Tired of Doing Stuff

This week is kicking my butt. Between Open House on Monday, planning for our street’s block party Tuesday and Bunco tonight, I’m ready to have a nice night at home. But tomorrow’s Karate. Fortunately, Karate is pretty short—only an hour—so we should be able to get in, learn the new technique (Roundhouses this week!), and get home pretty earlyish. I definitely don’t want to do anything Friday night. However, it feels like there was something planned for that night that I’m forgetting. I’m sure it will come to me. Probably Thursday night right before I go to sleep. :(

I didn’t get to see Laura at all today, excepting the gentle petting of her head I gave her a little while ago over the railing of her crib. I hate days where I run so much that I miss an entire day of my children’s lives. I know that’s melodramatic, but it really does kind of bother me. I did enjoy Bunco tonight, but I’m glad that I don’t have any more big stuff planned for the week.

Weekend, here we come!

Book’n It

My boy can read.

I mean, yeah, he can’t read everything, but he can dang sure try. It’s pretty cool watching him evolve into this reading person. We sit, snuggled on the couch, and he reads various library books. In the past, I’ve always kind of directed him specifically toward several books and let him freely choose one or two of his own. He would always kind of give mine a chance, but he was always really into the ones he picked on his own. So tonight, I let him have total control over the books he got.

It helped that when we got to the library one of the little girls in his class was there, too. He was very excited to see her and they spent the majority of the time running back and forth around the children’s area, picking books, bringing them to me or the little girl’s mom and then running off to find more. The girl’s mom and I had a really good talk—they’re new to the area and I shared our favorite parks and museums—and I think they will be a fun family to get together with for play dates at some point.

So we got home with the new books and Harrison and I (eventually after all the other evening crap that had to be done) sat on the couch and he read to me about the Punk Farm Animals who went on tour and sang about the wheels on the van going round and round. My favorite part was when he would sing the song in his best rocker voice. He cracks me up in his earnestness and enthusiasm. I imagine he’ll go into the performing arts in some way or other. :)

Impressed

Open House was tonight. I always worry about the impression we give off as parents. Are we too lenient in not beating the boy every time he interrupts as we’re trying to talk to someone? Are we too strict, threatening to spank him if he gets out of line? Do we toe the line by saying more or less? Does the teacher look at us and think to herself, “Oh, well that finally makes sense!” about his behavior? (As an aside, I’ve had this particular “Ah ha!” moment many times.)

I think, in the grand scheme of things, I’ve found my counterbalance for the worry, though. At the school tonight, we met Harrison’s teacher and then he showed us around the campus. We saw the computer room, the music room and where he sits in the cafeteria (any of the seats that don’t have pink paper taped to them—they sit boy-girl-boy-girl, I guess to avoid any boy-boy-boy misbehavior).

As we were leaving the school, one of the other parents walked past us. Now, I’m typically not a judgmental person. As a larger girl, I don’t like to cast aspersions on another person’s weight, especially another woman’s. We have enough people telling us we’re not society’s ideal and so I tend to be a live and let live kind of gal. But this girl was not small. Nor was she wearing a bra. She was,  however, wearing a very snugly fitting pair of pants and a one shouldered snug black stretchy top. The entire outfit was finished up with a pair of platform sandals at least three inches tall.

Any worries about not being a good enough parent went right out the door with this woman’s camel toe and muffin top.

I kind of wish I had taken a picture.

I don’t judge her for wearing that outfit, in general. If that’s what makes her happy, more power. But you know? When you’re heading up to meet your kid’s teacher and principal and the parents of his or her classmates, is the one shouldered top that is two sizes two snug the right choice? Was it laundry day? Was everything else she had to wear in the washing machine? Was she wearing it, Scarlett O’Hara-style, because her husband had accused her of cheating on him and he wanted the entire town to see her looking that way?

I wish I had been a fly on the wall when that ensemble choice was made.

But then, I really don’t.

No Joiner, He

Harrison has never been one of those kids who enjoys participatory television. I mean, he’ll watch it well enough—he’s not got any problem with that, but if someone asks a question and expects the audience from home to answer, he’s just not down with it. Never has been. Blue’s Clues,  Sesame Street, anything with a problem to solve and an audience to ask questions to. I’d always try to encourage him to participate—ask him what the answer to the question was, that kind of thing—but he’d never want to do it.

Which brings us to this evening. Robert had gone to get groceries and I had both kids at home while I was trying to get some laundry done. I decided to put Little Einsteins on for them to watch. We had watched it yesterday and both kids were pretty entranced with it, so I figured it was a no-brainer.

