I've been a mom for 16 years now, which means a rollercoaster of Mother's Day experiences. One forgotten, one horribly over the top to make up for the forgotten, a few obviously almost forgotten, and many spent taking care of someone else's mother.
This year goes down as my idea of the perfect Mother's Day.
I was shooed out of the house late morning with my bicycle, after presentation of kid-made cards & art projects. Came home to a basket of folded laundry, two freshly scrubbed dogs, and dinner being pulled off the grill.
It was a beautiful sunny day. A bit windy on the way out, but that just made for a good workout for the first half of the ride, and a super speedy return trip.
(I may type it as seen above, but I say it with the accent... a lot.)
Is that really so much to want in life?
I know it's not just me. It's probably the lament of every mother on the planet.
When the kids are home, I'm constantly shooing them out of the bathroom doorway, only to have them continue talking to me through the bathroom door. It's not like they're with me every moment of the day - I'm not even sure how they get to the bathroom door. It must be a bit like telephone calls - kids spidey senses let them know I'm about to be unavailable for a minute or two, which causes them to race in my general direction.
It is not just the younger kids who excel at this. My teen has been known to text or call me with some minor question from the basement playroom - lazy teen isn't a stereotype for nothing - at the very moment I start walking toward the bathroom.
When the children aren't home it's the dogs. They'll follow me right in. If I shut the door, they'll lie down on the other side, making a 130-lb expanse of canines to climb over three minutes later.
And, today... children are playing video games. Dogs are napping by their feet, worn out from playing outside. I head down the hall, walk into the bathroom, turn
to shut the door...
... and in rolls Annabeth, my daughter's teddy bear hamster.
There were moments today when I didn't think I'd make it through the day. At times, it was the ever-increasing chaos of 18 nine-year-olds in one place... and the a few times I was hoping for the ground to open and swallow me up. This is the biggest batch of kidlets I've hosted at once. Sent 20 invitations, figuring it would be the normal 5-10 that would RSVP. We had 17, plus my three children. Here's what I learned:
The work it takes to handle children's birthday parties increases at an alarming rate with each additional child... especially when you get into double digits. Look, I've made this handy-dandy, super scientific chart:
Choosing food was easy. Carrots & celery with ranch dip, apples, grapes, cookies & cream hershey's kisses, red and blue jugs of hawaiian punch, bottles of water, and... cupcakes.
The Alice in Wonderland theme made goody bags easy:
Reusable bottles, with "Drink Me" tags attached.
Containers filled with variety of Skittles (regular, sour & crazy core), with "Eat Me" tags. (Normally would have gone with M&Ms, but I was prepped for a child with peanut allergies.)
Activities were a little harder, as I wasn't sure until Saturday how many children were coming, or what my girl/boy mix would be. Plus, third graders are at a funny age. They consider themselves too old for many party games, but they don't want to just "hang out" like the big kids. I had a couple of things in reserve, but we ended up not needing backup, since there was a good bit of random running and flinging of water from bottles in between the three main planned games.
Croquet. Small group, while kids were still arriving, and most of the others were chasing down DD's big brother (he's such a great sport).
Balloon Pop - Tag. Tied balloons to everyone's ankles, and let them work out a strange boys vs. girls thing, which I never quite understood, since the prize went to the last person with an unpopped balloon. (This is the perfect game for that age, by the way. It combines two favorite activities - running and stomping balloons.)
Painting the Roses Red. In hindsight, I think I'd hand out red stickers if I did this again. If you placed bets on how long it would take the kids to start painting each other instead of the rosebush... well, let's just say it happened sooner than I expected.
I am so very glad we had the big party for DD's birthday, but I am even happier that she let me know she'd like a girl's-only thing with pizza, movies & pedicures next year. A sleepover such as she described will put us much lower on the chaos curve.
The suspiciously agreeable kidlets have returned to their regularly scheduled bickering. Didn't even have to wait until after the requested trip to see the beautiful cars. They started in on each other before we made it through the first five cars.
I'm not sure what my trio is planning, but something is in the works. How do I know this? They are getting along.
