Girly Girls

Today William went to school which left Paige and I alone for the majority of the day.  

So, naturally, we did girly things.

We went to the park.

Ok, not entirely girly.  The park is a gender neutral activity I suppose.  But, BUT! there were only girls there today!  Why?  I have no idea.  Maybe they got the memo that we were having a girly day?

Then we came home and painted our toenails.  BOOYA! There's you some girly girl stuff!

Mine: Red || Hers: Pink with glitter

And? AND! I'll up THAT, because we let our toenails dry WHILE WATCHING STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE.

Folks, it doesn't GET any girlier than THAT.

Again I say: Booya!

Gut Check

So today is our second big "home day".  It went far better than last week (and last week really wasn't so bad).  I learned last week that *I* was totally prepared to spend the day helping William with his school work.  I cleared my calendar, I took the phone off the hook.  Heck, I even did all the laundry the night before so I wouldn't be tempted to escape to the laundry room and Fold Things (I'm an avoider, can you tell?).

But, in all my preparations, I forgot to prepare MY KID.  He was totally caught off guard by all the work he was asked to do.  And can you blame him?  He spent all summer Doing Nothing and then I suddenly asked him to Do Lots.  With no warning whatsoever.

Rookie move.

So, I talked to him a couple of different times yesterday afternoon, and then again right before bed about my expectations.  I set aside distinct "learning times" (9-10am for instance).  The result was that he was completely cheerful about his work today.  And? AND? We finished everything by 1pm.  Fully 1 1/5 hours sooner than we finished last week.

So, what I'm getting at here is: things are going well.  I'm enjoying this "blended model" of school and homeschool.  Everything is surprisingly good.

So why am I still freaking out on the inside?

I think it has something to do with the fact that making the choice to do schooling this way took what I think of as a sort of bravery.  And I'll be honest, I'm not usually very brave.  Some might even call me a downright chicken.  I don't really buck the system.  I'm not what you'd call A Pioneer.

Which is why I've spent the better part of a year (while wresting with this schooling decision) quietly freaking the hell out.  On the inside (so as not to ruffle anyone's feathers and Make Waves, ahem).

And when I'm anxious (which is almost always), I eat.  Mostly baked things like cookies and cake.  But sometimes I'll also add in some ice cream.  And if I'm feeling particularly wacky, some chips and salsa.

And SURPRISE! Would you believe I've gained almost 10 pounds THIS SUMMER.  Yes.  In the last, oh, 4 months I've gained TEN FREAKING POUNDS.  Huh.  Who would have guessed this would happen?

In fact? Last Saturday night I asked my husband how my dress looked and his response was "it really emphasises your gut".  God bless him, the man is honest to a fault. 

The good news is: this partial homeschooling thing has forced me to become a LOT more organized.  You cannot do this stuff halfway.  And the organization has spilled over into other areas of my life.  Like, the budget is completely up to date, and hey(!) the toilets are all clean! Huzzah! 

The only thing left to organize is my diet.   

No, not A Diet (egads, I will NEVER do THAT again), but just healthier choices. Which, hey! Shouldnt' be hard - because almost anything is better than a diet of cookies and ice cream and ANGST. 

Change is on the horizon.  I can feel it in my (gigantic, swollen) gut.

What's Your Sign?

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My kid went to school today to learn (among other things) how to sing a song IN MANDARIN, and then he memorized all seven continents and the four major oceans. 

Which means that my child - my FIRST GRADER - is already smarter than me.

Before school started, I took a class sponsored by the school which showed us neophytes parents how to properly instruct our children.  One of the things they suggested was to teach our children the sign language alphabet as an aide in learning the 'single letter phonograms'.  In fact, all of the students at this school know ASL and the corresponding letter names/sounds by the time they finish kindergarten

So what I'm saying is: EVEN THE KINDERGARTNERS AT THIS SCHOOL ARE SMARTER THAN ME.

I worried that William would be behind since he didn't attend this school in kindergarten.  I mean HE didn't know sign language.  So I found an ASL guide in one of my books and thought I'd just try to teach him a few letters per week. 

Yeah.  He and Paige learned the entire alphabet IN ONE DAY.

Children's brains are amazing sponges.  Mine? Mine is like a sad sad dried up sponge.  A stinky, moldy, dried up sponge.  It's taken me an entire week to learn the ASL alphabet (after reviewing them a zillion times while peeking at my cheat sheet).

And I bet I'll forget them all by next week.

*Sigh*

Toe Snatcher

My husband woke up on Saturday morning and did what he always does - he staggered from the bed to the bathroom in the pale morning light.

Except Saturday, on his way to the bathroom, he fell.  Down.  All the way down to the floor. 

I jerked up in bed when I heard the ruckus (and the cursing) and asked what had happened.

He flipped the light on to see what had grabbed him and saw this:

Danger! Killer Pillow!

I, of course, asked if he'd tripped over the pillow.

Nope.

Apparently, strange as it sounds, Dave managed to get the toes on BOTH OF HIS FEET caught up in the fringe of that pillow.  Yes!  You heard me!

Deadly loopy fringe.  DEADLY!

