Friday, November 28, 2008
She Scores Again!
This time, it was french toast with sweet potatoes in it. MMMMM, they couldn't get enough of it!
Monday, November 24, 2008
Deceptively Delicious
Today, I was preparing to write a post about Jessica Seinfeld's Deceptively Delicious cookbook. It wasn't going to be pretty, but now I have changed my mind.
I bought this cookbook in an effort to try, once again, to get my kids to eat healthy foods. Actually, I would settle for not even that healthy, but just something outside of the standard three-meal rotation in our house: peanut butter & jelly, pizza and pasta with butter and Parmesan cheese.
Phillip won't eat meat, with the exception of McDonald's chicken nuggets, which he reminds me "don't really count." Other than that limited amount of meat, he is a self-proclaimed vegetarian. He has been having dizzy spells and the doctor is pretty sure (given the information he provided) that it has something to do with the fact that his diet is almost all carbs.
Sam refuses food most often simply to be difficult. And Andrew just does whatever Sam does. As I usually start preparing dinner (often with Andrew's help), he immediately starts asking, "we aren't eating that, are we?!?" No, most often they don't eat what I am cooking. I make up to three meals. Ours (the adult meal), Phillip's and then Sam and/or Andy's. I decided long ago (and I have written about this before) that I would not let food become an issue at our table. So, I don't argue.
Our latest tactic is they have to try one thing on the table and if they don't like it, they can politely ask for something else--but only after they try something. Usually this doesn't go great. They might try, but never decide to eat what we are having (of course not, because they know they will still get what they really want to eat).
So, enter the cookbook.
I spent Saturday creating the purees (the basis of her meals--kid-friendly food secretly containing servings of veggies). I made two dishes. One was meatball soup. Who was I kidding. They won't eat soup to begin with, what made me think they would like this I have no idea (I think one of them said they thought it looked good). I also made something called rice balls. Rice, pureed chicken, squash and cheese rolled in ground crackers and cooked in a bit of oil. Nope. Didn't fly. I asked Jeff if he thought Borders would take it back if I told them my kids wouldn't eat anything out of it.
The pureeing was just like the baby days. I made all my kids foods. Squash, pears, apples, sweet potatoes, potatoes, everything...I steamed, cooked, pureed and froze almost everything they ever ate. I made tofu nuggets and served them kiwi rolled in wheat germ. They loved avocados and almond butter. What happened? Where did I go wrong?
I have no idea, but tonight--tonight I claim a small victory. Sam wanted pancakes for dinner. Wait! There are pancakes in the cookbook. I whipped them up and guess what? They loved them--even with the 1/2 cup of sweet potato puree, which of course I didn't tell them about!
I bought this cookbook in an effort to try, once again, to get my kids to eat healthy foods. Actually, I would settle for not even that healthy, but just something outside of the standard three-meal rotation in our house: peanut butter & jelly, pizza and pasta with butter and Parmesan cheese.
Phillip won't eat meat, with the exception of McDonald's chicken nuggets, which he reminds me "don't really count." Other than that limited amount of meat, he is a self-proclaimed vegetarian. He has been having dizzy spells and the doctor is pretty sure (given the information he provided) that it has something to do with the fact that his diet is almost all carbs.
Sam refuses food most often simply to be difficult. And Andrew just does whatever Sam does. As I usually start preparing dinner (often with Andrew's help), he immediately starts asking, "we aren't eating that, are we?!?" No, most often they don't eat what I am cooking. I make up to three meals. Ours (the adult meal), Phillip's and then Sam and/or Andy's. I decided long ago (and I have written about this before) that I would not let food become an issue at our table. So, I don't argue.
Our latest tactic is they have to try one thing on the table and if they don't like it, they can politely ask for something else--but only after they try something. Usually this doesn't go great. They might try, but never decide to eat what we are having (of course not, because they know they will still get what they really want to eat).
So, enter the cookbook.
I spent Saturday creating the purees (the basis of her meals--kid-friendly food secretly containing servings of veggies). I made two dishes. One was meatball soup. Who was I kidding. They won't eat soup to begin with, what made me think they would like this I have no idea (I think one of them said they thought it looked good). I also made something called rice balls. Rice, pureed chicken, squash and cheese rolled in ground crackers and cooked in a bit of oil. Nope. Didn't fly. I asked Jeff if he thought Borders would take it back if I told them my kids wouldn't eat anything out of it.
The pureeing was just like the baby days. I made all my kids foods. Squash, pears, apples, sweet potatoes, potatoes, everything...I steamed, cooked, pureed and froze almost everything they ever ate. I made tofu nuggets and served them kiwi rolled in wheat germ. They loved avocados and almond butter. What happened? Where did I go wrong?
I have no idea, but tonight--tonight I claim a small victory. Sam wanted pancakes for dinner. Wait! There are pancakes in the cookbook. I whipped them up and guess what? They loved them--even with the 1/2 cup of sweet potato puree, which of course I didn't tell them about!
Friday, November 14, 2008
A Mother's Love
I just returned home from a funeral of my husband's friend's four year old daughter. I wept and wept. The funeral was sad and the little girl so sweet. But, I wept most for the mother.
If you have kids, you know the love I wept for. If you don't have kids, you really truly cannot image how deeply you could love something.
A mother's love is impermeable. It is sweet with smells of baby powder, dirty diapers, purple dinosaur shampoos and tempera paint. It is sour with tastes of funky looking self-made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, way too chocolately milk and kisses that are far too wet. It is loud with the sounds of laughter, tantrums, screams of fear in the night and 1,000 calls a day for mom throughout the house. It is blinded by images of eyes like yours, smiles with secret messages and wonder so deep you wish you could go along for the ride. It is touched by grabbing and grouping hands, little people hanging on your legs, hugs that last for days and high fives for amazing accomplishments.
It is like nothing else in the world. A mother's love is truly indescribable. It is something you must feel to truly understand and it is the greatest privilege I know--to feel that love, to be a mother and to share int he life of my children.
Each one of us plays a part in defining our family: we are a family of five. If you have three kids, your arms only feel half full with just one hug. If you have two kids, your lap is only half occupied with one child resting comfortably. Your children define your fullness--there is just enough for everyone. So when one leaves, I cannot image the void a mother must feel.
There she sat, just two feet away from her daughter who was tucked neatly in her pink casket, resting peacefully. Her arms, oh how they must have ached wanting to hold her, to pick her up one more time. My arms ached wanting to hold my children. I know she will go on, people do and they find a way to start again. Slowly life--although a different life now--will go on. But the mother's heart will never be the same.
The funeral was sweet and the photographs told the story of such a happy family--an involved father and a devoted mother. Two little girls who would laugh and play the days away. Now just one, there will be a sense of emptiness.
But, the family is surrounded by love. More than two dozen police cars in the parking lot. Three full rows of uniformed officers. This truly is a brotherhood like no other. We are part of a larger family, in which no one is forgotten and no one is left to stand alone. No matter my struggles with believing in God over the years, I have always believed in eternal life. For that, I am grateful. I know Katie will be back. I know Leslie will heal from this hurt, but I hope she always remembers she is a good mother and was blessed to experience the love of her children. That love truly is the greatest gift of all.
If you have kids, you know the love I wept for. If you don't have kids, you really truly cannot image how deeply you could love something.
A mother's love is impermeable. It is sweet with smells of baby powder, dirty diapers, purple dinosaur shampoos and tempera paint. It is sour with tastes of funky looking self-made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, way too chocolately milk and kisses that are far too wet. It is loud with the sounds of laughter, tantrums, screams of fear in the night and 1,000 calls a day for mom throughout the house. It is blinded by images of eyes like yours, smiles with secret messages and wonder so deep you wish you could go along for the ride. It is touched by grabbing and grouping hands, little people hanging on your legs, hugs that last for days and high fives for amazing accomplishments.
It is like nothing else in the world. A mother's love is truly indescribable. It is something you must feel to truly understand and it is the greatest privilege I know--to feel that love, to be a mother and to share int he life of my children.
Each one of us plays a part in defining our family: we are a family of five. If you have three kids, your arms only feel half full with just one hug. If you have two kids, your lap is only half occupied with one child resting comfortably. Your children define your fullness--there is just enough for everyone. So when one leaves, I cannot image the void a mother must feel.
There she sat, just two feet away from her daughter who was tucked neatly in her pink casket, resting peacefully. Her arms, oh how they must have ached wanting to hold her, to pick her up one more time. My arms ached wanting to hold my children. I know she will go on, people do and they find a way to start again. Slowly life--although a different life now--will go on. But the mother's heart will never be the same.
The funeral was sweet and the photographs told the story of such a happy family--an involved father and a devoted mother. Two little girls who would laugh and play the days away. Now just one, there will be a sense of emptiness.
But, the family is surrounded by love. More than two dozen police cars in the parking lot. Three full rows of uniformed officers. This truly is a brotherhood like no other. We are part of a larger family, in which no one is forgotten and no one is left to stand alone. No matter my struggles with believing in God over the years, I have always believed in eternal life. For that, I am grateful. I know Katie will be back. I know Leslie will heal from this hurt, but I hope she always remembers she is a good mother and was blessed to experience the love of her children. That love truly is the greatest gift of all.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Smells I Love
Okay, so I am a smeller. I have a great sense of smell and stamp my memory with smells. I have noticed Andrew is the same way. "Let me smell it" he always says, and I let him because I totally understand. He loves to smell things while we are cooking and I see him breath in and taste from the smell alone. The nose is a powerful piece of the puzzle for creating opinions, assessing scenarios and, creating memories.
Here are some of my favorite (and, you are going to think I am nuts) smells from childhood and what they mean to me:
1) Skunk and Cow Manure. Ahhh, the smells of the country. What is so great about those smells? When I grew up in Carmel, it was mostly cornfields. Today it is one of the fastest growing communities in the country. Skunks and cow manure bring back images of wide open fields, flying kites in the corn fields and playing flashlight tag after dinner in the summer. If it was warm, if you could smell cow poop, we were outside. Riding bikes at dusk, fishing in the lake, buying fresh sweet corn from the farm stand up the street and writing on the driveway with chalk. Those smells were the backdrop of my summers.