We're most of the way through spring break. They should be at each other's throats by now, fighting about who's in charge of feeding the dogs today. Or maybe over someone hogging all the yellow legos to build a robot/spaceship/house. Instead, I have only to ask (once) for the stacks of folded clothes on top of the dryer to be put away, and it happens. There was minimum whining during our hike Tuesday. Yesterday's yard work was handled with happy cooperation between children responsible for pick up, mowing, and bagging. They even ate all vegetables last night.
It is possible this ceasefire is temporary. The High Museum has an exhibit of rare and beautiful cars on display, and they all want to go. The Allure of the Automobile could just be that strong. If the bickering doesn't start in the car on the way home though, I'm not sure how I'll handle it. It's a bit like waking up to find the laws gravity doesn't apply any more.
That's my mom, half-way across the country, after I called to complain about my daughter springing the need for a full costume for a school presentation on me, the day before it was due... when she hadn't even started the speech yet.
Mom was kind enough to refrain from reminding me of all the times I did the same thing, since that would have kept us on the phone way too long to have started the project.
I remember when the answer to "What should we carve this year?" elicited characters from Disney, various comic books, Nick Jr and Nickelodeon. Blue, Dexter (the labcoat wearing 1st grader, not the serial killer), Bob the Builder & Pilchard, Spiderman... even Bender & Zorak have been on the list, along with aliens, black cats and spiders. Not this year.
"Cannibals!"
"Zombies!"
"Zombie cannibals... that eat baby pumpkins"
So, after a little bit of time on google, they presented me with a few options from ExtremePumpkins.com. Here's what happened:
And, I don't remember what was going on right at this particular moment, which is probably for the best...
After many hours, and a whole lot of squishing about in slimy pumpkin guts...
Pica is defined as a compulsive craving for eating, chewing or licking non-food items or foods containing no nutrition. These can include such things as chalk, plaster, paint chips, baking soda, starch, glue, rust, ice, coffee grounds, and cigarette ashes. It may sometimes be linked to certain mineral deficiencies (i.e., iron or zinc).
What I'd like to know is which mineral deficiency is linked to the disappearance of scissors in my home, because I am pretty sure one (or more) of my children have been eating them. Or burying them in the yard. Or hiding them in an attempt to make me question my sanity. I know there must be half a dozen pairs of adult size scissors in this house. And at least twice as many junior and child sized safety scissors. Yet I can't find a single pair. Even the kitchen shears are missing from the knife block. My fabric scissors, which are kept out of reach with the sewing machine, are the only pair I've been able to find in two days.
Which reminds me - now that I'm finished with the sunflower curtains for my daughter's classroom, I'd better get the fabric scissors put away ASAP. Pretty sure titanium is not a mineral the kids need, but I'd rather not take any chances.
The new house is official. The final walk-through had been eagerly and fearfully anticipated, as I was terrified of finding the basement flooded, and having to put the whole thing off until after cleanup, or to start from scratch on one of the backup house choices in the neighborhood. Beyond a little bit of seepage through the door into the unfinished portion of the daylight basement, the house was high and dry.
Closing was Thursday. Beyond a snafu with the wire transfer, it went very smoothly. (Thank you, monster mega-bank, for noting that a large transfer of funds to a real estate attorney's escrow account is an "unusual transaction," and taking the extra precaution to place a hold on the "suspicious activity" until the next day. And an extra thank you for sending notification of the hold AFTER the day had ended for your customer service folks.)
With the movers coming on Tuesday, it's been crazy busy around here since this past Tuesday. Even with the packing, cleaning and closet purging, there's been time for a little bit of fun.
Friday: DD attended a Japanese themed birthday party, in a beautiful vintage kimono we purchased on eBay.
Saturday: B1's first 10k - the Big Peach Sizzler 10k. He finished in 58:24, and I'm super proud of him. (Plus, for beating my time, and breaking 60 minutes, $10.) Sunday: Will be heading over soon to the local festival, where B2 and I will be serving up lemon twists in the 5th grade booth. That's not so much the fun part, but wandering around after our shift and trying food from the different restaurant booths will be.
