Jacelyn brought home a progress report yesterday. It was a little chart with a list of 12 or so curriculum points: math, handwriting, etc., and three choices for each: 'working toward understanding', 'grade level understanding', and something else that I can't remember how it was phrased, something about exceeding something or another. Anyway, it was the best choice. Jacelyn got this exceeding mark for all of her subjects EXCEPT.....religion. For religion she received the 'working at grade level' mark.
I was at work when she got out of school, and when Brian and his sister discovered this 'grade level understanding' mark, Brian called me, almost in a panic. "She's only working at grade level in religion!" and "We're going to have to work on this" (which actually means, "I'm going to a car show and then back to Panama City, so you better hop on this since I'm not actually going to help, and I'm not going to offer gratitude or encouragement, I'm just going to expect the best out of both of you and complain when it doesn't go well or the way I wanted it". Yikes, I'm bitter, sorry). I actually felt a little bad myself, until the voice of reason and sanity in the form of dear Michael Clark stepped in. He reminded me that she is only 4. And she is operating at grade level, not dismally below it, or worshipping Satan or anything. And that she is only 4. How much did you know about God and religion at 4? I was soothed. All in still, I do need to put more emphasis on religion around the house. We do go to church every Sunday. But I think we're going to add in prayers before meals, and I'm going to get some books at her age level about bible stories.
I'm not going to fret about this. Honestly, it's Pre-K. It's important as an educational foundation, yes, but it's not like an 'grade-level understanding' mark in Pre-K religion is going to affect her college choices. "I'm sorry, Miss Bernardo, we would love to have you attend Harvard, but you see, you got that pesky 'grade-level understanding' mark in religion back in Pre-K, and that unfortunately makes you ineligible". No, I don't think it's earth shattering.
Jacelyn did well in her first karate class yesterday. She looks adorable in her uniform. She was actually practicing yesterday, of her own volition, no less, and the child has a mean little hook and uppercut. My baby kicks ass. Don't mess with her. And don't mess with me, or else I'll sic her on you.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Back in the blogging saddle
What a blur the past two weeks or so has been. Busy busy. Girl scouts, PTA meetings, church, family activities. To briefly recap:
Teresa's visit was enjoyable, but far too short. And I was far too busy the entire time. Our schedules never aligned - she was out of town when I was off or available, I was busy with school and church stuff when she was in town and available. This resulted in me staying up waaaay past my bedtime a few nights in an effort to spend some quality time with her. But, you take what you can get. Teresa and Jacelyn did get to spend some time together. Teresa gave Jacelyn a soft little stuffed doggy that Jacelyn has named "Jacelyn-Mommy" and sleeps with every night.
Church is going well. RCIA classes on Wednesday nights, church services Sunday mornings. We hit the 8:30 mass because Jacelyn is still kind of half asleep and therefore far better behaved. I have a new catholic study bible that my dear sponsor provided me with (thank you!) that I am enjoying. I learned and forgot the 'Hail Mary' all in one night. I had it down, too, and now I can't get past the first line.
Girl Scouts are trooping along (ha!). We are selling nuts now, very expensive canned nuts. If Jacelyn sells 6 items she gets a new patch for her smock, and it's all about the patches, baby. If you've never been in girl scouts you don't know, but it's amazing what an incentive a patch can be. To parents, even. Last night at the parent meeting half the parents weren't interested in the nut sale until they found out there was a patch involved, and then everybody signed on. The girls are working on their magenta petal, so the theme this month is 'Respect Authority'. Here's hoping that sticks. There is a tentative field trip scheduled for sometime in October to visit the Myrtle Grove Fire Station, but that is on a Saturday, and Jacelyn will be visiting the Perdido Key fire station with her class that month, so I'm not going to feel too bad about missing that one, unless, of course, there is a patch involved.
School is going well. I went to my first PTA meeting. The day of the meeting I had a curious experience - when I was dropping Jacelyn off, a teacher I have never met said, "There's our little celebrity now!" as Jacelyn got out of the car. A student took her hand to walk her off and as they closed the car door I heard another teacher say, "Good morning, little miss famous". Wha? Fame as in infamy, maybe? Why does everyone know my child? I found out at the PTA meeting. The third grade class produced a five minute video in which Jacelyn was interviewed. They showed the video at the PTA meeting, and Jacelyn was adorable. You put a camera in front of the child and she turns it on (I don't know where she gets that from, certainly not me). She was being all cute, and her responses to the kids questions were funny. Her favorite food is broccoli. That never ceases to amuse and amaze. Her teachers were both very complimentary. They said she draws very well, with great focus. If told to draw a tree, you know that what she has drawn is a tree. That she is a well behaved, polite child who listens well (Huh? who? my daughter?) and follows directions well and is a pleasure to have in class. And is, of course, very smart. I ate it up. She's doing well there, and I'm really pleased with her and the school.
There was much discussion as to the emphasis placed on critical thinking skills and responsibility, which is cool. And within her class, they are following their planned curriculum but also moving at a pace dictated by the kids. With a small class of bright kids, they are moving faster than anticipated. They are also letting the kids guide some of the curriculum - they introduced days of the week earlier than planned, at the request of the children.
Jacelyn is adding one more activity to her schedule, and then we are done. She is taking up karate. We stopped by to watch a class, which she watched for a good hour, and then the instructor let her try jumping the way the boys in the class were. She was actually pretty good at it. During the course of the class we watched she kept turning to me and saying, "I like this, mommy". After the jumping, she was smitten: "I really, really like this, mommy". So we signed on. She can go to as many classes as she wants to in a week, and there are four classes in her age group per week. I am at work during all the scheduled times, so Brian's family will end up taking her most of the time, but they are very excited about it. Today will be her first class, in uniform and participating, and Brian is in town, so he's going to take her. I think it will be good for the two of them. She's got the little uniform and the white belt. She already has designs on a colored belt: "I want a yellow belt". I told her she had to work hard and do certain things to achieve that, and she said, "Oh, I'll do it". And I think she probably will. She can be a focused little child, when she wants to be. When it's her idea.
Well, I need some coffee and to get some work done, so I'm out. But that's what has been happening. That was long, sorry.
Teresa's visit was enjoyable, but far too short. And I was far too busy the entire time. Our schedules never aligned - she was out of town when I was off or available, I was busy with school and church stuff when she was in town and available. This resulted in me staying up waaaay past my bedtime a few nights in an effort to spend some quality time with her. But, you take what you can get. Teresa and Jacelyn did get to spend some time together. Teresa gave Jacelyn a soft little stuffed doggy that Jacelyn has named "Jacelyn-Mommy" and sleeps with every night.
Church is going well. RCIA classes on Wednesday nights, church services Sunday mornings. We hit the 8:30 mass because Jacelyn is still kind of half asleep and therefore far better behaved. I have a new catholic study bible that my dear sponsor provided me with (thank you!) that I am enjoying. I learned and forgot the 'Hail Mary' all in one night. I had it down, too, and now I can't get past the first line.