If you’ve ever seen Little Einsteins, you know that there are participatory events in it. “Pat-pat-pat!” “Clap-clap-clap” “Sing along!” That kind of stuff.

So we’re watching it, Laura from the floor where she’s looking up with big, solemn eyes at the magic box hanging from the wall, Harrison from the couch where he’s sipping his milk and eating his cheese sticks while never removing his eyes from the screen and me standing behind the couch, sorting and folding laundry.

The first “Pat pat pat!” comes up and I try to get him to do it. I pat-pat-pat my own legs and he just looks at me, then turns back to the TV.

The “Clap-clap-clap!” comes up and I clap along while he gives me the stink eye.

Another “Pat-pat-pat!” happens and as I begin patting enthusiastically, he looks at me with narrowed eyes and says, “Don’t you have some work you need to be doing?”

He’s already ready for management. I guess if I’ve got time to lean, I’ve got time to clean. :)

As a side note, later on in the show I was away from the couch, reloading the washing machine and I heard him “Pat-pat-pat” and raise his arms, screaming for the Rocket to take off. I guess maybe he just didn’t want an audience. Psychologically, there’s a lot there that I understand.

Goofy kid.

Speak, Oh Muse…

I often don’t know what I’m going to write about when I sit down at night. And it invariably ends up being night time when I write. Chasing two kids and trying to get life done and keep hubby happy and any number of other things, all during the day, just doesn’t foster the clarity of mind I need when I write. So usually around 11 pm or so, I head to the keyboard and clickity clack for about half an hour or more, hoping the Muse won’t neglect me on this night. But I usually don’t know what the Muse will be telling me until I actually sit down and start de-jellifying my head.

I think about things throughout the day, though, and wonder how I would write them up if I were to sit down at a keyboard just at that moment. I might have five or six majorish things happen in a day and say to myself about each one, “Well, that will make an interesting story tonight!” Sometimes, it’s not even that major a thing but will just be a funny turn of phrase Harrison uses or a look that Laura gives me. At the end of the day, as I’m sifting through all these things, I am sometimes surprised at what the Muse decides will be the story for the day.

I’ve been writing this day-to-day business now for over three months—the date came and went without me even noticing. One quarter of a year, documented for future reference. A slice of my life, as it were. I like that I didn’t even notice when it happened—it makes me feel like I’m not just counting days anymore but that I’m really getting into the nitty gritty of my days. Telling real stories instead of “Today [fill in the blank] happened. It was [fill in emotion].” I feel like I’m moving on past the Mad Libs version of my life story, so that’s pretty cool.

I also like that I’m noticing these things in my day-to-day life. I’m not sure if I noticed things as much before I started this. I’m sure I must have. I can’t imagine just walking through life like a zombie, never seeing the sweetness of a smile or smelling the crispness on the air. I just don’t remember doing it. Now, though, I think back and even if I don’t write about it, I feel like I experience things more solidly.

So what did I do today? I slept late. (Thank you honey! You’re the best!) I played with the kids and watched some TV with Harrison. (He’s not gotten to watch much TV since school started up, so I think a little bit of Saturday morning cartoons is just about perfect.) I worked on the booklet I’m making for Harrison’s Karate class. (They have this paragraph of related-but-not-specifically-related stuff they want him to learn for his yellow belt test but it’s boring as crap to read. I’m taking each sentence of the paragraph and giving him an image that goes with it, as well as some stuff to color. I think he’ll be able to remember the information better that way.) Cody, Amy and Cody’s mom came over for supper. (We ate low carb Cheeseburger Casserole, which was pretty awesome. Amy made cheesecake but I didn’t eat my whole piece since I was close to my limit for the day. Hope she didn’t mind me not eating it—it was pretty good. :) ) Bathed both kids, Harrison once and Laura twice. (Laura vomited what looked like an entire bottle on Robert when I tried giving her her antibiotics. Oh yeah, she’s got a UTI—again—so we’ll probably be going to Dallas again at some point to see her specialist again. RE: the vomit, though, I think I hit her gag reflex with the medicine dropper because she didn’t have any other kind of symptoms.) We all played Beatles Rock Band. It’s pretty cool.

Written out like that, my day looks kind of bland. That said, though, I feel that, overall, it’s been a good day. I spent time with my family, we had some friends over, and everyone is more or less healthy. It’s hard to complain about that.

A Fair Day

Oh, my, I’m so very tired. It’s a good tired, though. Mom and I got up at the butt crack of dawn this morning and left the house, loaded down with student artworks, heading to the State Fair for the Glue-A-Shoe contest. I have almost come to the decision that I might could become a morning person, granted enough coffee is provided.