Then, it's time to pull holiday decorations from the attic, and make a trip over to the new house with the rest of the toys and games I bribed (frozen yogurt) the kids into packing up early last week. It needs to be out of this house, before they decide they need to open the boxes back up.
Finally got a chance to upgrade to Flickr Pro and load up the photos I mentioned last evening.
This past Sunday, we went for a mini-hike at one of the trails in the Chattahoochee NRA. $25 buys an annual parking pass that covers all 16 locations along the river in the Metro area. Since some combination of family members can be found along the river at least once or twice each week, it's quite a bargain. (Single pass is $3.00, which adds up quickly.)
DottieB is branching out. Instead of sticking with our normal nature walk scavenger hunt, collecting the colors of the rainbow , she and Bugsy decided to collect what you'd find in a crayon box.
In addition to good old ROY G. BIV, they snapped shots of muddy reddish-brown creekbeds, white mushrooms, black-eyed susans, brown acorns, gray tree trunks with blue trail markers, pink puffs, lilac/lavender flowers (there was a lengthy debate on that last color designation)...
...until the battery ran out.
In the car on the way home, I heard plans to bring extra batteries next time, and a 24-pack of Crayola, just to make sure they don't miss any.
Scale back on the peppers, if you are catering to those with mild tastes, like my kidlets, but simmer up this stew.
Now.
Seriously.
The recipe is a bit long, which can seem daunting at first, but only until you realize the steps are written with loads of detail. There's plenty of beautiful photos to show you how it should look along the way (like the lovely one shown here). Substitutions are pretty easy, and he's great about suggesting ways to adjust the spices to suit your flavor preferences.
I didn't have any preserved lemons, so my helper squeezed some fresh lemon juice in when adding the broth and red wine. It was delicious. The boys weren't fans of the chickpeas, but DD thought they were pretty good.
Promised the kidlets pizza tomorrow, but I can't wait to eat the leftovers with brown rice crisps (Rice Works - picked up at Costco), topped with fresh chopped cilantro.
"People in a free society will choose to have more of something if its return exceeds its cost. On the other hand, people in a free society will choose to have less of a good or service if its value is less than its cost."
Having become increasingly interested over the past few years in those things related to the dismal science of economics, this is not the first time I've seen a statement like that. Having read about falling birth rates in western nations, the concept of applying the phrase to child rearing wasn't new, either. And Ben Stein often manages to get me to think about things in a slightly different light. What? Can I place a value on the kidlets? I was intrigued. So I read.
"What is the value of a child in modern Western industrial society? More specifically, what is the value of a middle-class or upper-middle-class or upper-class child in America? And does this have anything to do with the fact that the birth rate among American women has been falling for decades and that the age of first childbirth among educated women is far higher than among less-well-educated women?
Start with economics. People in a free society will choose to have more of something if its return exceeds its cost. On the other hand, people in a free society will choose to have less of a good or service if its value is less than its cost.
Now, what is a modern child? Obviously, not a good or service, but something more and also something less. Long ago, as we all know, humans had children because they liked having sex and because children had some value as assistant hunters and gatherers and keepers of the hearth."
Goes on into the evolution of society, the move past needing many additional hands for hunting or farming, and the modern day wonders of contraception. Then, Stein gets into what makes modern middle-upper class children so costly:
"...raising modern children is such a major pain in the neck. For one thing, thanks to a variety of factors, often parents have to struggle like galley slaves to get their offspring into private schools and pay for them.
The private school parent also has to pony up for every kind of lesson -- ballet, horse, and music lessons, math tutoring, and chess club. The parent also has to drive the little ones to all of these events as well as to the "play dates" that lurk like unanesthetized colonoscopies in modern life. Then there is the most horrible event a healthy upper-middle-class American can have: social engagements with the parents of Junior's classmates.
In other words, we are talking about child rearing as part unpaid chauffeur, part torture."