Girl Scouts are trooping along (ha!). We are selling nuts now, very expensive canned nuts. If Jacelyn sells 6 items she gets a new patch for her smock, and it's all about the patches, baby. If you've never been in girl scouts you don't know, but it's amazing what an incentive a patch can be. To parents, even. Last night at the parent meeting half the parents weren't interested in the nut sale until they found out there was a patch involved, and then everybody signed on. The girls are working on their magenta petal, so the theme this month is 'Respect Authority'. Here's hoping that sticks. There is a tentative field trip scheduled for sometime in October to visit the Myrtle Grove Fire Station, but that is on a Saturday, and Jacelyn will be visiting the Perdido Key fire station with her class that month, so I'm not going to feel too bad about missing that one, unless, of course, there is a patch involved.
School is going well. I went to my first PTA meeting. The day of the meeting I had a curious experience - when I was dropping Jacelyn off, a teacher I have never met said, "There's our little celebrity now!" as Jacelyn got out of the car. A student took her hand to walk her off and as they closed the car door I heard another teacher say, "Good morning, little miss famous". Wha? Fame as in infamy, maybe? Why does everyone know my child? I found out at the PTA meeting. The third grade class produced a five minute video in which Jacelyn was interviewed. They showed the video at the PTA meeting, and Jacelyn was adorable. You put a camera in front of the child and she turns it on (I don't know where she gets that from, certainly not me). She was being all cute, and her responses to the kids questions were funny. Her favorite food is broccoli. That never ceases to amuse and amaze. Her teachers were both very complimentary. They said she draws very well, with great focus. If told to draw a tree, you know that what she has drawn is a tree. That she is a well behaved, polite child who listens well (Huh? who? my daughter?) and follows directions well and is a pleasure to have in class. And is, of course, very smart. I ate it up. She's doing well there, and I'm really pleased with her and the school.
There was much discussion as to the emphasis placed on critical thinking skills and responsibility, which is cool. And within her class, they are following their planned curriculum but also moving at a pace dictated by the kids. With a small class of bright kids, they are moving faster than anticipated. They are also letting the kids guide some of the curriculum - they introduced days of the week earlier than planned, at the request of the children.
Jacelyn is adding one more activity to her schedule, and then we are done. She is taking up karate. We stopped by to watch a class, which she watched for a good hour, and then the instructor let her try jumping the way the boys in the class were. She was actually pretty good at it. During the course of the class we watched she kept turning to me and saying, "I like this, mommy". After the jumping, she was smitten: "I really, really like this, mommy". So we signed on. She can go to as many classes as she wants to in a week, and there are four classes in her age group per week. I am at work during all the scheduled times, so Brian's family will end up taking her most of the time, but they are very excited about it. Today will be her first class, in uniform and participating, and Brian is in town, so he's going to take her. I think it will be good for the two of them. She's got the little uniform and the white belt. She already has designs on a colored belt: "I want a yellow belt". I told her she had to work hard and do certain things to achieve that, and she said, "Oh, I'll do it". And I think she probably will. She can be a focused little child, when she wants to be. When it's her idea.
Well, I need some coffee and to get some work done, so I'm out. But that's what has been happening. That was long, sorry.
Monday, August 28, 2006
You know you're in the south when....
You have three events on your schedule and they all require you to bring a covered dish. Ha! Since the start of school life has become crazed. This past week, Jacelyn had Daisies on Tuesday, I had church on Wednesday (RCIA, catholic classes, basically), then I went to a Mary Kay party on Thursday (and hung out with no less than three middle school band directors), and a friend's birthday party on Friday. This week is a little slower: Daisies on Tuesday, church Wednesday, fish fry and drunkenness Thursday. Stress factor this week: food. I have to supply the snacks for the troop and their families for the big ceremony Tuesday night, snacks for the group at church Wednesday, and something for the fish fry Thursday. I know only what I will make for Wednesday: cookies. Other than that, I'm at a loss. Thankfully, I'm off on Tuesdays, so that will allow me to drop Jacelyn off at school, rush back to the house and cut the grass, then do some cleaning, then I can run to the store and get what I need for the Daisy ceremony (I'm thinking fruit tray and cookies - something for everybody!) and to make the cookies. Then I can pick up Jacelyn from school, finish my cleaning, rush off to the ceremony/meeting, and at some point try to figure out how I will join up with Jen to pick up Teresa. Urg.
The following week is a little better - no girl scouts the first week of the month, but there is church on Wednesday, and then my first PTA meeting on Thursday. At some point during the PTA meeting I will find out about my room parent assignments, so that will shut down some of my Tuesdays.
I'm busy! I feel like I never stop. Get up at the butt-crack of dawn, get myself ready, get up Jacelyn, get her ready, drop her off at school, off to work. Work the morning, then pick up Jacelyn and drop her off at Michelle's and head back to work (usually eating in the car). Or, if someone else if picking her up, I take a calming little breather at lunch time, which is nice. Then off work and to home. Coerce Jacelyn into eating dinner, eat some dinner myself, clean the kitchen. By that time it's eight o'clock and time for Jacelyn's bath and bedtime. Stories, kisses, then it's out with the trash, refill the drinks in the fridge, clean, wash clothes, run any errands, make lunch for the next day, lay out clothes and backpacks, and then fall into bed for twenty minutes of reading before falling asleep. Sigh. And that's on a night that we don't have an activity of some sort. It's nothing every other mother in the world doesn't do, and most other mothers do it with multiple children, so I actually have it pretty good, I know, but I just have to get used to it. And I will.
I miss lazy days! But, Jacelyn is growing up, so I guess I have to, too. Oh well. Got to do that sometime! But right now, number one on my priority list is coffee. It's 8:30, and I've been up since 5:15 and have not had coffee yet. That's probably why this particular blog entry is less than good-natured. I'll try to do better with some caffeine in my system. I'm out!
The following week is a little better - no girl scouts the first week of the month, but there is church on Wednesday, and then my first PTA meeting on Thursday. At some point during the PTA meeting I will find out about my room parent assignments, so that will shut down some of my Tuesdays.
I'm busy! I feel like I never stop. Get up at the butt-crack of dawn, get myself ready, get up Jacelyn, get her ready, drop her off at school, off to work. Work the morning, then pick up Jacelyn and drop her off at Michelle's and head back to work (usually eating in the car). Or, if someone else if picking her up, I take a calming little breather at lunch time, which is nice. Then off work and to home. Coerce Jacelyn into eating dinner, eat some dinner myself, clean the kitchen. By that time it's eight o'clock and time for Jacelyn's bath and bedtime. Stories, kisses, then it's out with the trash, refill the drinks in the fridge, clean, wash clothes, run any errands, make lunch for the next day, lay out clothes and backpacks, and then fall into bed for twenty minutes of reading before falling asleep. Sigh. And that's on a night that we don't have an activity of some sort. It's nothing every other mother in the world doesn't do, and most other mothers do it with multiple children, so I actually have it pretty good, I know, but I just have to get used to it. And I will.
