Actually, we started two weeks ago. This year has been a blur. Immediately after school started, my husband came down with the flu, then I caught it, and my grad classes started that same week. So it actually was a miracle that our children were dressed, homework finished, and at school on time at all.
Eldest starts middle school/jr. high. Sixth, seventh and eighth graders at her school change classes. This is her first taste of the rotating days, juggling multiple assignments from multiple teachers. It's also the science fair year.
Remember my post on recorders?
This is worse.
My only saving grace is that I a) sort of like science and b) her teacher believes it should be a part of their class work each day. Bless her.
Middle son started kindergarten. He was a little nervous this year, but once he settled in, he was okay.
I went back to my office and cried. I dropped him off at kindergarten in the same car we brought him home from the hospital in. He shouldn't have grown up so darn fast. He's still my little guy, one who loves to snuggle and cuddle. I know those days are numbered. I don't want to lose my little guy, but he's getting bigger each day.
Littlest one has become very independent. "I cawn do IT mySELF!" is her favorite line. Unless, of course, we ask her to do No. 2 on the potty. Then we get: "No, I cawn't do it."
Sigh.
I'm thinking next semester I will only take one seated course for grad school. I'm starting to feel overwhelmed, and I'm only two weeks in. It probably isn't as bad as I feel it is, and once I get some homework done, I'll feel better, I know.
Plus, my boss gave us all the afternoon off. Happy Labor Day, y'all. Enjoy the last blast of summer!
31 August 2007
24 August 2007
Oh, ick
So, I suspected that a mouse might have gotten in our house, and I've found confirmation today: mouse doo-doo and Fruit Loops scattered all through the cabinent with cereal and the utensil drawer, too.
Oh, ick, ick, ick, ick, ick.
I can handle snakes and all sorts of creepy crawly things, but not rodents.
I want it out of my house. I don't even care about painlessly. I just want it GONE.
The kids are appalled that I want to kill, and I quote, "One of God's creatures."
My response: "God's creatures are welcome outside. Where. They. Belong."
I have never wanted our bitter, angry cat back more than I do at this minute. I may ask the parents to bring her back from the farm for a week or so if we can't get rid of the rodent quickly. Ick. Ick. Ick. Ick. Ick.
Oh, ick, ick, ick, ick, ick.
I can handle snakes and all sorts of creepy crawly things, but not rodents.
I want it out of my house. I don't even care about painlessly. I just want it GONE.
The kids are appalled that I want to kill, and I quote, "One of God's creatures."
My response: "God's creatures are welcome outside. Where. They. Belong."
I have never wanted our bitter, angry cat back more than I do at this minute. I may ask the parents to bring her back from the farm for a week or so if we can't get rid of the rodent quickly. Ick. Ick. Ick. Ick. Ick.
15 August 2007
We're back
I didn't mean to go on hiatus there, folks. I had two papers to finish and a web project to do the first week of August for class. Then things hit the fan at work. Then we went on vacation.
So I sort of dropped out of sight.
Vacation was good. We met up with hubby's extended family in upstate NY. Corning of Corning Glass fame. It's gorgeous up there.
I know I hit the jackpot with my in-laws. I love them all. We don't get together often (maybe that helps), but we do get along well when we do. It was nice to commiserate with my husband's cousins, get sympathy from his aunts, and see my sister-in-law and brother-in-law in person again, as opposed to communicating via blog entry. :)
The kids had a great time. My eldest played with her older second cousins. My middle son had a blast with the second cousin who is only a year older than he is. Both boys spent a lot of time exploring physics and gravity with a see saw. The youngest charmed everyone, mostly because she was the youngest there, and most of them haven't seen her in person.
We also hit the Baseball Hall of Fame, Gettysburg and King's Island on the way home. The Hall of Fame was packed and not much fun because of it. Barry Bonds kind of ruined it, too. The Wall of Records on the third floor is updated constantly, and he's on quite a few. Depressing.
Gettysburg was humbling. Just thinking of the sheer numbers of men who died on those fields is overwhelmingly sad. It was hot, so we didn't hike many of the stops, but we did manage to paint a visual picture for the older two, enough to keep them occupied and interested. We did have to tell them to, um, stop pretending to be exuberant Union soldiers at the Hornet's Nest on the Little Big Top, because there were relatives of Confederates there, too. I didn't want to offend, or get into an argument about the War of Northern Aggression.
King's Island was fun, albeit hot. It was 101 the day we were there. I forced the little one to go through a SpongeBob maze that involved sprinklers, even though she hates things like that. I was so darn hot. Middle child learned that not watching where Mom is will result in you getting lost. He wandered away from me in the maze, and I couldn't catch him. Luckily, he did the right thing, and found a worker who led my sobbing little guy to me. It was a lesson painfully learned for him.