One thing I'd like to clarify - it's not just private school parents. Parents utilizing the charter and magnet public schools pay for the private lessons, buy uniforms, buy/sell fundraising merchandise, join countless groups which ask for donations from members often, meet volunteer requirements at the school, drive to all the events... and are expected to all of this cheerfully, because we're not paying private school tuition.
"...part unpaid chauffeur, part torture." I love that line. Then there's college. After four (or more) years of paying lots of money to institutions of higher learning, what do you end up with?
"a son with a law degree who cannot get a job, a daughter with a film-school degree who works as a masseuse, or a musician who keeps you up all night with his drums."
Ooh. Goody. I have three children, so could potentially end up with all three of those hypotheticals trying to move back home in their 20s. Can't wait.
To be fair, Stein does point out that not all children grow up to be complete ingrates, with the sense of entitlement of a two year old's "MINE!" phase. Hisson, of course, is the exception. I may not disagree with his conclusions in the article, but I can't say it brings many pleasant thoughts, either:
"The costs and benefits of having children in affluent America are wildly off kilter. Too much cost, too little reward. Often the cost-benefit analysis of children prints out "Get a German shorthaired pointer instead."
Many people are doing that, and the birth rate is collapsing. But if we stop having enough children, because their value is so low relative to their cost, the society grinds down. It's happening right now. The native-born upper middle class barely replace themselves in America, if they do at all. In a way we are committing suicide as a class, possibly in part because of the burdens of child rearing in modern life.
What is the net present value of a child in modern America? Often, it's difficult to find much, and thereby hangs a question mark over our future as a nation, at least as we have known it."
Sometimes, no matter how hard you try to monitor your language around the kids, it just slips out.
Driving to an open house Sunday afternoon, in a very ordinary suburban neighborhood of 1960's brick ranch houses, green lawns, kids and dogs, was one of those times. The kids were shocked out of their general state of back seat lolling and lazy bickering, and readying their rebuke for word choice when they noticed...
That's right. Holy crap, a peacock.
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Trying to sneak off for a morning bike ride, before anything can pop up on my [currently] open schedule. Is cool and beautiful in an early Autumn way, so staying inside would be torture. Have my audiobook (The Color of Magic, Terry Pratchett) for this week all queued up, along with an episode of The Thomas Jefferson Hour and the latest Liberty Conspiracy - just in case I don't feel like a book - and the iPhone fully charged.
Carla, aka MizFit has an excellent post today which asks the question "How have you acted as your own superhero lately?" She opens it with a story about her toddler tornado daughter at the park which is just marvelous. It's one of those snippets which bring to mind all the breakthrough moments with my kids as I saw them growing into their personalities.
I love that MizFit keeps coming back around to the topic of self-image. Being your own superhero is a great message for me to repeat to the kids. All three have strengths, and I'd like them to focus on those as they head into the awkward years of middle and high school. I don't want to overdo it, and build a Stuart Smalley self-affirmation into their heads, but I do want them all to think of things in terms of balance, and bringing their best to the effort in whatever they try.
It's not going to be easy. With my daughter, it's an external thing - she's worried about what other girls think about her. From coming home in tears because a friend thought her bookbag was ugly, to being upset that she has a tougher time with multiplication facts than a couple of her other friends... it's a challenge.
In the case of the bookbag, I reminded her that she likes the bag, and picked it because it makes her happy to see the little bird & tree stitched on it. It's okay if somebody else doesn't like it, because it's not theirs. And, when she thought about it, DD admitted she didn't really care for the other girl's backpack, because it wasn't a color she likes as well. It gave me a chance to point out that one of DDs strengths is that she doesn't judge others based on silly things like backpack patterns.
With anything she brings up as a failing, I try not to patronize her by giving her the automatic "you're great" speech. If she's having a tough time with math, or with running, or art class - I remind her that she's great with science and language arts. She may not be able to run longer distances, but she can sprint like crazy, is a strong swimmer, and is a fantastic companion on long(ish) bike rides. With drawing, multiplication tables, and piano it takes practice. She'll keep getting better, or figure out she likes something else better - like photography and flute.