I mean, what are the chances?  I don't think he could re-create the accident if his life depended on it.  I mean, HOW? Just HOW?

And I would like for you to know that I waited until just now to laugh at him.  I KNOW! I am so strong!

Debunked

As far back as last summer, my kids started asking to "have a sleepover" in William's bunk bed.  He sleeps every night in the top bunk, and they both begged (BEGGED) for Paige to get to sleep in the bottom one.

And I said no.  For an entire year I crushed their little souls.

Why?  Because I am a Sleep Nazi.  I take bedtime verrrry seriously.  When 8:30pm comes around, I want everyone to stop talking. To me. To each other.  To even themselves.  By bedtime, this momma just wants QUIET.  Which is why I expressly forbid this sleepover idea.  It was sure to evoke talking and NOT SLEEPING.  And to that? I am strictly opposed.

But something shifted my thinking when we were on vacation a few weeks ago.  The kids stayed in a room together - in bunk beds in fact - and they did GREAT!  Yes, they chatted for a few minutes before bedtime, but they eventually settled down and slept.  Miracle!

And so I let them have their first at-home sleepover last weekend.  And the most WONDERFUL THING happened: They not only slept, but when they woke up, THEY PLAYED TOGETHER AND DIDN'T COME DOWNSTAIRS FOR AN HOUR.

Yes.  I'm yelling.  But did you read that?  WE SLEPT FOR AN EXTRA HOUR WHILE THEY PLAYED.

If you're looking for my children, you will find them (for the foreseeable future) on Friday and Saturday nights in William's room.  And if you're looking for me and my husband, we will be the ones blissfully sleeping downstairs FOR AN EXTRA HOUR.

Ring Revisited

My brother and I have a weekly phone date to discuss the plot intricacies of Breaking Bad.  (Are you watching this show?  If you are of the faint-of-heart variety, I would NOT recommend it).  Today, while we discussed Skylar and her devious ways and how Gus was SO destined to be offed by the Cartel, the conversation wound around to our dad.  How he would have LOVED this show.  How he would have driven us absolutely insane talking about it.

And then we discussed what a crime it was that daddy died before the DVR was invented. 

Eventually, we started talking about our childhood in general and that's when I mentioned that I'd been given an album full of photos taken of every single room of our childhood home.  I presume they were taken for insurance reasons - to prove what we owned in the event of a fire or tornado.  My mom doesn't remember taking them, and this is just the sort of thing my dad would have done.

At hearing about the existence of these photos, Russ suggested we have lunch TODAY! NOW! And sure enough, he showed up a short time later with a pizza (for the kids) and we sat around FOR TWO HOURS looking at those pictures and talking about our childhood. 

My goodness, it was so odd to hear about the events of my life as seen through the eyes of 1) a boy, 2) someone younger and 3) someone with an entirely different disposition than my own. 

My dad once said that siblings are like veterans of the same war* - each lives through the exact same battles, but emerges with distinctly different wounds.  Some veterans return from war with PTSD and cannot manage even the simplest of life's tasks.  Others? Become U.S. Senators.

At the very bottom of the stack, was an old photo of my dad.  It was taken at one of the few times that my dad had grown his facial hair.  We're guessing sometime in his early thirties.

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To my bearded brother, it was like looking in a mirror.  The similarities were almost haunting.  In the photo, my dad was wearing his wedding ring.  The one he wore when he was married to my mother.  Russ commented on it, and I told him "I have it!".  I ran to the other room and returned with the ring.

Russ slipped it on his finger.  It fit him perfectly.  Even their hands are exactly the same.

We both sort of got tear-y thinking of all the years daddy wore that ring.  That it was on his hand when he cradled our newborn bodies.  I can still imagine it flashing as he plucked his guitar. 

Six years later, I'm still sad daddy's not here.  But I'm so glad my brother is here to be sad with me.


*No, momma, I'm not saying OUR childhood was like a war ; )

Any Minute Now Their Brains Will Oooze From Their Ears

Curled up in my bed with their stuffties.  Preshusss.

The kids and I are curled up in my bed watching a movie.  It's 7pm and everyone has eaten, brushed their teeth, and put on pajamas.  The very MINUTE this movie ends, everyone under the age of 37 is going straight to bed.

No, not because anyone has been particularly naughty.  It's actually been a very lovely day.  It's just that Dave has had a dinner meeting every night this week... leaving me here.  With the children.  ALL. DAY. LONG.

It's a LOT of togetherness.

Which is why I'm letting the Electronic Babysitter entertain my children.  I simply cannot play another game of Candyland or Dora Uno.  I can't.  I CAN'T STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT!

Tomorrow I've scheduled a playdate with our neighbor kids (who are ages 5 and 3).  Both my kids are super excited because a) they love these children and b) they need some kid interaction.

I fear this will be a constant battle this school year as all of William's friends attend "regular" school, and therefore are not home during the day like we are.  I've lined up play dates during the week (after 3:30pm, when his buddies are out of school), but I worry that he'll be lonesome this year.

Mainly I worry because I don't know how to do anything else.  I cannot simply be at peace.  MOMMY MUST ALWAYS WORRY.  It's in The Rules.  Check them.  You'll see.