We'll go back someday. And hopefully the littlest will acquire some daredevil tendencies. She rode three rides, total. All tame, and one only after much convincing. The carousel was much too scary for her, believe it or not. This is the same kid I caught jumping from hotel bed to hotel bed, covering a gap bigger than she is.
So I sort of dropped out of sight.
Vacation was good. We met up with hubby's extended family in upstate NY. Corning of Corning Glass fame. It's gorgeous up there.
I know I hit the jackpot with my in-laws. I love them all. We don't get together often (maybe that helps), but we do get along well when we do. It was nice to commiserate with my husband's cousins, get sympathy from his aunts, and see my sister-in-law and brother-in-law in person again, as opposed to communicating via blog entry. :)
The kids had a great time. My eldest played with her older second cousins. My middle son had a blast with the second cousin who is only a year older than he is. Both boys spent a lot of time exploring physics and gravity with a see saw. The youngest charmed everyone, mostly because she was the youngest there, and most of them haven't seen her in person.
We also hit the Baseball Hall of Fame, Gettysburg and King's Island on the way home. The Hall of Fame was packed and not much fun because of it. Barry Bonds kind of ruined it, too. The Wall of Records on the third floor is updated constantly, and he's on quite a few. Depressing.
Gettysburg was humbling. Just thinking of the sheer numbers of men who died on those fields is overwhelmingly sad. It was hot, so we didn't hike many of the stops, but we did manage to paint a visual picture for the older two, enough to keep them occupied and interested. We did have to tell them to, um, stop pretending to be exuberant Union soldiers at the Hornet's Nest on the Little Big Top, because there were relatives of Confederates there, too. I didn't want to offend, or get into an argument about the War of Northern Aggression.
King's Island was fun, albeit hot. It was 101 the day we were there. I forced the little one to go through a SpongeBob maze that involved sprinklers, even though she hates things like that. I was so darn hot. Middle child learned that not watching where Mom is will result in you getting lost. He wandered away from me in the maze, and I couldn't catch him. Luckily, he did the right thing, and found a worker who led my sobbing little guy to me. It was a lesson painfully learned for him.
We'll go back someday. And hopefully the littlest will acquire some daredevil tendencies. She rode three rides, total. All tame, and one only after much convincing. The carousel was much too scary for her, believe it or not. This is the same kid I caught jumping from hotel bed to hotel bed, covering a gap bigger than she is.
22 July 2007
I believed in Severus Snape
SPOILER ALERT . . . . . . . IF YOU HAVE NOT FINISHED THE DEATHLY HALLOWS, READ NO FURTHER.
I believed. I was right.
I cried buckets. RIP Dobby, Fred, Lupin, Tonks and Hedwig.
It was a wonderful book. A wonderful series. Now I have to keep my opinions under wraps, so my kids can find out in their own times.
Thanks J.K.R.
I believed. I was right.
I cried buckets. RIP Dobby, Fred, Lupin, Tonks and Hedwig.
It was a wonderful book. A wonderful series. Now I have to keep my opinions under wraps, so my kids can find out in their own times.
Thanks J.K.R.
18 July 2007
Someone else like me
I'm trying to get a news ticker on this blog. I have one on the one for class, and it is nice. But because this blog goes through our server rather than Blogger's, I have issues.
One of the stories that popped up on my ticker (set to "working mom") pretty much sums it up for me on the economic impacts of having kids:
If I continue my accounting of the annual bill for my working summer, I can't omit one number that begins to explain why my work can't possibly cover the costs of the childcare that makes it possible: government statistics say that mothers like me have to stomach a 7% hourly wage penalty per child. I have three kids. That's 21%. Ouch. The survey cites the usual reasons--loss of job experience; employer discrimination against women with children; and the one I'm most interested in for the sake of this argument--a tendency to seek lower-paying, mother-friendly jobs. I have to be in a flex job, working freelance from home instead of full-time in my old office at Fortune magazine. How else am I going to stop at four o'clock to pick up all these kids from all these camps?
I fail to understand why, as a nation, we persist in structuring the year this way.
Stephanie Losee continues to explain the true cost of working. It's not a choice for a lot of families like ours. We need two incomes, plain and simple. The price we pay is a high one, folks.
