Minion construction Day 1

Yes, you are correct.  This is not a minion.

I love creative costumes like this one pictured above.  It is easy, kid-appropriate and humorous.  Especially if you tried to sit down.  I bet I could whip this up in about a half-hour - unlike the stupid undertaking I am in the midst of, making not one, but TWO minion costumes.  These minions are the costume creation from hell, I tell you.  I think at least 287 different steps are involved.

I am the proud owner of a new glue gun, since my trusty old one is currently 'misplaced' and no one is fessing up.  My new glue gun is the boss.  The glue gets wicked hot.  WICKED hot.  Like, shout-several-curse-words hot if glue oozes out over your skin. Which of course it does!  And, wouldn't you know... gluing foam is difficult, and holding two pieces of foam together, sandwiching 1000 degree hot glue in between is not a pleasant crafting activity.  The directions I am following for these costumes made is sound like you just glue here, press here.. glue there and press there, and voila!  A perfectly rounded minion head!  So after expending a lot of mental energy in trying problem solve glue vs. foam, I have some insight to share.  

Clothespins, crafty people!  Clothespins are your friends!  After struggling with that stupid tube of foam for the entire first half of the Broncos game, I got wise and figured clamping it shut with the help of clothespins would do the trick, since I clearly did not have enough hands.  Besides, clothespins do not have nerve-endings.  My hands do.  I pinned up twelve seams sealed with hot glue, still burning each and every one of my fingers plus a way-too-curious child (or two) in the process, but the clothespins got the job done in holding everything closed until the glue set (I actually let it sit overnight).  The kids wondered if this freaky-looking minion head with about 50 clothespins sticking out all over it was the finished product.  Uh... no.  I am now in the process of working on minion head #2, in between math problems, dirty dishes, phonics and tuna fish sandwiches.  

Maybe it was the cool moon spectacle messing with my crafty mojo last night...  

Cat fight in the night

Cat fights are totally related to penguins...

You know how, in just about any penquin documentary, they mention that even when surrounded by a colony of penquins, a returning female can pick out the distinct call of her mate and find him in the crowd?  It is the same thing with mothers.  You can be at the playground deeply immersed in conversation or a good book, with the noise of kiddos running everywhere, each yelling to their friends or their own mothers, but when your child calls out, "Mommy!", you are instantly aware they are referring to you.

It's the same thing with your pets.  Early this morning I was jerked awake by a yowling cat telling off another cat, just outside our window, and I just knew it was our cat.  She was not supposed to be outside.  We let her out occasionally, but only during daylight, and she usually keeps to our backyard.  I got up and double-checked all of her usual sleeping spots, and yep, no Kitty.  I went downstairs and opened the front door.  I barely got a 'Kitty-Kitty' out before she made a beeline up the front walk and hurried past me - telling me exactly what she thought of me as she passed by.  I'm sure it was something along the lines of, "You stupid human.  I am WET (sprinklers).  I was ACCOSTED by Jinx (neighbor's cat).  I can't believe you FORGOT about me."  In my defense, it was probably some young child in the house that let her out the back door, just as everybody was finishing ice cream and heading for bed, and nobody noticed.  Not my fault.  Except for it kinda is since I usually count heads before I retire, both human and animal.  Sorry Kitty.

Um, waitress....waitress????....WAITRESS!!

Today is my brother's birthday.  Last night we finalized plans to go out to eat and celebrate this evening.  He chose to go to the Mexican restaurant that I worked at for 12 years.  I think that is what set in motion the wild waitressing dreams I had last night.  If you've ever worked a service-type job, I'm sure you can relate.  Years after the fact, you will often have those dreams (nightmares) about working that job.  Mine always seem to be about getting slammed with customers, and being the only one around to wait on them.

Last night I dreamed about the typical endless stream of tables arriving and waiting for me to serve them, and I also dreamed that I had to hunt all over the back kitchen and the back storage rooms looking for different various things for the customer.  My senorita serving outfit was even more horrendous that the original.  My bosses - a husband and wife team, were also in the dream, appearing here and there but not really interacting with me.

These dreams always stress me out.  I can feel myself getting worked up as the customers in my dreams berate me for taking so long getting their drinks/chips and salsa/food/ticket...  And last night was just the same - wash, rinse, repeat.

except...

In last night's dream, the details were rather vivid.  I was busier than ever.  I was even rolling silverware.  Uugh.  I was ripping open bagged-up packages of plastic spoons and forks, and rolling them up in ugly blue napkins.  I ran out of tortilla chips, and had to rip open these tiny plastic bags and gather them up, one-by-one and put them in the bowl.  I was pretty stressed out.  Every table was full of people waiting for me to show up with something.

I don't know if I was semi-awake or not, but somehow the dream shifted into a different light.  It was like I knew I was dreaming, so all of a sudden I didn't give a rat's ass if a rather cranky woman didn't get the correct food and I had to go into the kitchen and argue with the cooks.  Why?  Because there would be no repercussions - nothing to feel bad about, since it. wasn't. real.  Aha!  REVENGE waitressing dreams!  I can spill all the green chili I want into a customer's lap (true story...), I can leave them waiting for their ticket F O R E V E R and there's nothing they can do about it.  Can't find that beer for that obnoxious guy yelling at me in the bar window?  Too fucking bad.  You need a styrofoam to-go box?  Good luck with that.

I feel like I've been set free!  

Simple Woman's Daybook Entry

Outside my window... A bright morning with blue skies and a breeze that is a little on the cool side.  Perfect.

I am thinking... About Kathy.  Kathy was the mom who hired me many, many years ago to nanny her three children.  I worked for the family for nine years.  Kathy passed away last week after a courageous five-year battle with brain cancer.  I attended a party hosted by the family in her memory yesterday afternoon.  It was wonderful to see the kids - all three have spread their wings and left the nest, and I haven't seen the older two girls in a few years.  Kathy was a wonderful mom and great mentor - she will be missed very much.

I am thankful... That it is Labor Day weekend.  It is nice to have an extra day to get caught up on stuff.  I am also thankful that last week's big transition to a new platform (Yahoo Groups to Bigtent) for our homeschool group went relatively smoothly.  So far about 40-45 members have moved over and it was pretty painless.  The other 70-80 members have yet to even open their email invitation.  Typical.