Here are some of my favorite (and, you are going to think I am nuts) smells from childhood and what they mean to me:
1) Skunk and Cow Manure. Ahhh, the smells of the country. What is so great about those smells? When I grew up in Carmel, it was mostly cornfields. Today it is one of the fastest growing communities in the country. Skunks and cow manure bring back images of wide open fields, flying kites in the corn fields and playing flashlight tag after dinner in the summer. If it was warm, if you could smell cow poop, we were outside. Riding bikes at dusk, fishing in the lake, buying fresh sweet corn from the farm stand up the street and writing on the driveway with chalk. Those smells were the backdrop of my summers.
2) Vick's Vapo-Rub. I am probably not alone in this one. All warm and menthol-y. Whenever I was sick (which I seemed to always have strep throat or some bad cold), my mom would rub the good old goopy kind on my chest at night and lay one of my dad's handkerchiefs over it so it didn't get all over my nightgown. I loved that.
3) Fresh Drywall and Saw Dust. My dad was a builder and our house was forever under construction. I woke up most Saturday mornings in my childhood to the sound of a saw blade out my window and the smell of fresh sawdust. Progress--it always meant something new at our house. If not at our house, then I smelled it at my dad's jobs. I would sometimes ride around with him while he checked on each job--my favorite Saturday pastime.
4) Boiling Potatoes. Don't think they smell? They do. I could always smell them just as the water started to boil. It meant one thing--hot mashed potatoes were on the way. I love comfort food and just the smell of it gets all my memories flowing. Chicken and noodles at my grandma's house, the bacon for the green beans, yeast rolls.
5) Snow. You know that smell? The smell when the air is crisp and damp? You know snow is coming and the clouds grow heavy and gray. I love the smell of the air and the anticipation of watching the flakes fall. We used to play in it for hours, building forts, digging tunnels, sledding at the Butcher's house then when we came in drinking hot chocolate and sitting by a fire.
What are your favorite childhood smells?
Don't Talk Politics
"I don't want to talk about politics," is what Jeff said as we pulled up to our friends' house for dinner last night and saw the signs in their yard proudly demonstrating their upcoming split-ticket vote. What?! I said, "Oh, I am gonna ask." He didn't want to talk about it Friday night either when we had friends at our house.
Why not? Well, I think I know. He cannot just talk about it. He gets all worked up and angry. Which, in my opinion is one of the biggest problems with the Republican party right now: their inability to listen and consider the opinions of others. Am I a Republican? Yes and no. Yes, I most often vote that way, but I am not afraid to split my ticket and the splitting can go as deep as it needs to. I can only think of a time or two when I voted straight ticket. Almost always, it is about the person--not the party.
I voted for Clinton twice. I voted for Bush--twice. I always vote for Evan Bayh (Democrat). But, I won't be voting for Obama. However, I think he is going to win and my big problem right now is I no longer think McCain is the right choice either. So, I am stuck. Do I not vote for president or use my vote as a vote against Obama instead of for McCain?
Maybe I should write someone in, someone I wish was running for president, but that brings me to my other huge disappointment with the Republican party. There is a significant lack (on the local, statewide, national levels) of up and coming stars. Why? Because for YEARS and YEARS the same old white guys thought (think) they know all the answers and they have silenced and squashed any new young thinkers who may be able to expand the parties horizons.
So, as far as hope is concerned--the theme for this year's election--I have little in the future of the Republican party. I hope this election creates a new path for Republicans--a kinder, gentler, smarter path that is more in line with modern day America. And, I hope when you read this you read it for the sake of discussion and not a political statement. "I don't want to talk about politics," well maybe we need to talk about politics a little more often and listen to others ideas and thoughts and give consideration to new and different possibilities...just maybe.
Why not? Well, I think I know. He cannot just talk about it. He gets all worked up and angry. Which, in my opinion is one of the biggest problems with the Republican party right now: their inability to listen and consider the opinions of others. Am I a Republican? Yes and no. Yes, I most often vote that way, but I am not afraid to split my ticket and the splitting can go as deep as it needs to. I can only think of a time or two when I voted straight ticket. Almost always, it is about the person--not the party.
I voted for Clinton twice. I voted for Bush--twice. I always vote for Evan Bayh (Democrat). But, I won't be voting for Obama. However, I think he is going to win and my big problem right now is I no longer think McCain is the right choice either. So, I am stuck. Do I not vote for president or use my vote as a vote against Obama instead of for McCain?
Maybe I should write someone in, someone I wish was running for president, but that brings me to my other huge disappointment with the Republican party. There is a significant lack (on the local, statewide, national levels) of up and coming stars. Why? Because for YEARS and YEARS the same old white guys thought (think) they know all the answers and they have silenced and squashed any new young thinkers who may be able to expand the parties horizons.
So, as far as hope is concerned--the theme for this year's election--I have little in the future of the Republican party. I hope this election creates a new path for Republicans--a kinder, gentler, smarter path that is more in line with modern day America. And, I hope when you read this you read it for the sake of discussion and not a political statement. "I don't want to talk about politics," well maybe we need to talk about politics a little more often and listen to others ideas and thoughts and give consideration to new and different possibilities...just maybe.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
My Little Travels
Because Susan was bored, she did it. Now I did it (although I wouldn't necessarily say I am bored. It's just barely 5AM and I should be working!).
visited 5 states (2.22%)
Create your own visited map of The World or determine the next president
For some reason (perhaps because they are so small), my Caribbean countries are not showing, but been there.
visited 26 states (52%)
Create your own visited map of The United States or determine the next president
visited 5 states (2.22%)
Create your own visited map of The World or determine the next president
For some reason (perhaps because they are so small), my Caribbean countries are not showing, but been there.
visited 26 states (52%)
Create your own visited map of The United States or determine the next president
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Blah, Blah: Ramblings on Our Morning Routine
Thanks to my two friends for their supportive comments after my last post. I promised when I started this blog I would post the good, the bad and the ugly. Nothing has made me feel more like an inferior mother than the slew of “mommy-blogs” I read. They only post the good. Pretty pictures of sweet children doing elaborate crafts, stories of all the time they spend together, tales of beautiful family events and perfect moments. It is so not my life. Now, not all of them are like that, but most are and it isn’t always helpful in the darkest of moments to be reminded of how inferior you are. So, let me provide a point of comparison for you. When you lose your temper next time, take comfort in the fact that you are not alone!
Now, my next struggle is our morning routine. For the first few weeks of school it was perfect. I was bragging about how amazing the kids were (mistake #1), how cooperative everyone was being (mistake #2) and how we were actually early to school on most days (mistake #3). Cursed. I have been cursed by my own mouth! Morning routine has, as the boys love me to say, been flushed down the toilet. Getting everyone up is a struggle, there is a fit about something by at least one person each morning and I am driving like a maniac to make it to school by 8AM.
I am a morning person—period. I hate sleeping in, I love going to bed super early but hate sleeping in. I grew up listening to my mom fight with my brother for hours about getting up for school. I think my brother was late every day of school, or seriously, at least three times a week. I married a man just like that. I promised myself that would not happen in my household. I did not give birth to three morning people—really, just one. So, we started using alarm clocks this year for everyone to get up to with the goal in mind of by the time they are in high school the grouchy sleepyhead ones will once and for all be trained to the alarm clock.
Every school morning, their routine starts at 6:30 with alarms going off. They have 30 minutes upstairs to wake up and get dressed. Andy spends 25 of that whining on my bedroom floor that he cannot find “perfect pants.” They all pick their own clothes, by the way (except PJ who wears a uniform). At 7AM, I head downstairs to start their breakfast, which is usually on the table by 7:05. They eat, brush their teeth and then if there is time left over, they can watch television. Then, at 7:30 TV goes off and shoes go on. It takes at least five minutes for everyone to get out the door and in to the car. The goal is to leave the driveway no later than 7:40AM. This hasn’t worked so well lately, but I remain hopeful. Yesterday was not great, but Phillip complemented me on not yelling (as I swore I would change my yelling after the last event I wrote about). So, progress! I thanked him for noticing. What a sweet boy.
Tomorrow is the last day of school this week. We have fall break Thursday and Friday (same as the public schools, which stinks because everything will be crowded). Monday will bring a new week with a new goal of getting out the door again by 7:35-7:40 instead of 7:45. I can make it on time if we leave at 7:45, but I have to drive like a total maniac and I really don’t like to start my day out late and rushing. Next week, we are going for the gold again, back to our award-winning gold star mornings. I hope.
Now, my next struggle is our morning routine. For the first few weeks of school it was perfect. I was bragging about how amazing the kids were (mistake #1), how cooperative everyone was being (mistake #2) and how we were actually early to school on most days (mistake #3). Cursed. I have been cursed by my own mouth! Morning routine has, as the boys love me to say, been flushed down the toilet. Getting everyone up is a struggle, there is a fit about something by at least one person each morning and I am driving like a maniac to make it to school by 8AM.
I am a morning person—period. I hate sleeping in, I love going to bed super early but hate sleeping in. I grew up listening to my mom fight with my brother for hours about getting up for school. I think my brother was late every day of school, or seriously, at least three times a week. I married a man just like that. I promised myself that would not happen in my household. I did not give birth to three morning people—really, just one. So, we started using alarm clocks this year for everyone to get up to with the goal in mind of by the time they are in high school the grouchy sleepyhead ones will once and for all be trained to the alarm clock.
Every school morning, their routine starts at 6:30 with alarms going off. They have 30 minutes upstairs to wake up and get dressed. Andy spends 25 of that whining on my bedroom floor that he cannot find “perfect pants.” They all pick their own clothes, by the way (except PJ who wears a uniform). At 7AM, I head downstairs to start their breakfast, which is usually on the table by 7:05. They eat, brush their teeth and then if there is time left over, they can watch television. Then, at 7:30 TV goes off and shoes go on. It takes at least five minutes for everyone to get out the door and in to the car. The goal is to leave the driveway no later than 7:40AM. This hasn’t worked so well lately, but I remain hopeful. Yesterday was not great, but Phillip complemented me on not yelling (as I swore I would change my yelling after the last event I wrote about). So, progress! I thanked him for noticing. What a sweet boy.