Read the full article
One of the stories that popped up on my ticker (set to "working mom") pretty much sums it up for me on the economic impacts of having kids:
If I continue my accounting of the annual bill for my working summer, I can't omit one number that begins to explain why my work can't possibly cover the costs of the childcare that makes it possible: government statistics say that mothers like me have to stomach a 7% hourly wage penalty per child. I have three kids. That's 21%. Ouch. The survey cites the usual reasons--loss of job experience; employer discrimination against women with children; and the one I'm most interested in for the sake of this argument--a tendency to seek lower-paying, mother-friendly jobs. I have to be in a flex job, working freelance from home instead of full-time in my old office at Fortune magazine. How else am I going to stop at four o'clock to pick up all these kids from all these camps?
I fail to understand why, as a nation, we persist in structuring the year this way.
Stephanie Losee continues to explain the true cost of working. It's not a choice for a lot of families like ours. We need two incomes, plain and simple. The price we pay is a high one, folks.
Read the full article
16 July 2007
Gah. Too much (home) work
Okay. My name is Mommy-tracked, and I admit it: Taking six hours of grad school classes within a month's time was not smart.
I'm drowning here. Okay, I wouldn't be drowning if the Harry Potter book wasn't due to land on my doorstep in a few days, tempting me to read the book rather than write the two five- to six-page papers I have due before August starts.
Um, yeah. I can do it. Really, I can. I just have to avoid HP temptation and not blog much.
Sorry guys.
On the upside:
Second child has learned how to read a bit. He's very excited.
Youngest child has figured out how to use the potty doing No. 1. Anyone who has tips on getting her to do No. 2 is welcome to offer them below. Blackmail of more jellybeans is not working.
Eldest is awesome child who is helping me get through this with some semblance of sanity intact. I owe her. What to get child to show her how much I appreciate her help? Ideas helpful.
I'm drowning here. Okay, I wouldn't be drowning if the Harry Potter book wasn't due to land on my doorstep in a few days, tempting me to read the book rather than write the two five- to six-page papers I have due before August starts.
Um, yeah. I can do it. Really, I can. I just have to avoid HP temptation and not blog much.
Sorry guys.
On the upside:
Second child has learned how to read a bit. He's very excited.
Youngest child has figured out how to use the potty doing No. 1. Anyone who has tips on getting her to do No. 2 is welcome to offer them below. Blackmail of more jellybeans is not working.
Eldest is awesome child who is helping me get through this with some semblance of sanity intact. I owe her. What to get child to show her how much I appreciate her help? Ideas helpful.
11 July 2007
Fiddling
I'm messing around with the blog, so please ignore any goofy layout or settings. I'm doing it when I have time. Apologies.
09 July 2007
Back to School, Day One
So, I survived day one of grad school.
Actually, it wasn't that hard. I showed up with my notebook, my pen, and sat at the computer. The class is taught by a former co-worker, and they've lumped grad students in with undergrads (joy). There are probably 10 of us.
Our task today: Set up a blog on Blogger.
Seriously.
Two of us already blog, so it took us about five minutes. Several others had never heard of a blog or Blogger or TypePad or Wordpress.
Seriously.
If you are a communications undergrad (and as best I can tell, I'm the only grad student in there), how can you NOT know about this? I was amazed.
So, I now have two blogs, one here, and one for class. I have to do a major project. No idea what that might be, but if you have ideas for a multimedia one that I can do in a month, shout out below.
The rest of the class will involve things that I barely know how to do . . . building a website using Dreamweaver, podcasting, vidcasting, all those cool toys I barely know how to use.
But day one was just easy. Hope it stays that way.
Actually, it wasn't that hard. I showed up with my notebook, my pen, and sat at the computer. The class is taught by a former co-worker, and they've lumped grad students in with undergrads (joy). There are probably 10 of us.
Our task today: Set up a blog on Blogger.
Seriously.
Two of us already blog, so it took us about five minutes. Several others had never heard of a blog or Blogger or TypePad or Wordpress.
Seriously.
If you are a communications undergrad (and as best I can tell, I'm the only grad student in there), how can you NOT know about this? I was amazed.
So, I now have two blogs, one here, and one for class. I have to do a major project. No idea what that might be, but if you have ideas for a multimedia one that I can do in a month, shout out below.
The rest of the class will involve things that I barely know how to do . . . building a website using Dreamweaver, podcasting, vidcasting, all those cool toys I barely know how to use.
But day one was just easy. Hope it stays that way.
28 June 2007
'I get beanbeans?'
So, we're potty training. Again.
This is one of my least favorite tasks in child rearing. It involves brainwashing a small, strong-willed person that the way they've been doing things for years is now unacceptable, and that sitting on a large (to them) suction device is the way to go. Literally.
It bites.
Our first put us through 18 months of battling, screaming, pleading hell. I still have nightmares about potty training that child.