I miss lazy days! But, Jacelyn is growing up, so I guess I have to, too. Oh well. Got to do that sometime! But right now, number one on my priority list is coffee. It's 8:30, and I've been up since 5:15 and have not had coffee yet. That's probably why this particular blog entry is less than good-natured. I'll try to do better with some caffeine in my system. I'm out!
Saturday, August 26, 2006
Topless Blogging
It was pouring out this morning. I emerged from the shower this morning and heard the rain and just sighed. It's good for us, and we needed it, but yikes. I got dressed, and opened the front door. Puddles, everywhere, and pouring rain. I decided to grab my purse and work bag and load them in the car, saving Jacelyn for last. So I did, getting soaked in the process. Thankfully, after grabbing Jacelyn, the rain had subsided to a sprinkle, so she was mostly unscathed. We started heading towards Michelle's house, and the bottom fell out. Pouring rain, driving rain, so hard you couldn't see ten feet in front of you.
Once at Michelle's, I parked and idled for a few minutes, hoping for a brief respite so I could get Jacelyn into the house without getting soaked, as I already was. No such luck, so I curled her up, stuck her underneath my cleavage, bent over her, and made a run for it. She actually stayed mostly dry. I, however, was soaked, especially my back. Jacelyn safely delivered, I turned onto 98, where, despite pouring rain, low visibility and the right lane being almost entirely flooded, people were still going about 70MPH. 98 wasn't too bad, but Navy Boulevard? Yikes. The right lane was entirely flooded, and in some places the entire road was under a few inches of water. It was like a slalom, trying to correctly decipher which lane to be in at any particular moment to avoid the enormous puddles. There was about 50 feet of road around W street that was deeply flooded, and I had a couple of panicky moments trying to cross.
I finally arrived at work, where you could see sunshine peeking through to the south, and the rain had subsided to a drizzle. I rolled my window down and took a couple of deep breaths. I really felt slightly traumatized, it was horrible. I finally decide to gather my stuff up and head inside, and how does the weather respond? With one last burst of downpour, soaking me again. I had been sloshing around in the seat already, and now I was officially soaking wet.
I got inside and stood there for a moment, taking stock. My hair is soaked, my underpants are soaked. My pants are wet, but they're a cheap polyester, so they'll dry quickly. My 100% cotton shirt? Soaking wet, especially the back. And now stretched out to three times its' regular size. And inside, with AC, I was freezing. I went into the bathroom and peeled the shirt off, and I have decided to leave it off until the last possible moment. So I am blogging topless. I do have a bra on, but am still attired in a most innappropriate manner. Luckily no one shows up until late on Saturday mornings, and we have chimes on all the doors, so that gives me a couple of minutes to run off to the ladies room and get dressed.
I'm cold, and I've been sneezing, and just generally feeling sorry for myself. So I'm going to go get a cup of coffee and sniffle and have a pity party for one. Woe as me. I'm out, to warm up and eventually put all my clothes back on. Sigh. I'm glad this is Saturday.
Once at Michelle's, I parked and idled for a few minutes, hoping for a brief respite so I could get Jacelyn into the house without getting soaked, as I already was. No such luck, so I curled her up, stuck her underneath my cleavage, bent over her, and made a run for it. She actually stayed mostly dry. I, however, was soaked, especially my back. Jacelyn safely delivered, I turned onto 98, where, despite pouring rain, low visibility and the right lane being almost entirely flooded, people were still going about 70MPH. 98 wasn't too bad, but Navy Boulevard? Yikes. The right lane was entirely flooded, and in some places the entire road was under a few inches of water. It was like a slalom, trying to correctly decipher which lane to be in at any particular moment to avoid the enormous puddles. There was about 50 feet of road around W street that was deeply flooded, and I had a couple of panicky moments trying to cross.
I finally arrived at work, where you could see sunshine peeking through to the south, and the rain had subsided to a drizzle. I rolled my window down and took a couple of deep breaths. I really felt slightly traumatized, it was horrible. I finally decide to gather my stuff up and head inside, and how does the weather respond? With one last burst of downpour, soaking me again. I had been sloshing around in the seat already, and now I was officially soaking wet.
I got inside and stood there for a moment, taking stock. My hair is soaked, my underpants are soaked. My pants are wet, but they're a cheap polyester, so they'll dry quickly. My 100% cotton shirt? Soaking wet, especially the back. And now stretched out to three times its' regular size. And inside, with AC, I was freezing. I went into the bathroom and peeled the shirt off, and I have decided to leave it off until the last possible moment. So I am blogging topless. I do have a bra on, but am still attired in a most innappropriate manner. Luckily no one shows up until late on Saturday mornings, and we have chimes on all the doors, so that gives me a couple of minutes to run off to the ladies room and get dressed.
I'm cold, and I've been sneezing, and just generally feeling sorry for myself. So I'm going to go get a cup of coffee and sniffle and have a pity party for one. Woe as me. I'm out, to warm up and eventually put all my clothes back on. Sigh. I'm glad this is Saturday.
Friday, August 25, 2006
Ants in my Car
Yes, there are ants in my car. Now, before you think and/or say anything, I'm aware of the fact that my car has always been a horrid mess. The irony here is that the ant activity has occurred SINCE I CLEANED IT AND HAVE BEEN KEEPING IT CLEAN. Maybe it's some sort of clutter-based karma, I don't know. I first discovered the ants living happily in the side skirt of the car, on the passenger side, where, of course, Jacelyn sits in her car seat. They didn't foray into the car itself, they just lived happily in the undercarriage, occasionally emerging onto the door panel, running busily back and forth. I was chagrined. I thought I had managed to rid myself of them when unbeknownst to me, Jacelyn dropped a animal cracker and empty juice box onto the floorboard. Tuesday evening when we went to the car to leave for our Daisy meeting the ants were teeming into the passenger seat floorboard in droves. Droves! I was horrified, removed the cookie and juice box, scraped most of the ants out, put Jacelyn in the front seat with a prayer and went on our way (the meeting is only a few blocks away).
At the meeting I told the other moms about the ants, probably insuring that I will never, ever drive for a field trip, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. When I got home I sprayed ant poison where they were living. That seemed to be that.
Fast forward to last night: Michelle and I went to a Mary Kay party (food was good, the skin care products were good, the foundation the woman gave me was YELLOW. She asked me how the mascara she coerced me into putting on felt and I actually said, "I can feel it on my eyes and want to claw it off", and a couple of the other guests agreed with me, it was a wonderful moment of female bonding). Our host gave us a bag of wonderful homemade mint-chocolate chip cookies to take home with us. I threw all my stuff in the backseat for the drive home, and when we got home forgot the cookies. I'm sure you can guess what happened next....more ants! That I discovered this morning, when I was putting our stuff in the car. Thankfully we were running a little early, so after a removing the cookies I sprayed the smallest dose of ant poison I could get away with and then left all the doors open and ran the vent as high as it could go on the fresh air setting to try and air out the car.