Tomorrow is the last day of school this week. We have fall break Thursday and Friday (same as the public schools, which stinks because everything will be crowded). Monday will bring a new week with a new goal of getting out the door again by 7:35-7:40 instead of 7:45. I can make it on time if we leave at 7:45, but I have to drive like a total maniac and I really don’t like to start my day out late and rushing. Next week, we are going for the gold again, back to our award-winning gold star mornings. I hope.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
My Tantrum
I lost my temper tonight for what I would call the second worst time since being a mom. And, it was over the dumbest thing. Really, it was like just one little fit over my limit. I am just tired of fighting kids, fits, whining, bossing, etc. Eight years we have heard that stuff--enough is enough.
I hate it. I feel horrible. And I cannot take a second of it back. It is the strangest thing too. In the moment, my brain was telling me to chill out to redirect my attention to being nice and understanding because anger wasn't working. But, I was so in the moment and felt like the battle was on and if I stopped at that moment, I would have been defeated. I was so wrong.
I gave a warning, he chose to ignore it. I saw it with my own two eyes. I told him to go upstairs and wait for me for a story. He wouldn't go. I carried him. A huge fit erupted and I mean a fit of like a tantruming three year old (he will be six in a few weeks). I tried to ignore and just tell him to wait for me. The fit raged harder and harder. He was hysterical, not listening to me, thrashing--oh, you know, you have probably seen it once or twice.
I got mad. He got madder. I yelled. He screamed louder. He started to tear his bed apart. I got madder. Finally I said I had to walk away. He screamed louder. I stood on the steps and said, no I mean yelled, "Look how mad I am, don't you get this?!" Ugh. Blaming someone else for my anger. That is so wrong. I chose to be angry, he didn't make me.
I eventually locked myself in my room to calm down for a minute and take some deep breaths. When I came out I declared I would no longer give that behavior any attention and as long as he was tantruming, I would completely ignore him. He came downstairs once during that time. Walked down the steps came in to the family room and sat down on the floor and started up again. I didn't even speak. Carried him upstairs and went back down.
I went on with the evening routine with the other boys. He eventually came around and gave in, turning the tears (fake tears and baby talk) off. But, for me, it's too late. The damage is done. I feel horrible. I apologized and so did he. I apologized to the other two too and promised I was going to change my yelling and anger because it isn't right--period. I told them it isn't okay to treat people like that and that I regretted it and would never do it again. I don't want them to be afraid of me--I don't want to be afraid of me.
Enough is enough and I am tired of the fights and fits, but still under no circumstances would I ever try to justify or rationalize my behavior. I was wrong and I feel horrible. Why am I telling you? Because I think I feel like if I totally own it and say it, I can move on. I feel like that makes me not a coward and gives me the strength to change it. Forward I go.
I hate it. I feel horrible. And I cannot take a second of it back. It is the strangest thing too. In the moment, my brain was telling me to chill out to redirect my attention to being nice and understanding because anger wasn't working. But, I was so in the moment and felt like the battle was on and if I stopped at that moment, I would have been defeated. I was so wrong.
I gave a warning, he chose to ignore it. I saw it with my own two eyes. I told him to go upstairs and wait for me for a story. He wouldn't go. I carried him. A huge fit erupted and I mean a fit of like a tantruming three year old (he will be six in a few weeks). I tried to ignore and just tell him to wait for me. The fit raged harder and harder. He was hysterical, not listening to me, thrashing--oh, you know, you have probably seen it once or twice.
I got mad. He got madder. I yelled. He screamed louder. He started to tear his bed apart. I got madder. Finally I said I had to walk away. He screamed louder. I stood on the steps and said, no I mean yelled, "Look how mad I am, don't you get this?!" Ugh. Blaming someone else for my anger. That is so wrong. I chose to be angry, he didn't make me.
I eventually locked myself in my room to calm down for a minute and take some deep breaths. When I came out I declared I would no longer give that behavior any attention and as long as he was tantruming, I would completely ignore him. He came downstairs once during that time. Walked down the steps came in to the family room and sat down on the floor and started up again. I didn't even speak. Carried him upstairs and went back down.
I went on with the evening routine with the other boys. He eventually came around and gave in, turning the tears (fake tears and baby talk) off. But, for me, it's too late. The damage is done. I feel horrible. I apologized and so did he. I apologized to the other two too and promised I was going to change my yelling and anger because it isn't right--period. I told them it isn't okay to treat people like that and that I regretted it and would never do it again. I don't want them to be afraid of me--I don't want to be afraid of me.
Enough is enough and I am tired of the fights and fits, but still under no circumstances would I ever try to justify or rationalize my behavior. I was wrong and I feel horrible. Why am I telling you? Because I think I feel like if I totally own it and say it, I can move on. I feel like that makes me not a coward and gives me the strength to change it. Forward I go.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Me from 8:17 to 8:23 on 10/15
Watch the hall to the bathroom for a few minutes....anyone coming? anyone going? Wait until someone who goes comes out, then wait a few more minutes, then go. Oh wait, someone else is going. Start over. Watch, wait, watch. Go.
Hallway is long and winding. Who is hiding back here? Does it really matter, men's or women's? Open women's door. It's too big, weird big. Close door, push the lock button. Is that locked? The lock didn't make the click noise. I don't think that is pushed in all the way. Unlock, crack door open. Shut door. Lock again. Really, that doesn't seem like it's locked. The toilet is far away. If someone starts to open the door, I cannot reach it to slam it shut.
Open door again. Push button while door is open to test to see if that is actually the button pushed for the door to lock. It's locked. Close door. But, now is it locked or unlocked? Push down on handle. It was locked. Pull door open a bit to test to see if it is locked or unlocked. It was unlocked. Shut the door. Lock the door.
Head to the toilet via the weird empty space in the room. What was supposed to go here? A couch or something? Why do they always have furniture in women's restrooms? It's always so dirty and gross. What do people do on it? It's just too big. Finally at the toilet. Go pee. Think I hear someone messing with the door. Stare at the door like a deer in headlights. Wait for something to happen, but nothing does. The door is definitely locked. I think.
Zip my pants, walk to the sink. What is in the bottom of the sink? Clearly some thing to keep stuff from going down the drain, but it's weird, not the normal kind. Two pumps of soap. It keeps coming out, creating a long string from my hand to the soap dispenser eventually breaking on to the sink. Wash, wash, rub, rub, scrub, scrub. Thingys from my shirt dangle over the sink. I knew they woudl do that. I should have tied them this morning. I tried, looked dumb. Opted from untied but told myself to tuck in when washed hands. Clearly forgot.
One, two paper towels to dry. One more. Lingering dampness near top of wrists--so annoying. Look in the mirror, use the paper towel to de-shine my face. It's humid out and I feel shiny. What little make up I had on now appears to be on the paper towel. Try to tie things on shirt. No. All wrong. Try to just loop things on shirt. Worse. Too cluttered up there with those, my necklaces, etc. Go back to original plan--just hanging there.
Check my zipper. Check my teeth. Check my hair. Look for the door. Check my butt in the mirror as I walk toward the door out of habit to cover those days when in a skirt or dress (with ever year I age so does the number of times I apparently tuck my skirt or dress into my underwear and not realize it until I see in the mirror on my way out of the bathroom). Open the door and the lock makes a click sound. Huh. Walk down the long hall, check zipper again. Fix shirt, double check zipper. Adjust shirt. Hands in pocket. Walk back to table.
Hallway is long and winding. Who is hiding back here? Does it really matter, men's or women's? Open women's door. It's too big, weird big. Close door, push the lock button. Is that locked? The lock didn't make the click noise. I don't think that is pushed in all the way. Unlock, crack door open. Shut door. Lock again. Really, that doesn't seem like it's locked. The toilet is far away. If someone starts to open the door, I cannot reach it to slam it shut.
Open door again. Push button while door is open to test to see if that is actually the button pushed for the door to lock. It's locked. Close door. But, now is it locked or unlocked? Push down on handle. It was locked. Pull door open a bit to test to see if it is locked or unlocked. It was unlocked. Shut the door. Lock the door.
Head to the toilet via the weird empty space in the room. What was supposed to go here? A couch or something? Why do they always have furniture in women's restrooms? It's always so dirty and gross. What do people do on it? It's just too big. Finally at the toilet. Go pee. Think I hear someone messing with the door. Stare at the door like a deer in headlights. Wait for something to happen, but nothing does. The door is definitely locked. I think.
Zip my pants, walk to the sink. What is in the bottom of the sink? Clearly some thing to keep stuff from going down the drain, but it's weird, not the normal kind. Two pumps of soap. It keeps coming out, creating a long string from my hand to the soap dispenser eventually breaking on to the sink. Wash, wash, rub, rub, scrub, scrub. Thingys from my shirt dangle over the sink. I knew they woudl do that. I should have tied them this morning. I tried, looked dumb. Opted from untied but told myself to tuck in when washed hands. Clearly forgot.
One, two paper towels to dry. One more. Lingering dampness near top of wrists--so annoying. Look in the mirror, use the paper towel to de-shine my face. It's humid out and I feel shiny. What little make up I had on now appears to be on the paper towel. Try to tie things on shirt. No. All wrong. Try to just loop things on shirt. Worse. Too cluttered up there with those, my necklaces, etc. Go back to original plan--just hanging there.
Check my zipper. Check my teeth. Check my hair. Look for the door. Check my butt in the mirror as I walk toward the door out of habit to cover those days when in a skirt or dress (with ever year I age so does the number of times I apparently tuck my skirt or dress into my underwear and not realize it until I see in the mirror on my way out of the bathroom). Open the door and the lock makes a click sound. Huh. Walk down the long hall, check zipper again. Fix shirt, double check zipper. Adjust shirt. Hands in pocket. Walk back to table.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Change is good, but...