The second was a breeze. I took away his diapers about two weeks into changing two kids' diapers, and never looked back. He bought into the whole concept within a weekend. I marvel at how easy that was.
The last one is somewhere between the two. For weeks, we've heard "I cawn't doooooo it!" plaintively said while perched on the big potty. So we hauled out the training potty seat. I was hoping to avoid this, because, honestly, cleaning out the sucker is gross. And a pain. So much easier to do it directly where you want it, kwim?
So, the potty seat's been a hit. I plop her on it, put on SpongeBob, and wait. Unfortunately, this child has better bladder control than anyone I've ever seen.
Thus, I give you the following play, "Extortion by Two-Year-Old, in One Act":
SCENE: Living room. Toys are scattered everywhere. TV is blaring Winnie the Pooh, Classic Version.
Child sitting on potty seat, watching TV. Mother collapsed on couch, arm over eyes, trying to rest.
CHILD, who stands up, happy: "I diwd it, I diwd it!"
Mom gets up, looking in potty seat, sees five drops of urine. After weeks of no output, decides this is probably worth praising, and shrugs, then . . .
MOM: "Good job! High five!" (Child high-fives Mom.) "Okay, let's go get a jellybean! Great job!"
CHILD, who lusts after jellybeans: "I get bean bean?"
MOM: "Yup, great job! You get jellybeans for going potty in the potty! What color?"
CHILD: "Orwange."
Mom gives child jellybean from stash kept on high shelf. Both resume positions held previously, child on potty seat, happily chewing jellybean, mom collapsing on couch to get nap. Silence, held for about two minutes, then five seconds later:
CHILD: "I diwd it, I diwd it!"
Mom, looking in potty seat, sees five drops of urine. Decides to keep up positive reinforcement.
MOM: "Good job! High five!" (Child high-fives Mom.) "Okay, let's go get a jellybean! Great job!"
CHILD: "I get bean bean?"
MOM: "Yup, great job! You get jellybeans for going potty in the potty! What color?"
CHILD: "Bwue."
Mom gives child jellybean from stash kept on high shelf. Both resume positions held previously, child on potty seat, happily chewing jellybean, mom collapsing on couch to get nap. Silence, held for about two minutes, then five seconds later:
CHILD: "I diwd it, I diwd it!"
Mom, looking in potty seat, sees five drops of urine. Starting to sense she is being played, mom says lines in less enthusiasic voice:
MOM: "Good job! High five!" (Child high-fives Mom.) "Okay, let's go get a jellybean! Great job!"
CHILD: "I get bean bean?"
MOM: "Yup, great job! You get jellybeans for going potty in the potty! What color?"
CHILD: "yewwow."
Mom gives child jellybean from stash kept on high shelf. Both resume positions held previously, child on potty seat, happily chewing jellybean, mom collapsing on couch to get nap. Silence, held for about two minutes, then five seconds later:
CHILD: "I diwd it, I diwd it!"
Mom, looking in potty seat, sees five drops of urine. KNOWS she is being played, mom drags herself over to jellybean stash and says:
MOM: "Um, could we do more in the potty next time? You might get more jellybeans."
Child considers, then shakes head:
CHILD: "I cawn't do it."
And scene.
Yup. That's pretty much how it's been going, though we've convinced her that for five jellybeans, she can give up most of the um, product, she's withholding.
This is one of my least favorite tasks in child rearing. It involves brainwashing a small, strong-willed person that the way they've been doing things for years is now unacceptable, and that sitting on a large (to them) suction device is the way to go. Literally.
It bites.
Our first put us through 18 months of battling, screaming, pleading hell. I still have nightmares about potty training that child.
The second was a breeze. I took away his diapers about two weeks into changing two kids' diapers, and never looked back. He bought into the whole concept within a weekend. I marvel at how easy that was.
The last one is somewhere between the two. For weeks, we've heard "I cawn't doooooo it!" plaintively said while perched on the big potty. So we hauled out the training potty seat. I was hoping to avoid this, because, honestly, cleaning out the sucker is gross. And a pain. So much easier to do it directly where you want it, kwim?
So, the potty seat's been a hit. I plop her on it, put on SpongeBob, and wait. Unfortunately, this child has better bladder control than anyone I've ever seen.
Thus, I give you the following play, "Extortion by Two-Year-Old, in One Act":
SCENE: Living room. Toys are scattered everywhere. TV is blaring Winnie the Pooh, Classic Version.
Child sitting on potty seat, watching TV. Mother collapsed on couch, arm over eyes, trying to rest.
CHILD, who stands up, happy: "I diwd it, I diwd it!"
Mom gets up, looking in potty seat, sees five drops of urine. After weeks of no output, decides this is probably worth praising, and shrugs, then . . .