From the Learning Rooms... The rest of our curriculum arrived from Rainbow Resource on Friday, so I am itching for Tuesday to arrive so we can start.  This was the language arts component - All About Reading for Owen, MosDos Opal and Shurley English for Rylan.  Looking through the materials, I am most excited for MosDos with Rylan.  Her anthology looks awesome - she has already read a couples stories on Friday as we unpacked the boxes and looked over everything.

In the kitchen... Leftover blackened tilapia, much to the family's dismay.  Time to go shopping for the week.

I am wearing... pjs. The outfit of weekend blogging champions!

I am creating... Last night I opened up Pinterest to get the ideas churning for Halloween costumes.  Owen and Colin want to be Minions, and Rylan wants to be Scarlet Overkill.  Owen's and Colin's will take a lot of work, but I am excited to start.  It involves foam, a glue gun and lots of yellow spray paint.  Rylan's wig, gloves and dress have been ordered.  Luckily the red dress can double for any holiday dress needs this upcoming season and her fall violin recital.  

I am going... to drive to see my aunties later this afternoon.  They called this morning to report that they have two flats of garden tomatoes that need a new home.  I could have cried with happiness!  I can't wait to start a batch of sauce this evening in the crockpot.  I can smell it now.... ahhhhh...

I am wondering... what to write here.  Moving on...

I am reading... I am still working on Elizabeth Berg's The Day I Ate Whatever I Wanted.  

I am hoping... for rain this week.  It's been too dry.

I am looking forward to... Fall!  Fall is my favorite.  Thinking about Halloween costumes has put me in the mood..

I am learning... How to carve and shape foam with scissors.

I am hearing... I can vaguely hear the kids arguing about BoomBlox on the Wii.  I have headphones on, which helps.  I am listening to my current standby for writing music - Coldplay.  

Around the house... Dean fixed the Wii last night (hence to sudden urge to by the kids to play).  It was making a horrible whine.  He looked up a video on YouTube about how to diagnose the sound and fix it.  He and Rylan took it apart and tweaked whatever little metal part was out of position and it was fixed. yay!  Today I will probably gather up the Calvert stuff and clear the kid's school shelves for their new books, papers and things.

I am pondering... What the hell to do with all the Calvert books.  

One of my favorite things... Those first hints of fall, like the slightly cooler mornings and the first few leaves on the fruit trees beginning to brown and fall.

A few plans for the rest of the week... This is an unusually quiet week.  Just school, scouts for Owen and violin for Rylan.

Here is a picture for thought I am sharing... 

Colin, June 2011

I came across this yesterday, and this picture never fails to crack me up...

To read more entries and visit a variety of other blogs, go here...

Pain junkie

Happy 1st Anniversary of my breast reduction!

In thinking of a nifty way to celebrate my smaller version of myself, I thought it would be great to go in today and get a scar revision done, and wouldn't it be *just* fabulous that it's the actual anniversary date? I mean, really, I've gone 8 whole weeks without some sort of bandaging attached to me in some way or another, and that is just entirely too long. I think that I must have reached some magical threshold of feeling 'ok' that sends a signal to my brain that I need to cause myself more pain. So, why not call up the plastic surgeon and ask for a few stitches? Yes, WHY not??

So it has been a few hours since my procedure, and my local has worn off. I have bloody bandaging, plus pain and royal discomfort. A bonafide pain junkie trifecta!! If you have ever had serious surgical sutures, you most likely have experienced the 'dog ears' that form on each end as they heal. It is triangular-shaped pucker that looks a bit odd. With my breast reduction surgery, one side looked pretty bad in addition to significant scarring, and the other side was not so noticeable but still bothersome. I could have had the revision done as early as 6 months ago but I opted to wait it out a few more months to see if the one side would resolve itself. They did change a significant amount so I am glad that I waited, but it wasn't enough to make me feel like it wouldn't keep bothering me for years on end. So I made the appointment to just get it done and over with. Now I am back to walking around with my arms pinned down to my sides, not reaching for anything, and driving using only the bottom 1/3 of the steering wheel. That was my life for a solid four months just a short time ago, and the disturbingly familiar pain is no fun at all.

I think I am really, really ready to be done with all of this surgery and recovery business. Really. I have a damn surgical shelf in the medicine cabinet that I just want to clear out. Bandaging, non-stick gauze, paper tape, scar cream, elastic wrap, arm splints (2), knee splints (3), compression wrap, blah, blah, blah...

Anyway, happy anniversary to me. It's still the best thing I ever did for myself.

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Warning

As I am sure is true about a lot of cities, there are certain times of the day where it is virtually impossible to get from point A to point B in a given amount of time.  The witching hour for our neck of the woods is 4:00 pm on a weekday.  Everybody and their dog, laptop, soccer ball, or ballet shoes has someplace they need to be.

I've been spending an extraordinary amount of time in the car during the past month.  My schedule is so full I want to cry.  It's partly my doing, as I wanted to cram trips into the most compact schedule possible, piggy-backing every class I could so that I could build up the largest chunk of at-home school-time hours I could, but ultimately I am at the mercy of the class schedule in the first place as I have to work with what I get.  If it were up to me, I would not be on the road during the witching hour.

Tuesday is the tightest commute day, and Wednesday is so full I'm wearing a stopwatch and barking out new move-out orders every half hour, it seems.  On Tuesdays, I have exactly 30 minutes to transport Rylan from her Lego Robotics team practice at point A to her tumbling class at point B.  In between these points is several miles of green space as they are in different cities. This requires that I get her out of the door on time at point A (hasn't happened yet, as Lego is fun), and that I drive with laser-sharp focus to navigate the minivan-choked roads to get to point B.  I've tried three different routes, and the interstate "seems" the quickest, provided there is no massive miles-long traffic jam, slowing down to check out the vehicle pulled over on the shoulder TO CHANGE A TIRE. *WOW*

This past Tuesday I was paid a personal visit by a state trooper on the side of a very busy three lane highway during the commute from point A to point B.  I had just pulled off the interstate, gone through a couple of intersections, and was just pulling through another one - after stopping for a red light - when lights fired up behind me.  I wasn't even aware I had a trooper behind me, as I was deep in conversation with Jordan about what spatial organization in paragraph writing means.  (This is where I can say with pride that, yes, my 14 year old and I were engrossed in how a writer can lay out a description of their topic in a spatial way.  This is new territory for us since I have mainly focused on expository writing with him over the years, and to me, I never really thought about using spatial organization when, for example, writing a five paragraph essay about 'Why I enjoy camping'.  Seriously?)