I am a believer in change. Most of the time, change is good. It hurts, it is messy and it can sometimes be disappointing, but most of the time—goodness prevails. But, sometimes, why can’t we just leave good enough alone.
Ever have a favorite dish at a restaurant and then one day you go back and they changed the menu and your favorite is history? I hate that and would argue in this case, change is not good. When is change good and when is just the way it is the way it should stay?
One of my favorite places to take the kids is Conner Prairie, a living history museum with a national reputation. It’s just about 15 minutes from our house and the kids love it. Its open spaces, few rules and a chance to explore history in a natural environment. They run, even disappear out of sight and I still feel they are safe. Expansive fields, historic homes staffed by real people who are interpreters that interact with the kids and create memorable experiences.
But, they are changing. Finally, the public has an idea of what the plan holds. While sworn to secrecy, I have seen the plan and know what is in store. The ideas are good and it sounds great, but after this weekend, I have to ask, why isn’t it okay to stay the way they are? Here is the thing. Right now, attendance is just right. Interpreters can interact and engage visitors.
There is even a difference from weekend to weekday. On the weekdays when it is pretty empty, interpreters have told, shown and let my children experience amazing things. Weekends, conversations are a bit more general. This weekend, a smaller crowd on a Sunday gathered for a wedding with cake and dancing after. I didn’t dance and the kids opted for popsicles instead of cake (it was actually like an apple pie), but this is only possible with a smaller audience—small enough where everyone who wants to participate could, and they did. We watched from a bench and could see without fighting crowds.
But, when they change it and add these new attractions (the first of which is a hot air balloon ride like the first one attempted by the U.S. Postal Service in Lafayette, Indiana), it is going to become something else—whether they like it or not. It’s going to become a bigger place, which almost automatically to me means it will have less meaning—less touch. They are going to move things around which means some of that expansiveness, some of the wonder and wander will disappear.
Why can’t they just be happy with the attendance they have and the level of funding they have? Why argue for change? I am guilty of changing things that shouldn’t be changed and the results are always disappointing. Some things just are not meant to be changed—some things are just fine they way they are. But, sometimes you only know that after you change them and it doesn’t work.
Most of the time, change is good, but change clearly has consequences and those consequences should be considered before change is made. Is it your idea or our idea (meaning is it me that wants the change and I convince everyone or is it everyone else who wants the change and they convince me)? Is it changing to something that already exists or changing to something that doesn’t currently exists? If the later, think hard about why it doesn’t already exists—what is right or wrong about it that has kept others away?
I have one big example where I made a change I shouldn’t have—a big change. And, it was wrong. I learned, it wasn’t a mistake (cause I certainly came to realize some important things), but it was the wrong thing to do. Now, I must undo—humbly transform back to the old way. Change is not always good. Sometimes things should just stay the same. Sometimes we should leave good enough alone.
Ever have a favorite dish at a restaurant and then one day you go back and they changed the menu and your favorite is history? I hate that and would argue in this case, change is not good. When is change good and when is just the way it is the way it should stay?
One of my favorite places to take the kids is Conner Prairie, a living history museum with a national reputation. It’s just about 15 minutes from our house and the kids love it. Its open spaces, few rules and a chance to explore history in a natural environment. They run, even disappear out of sight and I still feel they are safe. Expansive fields, historic homes staffed by real people who are interpreters that interact with the kids and create memorable experiences.
But, they are changing. Finally, the public has an idea of what the plan holds. While sworn to secrecy, I have seen the plan and know what is in store. The ideas are good and it sounds great, but after this weekend, I have to ask, why isn’t it okay to stay the way they are? Here is the thing. Right now, attendance is just right. Interpreters can interact and engage visitors.
There is even a difference from weekend to weekday. On the weekdays when it is pretty empty, interpreters have told, shown and let my children experience amazing things. Weekends, conversations are a bit more general. This weekend, a smaller crowd on a Sunday gathered for a wedding with cake and dancing after. I didn’t dance and the kids opted for popsicles instead of cake (it was actually like an apple pie), but this is only possible with a smaller audience—small enough where everyone who wants to participate could, and they did. We watched from a bench and could see without fighting crowds.
But, when they change it and add these new attractions (the first of which is a hot air balloon ride like the first one attempted by the U.S. Postal Service in Lafayette, Indiana), it is going to become something else—whether they like it or not. It’s going to become a bigger place, which almost automatically to me means it will have less meaning—less touch. They are going to move things around which means some of that expansiveness, some of the wonder and wander will disappear.
Why can’t they just be happy with the attendance they have and the level of funding they have? Why argue for change? I am guilty of changing things that shouldn’t be changed and the results are always disappointing. Some things just are not meant to be changed—some things are just fine they way they are. But, sometimes you only know that after you change them and it doesn’t work.
Most of the time, change is good, but change clearly has consequences and those consequences should be considered before change is made. Is it your idea or our idea (meaning is it me that wants the change and I convince everyone or is it everyone else who wants the change and they convince me)? Is it changing to something that already exists or changing to something that doesn’t currently exists? If the later, think hard about why it doesn’t already exists—what is right or wrong about it that has kept others away?
I have one big example where I made a change I shouldn’t have—a big change. And, it was wrong. I learned, it wasn’t a mistake (cause I certainly came to realize some important things), but it was the wrong thing to do. Now, I must undo—humbly transform back to the old way. Change is not always good. Sometimes things should just stay the same. Sometimes we should leave good enough alone.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Money, Money, Money....MO-ney
I think about money a lot. Too much. My life is a constant scramble to bring in and push out the almighty dollar. Everything seems to always hinge on it--who owes me and who I owe. It comes in and goes out. Sometimes some sticks around, but it is almost always already spoken for.
I always try to pay everyone I owe promptly. Now, there may be some of my contractors who would argue with that, but by pay promptly, I mean way better than the average guy. I wish clients understood that when they pay late, I pay late and then the people I owe (great women I work with who also have families) pay late.
So, here are our priorities.
1) Taxes. Always taxes. When the hurricane was coming to Texas, Andy kept mumbling "stupid Texas." "No, Andy," we all kept saying, "stupid taxes." He got that straight from me. For months, usually February through May, I mumble those words every time I want something fun and don't have the money to buy/do it. I hate them. I understand why I need to pay them--but why so much? What is the incentive to make more? I am guessing you can figure out whose tax plan I am for in the election. Let's just say Obama will cost us even more.
This isn't a political debate (well, okay maybe it is just a little bit of a political debate), but I will say if I have to pay even more in taxes, there goes our charitable contributions and any chance of making it to Disney in the next ten years. Really, when I think about what I paid in taxes last year, it is depressing and I love to hear people moan about having to pay $3,000 at tax time. Oh, that's just awful. Whatever. We are doing better tax planning this year so we don't get hit so hard all at once, but pay it now or pay it later--we still have to pay way too much.
2) Mortgage. Mortgage always comes first. We both take the mortgage very seriously and it always remains a very high priority. My unpopular opinion is too many people today think a mortgage payment is optional and a flat screen is a better choice to spend their money on. Wrong people, you have it wrong. The mortgage company will take your house, but Citibank probably won't walk in your house and take your flat screen.
3) Education. And, that's education as like in the immediate. Yeah, we have college savings plans, but when we are paying for a private education for three kids, there isn't much left over to sock away for college, at least not at this point. I am the first to say that school is worth every penny, we love it and so do they. But, it's at the expense of many, many other things in life (and, quite frankly, I am sort of fond of material things), like a BMW...or college savings.
4) Eliminating debt we are tired of carrying around. Hello, I graduated from college in 2000. I haven't even put a dent (until now) in my student loans. Jeff's are the same and they are all rolled in to one big (small compared to many other people, I know) loan that has just sat there for years. We are ready to wipe it out and are pressing hard to do so.
5) Groceries, cable, XM radio and tennis. A family of five who buys good quality food and tries to eat everything humanly possible that is organic, fresh and farm-raised, our grocery bill is enormous. (see previous entry re: food issues, I have them). Cable, you know what a TV junkie I am. Really, I don't need all the channels, just like ten of them--and no movie channels. XM, I love it. That's all. I just love it. Tennis is a constant, so it's rolled in to the budget.
5) Everything else. Utilities, car payments, spending cash, home repair, cleaning lady, home repair, lessons and classes for the kids, clothing, etc. New windows this summer have helped with the utilities for sure. Home repair, more just around the corner. Seriously, after this--there won't be a room in the house we haven't touched. Finishing off the two upstairs bathrooms then laying low until the market picks up and planning our next move (it will be years, people). Clothes are pretty focused--The Gap (me and kids), J.Crew (him). And, everything else that chases us.
Money, money, money. It really is all-consuming. So, for the past few months, we have been very focused on trying to simplify our financial life. Simplify and relieve some of the pressure to keep it coming in just so it can go out. I am exhausted just talking about it!
I always try to pay everyone I owe promptly. Now, there may be some of my contractors who would argue with that, but by pay promptly, I mean way better than the average guy. I wish clients understood that when they pay late, I pay late and then the people I owe (great women I work with who also have families) pay late.
So, here are our priorities.
1) Taxes. Always taxes. When the hurricane was coming to Texas, Andy kept mumbling "stupid Texas." "No, Andy," we all kept saying, "stupid taxes." He got that straight from me. For months, usually February through May, I mumble those words every time I want something fun and don't have the money to buy/do it. I hate them. I understand why I need to pay them--but why so much? What is the incentive to make more? I am guessing you can figure out whose tax plan I am for in the election. Let's just say Obama will cost us even more.
This isn't a political debate (well, okay maybe it is just a little bit of a political debate), but I will say if I have to pay even more in taxes, there goes our charitable contributions and any chance of making it to Disney in the next ten years. Really, when I think about what I paid in taxes last year, it is depressing and I love to hear people moan about having to pay $3,000 at tax time. Oh, that's just awful. Whatever. We are doing better tax planning this year so we don't get hit so hard all at once, but pay it now or pay it later--we still have to pay way too much.