As late as humanly possible I put Jacelyn in her seat. She complained of a headache on the way to school and I knew, just knew, that I had poisoned her with the ant spray. She was fine once we got to school. I guess I'm going to have to detail the interior of the car with a fine tooth comb to fully rid myself of the little bastards. Sigh. If I would just cut the grass I might not have this problem. I think, because I have to park in the grass and the grass gets tall really quickly this time of year, they are climbing up via that damned bahia grass and settling in the car. So I guess my weekend holds yard work. Damn. Oh, and just so you know, neither Jacelyn or I have received a single bite from our little traveling companions. They seem content to leave us be, but I can't take the chance.
Teresa will be here soon! Hooray!
At the meeting I told the other moms about the ants, probably insuring that I will never, ever drive for a field trip, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. When I got home I sprayed ant poison where they were living. That seemed to be that.
Fast forward to last night: Michelle and I went to a Mary Kay party (food was good, the skin care products were good, the foundation the woman gave me was YELLOW. She asked me how the mascara she coerced me into putting on felt and I actually said, "I can feel it on my eyes and want to claw it off", and a couple of the other guests agreed with me, it was a wonderful moment of female bonding). Our host gave us a bag of wonderful homemade mint-chocolate chip cookies to take home with us. I threw all my stuff in the backseat for the drive home, and when we got home forgot the cookies. I'm sure you can guess what happened next....more ants! That I discovered this morning, when I was putting our stuff in the car. Thankfully we were running a little early, so after a removing the cookies I sprayed the smallest dose of ant poison I could get away with and then left all the doors open and ran the vent as high as it could go on the fresh air setting to try and air out the car.
As late as humanly possible I put Jacelyn in her seat. She complained of a headache on the way to school and I knew, just knew, that I had poisoned her with the ant spray. She was fine once we got to school. I guess I'm going to have to detail the interior of the car with a fine tooth comb to fully rid myself of the little bastards. Sigh. If I would just cut the grass I might not have this problem. I think, because I have to park in the grass and the grass gets tall really quickly this time of year, they are climbing up via that damned bahia grass and settling in the car. So I guess my weekend holds yard work. Damn. Oh, and just so you know, neither Jacelyn or I have received a single bite from our little traveling companions. They seem content to leave us be, but I can't take the chance.
Teresa will be here soon! Hooray!
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Four Things (Thanks, TX Jen!)
Here we go:
Four jobs I wish I had the capabilities of:
1. Massage/Reflexology therapist: because I could help people to feel better. And it would be cool.
2. Yoga instructor: I love yoga. It's like taking a nap, only you're awake. You feel like you could float away after a good yoga session. Yoga is good, and makes people feel good.
3. Acupuncturist: see above. Hating drugs the way I do (the prescription kind, anyway, har-har) I dig alternative therapies (I'm such a hippie sometimes).
4. Chiropractor: see above. Chiropractors are genuises.
Four names I wish I had other than my own:
1. I've never thought about this
2. Viola (ha!)
3. Lucy, because then people could say, "Oh Luuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu-cyyyyyyyyyyyyyy"
4. ?
Four of my favorite actresses:
1. I don't really watch TV or movies, so I'm stumped....give me a minute....
2. I can't
3. come up
4. with anyone, sorry
Four songs I could listen to over and over again:
1. "Shelter" Ray Lomontagne
2. "Waltz: Better Than Fine" Fiona Apple
3. "Multiply" Jamie Liddell
4. "Extraordinary Machine" Fiona Apple
Four TV shows I love to watch:
1. Ghost Hunters
2. Family Guy
3. The Simpsons
4. The Sopranos (if I had HBO, which I don't)
Four places I would like to go on vacation: (fear of flying = limited international travel, so these are all domestic locales)
1. Vermont
2. Alaska
3. The Grand Canyon
4. Oregon
Four of my favorite cuisines:
1. Southern
2. Cajun (southern-ish, but spicier)
3. Americanized Chinese
4. Italian
Four places I wish I was right now:
1. Sitting on the couch, reading books with Jacelyn
2. Playing outside with Jacelyn (she loves swinging)
3. Doing anything with Jacelyn
4. In my own home, with Jacelyn
Four people I tag to take this quiz:
1. Teresa
2. Bethany, maybe?
3. Mike
4. Nicole (like you don't have anything better to do, I'm sorry!)
Four jobs I wish I had the capabilities of:
1. Massage/Reflexology therapist: because I could help people to feel better. And it would be cool.
2. Yoga instructor: I love yoga. It's like taking a nap, only you're awake. You feel like you could float away after a good yoga session. Yoga is good, and makes people feel good.
3. Acupuncturist: see above. Hating drugs the way I do (the prescription kind, anyway, har-har) I dig alternative therapies (I'm such a hippie sometimes).
4. Chiropractor: see above. Chiropractors are genuises.
Four names I wish I had other than my own:
1. I've never thought about this
2. Viola (ha!)
3. Lucy, because then people could say, "Oh Luuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu-cyyyyyyyyyyyyyy"
4. ?
Four of my favorite actresses:
1. I don't really watch TV or movies, so I'm stumped....give me a minute....
2. I can't
3. come up
4. with anyone, sorry
Four songs I could listen to over and over again:
1. "Shelter" Ray Lomontagne
2. "Waltz: Better Than Fine" Fiona Apple
3. "Multiply" Jamie Liddell
4. "Extraordinary Machine" Fiona Apple
Four TV shows I love to watch:
1. Ghost Hunters
2. Family Guy
3. The Simpsons
4. The Sopranos (if I had HBO, which I don't)
Four places I would like to go on vacation: (fear of flying = limited international travel, so these are all domestic locales)
1. Vermont
2. Alaska
3. The Grand Canyon
4. Oregon
Four of my favorite cuisines:
1. Southern
2. Cajun (southern-ish, but spicier)
3. Americanized Chinese
4. Italian
Four places I wish I was right now:
1. Sitting on the couch, reading books with Jacelyn
2. Playing outside with Jacelyn (she loves swinging)
3. Doing anything with Jacelyn
4. In my own home, with Jacelyn
Four people I tag to take this quiz:
1. Teresa
2. Bethany, maybe?
3. Mike
4. Nicole (like you don't have anything better to do, I'm sorry!)
On My Honor.....
I agreed to do some go-fer work for Jacelyn's Daisy Troop. To do that, I am going to become an 'Adult Girl Scout'. I don't know exactly what that entails - hold up, I'm going to check the website, wait one...here we go, in a nutshell:
"Adults 18 years of age or older can join Girl Scouts to serve as a mentor or speak at a Girl Scout event, volunteer in a troop or group, offer services at the council level, or simply say "I believe in the Girl Scout mission and want to show my support by becoming a member. Membership is what you make it. Pitch in your expertise or build a skill you've always wanted to develop. Speak any foreign languages? Dabble in Web design? Your Girl Scout council needs your talent! You can spend an hour, a day, or more, depending on your schedule. We're looking for members who believe in girls and volunteers who represent the diversity of the world we live in—women, men, young adults, senior citizens, people of all racial and ethnic backgrounds, and of course our treasured Alumnae."
The purpose of this, according to Jacelyn's troop leaders, is so that I will be covered by the Girl Scout Council's liability insurance. Ha! And, I am a 'treasured alumnae'. Ha! Funny stuff. I helped out at the meeting last night some, and gabbed with the other mothers there the rest of the time.