Anyway, lights are flashing in the back window.  I look at Jordan and stupidly ask him, "Me"?  Is he wanting ME?  What did I do?  I couldn't have been speeding, we were just at a stop light!"  I notice the other cars around me, which are all traveling faster than me, so no, I certainly was not speeding.  What the hell?  I start talking out loud to myself, because that is what I do when I am a little freaked out.

"ME?  Why me?  What did I do wrong?  Shit... stupid car get out of my way so I can pull over!  Here?  Should I pull over here?  Is he still behind me?  Did I just say the s-word out loud?" (winning!)

I pull over, put the window down and turn off the car.  And then I turn to look at Jordan and point to the paragraph about spatial organization in his language arts textbook and continue what we were talking about.  Like I said, we were engrossed.  Maybe that was the reason I had committed some horrible traffic violation and wasn't even aware of it.

Finally he approaches the car.  He was the spitting image of this guy:

We are big Jimmy Fallon fans, and so I couldn't help but crack a smile.  He cocks his head to the side and looks into the back of the van to survey things.  "Are they twins?", he asks as he's looking at Owen and Colin in the back seat.  My smile froze.  fuuuuuuuuuck......

(Colin is a chronic unbuckler or even non-buckler.  Half the time when we drive across town, as we unload Colin just casually slips out from his car seat.  I know that he cannot unbuckle the ridiculously notorious red button on the center buckle, so there is no way for him to exit his seat unless he didn't buckle in the first place, the twerp...  I constantly forget to make a point of double-checking before we start driving.  (winning!  again!)  So as the trooper is examining my children, I am afraid to look around and see for myself if Colin is buckled or not)

I try a diversion tactic instead.  "Would you believe they are two years apart?  So, should I pull off over there, instead?"  pointing ahead to where the shoulder is a lot wider, because right now I am in a pretty narrow spot thanks to the stupid car that wouldn't get out of the way.  He tells me no, and asks if I knew that my left rear brake light was out.  "No, really??? I had no idea". (total lie)  "Can I see your license, insurance and registration?"

Dammit.  Now we are going to really be late for tumbling.  I have yet to make it on time for this stupid class.  I hate our schedule....

I comply, after sweating for a few seconds worrying about if I had remembered to switch out the insurance card for the new one.  I continue talking with Jordan, the kids seemed nonplussed that we've been pulled over, (??), and then he comes back, gives me my cards back and a warning ticket about the brake light.  "You get that light fixed as soon as you can, okay?  Drive safe!"  How can I stay safe?  We are all maniacal lunatics just trying to get from point A to point B, on time or as close to it as possible.

I shove Rylan out the van door when we get to point B, and then after class I go in and explain to her teacher that Rylan will be late by 10 minutes every week until the end of November when her Lego team finishes with competition.  She nods in understanding and admits she was late for class too.  "Traffic...it is just impossible to get anywhere on time at this time of day!"

Tell me about it.

New Roof, Physical Therapy, Traffic Flow, Birthday and Friendship Blues, Schedule Hell

New Roof

I don't think I mentioned it, but our new roof went on 7/29, two days before my ACL surgery.  I got up early and reparked the cars, we moved the roofing materials that we had stored temporarily in our garage for a few days out onto the driveway, and then a couple van loads of roofers showed up at 7:14 a.m. and got busy.  They were fast, efficient, and stuff was flying off our roof within 15 minutes.  Not a moment was spared.  The kids and I watched chucks of roofing fall from the sky for the next couple hours.  The sound was loud, but not deafening, unless you were in the garage.  In there, chunks of wood were falling from the ceiling.  We left for about three hours for errands and then came back.  Storms moved in around 1 p.m., the rain started to really come down at 2 p.m., and still they carried on with the work.  The entire job was done, the yard was picked clean, and they were on their way at 4:10 p.m.  I have only found two nails in the days since, so they did a really good job with the clean up.  The new roof looks absolutely beautiful.

Physical Therapy

I have made it through my first week of physical therapy on my knee.  I only have anywhere from 7-11 weeks to go.  The difference between my physical therapy this time around and the therapy I had on my shoulder is like night and day.  My shoulder therapist (different clinic) was cool, indifferent, and she did no manual therapy (like massage) on my very stiff and sore joint.  The only thing I did was lift weights in all sorts of different directions.  This time around, in a clinic in the same building as my surgeon, I am with the nicest therapist, ever.  Except that what she makes me do hurts more than you can imagine.  She massages my knee first, loosening my very stiff and swollen knee, and then has me work almost exclusively on contracting my quadricep - over and over, to strengthen my weakened leg.  Twice now it has been done with the help of a vicious torture device called STEM, which delivers an electric current to my muscle, to make it contract.  It hurts so bad it brings tears to my eyes, but I know it has to be done.  The nice thing is that after it is over, I get to relax while a nicer version of STEM massages the muscles and a bag of ice helps with the swelling.  I had the rest of my stitches pulled out last week, and just yesterday I graduated from the walker to a single crutch, which I use opposite of my bum knee.  I struggle with hyperextending my knee backwards (due to weak muscle control), so I have to walk very slowly, concentrating on keeping my knee bent ever-so-slightly as I move.  Now that I can walk with a free hand means that I can now carry a few things, which is like a whole new world.  I hated being so dependent on others to carry absolutely every little thing for me from point A to point B.  Therapy will continue for the next several weeks, twice a week, for an hour each visit, plus the time to drive 70 miles round trip to get there.  The good thing is, Dean can drive over from his office and meet me there and take the kids for the hour while I am in there.  The bad thing is it occurs right in the middle of the day, which isn't conducive to proper homeschooling.  :(

Traffic Flow

I've had a lot of people flow in and out of the house in the past couple of weeks.  Normally that is a thing that makes me break out into a cold sweat because that means people are in our house and they can see it for the messy disaster it is.  Dean really got things into shape while he was home that first week, and we have been fighting like hell to keep it that way.  So far we have had multiple visits from the window contractor, a couple of different guys who delivered and set up medical equipment pertinent to my knee rehab, the parents of Rylan's friend that lives on our street - as they shuttle the girls back and forth on play dates, my cousin and aunt who paid me a visit, my mom's cousin visited for a day... lots of traffic flow.  In the first few days, I was stuck in bed.  The contractor CAME TO THE BEDROOM to discuss plans for replacement windows with me.  He and Dean had toured all over the house, while I had to stay in the passive motion machine.  I was not exactly up for wandering around the house, anyway.  The contractor seemed totally nonplussed by it.  On his next visit, he had a measuring guy with him, and he was totally uncomfortable with it.  He couldn't even make eye contact.  So while there was a ton of traffic, what I wished is that it wasn't a parade of strangers in my house, but a continual flow of friends instead.  The visit from my cousin and aunt, my mom's cousin, my brother, mom and dad were all very nice indeed.  They were integral in keeping my spirits up, but I wish it had been more.