MOM: "Good job! High five!" (Child high-fives Mom.) "Okay, let's go get a jellybean! Great job!"
CHILD, who lusts after jellybeans: "I get bean bean?"
MOM: "Yup, great job! You get jellybeans for going potty in the potty! What color?"
CHILD: "Orwange."
Mom gives child jellybean from stash kept on high shelf. Both resume positions held previously, child on potty seat, happily chewing jellybean, mom collapsing on couch to get nap. Silence, held for about two minutes, then five seconds later:
CHILD: "I diwd it, I diwd it!"
Mom, looking in potty seat, sees five drops of urine. Decides to keep up positive reinforcement.
MOM: "Good job! High five!" (Child high-fives Mom.) "Okay, let's go get a jellybean! Great job!"
CHILD: "I get bean bean?"
MOM: "Yup, great job! You get jellybeans for going potty in the potty! What color?"
CHILD: "Bwue."
Mom gives child jellybean from stash kept on high shelf. Both resume positions held previously, child on potty seat, happily chewing jellybean, mom collapsing on couch to get nap. Silence, held for about two minutes, then five seconds later:
CHILD: "I diwd it, I diwd it!"
Mom, looking in potty seat, sees five drops of urine. Starting to sense she is being played, mom says lines in less enthusiasic voice:
MOM: "Good job! High five!" (Child high-fives Mom.) "Okay, let's go get a jellybean! Great job!"
CHILD: "I get bean bean?"
MOM: "Yup, great job! You get jellybeans for going potty in the potty! What color?"
CHILD: "yewwow."
Mom gives child jellybean from stash kept on high shelf. Both resume positions held previously, child on potty seat, happily chewing jellybean, mom collapsing on couch to get nap. Silence, held for about two minutes, then five seconds later:
CHILD: "I diwd it, I diwd it!"
Mom, looking in potty seat, sees five drops of urine. KNOWS she is being played, mom drags herself over to jellybean stash and says:
MOM: "Um, could we do more in the potty next time? You might get more jellybeans."
Child considers, then shakes head:
CHILD: "I cawn't do it."
And scene.
Yup. That's pretty much how it's been going, though we've convinced her that for five jellybeans, she can give up most of the um, product, she's withholding.
20 June 2007
Thomas Trains and China
So, my younger two are Thomas the Tank Engine addicts.
We own several hundred dollars worth of table, track, trains, accessories, DVDs. It is insane. But it is one thing my son, and now my youngest daughter, truly loves and plays with, so I buy the darn things almost every holiday and birthday.
Last week's recall really sucked for us.
One television news tease had my husband looking for more details. A visit to the Consumer Product Safety Commission's website confirmed that we owned several of the lead-paint-coated suckers. We spent a few hours comparing a huge bin of trains and other train-related things to the photos on the website.
They've been mailed off for a refund. I'm just annoyed that no one is bothering to do any oversight of the places that they subcontract with. I mean, I can see el cheapo toys not meeting requirements, but Thomas the Tank Engine sets aren't cheap. Those puppies range from $10-$200 each. At those prices, I expect quality and safety. Not some lame answer about how they didn't know.
We own several hundred dollars worth of table, track, trains, accessories, DVDs. It is insane. But it is one thing my son, and now my youngest daughter, truly loves and plays with, so I buy the darn things almost every holiday and birthday.
Last week's recall really sucked for us.
One television news tease had my husband looking for more details. A visit to the Consumer Product Safety Commission's website confirmed that we owned several of the lead-paint-coated suckers. We spent a few hours comparing a huge bin of trains and other train-related things to the photos on the website.
They've been mailed off for a refund. I'm just annoyed that no one is bothering to do any oversight of the places that they subcontract with. I mean, I can see el cheapo toys not meeting requirements, but Thomas the Tank Engine sets aren't cheap. Those puppies range from $10-$200 each. At those prices, I expect quality and safety. Not some lame answer about how they didn't know.
Back to School
Not the kids.
Me.
As part of my benefits package, I get free tuition. I've never seen how I would have the time, but two summer classes pricked my interest.
If I do two classes, I might as well do the other 10.
So if I blog less, now you know why.
Blame the homework.
Me.
As part of my benefits package, I get free tuition. I've never seen how I would have the time, but two summer classes pricked my interest.
If I do two classes, I might as well do the other 10.
So if I blog less, now you know why.
Blame the homework.
12 June 2007
Poison Ick
Okay, remember the post below, when I mentioned that I had a few bug bites on my arm that looked awful?
Guess what? Not bug bites.