I heard some church and school related gossip that left me slightly chagrined. I have been living in a blissfully ignorant bubble, apparently. There was discussion about the principal, whom I have never had a problem with. The consensus on her seemed to be that "you have to take what she says with a grain of salt". Ok, but what does that mean? Isn't she probably busy with running the school, and then day-to-day operations and financial stuff and the like? Or am Icommittingg a first time school parent blunder by trusting this woman? It's not like she's going to sell off my daughter. I've decided not to worry about it, and not to let the talk get to me or change my opinions. I'll decide for myself, through further dealings. There was also some talk about the parish priest - some comments about the church and school declining since he took over, among other things. People were discussing moving their membership and whatnot. I just listened and again, decided to formulate opinions on my own. Sigh.
Jacelyn has her ceremony next week that makes her an official Daisy. The girls and the leaders will make a big flower, like the one on their smocks, out of construction paper. Each petal has a meaning, each girl gets a petal, and as they put their petal on the flower they say the meaning. In Jacelyn's case, she has the purple petal, which means "respect myself and others". She has some trouble with the word respect and always ends up saying, "Affect myself and others" but hey, we've got a week to work on it.
School has been going well. We had a small lunch eating crisis, in that she wasn't eating lunch, but I spoke with her teacher the other day about it and it has since cleared up. They wouldn't let her have seconds at snack time, and lo and behold, she ate all her lunch. Mrs. May, whom I love, saw me when she opened the classroom door yesterday and said, "Oh, we had a much better day". I immediately thought she was referring to a behavior issue I wasn't aware of and panicked slightly, but then I remembered the lunch thing and relaxed. She didn't only eat it all, she almost licked it clean. On a funny lunch related note, there is a little girl in Jacelyn's Daisy troop named Gracie. Jacelyn insists on calling her "Greasy", which is funny and horrifying all at once. I was talking to Gracie's mother about the lunch issue with Jacelyn, and she told me she had sent some pudding in Gracie's lunch that day, which she didn't finish, and so she put the opened pudding cup back in her lunchbox, to slosh around for the rest of the day. So when her mom opened her lunchbox to clean it out, everything was coated with pudding. Ha! It will only be a matter of time before Jacelyn does this, I'm certain, so I really shouldn't laugh.
I'm sure I've bored you all to tears with all this mommy talk, so I'll sign off. But we're doing well and having fun and we can't wait to see Teresa next week! Yay!
"Adults 18 years of age or older can join Girl Scouts to serve as a mentor or speak at a Girl Scout event, volunteer in a troop or group, offer services at the council level, or simply say "I believe in the Girl Scout mission and want to show my support by becoming a member. Membership is what you make it. Pitch in your expertise or build a skill you've always wanted to develop. Speak any foreign languages? Dabble in Web design? Your Girl Scout council needs your talent! You can spend an hour, a day, or more, depending on your schedule. We're looking for members who believe in girls and volunteers who represent the diversity of the world we live in—women, men, young adults, senior citizens, people of all racial and ethnic backgrounds, and of course our treasured Alumnae."
The purpose of this, according to Jacelyn's troop leaders, is so that I will be covered by the Girl Scout Council's liability insurance. Ha! And, I am a 'treasured alumnae'. Ha! Funny stuff. I helped out at the meeting last night some, and gabbed with the other mothers there the rest of the time.
I heard some church and school related gossip that left me slightly chagrined. I have been living in a blissfully ignorant bubble, apparently. There was discussion about the principal, whom I have never had a problem with. The consensus on her seemed to be that "you have to take what she says with a grain of salt". Ok, but what does that mean? Isn't she probably busy with running the school, and then day-to-day operations and financial stuff and the like? Or am Icommittingg a first time school parent blunder by trusting this woman? It's not like she's going to sell off my daughter. I've decided not to worry about it, and not to let the talk get to me or change my opinions. I'll decide for myself, through further dealings. There was also some talk about the parish priest - some comments about the church and school declining since he took over, among other things. People were discussing moving their membership and whatnot. I just listened and again, decided to formulate opinions on my own. Sigh.
Jacelyn has her ceremony next week that makes her an official Daisy. The girls and the leaders will make a big flower, like the one on their smocks, out of construction paper. Each petal has a meaning, each girl gets a petal, and as they put their petal on the flower they say the meaning. In Jacelyn's case, she has the purple petal, which means "respect myself and others". She has some trouble with the word respect and always ends up saying, "Affect myself and others" but hey, we've got a week to work on it.
School has been going well. We had a small lunch eating crisis, in that she wasn't eating lunch, but I spoke with her teacher the other day about it and it has since cleared up. They wouldn't let her have seconds at snack time, and lo and behold, she ate all her lunch. Mrs. May, whom I love, saw me when she opened the classroom door yesterday and said, "Oh, we had a much better day". I immediately thought she was referring to a behavior issue I wasn't aware of and panicked slightly, but then I remembered the lunch thing and relaxed. She didn't only eat it all, she almost licked it clean. On a funny lunch related note, there is a little girl in Jacelyn's Daisy troop named Gracie. Jacelyn insists on calling her "Greasy", which is funny and horrifying all at once. I was talking to Gracie's mother about the lunch issue with Jacelyn, and she told me she had sent some pudding in Gracie's lunch that day, which she didn't finish, and so she put the opened pudding cup back in her lunchbox, to slosh around for the rest of the day. So when her mom opened her lunchbox to clean it out, everything was coated with pudding. Ha! It will only be a matter of time before Jacelyn does this, I'm certain, so I really shouldn't laugh.
I'm sure I've bored you all to tears with all this mommy talk, so I'll sign off. But we're doing well and having fun and we can't wait to see Teresa next week! Yay!
Monday, August 21, 2006
TGTWO: Thank God the Weekend's Over
Hmm, I don't think that will catch on, and no one will name a restaurant after that particular anagram, but it's how I feel, nonetheless. Oy, what a couple of days. I won't go into detail; suffice it to say that it was long and bad. Culminating in a bad Sunday night, which always makes you wonder what the rest of the upcoming week will be like and whether you should just stay in bed.
Living with your own family, you encounter snippiness and angst, annoyance, the gamut of family emotions. That being said, when it's your family, you can snip back. "Get over yourself" or "If you're going to be angry, go do it elsewhere" comes to mind. When it's your in-laws, there are different rules. Yesterday the Bernardos were in rare form. Subtly cutting each other down, alternately yelling at each other and then ignoring each other. Finding little ways of pushing buttons. Maybe they didn't get enough sleep, I don't know. Brian agreed to run to the grocery store to get some meat to grill and then sat on the sofa, perusing the newspaper, knowing full well it was driving his mother insane. Brian's mother was barking orders at Michelle for the craziest things, knowing it was driving MIchelle crazy. Brian's dad would hide away and then emerge, cranky and out for blood, to yell at Joe to get his feet off the table, to get his hands out of the bag of pistachios, whatever. And who else bore the brunt of their anger and annoyance? Poor Jacelyn. I think she was actually relieved when I announced bed time.