Birthday and Friendship Blues

My birthday on the 8th sucked.  Several of my family members were on a cruise, and they were out at sea on the day of, so phone calls could not be made.  I was in pretty serious pain.  I was still struggling with an ineffective dosage amount of my pain meds, plus terrible cramping in the gut, and all I could do was curl into the fetal position and lay there.  Which meant I wasn't in the mood for company.  Which meant that I was left alone for hours (my own doing, not because my family was not taking care of me), with no means of getting anything I needed when the need did arise.  By the time dinnertime rolled around, I was dehydrated, had very low blood-sugar, and thoroughly pissed off for even being in that state.  We were to meet my dad for dinner and ice cream, and I could barely keep my bearings in the car, as woozy and dizzy as I was.  Dinner helped, the ice cream was better, so the day felt a little salvaged, somewhat.  In looking back, it was just an unfortunate confluence of a lot of different circumstances that couldn't be helped, that made the day what it was.  There was a nice trickle of messages throughout the day on Facebook, and that helped, but you know... I've had a lot of time to lie around, thinking about different things.  Friendship, and what it means, has come to mind a lot lately.  This recovery has been one long and lonely road.  My phone has been rather silent, my inbox a little too empty, and my heart a little heavy.

I've talked about these friendship troubles with Dean at length, as he lets me vent and feel sorry for myself.  He sees that at times I hold myself distant from friends, and that I close myself off.  I think that is true.  There are so many hurts and let-downs in my past that I think I use that as a protective measure so that I don't get hurt anymore.  But I think that loneliness hurts even more.  So, take a moment and give thanks if you have that close circle of friends that rally behind you when you face adversity.  If you have that friend that shows up with a cup of coffee and stays an hour to visit with you and makes you laugh to momentarily take your mind off your pain or your troubles, if you have that friend that calls you up to see how you are doing - just because, if you have that friend that drops off a new library book, or a casserole, or fresh produce or flowers from her garden.... you are so, so lucky.  Friendship is precious.  I have a lot work to do in the department of being a good friend and creating better friendships.

Schedule Hell

School starts for us tomorrow.  It is not the *official* first day for Colorado Calvert Online Academy, but we are getting a head start so that we can figure out how it all works beforehand.  The new school room is ready, but not quite ready for pictures.  I still have a few more things to get put away today.  For the past several months I have been hard at work clearing our schedule so that when we did make the jump and start up with Calvert, nothing during the daytime hours got in our way as a distraction.  Then I tore my ACL, and the rehab alone will steal hours from our school time.  Then, late last week, I realized I completely forgot something when planning out our fall schedule.  I spaced that Lego NXT is starting up again.  Both Rylan and Jordan are on Lego NXT teams.  Rylan is on an all-girls team, and her practices started last week.  I love Lego.  I love that they are excited about Lego.  I just don't love the time slot they practice in very much.  Monday-Thursday, for two hours each day, Jordan and Rylan will alternate days for their practice sessions.  I don't have a schedule yet for the times when Jordan, Rylan and Owen meet online with their teachers, but I anticipate we will have a serious time conflict in very short order.  I keep telling myself that Lego and therapy will only last until mid-November, but that is not helping very much.  This was not the start I was envisioning.  I'm already stressed...

Swimming Lessons, Forgetfulness, Paper Overload

Swimming Lessons

Swimming lessons go either way for me.  At times they are the bane of my summer existence.  It means no lazy mornings, constant laundry and lost goggles on a weekly basis.  At other times I love the summer sounds of splashing and coaching and the relaxation of reading by the pool.  It has certainly gotten easier over the years.  When we started, Colin was a babe and the prep work was insane.  Suits, towels, diapers, multiple changes of clothes, snacks, juices, bug spray, sunscreen, toys... all for a measly hour at the pool.  Now, as the kids are reaching the age of self-sufficiency, they each have their own swim bag and they are responsible for packing a change of clothes, a towel and goggles.  The bags hang from the banister in front of the hallway laundry, and that is their permanent summer home.  The suits get hung up to dry, and the towels go directly from dryer to bag and as soon as the suits are dry, they go in as well.  The goggles are accounted for before we leave the pool, and again as each kids tosses their wet stuff in the washer upon arrival home.  I only wash the suits every other day, so wet suits go on the drying rack.  Rylan has taken over snack duty, and she actually does a great job.  Usually a yogurt, granola bar, banana and a juice box.  She even packs a snack for me!  Swimming lessons have actually become enjoyable, except for the fact that the youngest child has made a thorough nuisance of himself.  He refuses to get in the pool for his lessons now.  He lasted all of seven days - and they weren't even consecutive.  I want to rid myself of the ultimate motherhood fear that a child will drown (followed by run out into the street and get hit by a car), and Colin will have none of it.  This may take years. :(  Rylan and Owen are doing great though.  Rylan has reached the point that she is a competent swimmer - just not a strong one.  She missed out on the latest swim session because there were not enough other kids to make a class, so I opted to pay for a couple private lessons for her.  At $20 a pop, this is not sustainable.  And, as I was watching, I kept thinking..."I could teach her this... why am I paying for this??"  This is a similar thought pattern that we have all experienced - you know the scenario - you're standing in front of a painting worth millions, and you think to yourself, "Why, I could paint this!!"