2) Mortgage. Mortgage always comes first. We both take the mortgage very seriously and it always remains a very high priority. My unpopular opinion is too many people today think a mortgage payment is optional and a flat screen is a better choice to spend their money on. Wrong people, you have it wrong. The mortgage company will take your house, but Citibank probably won't walk in your house and take your flat screen.
3) Education. And, that's education as like in the immediate. Yeah, we have college savings plans, but when we are paying for a private education for three kids, there isn't much left over to sock away for college, at least not at this point. I am the first to say that school is worth every penny, we love it and so do they. But, it's at the expense of many, many other things in life (and, quite frankly, I am sort of fond of material things), like a BMW...or college savings.
4) Eliminating debt we are tired of carrying around. Hello, I graduated from college in 2000. I haven't even put a dent (until now) in my student loans. Jeff's are the same and they are all rolled in to one big (small compared to many other people, I know) loan that has just sat there for years. We are ready to wipe it out and are pressing hard to do so.
5) Groceries, cable, XM radio and tennis. A family of five who buys good quality food and tries to eat everything humanly possible that is organic, fresh and farm-raised, our grocery bill is enormous. (see previous entry re: food issues, I have them). Cable, you know what a TV junkie I am. Really, I don't need all the channels, just like ten of them--and no movie channels. XM, I love it. That's all. I just love it. Tennis is a constant, so it's rolled in to the budget.
5) Everything else. Utilities, car payments, spending cash, home repair, cleaning lady, home repair, lessons and classes for the kids, clothing, etc. New windows this summer have helped with the utilities for sure. Home repair, more just around the corner. Seriously, after this--there won't be a room in the house we haven't touched. Finishing off the two upstairs bathrooms then laying low until the market picks up and planning our next move (it will be years, people). Clothes are pretty focused--The Gap (me and kids), J.Crew (him). And, everything else that chases us.
Money, money, money. It really is all-consuming. So, for the past few months, we have been very focused on trying to simplify our financial life. Simplify and relieve some of the pressure to keep it coming in just so it can go out. I am exhausted just talking about it!
Monday, September 22, 2008
I Am...
...a sloucher. I caught my reflection in a window the other day at lunch and I looked like a little old lady. It's getting worse and I am only 36. In fact, I am such a sloucher that I have a series of pictures of me from a photographer where I am leaning back out of fear I will appear to be slouching.
...a head tilter. Whenever I smile or listen carefully, I tilt my head to one side. I remember a school photographer telling me to stop tilting my head and he placed it center, I felt like I was leaning over to the left and going to fall!
...borderline obsessive compulsive. I may have told you this one before. I love order, things to be organized by color, by size, in groups, etc. I love uniformity and like to count in my head. Yes, I know. I told you I am borderline. My husband is the only thing that keeps me from going over the line. If the stack of papers is messy (anywhere in the world, except my office) I cannot just walk away--must...fix...paper!
...a chatty person in lines. I love to talk to strangers--anywhere, anytime and any place. Thank God I live in Indiana, where just about everyone talks to anyone. It is one of the things I don't like about traveling, going to cities where no one talks to you.
...some sort of food addict. I just don't know what kind. But, I clearly have food issues. Otherwise, a diet would work, but it doesn't. I eat to feel better when I am depressed, stressed, overwhelmed. I eat to express love and happiness (celebrations, fellowship of friends, etc.). I eat because food just tastes so stinkin good.
...my father's daughter. The good, the bad and the ugly. I wouldn't have it any other way.
...terrible at phone calls. I feel like I talk all day long. To clients, to Jeff, to the kids, to people (total strangers, remember? See above), the last thing I want to do is talk on the phone. Oh, and our phones all suck and it is very difficult to hear on them. Or maybe, it's because...
...maybe almost deaf in one ear. I swear I have such bad hearing. Don't whisper to me, don't talk softly in a crowd and definitely don't ask me to read your lips--I suck at that. And, I am not good at talking with people who have strong accents, I for some reason am not good at translating.
...loud. I am just loud, that is all there is to it. Our house is loud, our kids are loud. We are a loud family. I try to remember that saying about speak softly and people will listen, but it doesn't work for me.
...going to bed because I am an early riser. Wake me up before dawn and I can accomplish a full day's work. I wake up right away, don't need time to warm up, I am ready to go. But, don't call on me for anything after 8:30PM, I am toast. See? It's 10PM, way past my prime.
...a head tilter. Whenever I smile or listen carefully, I tilt my head to one side. I remember a school photographer telling me to stop tilting my head and he placed it center, I felt like I was leaning over to the left and going to fall!
...borderline obsessive compulsive. I may have told you this one before. I love order, things to be organized by color, by size, in groups, etc. I love uniformity and like to count in my head. Yes, I know. I told you I am borderline. My husband is the only thing that keeps me from going over the line. If the stack of papers is messy (anywhere in the world, except my office) I cannot just walk away--must...fix...paper!
...a chatty person in lines. I love to talk to strangers--anywhere, anytime and any place. Thank God I live in Indiana, where just about everyone talks to anyone. It is one of the things I don't like about traveling, going to cities where no one talks to you.
...some sort of food addict. I just don't know what kind. But, I clearly have food issues. Otherwise, a diet would work, but it doesn't. I eat to feel better when I am depressed, stressed, overwhelmed. I eat to express love and happiness (celebrations, fellowship of friends, etc.). I eat because food just tastes so stinkin good.
...my father's daughter. The good, the bad and the ugly. I wouldn't have it any other way.
...terrible at phone calls. I feel like I talk all day long. To clients, to Jeff, to the kids, to people (total strangers, remember? See above), the last thing I want to do is talk on the phone. Oh, and our phones all suck and it is very difficult to hear on them. Or maybe, it's because...
...maybe almost deaf in one ear. I swear I have such bad hearing. Don't whisper to me, don't talk softly in a crowd and definitely don't ask me to read your lips--I suck at that. And, I am not good at talking with people who have strong accents, I for some reason am not good at translating.
...loud. I am just loud, that is all there is to it. Our house is loud, our kids are loud. We are a loud family. I try to remember that saying about speak softly and people will listen, but it doesn't work for me.
...going to bed because I am an early riser. Wake me up before dawn and I can accomplish a full day's work. I wake up right away, don't need time to warm up, I am ready to go. But, don't call on me for anything after 8:30PM, I am toast. See? It's 10PM, way past my prime.
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Game Show Time!
Let’s play a game. I will ask the question and then you answer. Your choices are either:
A) The Utility Sink: a single-well stainless-steal sink conveniently located just inside the garage door and in between the washer and dryer. This sink is also located near the vast majority of cleaning supplies we keep in the house, including abrasive scrubs, carpet and upholstery cleaners, bleach, dish soap and natural household cleaners.
OR
B) The Kitchen Sink: a double-well extra deep stainless-steal sink located in the room where we prepare all the food for the entire family—at least twice a day, sometimes more. The sink is deeply cleaned each Monday by our faithful Michele, who disinfects, polishes and shines it back to its original beauty. It is the source of all food rinsing, chopping, draining and more—food, that is that is consumed by my family (made up of humans).
Ready? Here we go!
Question 1: The place where you would clean out paint brushes…is it A or B? Hurry, the clock is ticking!
Did you say A? Oh, sorry. I know that seems right, but not if you are my husband. The answer is B.
Question 2: The place where you would clean out a Camelback (a backpack with water storage capacity) that has been full of stale, nasty water for three months.
Your answer? Okay, I could go either way on this one. I think both A and B are right. Stale water is gross and stinky, but really not too detrimental to our food safety after a gentle clean up.
Final question—double or nothing, ready?
Question 3: The place where you clean the container the cat eats its food out of that hasn’t been cleaned for probably over a year. Yes, I said the cat food container. You know, the cat. The furry one that licks its butt and hairballs all over the place.
…Still thinking? Come on, you can get this one!
What do you think the answer is—my husband’s answer is, not mine…any guesses?
A) The Utility Sink: a single-well stainless-steal sink conveniently located just inside the garage door and in between the washer and dryer. This sink is also located near the vast majority of cleaning supplies we keep in the house, including abrasive scrubs, carpet and upholstery cleaners, bleach, dish soap and natural household cleaners.
OR
B) The Kitchen Sink: a double-well extra deep stainless-steal sink located in the room where we prepare all the food for the entire family—at least twice a day, sometimes more. The sink is deeply cleaned each Monday by our faithful Michele, who disinfects, polishes and shines it back to its original beauty. It is the source of all food rinsing, chopping, draining and more—food, that is that is consumed by my family (made up of humans).
Ready? Here we go!
Question 1: The place where you would clean out paint brushes…is it A or B? Hurry, the clock is ticking!
Did you say A? Oh, sorry. I know that seems right, but not if you are my husband. The answer is B.
Question 2: The place where you would clean out a Camelback (a backpack with water storage capacity) that has been full of stale, nasty water for three months.
Your answer? Okay, I could go either way on this one. I think both A and B are right. Stale water is gross and stinky, but really not too detrimental to our food safety after a gentle clean up.
Final question—double or nothing, ready?
Question 3: The place where you clean the container the cat eats its food out of that hasn’t been cleaned for probably over a year. Yes, I said the cat food container. You know, the cat. The furry one that licks its butt and hairballs all over the place.
…Still thinking? Come on, you can get this one!
What do you think the answer is—my husband’s answer is, not mine…any guesses?
Thursday, September 04, 2008
Back to School
Dear Crestview Elementary School (Metropolitan School District of Lawrence Township),
I saw your sign. I know you will soon be sending children to my door to buy paper-thin gift wrap, nasty cookie dough and tins of stale pretzels. Your fund raisers are about to get started for the year. And, guess what? We are not buying a damn thing. Why? Two reasons.
First, in this age of obesity, where over 40 percent of children in Indiana are obese and most of their parents are obese too, should you really be selling cookie dough, frozen entrees and chocolates? I mean really...is that responsible? Processed foods don't make our children smarter. Cookie dough (especially cookie dough loaded with hydrogenated oils and high fructose corn syrup sold in a two gallon tub) doesn't make us healthier.