After a pleasant drive west (away from the blinding sun!), we got to the fair grounds with about 30 minutes to spare. Turns out it wasn’t just the contest happening today, but also the fair, itself! Holy crap! So there’s $10 for parking. Another $15 per person for entry to the fair. I’ve got the $2 per student collected and so that will cover some, but I was going to have to cover a good bit myself, since I had to miss yesterday and didn’t get to collect payment from everyone before I left.

You might imagine how incensed I was that none of these fees (excepting the $2 entry fee for the contest) was mentioned anywhere at all on the entry registration form. But I figured, ‘Whatever, I got up at a ridiculous hour, drove three hours to get here and I’m not giving up now!’ So I paid my $10 parking fee. After finagling my way to the very first row of the parking lot to within 10 yards of the entrance gate (!!!), mom and I both loaded up with as many shoes as we could carry and headed over to get in line and pay to get in.

Enter Mom: Deus Ex Machina.

Mom saw that there was a booth that was completely line-less, even though there were people in it. The sign overhead said it was for ‘Cash Only,’ but mom figured that nothing was ventured, nothing was gained so she went over (carrying her six shoe sculptures) to ask if we could pay with credit cards there. After a quick mumbled conversation, mom waved me over and the woman told me that since we were entering an event, we could go on through.

For Free.

Dang.

So that rocked my world. We slipped in, headed up the path and got our shoes entered in plenty of time. The other people in line were duly impressed with my genius students. We had, among others, a Shoe (Sous) Chef, a surf board (Surfin’ Shoe-S-A) and Judge Shoedy (Judy). After a very long, very frustrating judging session that they let us watch, we finally got the results. While the Shoe Chef was overlooked (foul, I say!), Judge Shoedy and Shooby-Doo got Honorable Mentions. Considering we had never entered the fair before and I was pretty much flying by the seat of my pants, I’m pretty proud. Next year, we’re going to dominate.

After the judging and wagging all the non-placing (I hate calling them losing!) sculptures back to my rather auspiciously parked van, mom and I head back in to check out the fair some.

For Free. :)

We rode the ferris wheel, of course. We walked around and saw the exhibits. We smelled the food. (I’m proud to say that I didn’t eat a single bit of Fair Food—I had brought a light lunch and while we were returning stuff to the van I noshed on it.)

I love the sensory experience of the fair. The sounds of the game callers, the rides, the crowds. The smell of deep fried everything (they have Deep Fried Butter this year—holy cow!). The gamey smell of the animals when you pass their barn. The feel of the wind on your face when you’re at the top of the wheel, watching the miniature rides below whip tiny little ant people from side to side. For someone as antisocial and agoraphobic as I am, it’s amazing that I enjoy the fair as much as I do, but I think it’s the same thing as visiting a big city like New York. I don’t know all those people and so if I have a meltdown, I’m not worried about someone filing it away in their brains for the next time they see me. For some reason, when I don’t have to worry about that, I calm down a bit and don’t mind being around so many people who insist on breathing my air.

So. The fair was good. The contest was good. Time with mom was good—we don’t get to do that kind of just-her-and-me thing very often and so it was cool to do that today. Being out of work was pretty awesome, although I’m ready to head back on Monday and get back in the groove. But before I do that, I’m heading to the bedroom and hitting the hay. I’ve been up since 5 am and I’m exhausted!

Sicko

I stayed home with the girl today. She was “sick,” so they tell me, but to see her playing, you’d never believe it. If she wasn’t laughing, she was playing and when she was doing neither of those, she was eating or sleeping. Fever, schmever—the doctor said she had a virus, but I think she’s teething. The poo is of a slimy/playdoughy texture (yeah, tmi—I know). She is drooling a good bit. She coughs from time to time, but I think it might be drainage from all the danged drooling she’s doing. We do know it’s not the flu, so I’m grateful there, but really, she hasn’t had another fever spike since Robert picked her up from daycare on Wednesday afternoon.

She talked tonight, though, so that’s pretty cool. (Yeah, why didn’t I lead with that, right?) I was walking into the room after taking the boy to karate class (good class tonight—side kicks!), and I said something to Robert. As soon as she heard me, she turned her head and said, “Mama,” much to the amazement of me and mom (who is visiting tonight—long story). The boys were a bit blasé about it all—Robert claims to have heard her say it before and Harrison doesn’t really care—but I was pretty stoked about it. Sure beats Harrison’s “Duck” first word talking. :)

Now off to bed to get up at the butt crack of dawn to drive to Dallas in the morning to take my kids’ sculptures to the State Fair. I’m really excited about entering these works in the contest and I hope to have good news to post tomorrow! Just wish I didn’t have to be up sooooooo early to be there by 9 am. Sigh.

Off to bed!