Forgetfulness

In the midst of worrying about hail damage, my knee and stuff, I forgot to do something.  I had arranged with my friend/girl scout co-leader last weekend to do a playdate on this past Thursday.  A lunch playdate.  We would all eat lunch, the kids would chase chickens and play, play, play, and we would wrap up the paperwork and badge stuff for the year, and strategize for next year.  I thought about it a bit on Wednesday.  I was planning on bringing a fruit salad, so I made a mental note that I needed to go shopping.  Unfortunately it didn't stick.  Thursday came, we did our swim lessons and then headed home.  According to my calendar, we had a whole day ahead of us to do with as we wished!  We went to the river and the kids played for a good long while and then we came home.  I was standing before the fridge, wondering what miracle I could perform in coming up with something for lunch when the phone range.  I saw the name on the caller ID, and my heart exploded with self-loathing, stupidity and embarrassment all at once.  We were late.  Like an hour late.  They were hungry - I could hear the girls in the background fussing.  She had grilled chicken for us.  She was worried.  I'm an idiot.  Luckily for me she is the forgiving sort and knows that I am the most forgetful person on Earth.

I have difficulty remembering things in times of stress.  I have to write everything down - sometimes in multiple places.  This is supposed to be second-nature for me ever since I had a head injury when I was 19, but sometimes I still forget - as I did this time after I forgot to put our plans on my calendar.  I remember thinking to myself, 'I won't forget!  This is a fun thing, so I will be looking forward to it and I won't forget!', aaaaand I forgot.  This really sucks because a.) she cooked and cleaned for us  b.) I have annoying financial paperwork for girl scouts to finish up and we need to do it together c.) I struggle so much with making solid friendships - somehow I always screw up by saying the wrong thing, doing something wrong, or...something.... I don't know.  I feel really bad that I screwed up yet again.  I just have to shake it off and move on, and try and act like a responsible adult next time.


Paper Overload

Mail, medical paperwork, scout paperwork, schoolwork, forms for everything under the sun, warranty stuff, 'art work', receipts, three different copies of the same bill (ahem)... There is a pile of some sort of paper on just about every flat surface in this house, which means I currently have to check about six different places in order to find something.  It is just how it has come to be - it is up to me to gather it all up, sort it all out, and deal with it.  Sometimes I begrudge that fact, other times I think that if were the both of us handling the influx of all things paper - us with two very different levels of pickyness, trying to handle something as volatile as FILING, emotional disaster would ensue.  I know it could all be easily managed if I had a system in place for every different piece of paper that comes into our possession - and indeed I do, just like I have a system for coats, shoes, library books and wet bathing suits.  It's just that nobody else seems to be aware of the system.  The memo must have got lost in all the paperwork...

Technical difficulty...

 

I often construct my best written work in those precious few minutes before I fling back the covers and start my day. The problem is, I don't actually write it down. I think to myself, "I can hold these thoughts in my brain for a few minutes longer, until I sit down at the computer and write because I can type at the keyboard much faster then I can on my iPad".

The problem is, I never get the chance. I'll make the mistake of looking at the calendar on the iPad on my way down the stairs just to make sure we don't have to be somewhere soon, and then by total default I'll fall into that evil abyss that follows: email, Facebook, Flipboard, Hay Day and - if I'm desperate for distraction - Zillow. Two hours later I will resurface and realize that the kids have started their day by emptying every cereal box available, drinking a half-gallon of apple juice - the other half is spilled on the floor, Colin has decimated yet another entire roll of toilet paper - in fact, he has wrapped it around his naked little body so that it looks like a skirt (true story), Jordan has disappeared with his computer, and Colin has also 'redecorated' yet another room in the house. Colin is a busy boy. You would think I get that by now... Pass the bonbons, please.

If I would just bypass the iPad and go directly to the computer, I could document these ultra-important, life-altering thoughts (cough) quickly and efficiently, and then begin the day properly with a shower, an actual breakfast that does not come from a box, and maybe even remember to pass out the vitamins.

The problem is, I am not on friendly terms with the computer right now. She is slow. She forgets what she is supposed to be doing. She will sit there and insist on taking the time to open Spotify FIRST, when it is really Internet Explorer that she should be working on getting open for me. As I sit waiting for her, my expertly-worded thoughts are slowly disintegrating. What was I going to say? No idea. Let's go read trash talk on the Yahoo! Home page instead! Oscar dresses! No wait! PINTEREST! Yesssssss. Two hours later I resurface and we all know what happens when that happens....

To be clear, I am still talking about my trouble with my computer, not that I have a severe procrastination issue - okay?

If I do actually get through the ridiculously long launch time for the browser, and open my blog and log in, and not get distracted by reporting all the stupid web addresses that spam my blog, I just might actually start a missive. First I have to begin with a picture, because this is how I do things. Problem is, where is the picture I wanted?? Camera? iPhone? iPad? For the past year, I have been racking up pictures on the iPad. Over a thousand. For all this time, I have not been able to transfer them to the computer hard drive. Finally, two days ago, success! I even emptied my iPhone and the camera! Finally, all the pictures were in ONE place. I could now write about the pumpkin patch! Birthdays! Thanksgiving! Christmas! I start a new post, and prepare to upload the picture. Waiting....waiting...waiting...waiting

#*%^+¥&@!

Open a word doc, insert the pic, copy, paste in blog post, we're good to go. Writing, writing, writing... Post done! Just updated the world that Dean has a new car.

Start another post. I want to write about our Valentine's Day. Trying to problem solve, I spend the next twenty minutes logging out, restarting the computer, and waiting for the browser to open, all in an attempt to solve the issue with not being able to upload pictures to the blog. Open blog, write an opening paragraph, pick out six pictures to upload...waiting...waiting...waiting...

#*%^+¥&@!, #*%^+¥&@!, #*%^+¥&@!

Open a word doc, do it the hard way, add captions, proof read, save and post! Whew! Wait... Why isn't it posting? It's frozen. Refresh. All pictures lost, we're back to the first paragraph - without the revisions. What happened to the saved version?

Stupid #*%^+¥&@! computer! Is it Blogger? Picassa? Internet Explorer? Sigh.

 

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Puzzling Conversations

 

Colin has always been a puzzle, but lately that has taken on new meaning. The boy loves to do puzzles. He will drag them off the shelf and put them together, one after another. He is starting to dive in to the more challenging ones. He takes after his mom and his grandma. He starts with the edges first....

You make me proud, son!!