What about teaming up with local farmers and selling bins of fresh veggies or a reputable bakery that makes fresher items? Or selling bulbs, low energy light bulbs or any other number of socially responsible items. Get creative--get innovative--be the change you want to see (right, Gandhi?). But, no. It's still cookie dough.
Second, we are not giving you any more money. Did you realize we already give you thousands of dollars a year through our property taxes, but your school is so crappy we cannot send any of our three children there? We could walk--you are just a few blocks away. You have a great new playground and looks like the kids have fun playing soccer. But, we read the paper and we know what you are producing in that school. Lower than low test scores, children in first grade getting expelled, fights, huge classrooms. We know people who teach in the district. You should be ashamed of that school. And, honestly I think you are.
That is why every family in our neighborhood who enters the "lottery" for the magnet school gets in. So, those kids that come in my neighborhood selling crap for your fundraisers are not my neighbors. My neighbors who still have any faith left in your schools all go to the magnet (oh, and we are not buying anything from their fund raisers either).
So, here is where we stand. We will not be buying any cookie dough. We will not be buying ugly plastic wreaths. And, it's too late for any possible chance our children will go to school there--ever. You lost us, we tried another school and now, nothing can compare. We will pay our taxes and nod at those who choose to send their children to your schools (just because it's right for us, doesn't mean its right for everyone).
I should post this on my front door to spare them the frustration of ringing only to be told no. No. That will be the answer. No thanks, no cookie dough this year--no cookie dough EVER!
I saw your sign. I know you will soon be sending children to my door to buy paper-thin gift wrap, nasty cookie dough and tins of stale pretzels. Your fund raisers are about to get started for the year. And, guess what? We are not buying a damn thing. Why? Two reasons.
First, in this age of obesity, where over 40 percent of children in Indiana are obese and most of their parents are obese too, should you really be selling cookie dough, frozen entrees and chocolates? I mean really...is that responsible? Processed foods don't make our children smarter. Cookie dough (especially cookie dough loaded with hydrogenated oils and high fructose corn syrup sold in a two gallon tub) doesn't make us healthier.
What about teaming up with local farmers and selling bins of fresh veggies or a reputable bakery that makes fresher items? Or selling bulbs, low energy light bulbs or any other number of socially responsible items. Get creative--get innovative--be the change you want to see (right, Gandhi?). But, no. It's still cookie dough.
Second, we are not giving you any more money. Did you realize we already give you thousands of dollars a year through our property taxes, but your school is so crappy we cannot send any of our three children there? We could walk--you are just a few blocks away. You have a great new playground and looks like the kids have fun playing soccer. But, we read the paper and we know what you are producing in that school. Lower than low test scores, children in first grade getting expelled, fights, huge classrooms. We know people who teach in the district. You should be ashamed of that school. And, honestly I think you are.
That is why every family in our neighborhood who enters the "lottery" for the magnet school gets in. So, those kids that come in my neighborhood selling crap for your fundraisers are not my neighbors. My neighbors who still have any faith left in your schools all go to the magnet (oh, and we are not buying anything from their fund raisers either).
So, here is where we stand. We will not be buying any cookie dough. We will not be buying ugly plastic wreaths. And, it's too late for any possible chance our children will go to school there--ever. You lost us, we tried another school and now, nothing can compare. We will pay our taxes and nod at those who choose to send their children to your schools (just because it's right for us, doesn't mean its right for everyone).
I should post this on my front door to spare them the frustration of ringing only to be told no. No. That will be the answer. No thanks, no cookie dough this year--no cookie dough EVER!
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Signs of Spring
Oh, who cares what happened on the rest of our vacation!
Now, it's spring in Indiana. Finally.
Now, it's spring in Indiana. Finally.
I 
celebrated my birthday.
celebrated my birthday.The trees have leaves and the flowers are preparing to bloom. The crab apple trees are in full bloom--snowing tiny petals when the wind blows (or the boys shake the branches).
The track is open. Here, markes a day in history unknown to man before. I, me, the mom, took three boys, by myself to opening day at the legendary Indianapolis Motor Speedway. It's true. I did it. My husband didn't believe me, but I did. They even got french fries and pretzels. We parked in the field, sat in the stands and watched teams get ready in Gasoline Alley.
Phillip got Graham Rahaul's autograph (ah...I used to love Bobby Rahaul and always wanted him in our family Indy 500 pools). We arrived at around 11 and left around 1. As we were leaving, it started to get packed. Beautiful day, great adventure.
That same day, Jeff worked from 5AM-midnight. First, he spent about five hours responding to a call where a five year old accidently shot his four year old sister in the head--and killed her. Then, he worked a special event downtown with both Hillary Clinton and Barak Obama. He left there around 11PM but on his way home, was called to a riot following a homicide. Finally, around midnight, he came home--only to be back at work at 5AM.
We are busy--clearly different kinds of busy, but busy. Here is how the boys have been staying busy. Their new 90-foot zip line. Still need my dad to help build a "launch tower."
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Destination Destin (Part Four)
We arrived about two hours later than we had planned due to traffic, stops, etc. The on-site “owner’s representative” was expecting us closer to 3 or 4. I called her when we got there and she was rather crabby saying she got tired of waiting and went on to do some errands. Oh, really—tired of waiting?!? Lady, I just rode in a car for 8 hours with three children ages seven and under. Whatever. She said she would stop by the next day to pick up the check.
We went to the store and loaded up on food. One reason when we travel renting a house is the best option for us is the kitchen. Our kids never eat a restaurants and it is almost always a guaranteed way to flush $50 down the drain. We need a kitchen to be able to cook—it ensures everyone actually eats and saves us a ton of money, and stress. Did I mention how terrible our kids are in restaurants? No doubt the result of never taking them to restaurants, so the blame is on us. At any rate, we went to the store and vacation freedom was in full force—they could get whatever they wanted, but even with that, I was so pleased with their choices. Phillip brought several things to me and asked for help reading the label and on a few, once I read it, he put it back—even though he had the freedom to get it. Back to the house to put the groceries up, unpack, eat dinner (which consisted of everyone's favorite item they just bought at the grocery store--lots of cereal for dinner that night) and get to bed.
The days that followed were relatively calm. The weather was cool and very windy. But, the sun was out in full force almost every day. The cool temperatures didn’t really bother me, I was just glad to see the sun. After four-plus months of no more than a few hours of sunshine, it does the soul good to see blue skies day after day after day. Ideally it would have been warmer so we could enjoy the beach more, sit on the porch in the evenings, etc. But, it was too chilly. In fact, each morning we would turn the heat on in the house because it had gotten so cold over night; it was dropping to the high 30s low 40s each night.
There was a beautiful pool and hot tub in the complex where we spent most of our time in the sun. The kids played and we relaxed, reading magazines. Andrew spent the first few days watching from the sidelines, but by the last day was being so brave in the water he was making me nervous. There were other kids there and they made friends, playing for hours on end with the toys I brought for the pool or beach, but figured mostly pool.
We went to the beach several times, but often it was too cold or windy to really enjoy it. The kids did still get in the ocean some, but it was freezing and even they shied away from it (except a few brave attempts). But, we did build sand castles, play football, take walks, put our feet in the sand and relax. Phillip loves the ocean, always has. Sam I think, despite how brave and fearless he is, senses the enormity of it and approaches it with a bit of caution. The last day, we were able to spend a good several hours at the beach in the sun—and were warm enough to just be in our bathing suites.
Our first full day there--Easter Sunday--we stopped by the beach in the morning. The gulf was calm, water was clear and the beach was empty. It was cool, but the boys couldn't resist playing in the sand and water.
The mornings were naturally the coldest part of the day, we would usually have a very slow start to the day, lounging around home. Then, we would do something other than the beach/pool, saving that for the warmer part of the day. We really couldn’t handle much more than a few hours of total sun exposure a day, so it worked out nice. No matter how much sunscreen I put on Phillip and what level, he still gets too much sun. I applied 40 three times in a period of about five hours and he still got burned. I moved to the 50 for the kids and it seemed to do the trick. Phillip has Jeff’s skin tones and Sam definitely has mine—Andrew is somewhere in between.
Every day we went to the beach, the flag warnings were the same. Purple was for sea life alert. There were many dead jellyfish washed up on the shore to prove the warning was necessary.
Andrew played delivery man for hours. He would load the wagon with all the beach toys and then take a little walk on the beach. He would return by announcing, "Delivery man" and ask what each of us needed. I might say a blue shovel, he would hand it to me and move on to the next person. Then, come and collect what he delivered and start all over again.
We went to the store and loaded up on food. One reason when we travel renting a house is the best option for us is the kitchen. Our kids never eat a restaurants and it is almost always a guaranteed way to flush $50 down the drain. We need a kitchen to be able to cook—it ensures everyone actually eats and saves us a ton of money, and stress. Did I mention how terrible our kids are in restaurants? No doubt the result of never taking them to restaurants, so the blame is on us. At any rate, we went to the store and vacation freedom was in full force—they could get whatever they wanted, but even with that, I was so pleased with their choices. Phillip brought several things to me and asked for help reading the label and on a few, once I read it, he put it back—even though he had the freedom to get it. Back to the house to put the groceries up, unpack, eat dinner (which consisted of everyone's favorite item they just bought at the grocery store--lots of cereal for dinner that night) and get to bed.
The days that followed were relatively calm. The weather was cool and very windy. But, the sun was out in full force almost every day. The cool temperatures didn’t really bother me, I was just glad to see the sun. After four-plus months of no more than a few hours of sunshine, it does the soul good to see blue skies day after day after day. Ideally it would have been warmer so we could enjoy the beach more, sit on the porch in the evenings, etc. But, it was too chilly. In fact, each morning we would turn the heat on in the house because it had gotten so cold over night; it was dropping to the high 30s low 40s each night.