When I was putting her to bed, she got teary, which has been occurring more and more frequently lately. She said she didn't want to nap at school, which we have been through a million times. We discussed it again; then the truth emerged: she has gotten in trouble twice during nap time. Once for talking, and the teacher moved her mat away from everyone else, and another time for standing up to fix her blanket. She asked if I could go to school with her, and I said no. She said she misses me when she is at school; I told her I miss her while I'm at work. She asked if her daddy could go to school with her; I told her no, he had to go back home so he could go to work. She cried a little harder. She then said she misses Nikki (a friend of ours). I told her she would probably see Nikki soon, and she cried harder and said, "No, Ms. Nikki is probably gone forever". I assured her that was not the case, and she said, "Everybody always leaves me". I was DEVASTATED.
After she was in bed, the announcement was made that dinner was ready. Brian grilled some hamburgers and boneless beef ribs. Brian's mother announced that her ribs were not done enough and made Brian's father stop eating to cook them some more. Brian was annoyed; his father was annoyed. Michelle made Joe get up to check his laundry, he was annoyed. Michelle went after him to make sure he did it right, annoying him further. After eating, Michelle followed me outside as I was taking out the trash and complained about Joe, and how she is purposely not cleaning her tub to see how long it will take him to clean it himself or to ask her to clean it, how he doesn't help around the house and she shouldn't have to ask him and he never takes her anywhere or buys her anything and so on (and on and on and on). I was weary by that point, of all their digs at each other and drama and games and just exhausted by how unhappy they all were. So I did what any caring daughter-in-law would do: I went to bed.
But it's over now. Brian is back in PC, Jacelyn is in school, Joe is at work, I'm at work and I have a brief respite from them. I'm sure what they do isn't any different from any other family, but it's different when it's not your family. As I said earlier, when it's your family, you can ignore it, because you've been doing so for years, or you can tell them to shut up, or whatever. Sigh. Oh well. It will get better. Or something. I'm going to get to work. Happy Monday!
Living with your own family, you encounter snippiness and angst, annoyance, the gamut of family emotions. That being said, when it's your family, you can snip back. "Get over yourself" or "If you're going to be angry, go do it elsewhere" comes to mind. When it's your in-laws, there are different rules. Yesterday the Bernardos were in rare form. Subtly cutting each other down, alternately yelling at each other and then ignoring each other. Finding little ways of pushing buttons. Maybe they didn't get enough sleep, I don't know. Brian agreed to run to the grocery store to get some meat to grill and then sat on the sofa, perusing the newspaper, knowing full well it was driving his mother insane. Brian's mother was barking orders at Michelle for the craziest things, knowing it was driving MIchelle crazy. Brian's dad would hide away and then emerge, cranky and out for blood, to yell at Joe to get his feet off the table, to get his hands out of the bag of pistachios, whatever. And who else bore the brunt of their anger and annoyance? Poor Jacelyn. I think she was actually relieved when I announced bed time.
When I was putting her to bed, she got teary, which has been occurring more and more frequently lately. She said she didn't want to nap at school, which we have been through a million times. We discussed it again; then the truth emerged: she has gotten in trouble twice during nap time. Once for talking, and the teacher moved her mat away from everyone else, and another time for standing up to fix her blanket. She asked if I could go to school with her, and I said no. She said she misses me when she is at school; I told her I miss her while I'm at work. She asked if her daddy could go to school with her; I told her no, he had to go back home so he could go to work. She cried a little harder. She then said she misses Nikki (a friend of ours). I told her she would probably see Nikki soon, and she cried harder and said, "No, Ms. Nikki is probably gone forever". I assured her that was not the case, and she said, "Everybody always leaves me". I was DEVASTATED.
After she was in bed, the announcement was made that dinner was ready. Brian grilled some hamburgers and boneless beef ribs. Brian's mother announced that her ribs were not done enough and made Brian's father stop eating to cook them some more. Brian was annoyed; his father was annoyed. Michelle made Joe get up to check his laundry, he was annoyed. Michelle went after him to make sure he did it right, annoying him further. After eating, Michelle followed me outside as I was taking out the trash and complained about Joe, and how she is purposely not cleaning her tub to see how long it will take him to clean it himself or to ask her to clean it, how he doesn't help around the house and she shouldn't have to ask him and he never takes her anywhere or buys her anything and so on (and on and on and on). I was weary by that point, of all their digs at each other and drama and games and just exhausted by how unhappy they all were. So I did what any caring daughter-in-law would do: I went to bed.
But it's over now. Brian is back in PC, Jacelyn is in school, Joe is at work, I'm at work and I have a brief respite from them. I'm sure what they do isn't any different from any other family, but it's different when it's not your family. As I said earlier, when it's your family, you can ignore it, because you've been doing so for years, or you can tell them to shut up, or whatever. Sigh. Oh well. It will get better. Or something. I'm going to get to work. Happy Monday!
Friday, August 18, 2006
Doing Alright
Well, another week has passed. Jacelyn is still on a good behavior streak - she has received all green smiley faces this week. There's still today, of course, they day is yet young and whatnot, but I think she'll do fine. She seems to really be taking to everything. Except lunch, of all things. Her worst subject is lunch. She hasn't eaten hardly anything I've provided her with for lunch. And I've been experimenting, trying different foods. Even stuff that she likes, foods that you can almost guarantee she will eat, still comes home almost untouched. She hardly eats anything for breakfast, she barely eats lunch. I don't know how the child maintains energy to play or even just stand up. I mean, her tummy is small, I get that, but she's barely eating anything. I think I have some ideas. Yesterday after school we stopped by Michelle's. Michelle offered her something to eat, and she said "I want 10 pizza rolls". Which she got, and ate. And then ate a big-ass oatmeal sandwich cookie. I was playing the role of observer yesterday, just laying low and watching the goings-on. I think the problem is a lack of structure. Among other things I won't get into right now. I think she needs to realize that if she doesn't eat breakfast (perfect example: this morning, she ate the top of a mini-muffin-just the top-maybe three bites, and that's all she ate) she's going to be hungry. And if she doesn't eat lunch, she's going to get sick. They have a snack at school, so that probably provides some sustenance, but I'm still concerned.
The difference between my thoughts on the subject and the Bernardo school of thought is this: I think it's a problem that needs to be solved at home, whereas the Bernardos seem to think that this is a problem the teachers need to address. I think with some gentle encouragement at home (read: stern lectures and appropriate punishments) combined with her getting used to the school day schedule and the limited time for eating. Sigh. I hope so, anyway. Other than the eating, everything is shipshape for Jacelyn. Big girl.
Teresa's coming soon! Hooray!
And to Steven: should you read this, or someone should pass it on to you: We do, indeed, have much catching up to do, so you better show, dude. I can't wait to see you! Hooray!
The difference between my thoughts on the subject and the Bernardo school of thought is this: I think it's a problem that needs to be solved at home, whereas the Bernardos seem to think that this is a problem the teachers need to address. I think with some gentle encouragement at home (read: stern lectures and appropriate punishments) combined with her getting used to the school day schedule and the limited time for eating. Sigh. I hope so, anyway. Other than the eating, everything is shipshape for Jacelyn. Big girl.
