we start there.

At the peds this morning, it came out that the middle guy has my nearsightedness. He's apparently had trouble reading the board "but only when I'm in the last two rows, Mom. It's ALWAYS fuzzy in the last two rows."

So when I make my eye appointment later this week, I'll make his as well. Poor tyke. Although I may have to do a video of him when he learns that tree leaves have definition and are not meant to be gobs of green. I still recall the moment I figured that out on the drive home from the optometrist when I was newly glassed.

Off to get a library card

This might not seem like a monumental thing, but it is Mommy-Tracked's sanity. Books. DVDs. Storytime. A place to take the kids where they won't whine.

I've moved multiple times in my life. I'm about to get my 10th. Every time I move, I keep the library card. It's my record of the places that kept me sane. Sorry, Plainfield. I'm not giving it back.

A shout out to all the libraries who have given me books, music and videos that have transported me out of the humdrum and into other worlds:

Scenic Regional Library

Daniel Boone Regional Library

River Bluffs Regional Library

North Castle Public Library

Pleasant Hill Public Library

Altoona Public Library

West Des Moines Public Library

Plainfield Public Library District

Springfield-Greene County Regional Library

I now know

what my medieval ancestors looked like. I'm dressed in princess regalia, watching Cinderella to learn "how to be a princess," -- or so sayeth my four-year-old.


My outfit includes a lovely hat that would do a 12th century lady proud, I'm sure. Cinderella skirts work better as head coverings at my age.

Surfacing from the stress

I took a tiny (okay, months-long) break there.

I had good reason:

We survived the move to Texas.

We sold the house (a minor miracle in this market) and bought another.

You can call me "Master," as I've earned my master's in communication.

Now I'm unpacking and arranging. I'm being Mom, which means being a taxi service (yes, I've learned how to drive like a Texan already, in a Mom Van, no less), a nurse, a photography model (our four-year-old likes to thinks she's Annie Leibowitz).

I've also been a psychologist of sorts. My kids are adjusting to leaving the familiar behind and embracing the new. They are scarred by years in Tornado Alley. The first week we were here, San Antonio had a nasty thunderstorm blow through; our children were convinced an F4 would blow the house apart. I think they might have attempted to dig a basement, had I let them.

Like so many out there, I'm job hunting. It is frustrating to be so well-educated and experienced, and not even get a call for an interview. I'm just starting. I have friends who are just as experienced and educated who have been looking for months.

On the upside, I'll be blogging more now.

Whew. Busy, busy, busy

I'm in the home stretch.

In the past few weeks we:

Sold the house.

Found termites in house. Treated termites (dead, they are).

Flew to SA to look at about 20+ houses.

Made a bid on one house. Was rejected.

Made bid on second house. Yay, got that one.

Worked on grad project.

Started job hunting.

Packing has begun in full force. We are T-29 days from being one happy family in one state again.

I'm ready to go.

I'm so ready for it to be June, for us to be moved and back together again.

I'm exhausted. I know I'm on the downhill slide; only a few more months. But the daily grind is getting to me. Every day:


I wake up.
I wake the kids up.
I negotiate the great cereal battle.
I cuddle with the youngest.
I dress the youngest.
I negotiate the next battle.
I try and shower and get ready.
I make three or four beds.
I clean up the bathroom.
I clean up the kitchen.
I negotiate yet another battle.
I spot-check the house for show-readiness, just in case a Realtor comes by.
I grab my cell, just in case a Realtor calls.
I grab my work stuff. Jackets.
Try to make the laundry area neat.
Negotiate the car battle.
Drive to school.
Answer at least four questions from the kids as we drive.
Drop kids at school.
3 out of 5 days, I cave and get coffee on the way in.
Work.
Run errands at lunch.
Work more.
Pick up kids.
Negotiate the homework/chore battle.
Make dinner.
Do laundry.
Feed kids.
Negotiate another battle.
Bathe kids.
Clean up from dinner.
Ask eldest to do some sort of housework. Half the time, she remembers.
Take out trash.
Tuck in kids.
Say prayers.
Spray monster spray.
Re-tuck kids.
Take my bath.
Check on son; remind him it is an hour after his bedtime; must put Fudge book down.
Try and do homework, give up, play on Facebook.
Crash in bed.
Try to sleep.
Some nights, fall asleep. Others, toss and turn for hours.
Get up, do it again.