There was a beautiful pool and hot tub in the complex where we spent most of our time in the sun. The kids played and we relaxed, reading magazines. Andrew spent the first few days watching from the sidelines, but by the last day was being so brave in the water he was making me nervous. There were other kids there and they made friends, playing for hours on end with the toys I brought for the pool or beach, but figured mostly pool.
We went to the beach several times, but often it was too cold or windy to really enjoy it. The kids did still get in the ocean some, but it was freezing and even they shied away from it (except a few brave attempts). But, we did build sand castles, play football, take walks, put our feet in the sand and relax. Phillip loves the ocean, always has. Sam I think, despite how brave and fearless he is, senses the enormity of it and approaches it with a bit of caution. The last day, we were able to spend a good several hours at the beach in the sun—and were warm enough to just be in our bathing suites.
Our first full day there--Easter Sunday--we stopped by the beach in the morning. The gulf was calm, water was clear and the beach was empty. It was cool, but the boys couldn't resist playing in the sand and water.
The mornings were naturally the coldest part of the day, we would usually have a very slow start to the day, lounging around home. Then, we would do something other than the beach/pool, saving that for the warmer part of the day. We really couldn’t handle much more than a few hours of total sun exposure a day, so it worked out nice. No matter how much sunscreen I put on Phillip and what level, he still gets too much sun. I applied 40 three times in a period of about five hours and he still got burned. I moved to the 50 for the kids and it seemed to do the trick. Phillip has Jeff’s skin tones and Sam definitely has mine—Andrew is somewhere in between.
Every day we went to the beach, the flag warnings were the same. Purple was for sea life alert. There were many dead jellyfish washed up on the shore to prove the warning was necessary.
Andrew played delivery man for hours. He would load the wagon with all the beach toys and then take a little walk on the beach. He would return by announcing, "Delivery man" and ask what each of us needed. I might say a blue shovel, he would hand it to me and move on to the next person. Then, come and collect what he delivered and start all over again.
I dug a big hole in the sand and the boys jumped in. While standing, we burried their legs and then they would pop out. I used to LOVE being burried in the sand when I was little.
Sam was practicing writing his name in teh sand over and over--S-A-M he would tell me and then we would watch it wash away.
Sunday, April 06, 2008
Destination: Destin (Part 3)
I have a little morning ritual, which I think I have now realized I inherited from my mother, where I have to drink my coffee alone in the morning, at least the first few cups. At home, I work or read blogs in the still of the early morning or sometimes on the weekends, I indulge in morning news shows. When we travel, I get up before everyone else and head down to the lobby to find some coffee and relax reading the local paper or magazines until everyone else is up. So, in Nashville, I headed down to the restaurant in the morning and read some magazines and drank coffee. Everyone else joined me later for breakfast.
As a side note, vacations for our family represent a period of extreme freedom. We loosen up on what the kids can eat, when they can eat it, where they can eat it, what they can watch on television (usually only PBS Kids and Disney are allowed in our house, but vacation means Cartoon Network and the beloved Nickelodeon), when they go to bed, we tend to buy them more stuff—it is just usually a general “yes-fest.” Sort of like how we do birthday days at our house.
So they selected cinnamon rolls and sugared cereal from the breakfast buffet. After breakfast, we went back to our room to pack up and hit the road again. The excitement was obvious--it was going to be a long car ride for sure.
In one of those small towns with nothing but empty store fronts in its once glorious downtown, we got stopped in a small town in Alabama. Being pulled over with Jeff in the car is interesting. "Put your hazards on," I said. "No, you don't put your hazards on," he said. "Yes you do," I said. "No, you don't," he said. Fine. Whatever. "Just don't say anything," he said. The police officer walked up to the car and asked a few questions. I so wanted to talk. I could hear in Jeff's voice he was slightly nervous. He knew this would be a big ticket if we got one.
As a side note, vacations for our family represent a period of extreme freedom. We loosen up on what the kids can eat, when they can eat it, where they can eat it, what they can watch on television (usually only PBS Kids and Disney are allowed in our house, but vacation means Cartoon Network and the beloved Nickelodeon), when they go to bed, we tend to buy them more stuff—it is just usually a general “yes-fest.” Sort of like how we do birthday days at our house.
So they selected cinnamon rolls and sugared cereal from the breakfast buffet. After breakfast, we went back to our room to pack up and hit the road again. The excitement was obvious--it was going to be a long car ride for sure.
We decided to visit a great toy store just down the road before heading the rest of the way to Destin. I got them some more surprises for the car and Andrew and Phillip picked out these big guns they wanted, like old wooden shot guns. Again, vacation in our family is about stepping outside the rules and having fun—they got the guns, which never would have flown at home. Sam picked two stuffed animals because the 3,449 other ones he has just are not enough.
We hit the road around 9:30AM. Traffic continued to be bad—the whole way. We drove and drove and drove. We stopped for lunch in Montgomery, Alabama. Once we were on the other side of Montgomery, we got on 331—a back roads state highway. Wow. Now there was a look at life I have never really seen, except for maybe driving the hills of Tennessee.
We listened to Radio Disney, watched movies (oh, and the wireless headphones were not working, so we all got to listen to the movies), talked, Sam and Andy fought and Phillip pretty much kept his head down and played his GameBoy the whole time. Pretty much every five minutes, Andrew would ask when are we getting to Florida—even when we were in Florida. Oh, and the pee stops---geeze, the pee stops.
We hit the road around 9:30AM. Traffic continued to be bad—the whole way. We drove and drove and drove. We stopped for lunch in Montgomery, Alabama. Once we were on the other side of Montgomery, we got on 331—a back roads state highway. Wow. Now there was a look at life I have never really seen, except for maybe driving the hills of Tennessee.
We listened to Radio Disney, watched movies (oh, and the wireless headphones were not working, so we all got to listen to the movies), talked, Sam and Andy fought and Phillip pretty much kept his head down and played his GameBoy the whole time. Pretty much every five minutes, Andrew would ask when are we getting to Florida—even when we were in Florida. Oh, and the pee stops---geeze, the pee stops.
After Montgomery, Alabaman, we left the big highway and hit a smaller state highway that was most of the time two lanes (331). It cut right through the "back country" and provided interesting sites as we drove. Literally shantys and mobile homes so dilapidated I would start to think about the stories of the place--what happened there, why did they leave, where did they go--and then, half of the time, all of the sudden I would realize there were people still living there. Life had clearly passed most of these small towns by.
In one of those small towns with nothing but empty store fronts in its once glorious downtown, we got stopped in a small town in Alabama. Being pulled over with Jeff in the car is interesting. "Put your hazards on," I said. "No, you don't put your hazards on," he said. "Yes you do," I said. "No, you don't," he said. Fine. Whatever. "Just don't say anything," he said. The police officer walked up to the car and asked a few questions. I so wanted to talk. I could hear in Jeff's voice he was slightly nervous. He knew this would be a big ticket if we got one.
They chatted back and forth for a few minutes. The guy was like 100 and giving Jeff a mini-lecture. All of the sudden, I realize his badge says Chief. "Your the CHIEF of police? We got pulled over by the Chief?," I asked. "Yes ma'am," was his response. "Wow," I said, "That's kinda neat."
Within a second, I knew Jeff didn't appreciate my editorial comment. Finally, the lecture was over and he let us go. He was kind enough to extend a professional courtesy and not give Jeff a ticket. I put a tally mark on my mental Jeff's Got Pulled Over sheet (he needed some, as I had pulled ahead with a strong lead after construction on I-70 last year). Finally, we got to the Florida house. 
The kids piled out of the van and the second part of the adventure began. There was a great extra lot next to the house (awaiting at least another two houses) with sand instead of dirt. The boys immediately ran there and started playing. We explored the house in amazement. (Andy showing off his gun that he picked out at the toy store. Sigh. Certainly there are worse things in life than boys who like guns, right?
Now, I must say that we had seen the pictures of the house on the internet and knew it looked nice, plus it is pretty new, so we have fairly high expectations, but…our neighbor who owns it is a man of great means but even greater modesty, a bit of a saver if you will. We thought there would be limits to the interior.
But, we were wrong. The house was amazing—huge and everything inside was beautiful. Great appliances, televisions, huge bathrooms, lots of natural light, it was fabulous. There were two full bed and baths we didn’t even use. It was more than enough space in a beautiful neighborhood with an incredible view.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Destination: Destin Part 2
We have never been to Destin, but it is a popular spot with Hoosiers, I think mostly because it is a 12-hour straight shot. Our neighbors and friends own a house there and are crazy about the place. And, so are several other people I know. So, we booked the house and planned to spend our first week on spring break with kids.
Because I don’t like traveling, I tried not to think about the trip until it was inevitable. The week before, I started my ritual list making routine and making piles of things to pack. I made runs to Target, my favorite local toy store and Costco for DVDs. I got in the attic to get out shorts and t-shirts—only to find we really had none.
I think I remember last year when I packed up the summer clothes getting rid of most of them thinking I wanted new ones for the boys. I was so sick of the things Phillip wore and passing them down to Sam and then Andrew. They were dingy and dirty, stained and just tired looking. So when I went to pack, they had nothing but a few pairs of shorts and some t-shirts, all of which I cannot figure out why I kept—they are horrible! So, I also made about three runs to Gap to outfit the boys with summer clothes (check out one of Sam's picks). I got new beach and pool toys and kept them hidden in anticipation of the trip. I made up travel back packs for each child with activities. Jeff cleaned the van out, got the house ready in anticipation of us being away and was in charge of the bikes.
I told some clients I would be away and others I just sort of told I was unavailable for meetings and still others, I said nothing to about it. I don’t know why, but I hate saying I am going on vacation and truthfully, the expectation from most of our clients is that we don’t go on vacation (only they do). I packed up the work I needed to take, my laptop, phone charger and tons and tons of magazines and catalogs I had been saving to read on the beach.