 

The other day he pulled out this frog puzzle, (pictured above) and proceeded to lay out the top and bottom edges. All the while, the puzzle pieces were having conversations back and forth as they were being fitted together. Colin provided all the speaking parts - including different accents - as the conversation went along. The discussion centered around who (which puzzle piece) was sitting next to so-and-so.

 

Colin has a favorite puzzle - a large floor puzzle of a fire truck, that he got for Christmas. He put it together, on his own, first try, and can now do the whole thing in under 5 minutes. There is a dog pictured in the fire truck, so each time he puts it together, the conversation is with the dog who is saving some unseen burning object with his 'race car fire truck'. The puzzle is about five feet long, but he will push it all around the floor as if the fire truck were driving to the fire. This is great fun for everyone else to watch, but the poor dog and cat have had enough of being chased by the big flat fire truck.

 

It fills my heart with joy that he has discovered puzzles. None of the other kids have really taken interest, except for Jordan in just the past year, when we put together a large Springbok puzzle at Christmas time, or when we go to my mom's house to visit. She has a puzzle table with a puzzle in the making at all times. Some of my happiest childhood memories are of sitting with my favorite puzzles, listening to music and entering a trance-like state as I focused on its completion. There is a Zen-like feel to putting chaos into order. Perhaps Colin senses that too.

 

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The sick season

I have lots to write about... Christmas (!), Colin's birthday, a trip to the aquarium, Valentine's Day, and a host of other things... But right now, I can't. We're in the sick season. Just as soon as we get over one bug, it's on to another. It's been a long nine solid days of sniffles, coughs, snot explosions, fevers, double ear infections, and lots and lots of breathing treatments. No one has been spared, although it is effecting each of us to a different degree. It's been a struggle to just get the basic stuff attended to. I think we are on the mend, though. There aren't piles of used Kleenex to wade through anymore, and the house is a lot quieter this morning than in the past. Six family members all coughing at the same time is quite loud, actually. And, in a way, amusing. Almost.

 

 

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The Day I Quit... (on the inside)



This is the day I quit.


I quit caring about all the sucky people that whine and complain about creating 'community' in our homeschool group, but expect somebody else to do it.  I should care about you, but I don't.  What I do care about are my children, who are getting into mischief and not learning anything while I am trying to work on YOUR issues.


I quit giving up an ENTIRE day that I could have spent working with my kids just so that I could stay tethered to my computer while you had a meltdown over how our group is not working out for your social needs and I searched my archives in vain trying to work on YOUR issues.


I quit counting calories today after I ate THREE pieces of Colin's chocolate birthday cake, as I stressed over how you were stressing me out as I worked on YOUR issues.


I will now quit talking about YOUR issues.


I quit being the one to pick up all the Legos.  They are the toy from hell.


I quit trying to stay warm.  It's cold and no amount of hot coffee will change that.


I will quit writing now.

Seasons

Evidently this is not my season for writing.  A great many thoughts swirl through my head, but most are best left unsaid...  I am not tired of winter.  I love watching the snow fall outside the window.  I love the feeling of wearing multiple layers, topped off with a soft knit hat.  I love the heavy, secure thud of snow boots as I trod through the deep snow.  I do love winter.  But I struggle with SAD, so winter does not exactly love me back.  I'm back on my antidepressant.  I went off of it in October when I had my surgery, and I felt really great until about mid-December.  It's been a little rocky ever since.  A couple of posts were written, one I even posted, and then regretted about an hour later.  See?  Never write when you are emotional.  Well, yes - write for goodness sake, because that is good therapy, but just don't post it for all the world to see.  Yes, this is most definitely not my season for writing.  I'm having the greatest difficulty getting the right words onto the page, lately.

I prefer to read what will uplift me, inspire me or intrigue me.  I am sure that applies to most of us.  I haven't felt any of those things lately, so I figured it was best not to write.  I do have a few updates that I suppose would fit into the 'uplift' category, so I'll share.

* Colin is potty-trained!  We celebrated those wonderful days that stretch between Christmas and New Years - the days where you don't really need to even leave the house - with towels, wipes and Lysol at the ready as Colin prowled the house naked.  Within the day he left the training potty behind and made friends with the big potty.  He was by far the easiest child to train.  No qualms about pooping, he can hold it for a surprising amount of time and he is totally tuned into his bodily cues about when he needs to go.  We aren't ditching the diapers completely yet, we still have a ways to go before he is dry through the night.  Besides, Dean bought an entire case of diapers just days before we decided to do this, lol...  I have to say that after changing diapers every. single. day. for the past seven years and 7 months, I don't miss it a bit.

* Rylan is regularly reading to herself now.  The Mr. Putter and Tabby books are a current favorite.  It warms my heart to hear her reading out loud as I wrangle the boys through the bedtime routine.  When they are finally in bed, I enjoy my favorite time of day - reading the Little House series with Rylan.  We are currently working our way through Farmer Boy.

* I recently attended a reception at the elementary school I taught at just before I made the "transition" to homeschooling SAHM.  For those who don't know, it wasn't a transition.  I taught there for three years and always did well on my teacher evaluations, but I got into trouble in my third year when I was accused of talking to a child (which is akin to "cheating") during a high-stakes test. (I was simply encouraging the child to pick up his pencil, think about the way we had practiced in class and finish the stupid thing) The principle notified me a couple months later that he was not going to renew my contract (fired).  It was a huge blow to me.  My teaching career was essentially over.  No other school in the district would hire me because I was a third year teacher - to do so meant that I would receive tenure as well.  I also was without recommendation from my principal, because he was hell bent on hanging me from the highest tree since I had brought 'shame' to his school by having a test invalidated.  The biggest blow, however, was that my closest colleagues basically threw me under the bus and distanced themselves from me.  These fellow teachers had shocked me, with how they had behaved in regards to testing.  I'm talking about telling a student to erase their answers and do it over.  Making photocopies of previous test booklets and using them to teach from.  My integrity had been called into question, yet these "cheaters" got away with what they did because they didn't get caught.  I have struggled all these years not to walk into my ex-principals office and rat them out.  To just stand before his desk and have my say... in a rather loud and tearful manner.  I am proud to say I never did.  These fellow teachers will never know how close I came to ending their careers  - simply because I could never treat someone like the way they treated me during those final weeks of the school year.