Add in allergies, my class on Tuesdays, and then the constant running on the weekends, plus the pressure to keep the house perfectly clean, and I'm just wiped out. Can someone please buy our house within the next few weeks? That alone would remove a huge burden.

I have weird children

My eldest's entry for the Great Potato Contest for St. Pat's. Note the cannibalism:

Why I like my Senator

Sen. Claire McCaskill takes on a few of my reporter compatriots at the recent Missouri Democratic Days events:

Supersmart

In preparation for the move, I had C2 tested for giftedness.

I honestly had no hunch how smart he was until this September, when he suddenly had a switch go on. He started reading voraciously (like me). He started doing hideous math problems for fun (like C1).

Unlike C1, it wasn't obvious right away that he was gifted. C1 was freakish in her ability to conquer skills that most three-year-olds don't have. For example, do any of you know a three-year-old who will sit for hours and do 40-piece puzzles, one after another? Yeah, that's how I worked from home sometimes: I'd edit book anthologies while she was surrounded by puzzles. Three hours, minimum, of quiet.

Not normal.

C2 was very normal. Hyper, active, boy normal.

Then the switch went on.

Don't get me wrong, he's still boy normal. But he's also incredibly good at making disparate connections (something I do, as well). He will just pop out of nowhere with this philosophical stuff, something C1 never did.

So we had him tested for giftedness this weekend. Now I'm wishing I'd done it sooner. They fit him into the class right away. Even though it will only be a few months, he's completely psyched. He's been beaming ever since he found out he got in. He smiled when I dropped him off. He smiled all day, according to C1, who also attends the gifted pull-out program.

"This is the best day ever!" he announced when I picked him up to take him to aftercare.

I honestly have NO idea what we are going to do with him after we move. I suspect a very long conversation with the guidance counselor is in order first thing this summer. The gifted programs in Texas work differently than here, and as best I can tell, he has a long shot of getting in, despite IQ and test results. He needs a challenge, but he also needs to hang with other boys his age, socially.

Parenting is not easy. Honestly, I wish I had a guidebook for this stuff.

And I'm looking at C3 and wondering what freakish skill set she's hiding from me right now.

Wow, so where's she been?

It's been more than two months since I posted anything.

In that two months, chaos (good chaos, but still) has entered our lives.

My husband accepted a new job. One that's several states away. We've been communicating by phone and by Skype. Needless to say, that's not the same.

I've been parenting three kids essentially alone. Getting a house ready for sale. Trying to finish my master's degree this semester.

Oh, and my boss threw a monkey wrench at me, shuffled me to a different department, and for the past two weeks, I've been learning a new job. It's a good move (not that I think he meant it to be one, but it was).

I've had updates occasionally on Facebook, but for the most part, I've been keeping things to myself.

I've had to call in the help of family and friends. I'm not completely comfortable with that. I'm a pretty self-reliant person, to the point that I overdo. This time, I'm trying to call out the troops sooner.

So, I'll be posting infrequently. The house goes on the market tomorrow. I'm hoping for a relatively quick sale. If it sells by summer in this market, I'll be happy.

I'd like for our family to all be in one house again. Here's hoping this all works out the way we want it.

Okay, mea culpa

I've been busy.

I wrapped up my marketing plan for class; I wrote my thesis. Several hundred pages of writing, proofing and revising later, I just didn't feel like blogging.

Then I was sick.

I'm better now, and happy to have had a writing break.

Holidays are upon us. The Mommy-Tracked kids have:

1) Placed first chair at district orchestra competition
2) Lost several teeth
3) Gotten bitten by the "reading bug" (if you have old Encyclopedia Browns you want to get rid of, let me know. I have a six-year-old who would love them.)
4) Decided that they love all Princess stuff. And the "spicy" JoJos (also known as the seasonal Peppermint ones. Oh, ye who live in the land of Trader Joe's, if you want to get a cheap gift for the Mommy-Tracked kids, there ya go. Boxes of JoJoes.)

Other things are perking and brewing. I'm getting ready to pitch a book. I'm rethinking my freelance business and planning to retool it a bit. I have one semester of class remaining until my master's. Praise be.

If I don't get back on the blog before the holidays: Merry Christmas to all of you (and Merry whatever you celebrate, too). See you on the flip side in the new year.