We were scheduled to leave on Saturday, March 22, but really we didn’t have anything going on Friday night so we thought we might as well leave Friday late afternoon. I got on Priceline and got a great hotel room in Nashville very cheap. Usually, I don’t like Priceline (another control issue ahead) because I am so particular about the hotels I stay at, I want to be able to be sure it is the right hotel and they don’t tell you what it is until after they accept your offer. But, based on the description, I knew which hotel it was and I have seen that hotel and knew it was nice (the Marriott near Vanderbilt). I love that area of Nashville and trusted the site—this once.
Jeff got off work at 2 and I had a morning meeting or two, but then was pretty much done. We packed up and headed out shortly after 3PM. Traffic was bad, which it usually is in our area until about 50 miles outside of Indianapolis. But, it never really thinned out much and then, in Seymour (really, not the most exciting place to be stuck), it came to a dead stop on the highway. We had been in the car for literally a little over an hour and the kids were already complaining they were hungry. We had planned on stopping for dinner later on or even when we got to Nashville as the area we were staying has lots of great little restaurants but the traffic was at a total standstill—it was a parking lot, so we got off in Seymour.
We ate at Cracker Barrel and the kids each got a new Webkinz (which brought the Cracker Barrel experience to around $75, there is just something wrong with that). We ask the locals for a short cut to avoid the interstate and headed off again. The rest of the world took the short cut too, so it was another hour or so to get back on the highway. While we were in that traffic, we saw the medivac helicopter come in and land—good thing we got off the highway, it wasn’t good. Back on the road, headed for Nashville.
We rolled in at about 7:30PM. The room was great, but we only had one—which meant two double beds and only one television. Jeff and Phillip ran out to get us all some ice cream and I got the other boys ready for bed. We all ate ice cream in bed and eventually the boys fell asleep. I probably permanently scarred them because I was dying to watch the 20/20 special about prostitution—again, that one television thing was a problem. Really I don’t feel I should have to watch Hannah Montana after 8PM, 9PM at the latest. Tomorrow, we drive the rest of the way to the Florida panhandle. We are driving through Alabama and I am excited! I have never been to Alabama...I have big expectations.
Because I don’t like traveling, I tried not to think about the trip until it was inevitable. The week before, I started my ritual list making routine and making piles of things to pack. I made runs to Target, my favorite local toy store and Costco for DVDs. I got in the attic to get out shorts and t-shirts—only to find we really had none.
I think I remember last year when I packed up the summer clothes getting rid of most of them thinking I wanted new ones for the boys. I was so sick of the things Phillip wore and passing them down to Sam and then Andrew. They were dingy and dirty, stained and just tired looking. So when I went to pack, they had nothing but a few pairs of shorts and some t-shirts, all of which I cannot figure out why I kept—they are horrible! So, I also made about three runs to Gap to outfit the boys with summer clothes (check out one of Sam's picks). I got new beach and pool toys and kept them hidden in anticipation of the trip. I made up travel back packs for each child with activities. Jeff cleaned the van out, got the house ready in anticipation of us being away and was in charge of the bikes.
I told some clients I would be away and others I just sort of told I was unavailable for meetings and still others, I said nothing to about it. I don’t know why, but I hate saying I am going on vacation and truthfully, the expectation from most of our clients is that we don’t go on vacation (only they do). I packed up the work I needed to take, my laptop, phone charger and tons and tons of magazines and catalogs I had been saving to read on the beach.
We were scheduled to leave on Saturday, March 22, but really we didn’t have anything going on Friday night so we thought we might as well leave Friday late afternoon. I got on Priceline and got a great hotel room in Nashville very cheap. Usually, I don’t like Priceline (another control issue ahead) because I am so particular about the hotels I stay at, I want to be able to be sure it is the right hotel and they don’t tell you what it is until after they accept your offer. But, based on the description, I knew which hotel it was and I have seen that hotel and knew it was nice (the Marriott near Vanderbilt). I love that area of Nashville and trusted the site—this once.
Jeff got off work at 2 and I had a morning meeting or two, but then was pretty much done. We packed up and headed out shortly after 3PM. Traffic was bad, which it usually is in our area until about 50 miles outside of Indianapolis. But, it never really thinned out much and then, in Seymour (really, not the most exciting place to be stuck), it came to a dead stop on the highway. We had been in the car for literally a little over an hour and the kids were already complaining they were hungry. We had planned on stopping for dinner later on or even when we got to Nashville as the area we were staying has lots of great little restaurants but the traffic was at a total standstill—it was a parking lot, so we got off in Seymour.
We ate at Cracker Barrel and the kids each got a new Webkinz (which brought the Cracker Barrel experience to around $75, there is just something wrong with that). We ask the locals for a short cut to avoid the interstate and headed off again. The rest of the world took the short cut too, so it was another hour or so to get back on the highway. While we were in that traffic, we saw the medivac helicopter come in and land—good thing we got off the highway, it wasn’t good. Back on the road, headed for Nashville.
We rolled in at about 7:30PM. The room was great, but we only had one—which meant two double beds and only one television. Jeff and Phillip ran out to get us all some ice cream and I got the other boys ready for bed. We all ate ice cream in bed and eventually the boys fell asleep. I probably permanently scarred them because I was dying to watch the 20/20 special about prostitution—again, that one television thing was a problem. Really I don’t feel I should have to watch Hannah Montana after 8PM, 9PM at the latest. Tomorrow, we drive the rest of the way to the Florida panhandle. We are driving through Alabama and I am excited! I have never been to Alabama...I have big expectations.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Destination: Destin (Part I)
The last time we traveled during a spring break was 11 years ago on our honeymoon. We were both in college (on the 10-year plan) when we got married and planned our honeymoon around our spring break. But, we did it this year—we were spring breakers.
When we got Phillip’s school calendar this year, Jeff said he wanted to go away for spring break, he wanted to go some place warm and get away. If you know me, you know I am not a good traveler. This was not always the case. In fact, I blame the nomadic nature of my childhood on my distaste for travel as an adult. We were always traveling when I was growing up.
Now, I see how fortunate I was and am grateful for my parents dragging us here, there and everywhere. And, I want my kids to have that experience too. But for now, I think they are too young to really get anything meaningful out of such trips and it stresses me out too much to even think about making one on the scale we used to make.
We always went to visit my grandparents who wintered in Naples. We went skiing once a year—first in Michigan and later in Colorado. We went to the Caribbean several times. We went to California, more trips to Colorado, New York City, I went to England, Arizona, Texas, Louisiana, and usually Michigan in the summer to escape the Indiana heat and humidity. We went to Chicago at least three times, maybe four or five times a year. We were always going by plane, train and automobile; but mostly by plane.
Now, I hate planes. I all but refuse to fly. I haven’t been on an airplane since Phillip was one and I cannot see myself getting on one anytime soon, at least not without being medicated. My growing fear of flying is multi-dimensional and based on a mix of fact and fiction—and I fully admit the fiction part is completely irrational, but none the less—it’s there.
So, for now, when we travel, we drive. And, truly with three little kids, I think it is the easiest way for us to travel right now. I need to have that level of control provided by driving. I need to be able to take what I want to take and stop when we want or need to stop. We need a car where ever we go that can hold three car seats (oh, and our stuff). And so it goes. We set out for spring break last week—destination: Destin, Florida.
When we got Phillip’s school calendar this year, Jeff said he wanted to go away for spring break, he wanted to go some place warm and get away. If you know me, you know I am not a good traveler. This was not always the case. In fact, I blame the nomadic nature of my childhood on my distaste for travel as an adult. We were always traveling when I was growing up.
Now, I see how fortunate I was and am grateful for my parents dragging us here, there and everywhere. And, I want my kids to have that experience too. But for now, I think they are too young to really get anything meaningful out of such trips and it stresses me out too much to even think about making one on the scale we used to make.
We always went to visit my grandparents who wintered in Naples. We went skiing once a year—first in Michigan and later in Colorado. We went to the Caribbean several times. We went to California, more trips to Colorado, New York City, I went to England, Arizona, Texas, Louisiana, and usually Michigan in the summer to escape the Indiana heat and humidity. We went to Chicago at least three times, maybe four or five times a year. We were always going by plane, train and automobile; but mostly by plane.
Now, I hate planes. I all but refuse to fly. I haven’t been on an airplane since Phillip was one and I cannot see myself getting on one anytime soon, at least not without being medicated. My growing fear of flying is multi-dimensional and based on a mix of fact and fiction—and I fully admit the fiction part is completely irrational, but none the less—it’s there.
So, for now, when we travel, we drive. And, truly with three little kids, I think it is the easiest way for us to travel right now. I need to have that level of control provided by driving. I need to be able to take what I want to take and stop when we want or need to stop. We need a car where ever we go that can hold three car seats (oh, and our stuff). And so it goes. We set out for spring break last week—destination: Destin, Florida.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
11 Years and Still Love'em
Yesterday was our 11th wedding anniversary. And, this year our anniversary was even on a Saturday--just like when we got married. I still love that guy. I of course had no idea where life would take us and it has taken us much further than I could have ever imagined. I love the surprises around each corner, never really being able to even dream of where we are headed. I love the kids we made and the memories we share. He still, most importantly, can make me laugh when I need it most. He reminds me how silly my anxieties really are and reassures me when I lack confidence.
I used to love go watch his hockey games. He looked so cute in his uniform, all sweaty and strong. He still plays even after all these years. He complains about the young guys playing too rough and I remember when he complained about the old guys being babies. Times have changed, but he still looks so cute playing hockey.
And, we made a mini-him who is a great hockey player too. Today was Samuel's last day of the season and we are so proud of him. The second his skates hit the ice, he goes and goes and goes and never stops until its over. He never gives up, he always wants more. He is a natural athlete (see more pictures in the web album).
That is something I have never been--an athlete. I try to explain that in tennis, although it always sounds like I am making excuses. I have never played (for more than a few minutes or beyond a family game in the yard) ball sports. I always wanted to be good at sports--agile and brave, strong and conditioned. It's not me and fortunately my parents never made me feel bad for it.
As different as they all are, we will help each of our kids find something they care enough about to try and try again until they get it right. We will help them all find something that inspires and engages, something that makes them strong in mind, body and spirit. They will be athletes of one kind or another and we will celebrate every step along the way.
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