With the boys, it's more of an internal thing. They are their own worst critics. With them, it's a matter of reminding them they need to keep trying at the tough things - in school, sports and in plain old life. One of two things will happen. They'll either improve through practice to kick butt & love what they used to struggle with, OR find some other aspect of it they do love, and kick butt at that, instead.
B2 will beat himself up about anything less than perfect, and can talk himself into giving up before ever trying. He often has to be shoved - I mean gently nudged - into things. I can't count the times I've said "You're right - you might suck at [fill in the blank]. But you might not. You might even really be great at it. If you don't try, you'll never know."
B1 has a healthier attitude, and tends to shrug off his doom-n-gloom after a few minutes, then try - or try again. He's also very encouraging of others, and is always willing to throw in 110% to help out. (I love this about him.)
Oh, dear - I ended up rambling all over the place. What I was trying to get at is that MizFit's superhero approach is perfect for helping the kids shape their outlook on life. It's great for me, too. Just like comic book superheroes, we all have abilities and strengths that make us great at some things. With the areas in which we excel, there's also our fatal flaws and weaknesses. The trick is to focus on the things that make you super, and use those strengths to help you work on the other stuff.
And, if you're completely stuck... that's what a league of Superfriends are for.
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Along this theme, MizFit's post reminded me of a song by Steve Burns, Mighty Little Man. It's from his album Songs for Dustmites, and it always makes me smile.
When the kidlets were smaller, there would be a victory run through the house anytime this song popped up in the playlist. Sometimes, the 1st grader (B1) would lead the laps around the house, sometimes not. The toddler B2 would run around, arms over his head, like he was crossing the finish line, singing the chorus at the top of his little voice. The not-yet-walking DD would bounce in her high chair, walker, or spot on the living room floor, waving her arms and "singing" along.
The second week of school started today. Between all the BTS schedule adjustments last week, along with homecoming picnics, parent meetings and cross country practice, it's been all kerfuffle, all the time around here.
With this morning's stint in the front office at the high school, and children picking their afterschool activities (one per child) for autumn, I'm finally beginning to get things nailed down on the calendar.
Just out of curiousity, what would this image in a note from your child's teachers say to you? Would it give you the idea that you shouldn't send peanut butter & honey sandwiches, and maybe try out some alternatives, like almond or cashew butter? Because that's what I thought. (I knew soynut butter was out, since it's more closely related to peanuts than the others.) Found an almond butter my picky little DD liked. She proudly packed up a small container with her apples, string cheese, whole grain crackers, dried pineapple and oatmeal cookies today.
Imagine my surprise at her almost tearful report on not eating her almond butter and apples today, along with a stern "NO MORE" from the teachers. It's not peanuts. If the child(ren) in her class is allergic to tree nuts, then the school has sent out the wrong note. And, if it's just because almond butter is a nut butter, and they're being super-cautious, then... well, actually, I understand that, but they still need to send out the correct information about which products are banned.
In the meantime, here's hoping the threat of bologna sandwiches can change my little girls opinion on sunflower seed butter. I refuse to send jelly-only sandwiches, which I understand some parents are doing.
This time tomorrow, I'll be getting back from my morning run. The house will be quiet, and seem quite large.
I will enjoy my second cup of coffee hot, since I won't be forgetting it at the site(s) of mid morning kid spats which have been so common this summer.
News reading, blogging, weekly meal planning, errand running and even laundry folding will be done with the ability to finish a complete thought.
And, by 2:25 tomorrow afternoon, I will be very happy to start the rounds for picking up my noisy gang. I'm looking forward to hearing about old friends, new teachers and all the excitement of the new school year.
Overheard while packing the cooler and sunscreen for afternoon at the pool.
Said by B2, as part of a strange conversation among the children involving the sniffing of flip flops. Cue the hurt feelings, arguments and waterworks.
It's official. As of this afternoon, I'm ready for summer to end.
Until then, I'm adding a beer to the cooler, in place of my regular iced Dr. Horrible's Tea of Evil.