Update: The car lives

Yay! A fix, a bill, and well, I have to live without AC for however long I drive this baby, but at least we don't have to find a way to fund another car payment.

No wheels

The trusty car I've had for 12 years is currently sitting at the dealership.

Nothing huge: A belt snapped. Said belt runs the power steering. YOU try driving a manual transmission without power steering. Not easy.

It is fixable; the dealer is backed up, though. It could be another day, though. This job is fussy and a PITA to fix. I cringe to think of the labor on this bill. The parts are nothing, cost wise.

However, it is tempting to consider a new car. I hate sinking $$ into an older car. I've been burned more than once. If the CR-V hadn't died last year, my car would have been replaced. Now, it has to hang in at least another two or three years. Maybe more, if this economy doesn't get better.

Sigh. I love my car. I hate spending money. I really hate not having wheels to get around. Carpooling gets old when your husband doesn't get out of work before 6 p.m. on a good night.

The end is near

At least, it is for grad school.

My thesis is due next month. My marketing plan is written (mostly).

I registered for my final class today. I'll do the capstone during the winter 2009 semester (and try and get a publisher interested in my thesis). Then I'm done. Finished.

I have NO idea what I'll do next. I had toyed with the idea of starting a master's in education program, then decided that was insane.

The original plan was to hit the job market. In this economy, I'm not sure I'll get much interest. I'm going to try, but I'm not as hopeful as I was a year ago.

Know anyone who needs an overeducated editor who is an expert on Web 2.0 trends and social networking research? If so, send 'em my way, please.

RIP, Murray the Furry

You were a good dog.

You were fuzzy and you shed quite a bit, but you were also patient with the kids.

As a rescue dog, we wondered what we would get when we adopted you. We couldn't have picked a better dog if we tried. You were just the right speed for us: You didn't require much beyond occasional long walks, loving attention, dog treats and pets.

You hated to be brushed.

You loved rolling in the grass, leaves and snow. You especially loved doing it after I gave you a bath.

It is strange to not see your grinning face looking at me in the morning now. You could drive me insane, because I probably would have loved you more had you loved me less. But you were a good dog, even for cat people at heart.

We miss you already.

Love,

Your MommyTracked Family.

Gobama

My kids are thrilled beyond belief that Obama won.

I'm thrilled that they were able to see history being made. C1, sort of, grasps what happened. She was listening to John Lewis being interviewed after the election was called; his voice cracking as he tried to speak said more to us than anything he commented about in words.

C2 was impossible to wake, though I tried. The next morning, as I woke him for school, I told him. He woke up with a smile on his face.

My kids have friends of all colors and creeds. We've taught them that character is more important that the color of anyone's skin. I'm glad that I've been proved right.

I know there is quite a bit of work ahead for President Obama and his team. I don't have rose-colored glasses: I know we are in for some difficult times. But I honestly believe that for this moment, we picked the best person for the job.

M-I-Z,

Z-O-U!!

Family Mommy-tracked was up at Mizzou this weekend for Homecoming. Dad marched in the alumni band. Kids gathered gobs of candy at the parade, then hiked all over campus, climbed on the columns, donned Santa hats for me so I could get a picture for the Christmas cards, tossed a plastic football on the Quad while I basked in sunshine, and in general had a great time.

Things have changed: We bypassed the long line at the Berg for the Noodles & Co. next door. Quieter, food the kids would eat, and we got free footballs. There was whining about the wait for a game that started at 5 p.m., but once in the stadium, C1, C2, and C3 were all about the football.

We sat with the alumni band, next to Marching Mizzou. The eldest was watching not only the game, but also the clarinet section. I could tell she was thinking six years ahead. (Can you imagine?)

The last time we tried this, C3 was in a Snugli. C2 was 2.5. It was not pretty. This time around, it went better. C2 had to be told to not shout at the top of his lungs "You can do better!!' at the Mizzou defenders after a bad play. :0

C1 was explaining football to C2. C3 was all about cheering and checking out the cheerleaders (she was in her own cute cheerleader outfit). All three knew all the words to all the cheers. It was amazing how well they did.

It helped that it was a nice night, not too cool. It helped that the Tigers decimated Colorado, 58-0.

But I have to say, I think we made some great memories all around.

Col. McCormick is spinning in his grave

The Trib, bastion of Republicanism, just endorsed Obama.

Get the skates, hell froze over.

I heart Tina Fey and Dana Owens, part III