Poison ivy, poison oak or poison sumac. Not sure which I got into while weeding, but it was one of 'em. And it has been years since I've had poison ivy, so I didn't realize what it was.
Also, the Calamine (tm) lotion we had in the house was left over from when eldest had the chicken pox. In 1997. Apparently that stuff doesn't last 10 years, because it didn't dry up the "bites."
By Saturday, it was bad. I was in St. Louis with the parents, when my dad id'ed the nasty stuff. By Sunday, it was spreading.
By Monday, I called in sick, because I had blisters on both arms, my stomach, and one leg. All up and down all four body parts. I was going through half-a-tube of the new Calamine (tm) lotion at a time.
My doc looked at me, sighed, and decided that at this point, the only thing to do was suppress my immune system. It was attacking everything, not just the original ivy. So I'm on pills to keep my immune system down for a couple of weeks, to let the nasty stuff work its way through my system.
I look like I've bathed in Calamine (tm) lotion. Aveeno baths are my savior. Thank God for Benadryl (tm).
I'll look just fine and dandy for my cousin's wedding. Maybe a pantsuit will hide the worst of it, assuming I can bear to wear it.
It could be worse. This isn't nearly as bad as when I had the chicken pox at 12. Close, but not quite there.
Guess what? Not bug bites.
Poison ivy, poison oak or poison sumac. Not sure which I got into while weeding, but it was one of 'em. And it has been years since I've had poison ivy, so I didn't realize what it was.
Also, the Calamine (tm) lotion we had in the house was left over from when eldest had the chicken pox. In 1997. Apparently that stuff doesn't last 10 years, because it didn't dry up the "bites."
By Saturday, it was bad. I was in St. Louis with the parents, when my dad id'ed the nasty stuff. By Sunday, it was spreading.
By Monday, I called in sick, because I had blisters on both arms, my stomach, and one leg. All up and down all four body parts. I was going through half-a-tube of the new Calamine (tm) lotion at a time.
My doc looked at me, sighed, and decided that at this point, the only thing to do was suppress my immune system. It was attacking everything, not just the original ivy. So I'm on pills to keep my immune system down for a couple of weeks, to let the nasty stuff work its way through my system.
I look like I've bathed in Calamine (tm) lotion. Aveeno baths are my savior. Thank God for Benadryl (tm).
I'll look just fine and dandy for my cousin's wedding. Maybe a pantsuit will hide the worst of it, assuming I can bear to wear it.
It could be worse. This isn't nearly as bad as when I had the chicken pox at 12. Close, but not quite there.
08 June 2007
Ahhh. Spaaaaaa.
Today, I cash in my Mother's Day gift: An afternoon at my favorite spa. I can't wait.
I just hope the massage therapist doesn't cringe at my skin. I'm covered in mosquito bites. There was one in the house all week, and it just feasted on my eldest and me. My right arm looks awful.
Maybe I'll bandage that before I go.
I just hope the massage therapist doesn't cringe at my skin. I'm covered in mosquito bites. There was one in the house all week, and it just feasted on my eldest and me. My right arm looks awful.
Maybe I'll bandage that before I go.
30 May 2007
Parenting one is so much easier
This week, the older two are hanging with their grandparents. While they fish, sail, and in general have fun, we only have the youngest.
Ways this has made life easier:
1) The ride back from grandparents' house was silent, as youngest napped most of the way. No squabbling.
2) Youngest knows how to occupy herself, unlike middle child, who treats alone time like solitary confinement.
3) Youngest does not whine incessantly. Yet.
4) No one to pick on. No one to fight with over the couch. No one to fight with toys. Youngest has taken to a "mine, all mine!" attitude with toys. And there is no one around to gainsay her. She's in heaven.
5) Youngest goes to bed at 8 sharp. I have hours of time to do housework, errands, whatever before I collapse.
6) Only one kid means we don't have to wake up as early to start the morning shuffle.
7) Only one place to stop after work for daycare pickup.
8) Possibility that I'll get called out of work due to sick child is now much less.
That's not to say I don't miss the older two. But silence in our house right now is golden.
Plus, it gives me a good chance to fix the popped nails/broken plaster in my son's room without a curious five-year-old around to "help."
Ways this has made life easier:
1) The ride back from grandparents' house was silent, as youngest napped most of the way. No squabbling.
2) Youngest knows how to occupy herself, unlike middle child, who treats alone time like solitary confinement.
3) Youngest does not whine incessantly. Yet.
4) No one to pick on. No one to fight with over the couch. No one to fight with toys. Youngest has taken to a "mine, all mine!" attitude with toys. And there is no one around to gainsay her. She's in heaven.
5) Youngest goes to bed at 8 sharp. I have hours of time to do housework, errands, whatever before I collapse.