Teresa's coming soon! Hooray!
And to Steven: should you read this, or someone should pass it on to you: We do, indeed, have much catching up to do, so you better show, dude. I can't wait to see you! Hooray!
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Stressed-Out Kiddos
Sister Jen recently posted here about Cam being stressed out before school. I've gone through this once or twice with Jacelyn, especially when she's wound up because there are people at the house, or her daddy is home, or whatever. Our secret? Massage. We read a story or two (currently 'Hop on Pop' and 'The Grinch Meets His Max' are on heaviest rotation, although she's also very fond of 'If Cats and Dogs Were Dinosaurs'), say goodnight, then I turn off the light, bust out the lavender baby lotion, and give her a good rub down. She giggles like a fiend sometimes, sometimes she just says "Yeah, yeah, that's good, mommy". Either way, by the time we're done, she's a limp little monkey and ready to go off to sleep. Although I am having to use 'mommy's magic sleep egg', an imaginary egg with sleepy goo inside that I break on top of her head, and then run my fingers down her face like the sleepy goo. Very scientific.
That's my only suggestion, and that works for us, but different strokes for different folks. Peppermint is supposed to be helpful for stomach ailments, maybe try it one night with some peppermint oil or lotion? Good luck!
That's my only suggestion, and that works for us, but different strokes for different folks. Peppermint is supposed to be helpful for stomach ailments, maybe try it one night with some peppermint oil or lotion? Good luck!
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
My Girl Scout
Yes, I've done it. I've signed my innocent baby up for girl scouting. She is old enough to be a Daisy. These are the Daisy uniforms:
The flower in the center is the patches that they earn. See below, from the Girl Scout website:
Daisy Girl Scout Promise Center and Learning Petals
The Daisy Girl Scout Promise Center, which is earned first, is placed in the center of the front of the Daisy Girl Scout tunic.
Each of the petals is then placed around the Center, in the order a girl chooses. The Center and Learning Petals represent the different parts of the Girl Scout Promise and Law.
The Promise Center is Daisy blue. The Learning Petals are:
Light blue for honest and fair
Yellow for friendly and helpful
Spring green for considerate and caring
Red for courageous and strong
Orange for responsible for what to say and do
Purple for respect myself and others
Magenta for respect authority
Green for use resources wisely
Rose for make the world a better place
Violet for be a sister to every Girl Scout.
Cute, huh? I'll let you know how it goes.
The flower in the center is the patches that they earn. See below, from the Girl Scout website:
Daisy Girl Scout Promise Center and Learning Petals
The Daisy Girl Scout Promise Center, which is earned first, is placed in the center of the front of the Daisy Girl Scout tunic.
Each of the petals is then placed around the Center, in the order a girl chooses. The Center and Learning Petals represent the different parts of the Girl Scout Promise and Law.
The Promise Center is Daisy blue. The Learning Petals are:
Light blue for honest and fair
Yellow for friendly and helpful
Spring green for considerate and caring
Red for courageous and strong
Orange for responsible for what to say and do
Purple for respect myself and others
Magenta for respect authority
Green for use resources wisely
Rose for make the world a better place
Violet for be a sister to every Girl Scout.
Cute, huh? I'll let you know how it goes.
Hey Laaaaaaaa-dies....
I call McGuire's night, I call McGuire's night! Teresa will be in town soon, and that requires, by I believe some sort of Florida legislation recently enacted, that we go to McGuire's. Hey, it's not me, it's the law. So start planning now - let's get this date on the calender. Come on, people! This is important bonding!
Saturday, August 12, 2006
TGIF: It's the Weekend!
Yesterday I was off a half day (A whole half day! I didn't know what to do with myself! I hate band season!). I got up with Jacelyn, and while trying to wheedle her into eating her breakfast Michelle calls. She wanted to know if she could go with us. She has gone with Brian every day to pick Jacelyn up but had not yet seen the morning routine. We agreed, so after wheedling half an English muffin into Jacelyn, I got her dressed and we went and picked up Michelle. On the drive to school I Michelle asked Jacelyn if she could walk her to her class, and Jacelyn was aghast and said no, she wanted to be dropped off and have the boy hold her hand. It was my turn to be aghast: she's in this for the boys? So I asked her what if a girl helped her out of the car. She was silent, mulling it over. Finally I asked her if that would be ok with her, and after another moment's thought, she said, "Yeah, I guess". Great.
We pulled into the carpool line, and to my glee it was a girl who helped her out of the car. Jacelyn walked off, looking slightly disappointed, and Michelle and I went off to have breakfast at Hardee's (the ultimate omelet biscuit: stomachache in a cheese-encrusted wrapper).
I spent my morning doing stuff around the house: cutting grass, picking up. When it was time to pick her up I went with Brian. The K4 kids seem to explode out of class. Jacelyn got in the car and handed over her backpack. I checked her daily report and for the third consecutive day she had a green smiley face! Hooray! (they have a traffic light behavior report: green, yellow, and red). She had four worksheets that she had done that day, an application for information on the local girl scout troop, which I'm filling out and sending in (she's old enough to be a Daisy!), and a list of the names of the kids in her class. Arianna, Adrian, two Emily's, Fisher, Donovan, Jackie, Margaret, and two other kids whose names I can't remember. And of course, Jacelyn.
I asked her how her day was; she said fine. I asked her what her favorite part of the day was, and she said the Dora pretzels at snack time. There was some gossip: Fisher hit Margaret on the arm, she said, and Margaret called him a bad boy and told the teacher. Fisher spent some time in the corner and, Jacelyn reported, a fearful look on her face, Mrs. Myers called his mommy. Da-da-daaaaaaaa! The fear of the phone call. It's a beautiful thing. I assured her that we know that she is a very good girl and Mrs. Myers will never have to call us because she did something bad. She nodded and agreed. Here's hoping!
The weird thing, for me, is her talking about these kids that I don't know. Up to this point in her life, her circle of acquaintances has been small, too small, really, and I've known them all. Suddenly, she knows people I don't. I'm glad for her, don't get me wrong, but it's strange to hear her talk about these kids. There's so much I want to know: are they nice to her? Do they talk to her, or is she sitting forlorn in a corner somewhere, eating her Dora pretzels, her face damp with lonely tears? I know it's not that bad, I'm kidding, but I do wonder. I would kill to be a fly on the wall. Or I need a Sunny, like Jen has, someone on the inside. Or a webcam and an internet feed. That would be awesome. But a huge invasion of her privacy, so I wouldn't go there.
So our first partial week of school went well. Jacelyn was actually a little disappointed that she doesn't go to school this weekend, although I'm sure that will pass. She has been on half days this week, and she has one more half day Monday (7:45 to 11:30) before they go to full days, 7:45 to 2:30. I'm feeling really good about the whole private school thing. We're paying for this, but it's really turning out to be worth it. The staff is wonderful (two teachers in a class of eleven? That's freaking awesome!), she's actually learning stuff. I discovered Powerschool yesterday, an internet program that shows each student's attendance, grades, teacher notes, school calendar, assignments, school announcements....the only thing it doesn't have is an internet feed. So I'm feeling pretty good about everything. Here's hoping that lasts.