This reception to was mark the 50th anniversary of the school.  My mom taught at this school for over 20 years, so I have a lot of history with this school, in addition to just teaching there.  I have not been back since my last teaching day seven years ago.  The evil principal left at the end of last year to take a position overseas.  I would have never had set foot in that school otherwise.  I had to steel myself before I walked in.  I would be nice.  I would hold my head high.  I did nothing 'wrong', so why should I feel guilty??  There were a surprising amount of my former colleagues that asked where I was teaching 'now'.  They obviously didn't know the details.  Those who did were polite and genuinely happy and surprised to see me.  The guilty ones avoided me.  I'm glad that I went, I wish that I could just lay this demon the rest and be done with it...but it still stings, as you can undoubtedly tell.  Nobody likes being branded a cheater when it just simply isn't true.  I think it has bored it's way into my psyche and I just have to work all the more harder to feel confident about my teaching skills and good about myself in general. 

One last thing about the reception... I did get to visit, briefly, with the teacher that I student taught under as I was working on my degree.  She is a first-class teacher.  Mrs. C's methodology is like no other - she has high expectations of her students, she is thorough, she is prepared and takes the utmost care to maximize the time spent in the classroom.  I learned so much from her, all those years ago.  I was on my way out when I ran into her, and she gave me a big hug.  She asked about the kids, and we talked 'shop'.  I mentioned my misgivings about homeschooling Owen and Colin, given their oppositional character of late, and she launched into a lengthy explanation about teaching to a child's strengths, and isn't that the beauty of homeschooling?  You already know your children so well.. and in the end - homeschooling isn't for everyone, and they may benefit from being in the classroom.  I felt like I was instantly pulled back in time and we were once again in her classroom, having those long conversations after the school day.  I was glad it ended on that note.  I am a teacher.  I always will be.  I may not earn a paycheck anymore, but my rewards are different.  Rylan can read, sew, and cook, Jordan can work algebraic equations, Owen can paint and Colin is learning his letters because I taught them how.  I hope that I can teach them how to have confidence too.  That deriving one's self-worth from the opinion of others is not the way to go...

And I will leave it here.. busy days are ahead of us.  Colin is turning FOUR tomorrow.  I just can't believe how fast time is going by.  I need to take a crash-course in badminton because that is the topic in tomorrow's homeschool PE class, and it is my turn to lead.  We have our girl scout cookie booth this coming weekend and I need to prepare for that.  And the Olympics are starting in a couple of days, huh?  I guess I need to work in some school stuff about that too.  Right now it is snowing out, it is time to start lessons and then have a nice lunch of hot tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.  I do love winter.  :)

Step into my pharmacy...

 

Ummm.. The folks at Walgreens probably have my name on a watch list or two. I'm surprised they haven't called me this evening and asked, "What? NO prescription today?"

It started with my BR a month ago. (A month already??). Antibiotic, painkillers and suppositories. TMI. moving on... Refills for Jordan. Refills for Owen. A refill for me. Then we all get sick. Steroids for Owen, eye drops and antibiotics for me. My bathroom counter has become a revolving door of prescription bottles, plastic measuring cups and syringes and so forth. There is no end in sight as near as I can tell.

'Schoolbus Medicine' is what Colin calls the bottle of Children's Cough & Cold Sudafed. He wants it all the time. And why not? It's grape and it tastes delicious! So good in fact that Colin knows where it is kept, and will climb to get it, and will OPEN it. He laughs at the futile attempt of drug makers to design childproof caps - as he opens up the bottle and pours another round...

Owen has been a real trooper of late. He has spent a good amount of this week sitting in boring exam rooms getting breathing treatments and having his pulse ox checked constantly. We narrowly averted pneumonia, and he has to take an oral steroid to bolster his lungs. Nothing like an already overly emotional and sensitive five year old running around in 'roid rage.

We are all sick, sick, sick of being sick. I only have one nice thing to say - it has helped take my mind of the discomfort of the BR, but the fever and chills don't make that fun either. Caring for my incisions has become more of an afterthought. Oh yeah, add scar serum and arnica gel to the list of things that now populate the pharmacy bathroom.

 

Here is a cool picture I found. This is the kind of thing that you smack yourself on the forehead and say, "Why didn't I think of that!?!?!"

 

 

 

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Happy Halloween!

 

We aren't feeling too hot in these parts... The littles only made it about 20 minutes and then they were done. Tremendously evil head colds have taken root, plus pink eye. It was a good week to hunker down and not do a thing...except that we missed out on having fun with friends...

 

Hope you all enjoyed your day!

 

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The beauty of homeschooling when you are recovering from surgery

 

 

I love this meme. I've seen it from time to time on Facebook. The hilarious thing is that the photo in the upper left corner belongs to a homeschool mom I met once... Tish, over at FreeplayLife. I believe that the photo is of Naturalist and Golfer, taken several years ago.

 

I think that all of the pictures really do the whole societal opinion of the homeschool 'thing' justice. And, as painful as it is to admit, the "What I really do" is soooo true! I am a curriculum junkie!

 

SEE?

 

This is our work area as of this morning. A lot of these books, workbooks and so forth, have remained untouched these past three weeks. We've done just a bit, here and there. I went on a curriculum binge just before the surgery, and feel incredibly guilty that those new items sit with just the first couple of pages worked through... :( But. Then again, boredom has a way of getting the kids to explore in here just the same. Puzzles have been worked, tangrams played with, unifix cubes counted, art created (see Rylan's Day of the Dead 'skeleton'?), and words spelled. We haven't done much, but the kids continue to learn just the same. Colin explored new stuff I put on the iPad, and is playing with a geoboard app constantly.

 

This surgery has knocked me on my ass... I knew it was going to be intense, but you never really know how your body will respond until you live through it. My plastic surgeon is a miracle worker - and his handiwork has made this recovery just a little more difficult than average. With my blessing, he made things high and tight - with the emphasis on tight. There is a lot of stress on my incisions right now because of this, and each episode of swelling is gut-wrenchingly painful. Each day during these past three weeks has felt different... levels of pain, discomfort, energy, ability to move... I'm healing pretty well, but the swelling and massive discomfort continues. I am constantly holding myself in a guarded manner (so yeah, no freedom from back or shoulder pain as of yet...) as I have been fending off assaults from the kids - errant elbows or shoulders, hard hugs that I have no warning are coming... I can't begin to explain how bad it hurts to be nudged in the chest right now. I literally want to puke on the spot when it happens.