6) Only one kid means we don't have to wake up as early to start the morning shuffle.
7) Only one place to stop after work for daycare pickup.
8) Possibility that I'll get called out of work due to sick child is now much less.
That's not to say I don't miss the older two. But silence in our house right now is golden.
Plus, it gives me a good chance to fix the popped nails/broken plaster in my son's room without a curious five-year-old around to "help."
21 May 2007
Me & Bob B. II
Video, now uploaded at YouTube. Props to B.Shipman, the professor who created the video, and did an awesome job helping us out all weekend with the video end of things.
14 May 2007
Me & Bob B.
I survived.
For all the work, it was actually pretty fun. I only got to see Bob up close (and he looks about like what you'd think your 83-year-old grandpa would look like). I didn't get to chat with him. Child 1 got to talk to him and shake his hand; she was mortified. (I was out of the room, answering a question after the magazine photo shoot, she was sitting there, waiting for me, and Bob came up and talked to her.)
Everything went off without a hitch, despite the fact that it was 86 degrees, the gym has no AC. A lot of the photos look like everyone up there in robes has flop sweat. Unavoidable, but still.
I had to use my "Mom Voice" (tm) during the procession. Photographers were leaping into the street and into the line (our students process down the main college street to the gym; Bob and the faculty are at the head of the line). I firmly but loudly asked them to step back off the street. They were crowding the faculty and eventually would crowd Bob, plus they were screwing up the shot for the TV crews, who were behaving.
I'll post video when I can, but for now, Bob gave a great graduation speech, seemed to have a good time, and I'm happy he's now headed back to Cali.
I'm wiped.
For all the work, it was actually pretty fun. I only got to see Bob up close (and he looks about like what you'd think your 83-year-old grandpa would look like). I didn't get to chat with him. Child 1 got to talk to him and shake his hand; she was mortified. (I was out of the room, answering a question after the magazine photo shoot, she was sitting there, waiting for me, and Bob came up and talked to her.)
Everything went off without a hitch, despite the fact that it was 86 degrees, the gym has no AC. A lot of the photos look like everyone up there in robes has flop sweat. Unavoidable, but still.
I had to use my "Mom Voice" (tm) during the procession. Photographers were leaping into the street and into the line (our students process down the main college street to the gym; Bob and the faculty are at the head of the line). I firmly but loudly asked them to step back off the street. They were crowding the faculty and eventually would crowd Bob, plus they were screwing up the shot for the TV crews, who were behaving.
I'll post video when I can, but for now, Bob gave a great graduation speech, seemed to have a good time, and I'm happy he's now headed back to Cali.
I'm wiped.
27 April 2007
20 April 2007
Bad things happen
That's what I've been telling my daughter. My son. My students.
Virginia Tech and what happened there is a bad thing. Bad things happen. They happen, and there isn't a darn thing you can do to prevent it.
Scary, but true.
My workplace has been on a low-level freak-out ever since Monday. It amazes me that some people seem to think we can write a crisis plan that would prevent this.
You can't stop someone bent on causing havoc. You can plan, but eventually, bad things happen.
Bad things happened at Virginia Tech. Bad things happened at UT years ago.
I refuse to live my life in fear of bad things. I can't.
Life is risk. You can weigh the risks, but ultimately, risk is there.
Bad things happen. You can't do anything about it. That's life.
Whether you use faith in religon to help you understand, or you are more pragmatic, or both (in my case), you have to be prepared for bad things. You can't wrap yourself or your kids or your other loved ones in bubble wrap.
Go. Live life. Take risk. Celebrate good things, and don't fret about the bad ones.
Virginia Tech and what happened there is a bad thing. Bad things happen. They happen, and there isn't a darn thing you can do to prevent it.
Scary, but true.
My workplace has been on a low-level freak-out ever since Monday. It amazes me that some people seem to think we can write a crisis plan that would prevent this.
You can't stop someone bent on causing havoc. You can plan, but eventually, bad things happen.
Bad things happened at Virginia Tech. Bad things happened at UT years ago.
I refuse to live my life in fear of bad things. I can't.
Life is risk. You can weigh the risks, but ultimately, risk is there.
Bad things happen. You can't do anything about it. That's life.
Whether you use faith in religon to help you understand, or you are more pragmatic, or both (in my case), you have to be prepared for bad things. You can't wrap yourself or your kids or your other loved ones in bubble wrap.
Go. Live life. Take risk. Celebrate good things, and don't fret about the bad ones.
31 March 2007
Quiet Saturday thoughts
I'm at work on a Saturday.