Every year there's one shot taken, usually by the children, that must be immediately deleted. Usually taken at an upward angle. Up the nose, just right for creating a triple or quadruple chin. Mid choke on a bite of food, while in the process of getting up from table, so as to get a photo with the perfect storm combo of closed eyes, open mouth... and a view straight down the bathing suit top. It's always the worst shot of the trip, and it generally seems to be my luck to be dead center.
Not this year. In sorting through the images restored from the deleted memory card, I've managed to recover most of the vacation photos which disappeared when the laptop was stolen. And, in the tradition of shots taken of mom at awkward angles, highlighting my least favorite attributes, here is this year's shot. It was taken at Garden of the Gods, while DD and I were scrambling to get a better look at some of the holes in the rock. Higher up, beyond where we climbed, the birds fly in and out of the many holes in swooshing waves, looping around and back into the nests. There were many parts of the trip which were wonderful, but the mini-adventure with my daughter was definitely a highlight.
I'm going to treasure this photo, expecting next year's crop to be back to normal.
Okay, it's not the idea that going to solve world hunger and global energy issues, but it's really high on my list of GREAT IDEAS this summer.
One of the other moms came up with the idea a few weeks ago that it would be nice to get the kids together three hours each Wednesday afternoon. Between the four moms, we each take a day and provide snacks and our skills at waterlogged child herding, while the other three get some much needed time to think in complete sentences.
As a bonus, the children will be able to break into groups that don't necessarily include the siblings they're beginning to get sick of during summer break.
Today is not my day for herding, so I will be taking The Duchess out for a ride, and then visiting the bike shop to put together an official list of what I need to do to get her 38 year old frame & gears ready for a metric century this fall. Hopefully, it's doable. Though I'd be happy to take Bloo (road bike), I like the idea of doing my first metric century on the old Raleigh 10-speed, seeing as how she's my age, and this ride will be one of those milestone events for me.
We're three - or is it four? - days into our cross country trek. The kids are doing great. The drive has been lovely, even when the weather hasn't been so great. Driving with the three of them by myself is not anywhere near as bad as I'd feared. The DVD player isn't going full-time, and there have been long stretches where there isn't a single video game in play. Audiobooks and a license plate spotting app on the iPhone (Spotters) have kept kids far more entertained than I'd imagined.
We're up to 32 states, including one of the two we never thought we'd see. When we were climbing out of the van at the Riverfront parking in Saint Louis the other morning, what should pull up in the opposite space but a suburban with Alaska plates. That was number 20, I think. We hit 25 states before crossing into Kansas, which meant it was time to stop at DQ for blizzards. Next milestone is 40 states, which we'll probably hit by the time we get into Denver.
I have no idea what's going on in the world, but I can discuss in detail the little details which make Artemis Fowl an amazingly fantastic and super cool evil kid genius, along with his progression to amazingly fantastic and super cool not-exactly-evil kid genius. We're listening our way through the first three books of the series, since they were bedtime reading a few years ago. Books four & five were more recent, so we'll be able to skip forward after this to the latest in the series, The Time Paradox.
There's a lot of photos stored on the cards of the two cameras the kids are using to document the trip. Shots from Tennessee, Kentucky, Illinois, Missouri and Kansas - but I'm just not quite up to getting out all the cables and chargers tonight. These are a few of the shots from the iPhone. I'm on the Dell, so the photos are as-is...
Heading through Tennessee, somewhere north of Nashville. The kid who's a fan of big construction projects and anything to do with cars and motoring loved driving all the miles on roads cut through the rock. Heading over to the Gateway Arch in St. Louis. The kids had seen photos, and had heard about it when I read The Lightning Thief (Percy Jackson jumps out of the Arch during a fiery battle with a monster from Greek mythology), but the size of the actual thing outdid the image they'd built in their heads. It's been about 30 years since the last time I'd been up in the arch, so it was fun to go as an adult.
Random thoughts from a 38 year old, semi-professional, mother of three, who happens to be a geek. Food battles with the kids. Running. Children's books. Beginner cycling. My half-hearted search for personal style, beyond the "mom" look. Occasional rants on the economy and politicians.
Is that really so much to want in life? 