 

I went clothes shopping with my mom a couple nights ago, and got some long-sleeved running shirts and then a couple of normal shirts. Shopping is a lot more enjoyable, now that things fit a little more properly. Yet my spirits are down since I can not fathom I will ever make it past this stage of discomfort and pain. Running seems absolutely impossible at the moment. Walking fast does too. As does jumping, stair climbing, wall push ups, chest presses, reaching above my head, walking the dog, carrying a child... carrying anything... I feel pretty much useless right now.

 

But my boobs look great!

 

I can see my feet! I can zip my jacket! I can wrap a towel around me. And it STAYS!

 

I don't know how these wonders play into the fact that I've been blowing off schoolwork - other than I need to get better about giving myself the mental gift of grace, give myself the time to heal, and come back better and stronger than ever.

 

Then I can tackle Algebra, phonemes, Mesopotamia, derivatives of density, Fern & Wilbur, letter recognition and Rudyard Kipling like nobody's business. BTW... where are those safety goggles??

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Being a part of something bigger

 

 

An interesting mental worm hole happened this past week, and I'm not sure where it has left me...

 

 

It all started with watching the video that the students of Lakewood High School put together for the lip dub video contest for Katy Perry's Roar.  I've been going on and on about this video to anyone who will listen to me.  I am just blown away by this video.  First of all, this school has a huge...HUGE student population - 2,000 - and 98% of the students and staff participated in the production/execution of the video.  That is just astounding to me.  It was the coming together of all of the different student groups that really touches me... over 80 different clubs are represented, and it wasn't just the 'cool kids' that got to be in it - at the expense of the tech-savvy kids that usually put these types of things together.

 

One of the lasting scars of my public school experience was the rampant exclusionary culture of my junior high and high school.  I may have been comfortably ensconced in the band program, made some terrific life-long friends and felt at home there, but there was no crossing the lines.  Not that I wanted to run with the cool kids...but there was always the feeling deep within me that somehow things had gone askew.  Some of the most popular girls in my graduating class had been my playmates in the early days of elementary school.  It was strange to me that as the years went by, and the differing tastes, talents and looks dictated the paths we followed, that not even a smile could be exchanged in the hallways by our senior year.  We had grown up together.. lived in the same neighborhood.. swam on the same swim team.. the play dates, birthday sleepovers..  I of course no longer feel that way now, but back then, in my teenage years, the feeling of being 'less than' was always present.

 

I think that it is this negative personal experience (not to mention high-stakes testing) that has turned me so against sending my own kids into that public arena of endless posturing and competition.  But that video did call back a feeling that had sustained me during that time in my life.  The feeling that I was a part of something bigger.  When I marched on the field, volunteered at the hospital, shelved books in the library, ran notes for the front office... I was a part of a bigger entity.  I wore my crimson and gold with pride, cheered on the football team and tried to impress the teachers...at least in the classes that I was interested in.  It meant something to be a part.. you were, or course, one of many, but you belonged, none the less.

 

Later this past week, on Saturday night, I had the pleasure of watching my nephew Connor march with his high school band in the state marching band competition.  He is a senior this year (so hard to believe...), and this was the FIRST time I had seen him march.  (I'm such a pathetic aunt...)  The competition was for 4A and 5A schools that had made the finals in the competition.  Connor is a part of a band that places somewhere in the top 3 every year - they are that good.  There were 8 bands in the finals for each division, so we got to watch 16 different bands perform.  Each school put on such an impressive show.  Each was unique, but what remained the same was the fierce dedication you could see in each young person's face as they marched about the field with their instruments or flags.  They were all a part of something bigger... much bigger.  They executed flawless routines with incredible artistic expression and skill - and all as one entity.  They are all so young, yet so talented!!  It did bring back some good memories for me, and sort or washed away some of the icky feelings that surfaced earlier in the week.

 

It also brought about that ridiculous circular argument I have in my head when I all of a sudden question whether homeschooling will continue to be the right thing for us.  I don't want to rob our kids of that wonderful feeling of being part of something bigger - that experience of being part of a team - whether it be sports, music or science Olympiad.  Dean and I both enjoyed that in our respective high school experiences.  I guess it all comes down to whether or not we can cultivate an interest in the first place, and then see about making it a reality.  For now, Jordan is satisfied in his first-ever team competition experience is with his homeschool Lego NXT team that is preparing to compete next month.  I don't quite see the level of passion or team spirit that I had hoped for, but it is early days.  The interest is there.. and we may pursue getting him a berth on a high school robotics team next year.  In Rylan's case, her current element is dance, and being a part of a dance performance is being a part of something bigger.

 

I don't know if writing this all out makes me feel any better... it isn't often that a day goes by where I don't question our decisions and think, "Am I being selfish and ruining them?", followed by a strong urge to count my lucky stars that we have our wonderful homeschooling life.  Some days it takes tremendous fortitude to walk this path...and stay there.

 

 

Walking wi' de kitteh

 

 

 

After passing the tennis courts on my walk yesterday morning, I continued on the walking path that circles the lake.  An older lady pushing a baby stroller was approaching.  Abby (my dog) seemed unusually interested in the stroller, even though it was still maybe 100 ft. away.  As we got closer, her interest only grew.  The lady seemed very wary of Abby.  As we passed each other, I thought to myself, "Geez, lady, my dog is not going to mess with your ba - by?  kitty?  Seriously?  You're WALKING with your kitty?"

 

 

Here.  Let me introduce you to some very nice ladies who like to play tennis...




I have four kids..I have four kids..I have four kids..











 

I am a mathematical genius.  I routinely forget how to count.  This morning I took Jordan in for a quick appointment at the dermatologist.  They were upgrading their patient records system to a portable - laptop based system, (so five years ago) and needed to scan Jordan's medical insurance card again.  I dug through my wallet, only to discover that it is missing.  ??  That is weird since I almost never have to show our cards (save mine) to anybody.  The thing is, it took counting through the medical cards (I have mine and all the kids) repeatedly to figure it was missing in the first place.

And when I finally figured out it was missing, the thought "I have FOUR kids?" kept repeating in my mind.  I have had FOUR kids for the past three years and 235 days, and it only just creeps into my conscious thought now?  Not really, but the gravity of the situation has...

I am officially losing my mind.