Why? Because our eldest is doing a math competition in another building on campus, and it seemed silly to drive home, then come back. I can crank iTunes as loud as I want, with explicit tunes, and no one will bother me. I can finish a bunch of little projects that have been hanging over my head while she does her thing, then walk over in an hour or so to see the award ceremony.
It's so quiet at work, I figured I'd take a minute to blog about silly things:
Our son has a crush on "Miss Sandy Duncan." Santa brought the first season of The Muppet Show and we watch it quite a bit. My little guy also has a crush on Miss Janice. It is very cute.
My littlest is about to be potty trained. Very sad in some ways (darn it, she's growing up, and I can't deny it), but hey, no more money wasted on diapers. Yay!
Okay, weird. I'm listening to a cd my former boss gave us before he left, a bunch of songs he burned from his eclectic iTunes playlist. This track: Tony Bennett singing Def Leppard's "Jump". Um, ick.
My eldest has a real soccer coach for the first time ever. Usually it is some parent who is just trying to coach. But this year she scored a mom who is a trained coach, trying to build a resume to get a "real" coaching job. My eldest is super-thrilled.
Why? Because our eldest is doing a math competition in another building on campus, and it seemed silly to drive home, then come back. I can crank iTunes as loud as I want, with explicit tunes, and no one will bother me. I can finish a bunch of little projects that have been hanging over my head while she does her thing, then walk over in an hour or so to see the award ceremony.
It's so quiet at work, I figured I'd take a minute to blog about silly things:
Our son has a crush on "Miss Sandy Duncan." Santa brought the first season of The Muppet Show and we watch it quite a bit. My little guy also has a crush on Miss Janice. It is very cute.
My littlest is about to be potty trained. Very sad in some ways (darn it, she's growing up, and I can't deny it), but hey, no more money wasted on diapers. Yay!
Okay, weird. I'm listening to a cd my former boss gave us before he left, a bunch of songs he burned from his eclectic iTunes playlist. This track: Tony Bennett singing Def Leppard's "Jump". Um, ick.
My eldest has a real soccer coach for the first time ever. Usually it is some parent who is just trying to coach. But this year she scored a mom who is a trained coach, trying to build a resume to get a "real" coaching job. My eldest is super-thrilled.
21 March 2007
Six weeks of heck
The next six weeks are going to be bad.
If you think I haven't posted much lately, just wait.
Some of it is child-related: Soccer starts x 2 this year. Middle child's birthday party is in there, too. Oh, and we are going to try and potty train the youngest over Easter break.
Some of it is work-related: Major speaker for Convocation series will come. Complete with protesters, because someone who is anti-war in this town will draw out all the pro-war folks. We've been catching heat on talk radio and letters to the editor for months. This happens the same week as middle child's birthday, btw. Oh, and Bob Barker is coming to speak at our commencement, and the Bob groupies are coming out of the woodwork.
No, I can't get you tickets, btw.
Some of it is politics-related: My kids' school was slated to lose a certified teacher this budget year. Problem: We don't have a teacher to spare. Many parents fought back, and we won a temporary reprieve from the school board. We get to keep the teacher this year. If the numbers aren't higher next year, we lose the teacher. No arguments. Guess who is one of the parents driving the new marketing committee for my kids' school?
Some of it is friend-family-work related: We have one weekend in there that has 1) a wedding 2) a family reunion 3) my husband presenting at a journalism conference.
So if you don't hear from me until after Mother's Day, don't send out search parties. I'm around. Just really, really, really freakin' busy.
If you think I haven't posted much lately, just wait.
Some of it is child-related: Soccer starts x 2 this year. Middle child's birthday party is in there, too. Oh, and we are going to try and potty train the youngest over Easter break.
Some of it is work-related: Major speaker for Convocation series will come. Complete with protesters, because someone who is anti-war in this town will draw out all the pro-war folks. We've been catching heat on talk radio and letters to the editor for months. This happens the same week as middle child's birthday, btw. Oh, and Bob Barker is coming to speak at our commencement, and the Bob groupies are coming out of the woodwork.
No, I can't get you tickets, btw.
Some of it is politics-related: My kids' school was slated to lose a certified teacher this budget year. Problem: We don't have a teacher to spare. Many parents fought back, and we won a temporary reprieve from the school board. We get to keep the teacher this year. If the numbers aren't higher next year, we lose the teacher. No arguments. Guess who is one of the parents driving the new marketing committee for my kids' school?
Some of it is friend-family-work related: We have one weekend in there that has 1) a wedding 2) a family reunion 3) my husband presenting at a journalism conference.
So if you don't hear from me until after Mother's Day, don't send out search parties. I'm around. Just really, really, really freakin' busy.
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