We pulled into the carpool line, and to my glee it was a girl who helped her out of the car. Jacelyn walked off, looking slightly disappointed, and Michelle and I went off to have breakfast at Hardee's (the ultimate omelet biscuit: stomachache in a cheese-encrusted wrapper).
I spent my morning doing stuff around the house: cutting grass, picking up. When it was time to pick her up I went with Brian. The K4 kids seem to explode out of class. Jacelyn got in the car and handed over her backpack. I checked her daily report and for the third consecutive day she had a green smiley face! Hooray! (they have a traffic light behavior report: green, yellow, and red). She had four worksheets that she had done that day, an application for information on the local girl scout troop, which I'm filling out and sending in (she's old enough to be a Daisy!), and a list of the names of the kids in her class. Arianna, Adrian, two Emily's, Fisher, Donovan, Jackie, Margaret, and two other kids whose names I can't remember. And of course, Jacelyn.
I asked her how her day was; she said fine. I asked her what her favorite part of the day was, and she said the Dora pretzels at snack time. There was some gossip: Fisher hit Margaret on the arm, she said, and Margaret called him a bad boy and told the teacher. Fisher spent some time in the corner and, Jacelyn reported, a fearful look on her face, Mrs. Myers called his mommy. Da-da-daaaaaaaa! The fear of the phone call. It's a beautiful thing. I assured her that we know that she is a very good girl and Mrs. Myers will never have to call us because she did something bad. She nodded and agreed. Here's hoping!
The weird thing, for me, is her talking about these kids that I don't know. Up to this point in her life, her circle of acquaintances has been small, too small, really, and I've known them all. Suddenly, she knows people I don't. I'm glad for her, don't get me wrong, but it's strange to hear her talk about these kids. There's so much I want to know: are they nice to her? Do they talk to her, or is she sitting forlorn in a corner somewhere, eating her Dora pretzels, her face damp with lonely tears? I know it's not that bad, I'm kidding, but I do wonder. I would kill to be a fly on the wall. Or I need a Sunny, like Jen has, someone on the inside. Or a webcam and an internet feed. That would be awesome. But a huge invasion of her privacy, so I wouldn't go there.
So our first partial week of school went well. Jacelyn was actually a little disappointed that she doesn't go to school this weekend, although I'm sure that will pass. She has been on half days this week, and she has one more half day Monday (7:45 to 11:30) before they go to full days, 7:45 to 2:30. I'm feeling really good about the whole private school thing. We're paying for this, but it's really turning out to be worth it. The staff is wonderful (two teachers in a class of eleven? That's freaking awesome!), she's actually learning stuff. I discovered Powerschool yesterday, an internet program that shows each student's attendance, grades, teacher notes, school calendar, assignments, school announcements....the only thing it doesn't have is an internet feed. So I'm feeling pretty good about everything. Here's hoping that lasts.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
School Day 2: Mommy's Mess-Up
The power went off briefly at the house yesterday, causing my alarm clock to go on the blink. I set it last night before bed, set the alarm, and collapsed into sleep. This morning: I rolled over and looked at the alarm clock, and it said 6:37. I started to roll back over, and then leapt out of bed. 6:37? Shit! It turns out when setting the clock I set it for AM instead of PM, but managed to set the alarm for AM, so it never went off, obviously. I got her up and to the table, poured her a bowl of cereal, inhaled a bowl of cereal of my own, then checked the clock: 6:50. She's having a leisurely breakfast, eating her Trix by color group (OCD much?). I woke Brian up and asked him to get her through breakfast and dressed so I could shower. I took a quick shower, got dressed, fixed her hair, and we were in the car and backing out of the driveway by 7:30.
While I was getting my stuff together at the house I had jokingly said, 'I guess you don't want to be walked up to your class anymore, do you?'. And she agreed! 'Just drop me off, mommy'. What? No, I was kidding, I'm not ready for that! Brian was horrified and insisted that I park and walk her to her class (it's all of ten or fifteen feet). While in the car she kept saying, 'just drop me off, just drop me off'. I felt panicky - what should I do? Finally I decided - I'll do what she wants. So I asked her for the last time what she wanted, and she said she wanted me to drop her off. So I did. I pulled into the carpool line instead of parking, and a handsome young eighth grader came to the door and helped her out of the car. She gave me a little smile while I was frantically assuring her that I loved her and to have a good day and to BE GOOD, and handsome eighth grader slammed the car door, took her by the hand, and walked her over to her class. I was driving slowly and erratically, watching her in the rearview mirror, and she was fine. I actually went so far as to park, I was going to get out and watch her again, then reconsidered and backed out and left. Sigh. It's all letting go, this stage. Letting go.
I quizzed her last night on her goings-on at school: they read a story about a mouse, and then they made a mouse face out of construction paper using glue. She was very smug about using glue by herself: we make a lot of things at the house and I have never let her apply it. I suppose I'll have to, now. Then they played outside on the playground, with their teachers. They had a snack. That's all she could remember. I casually asked her what her and her friend Margaret were talking about (see yesterday's post, where I was dying to know), and she said, "Backpacks and cars". Hmm. I see. She told me about her chair with her name on it: it's blue. I asked her who she sat next to: Jack, and some other kid. She said everyone was nice, and everyone played well together, and she was slightly disgruntled and, I think, sick of discussing it. Brian took some pictures, I'll see if I can't manage to put up a couple.
So all is well for now. Once we get settled into a routine things will be better. In a way that will be easier once Brian leaves, because I have used him the last two mornings to watch over Jacelyn while I get ready, and he's leaving Sunday, so I won't have that option. But she was happy and excited to go to school this morning, so here's hoping that it stays that way. My big girl!
While I was getting my stuff together at the house I had jokingly said, 'I guess you don't want to be walked up to your class anymore, do you?'. And she agreed! 'Just drop me off, mommy'. What? No, I was kidding, I'm not ready for that! Brian was horrified and insisted that I park and walk her to her class (it's all of ten or fifteen feet). While in the car she kept saying, 'just drop me off, just drop me off'. I felt panicky - what should I do? Finally I decided - I'll do what she wants. So I asked her for the last time what she wanted, and she said she wanted me to drop her off. So I did. I pulled into the carpool line instead of parking, and a handsome young eighth grader came to the door and helped her out of the car. She gave me a little smile while I was frantically assuring her that I loved her and to have a good day and to BE GOOD, and handsome eighth grader slammed the car door, took her by the hand, and walked her over to her class. I was driving slowly and erratically, watching her in the rearview mirror, and she was fine. I actually went so far as to park, I was going to get out and watch her again, then reconsidered and backed out and left. Sigh. It's all letting go, this stage. Letting go.
I quizzed her last night on her goings-on at school: they read a story about a mouse, and then they made a mouse face out of construction paper using glue. She was very smug about using glue by herself: we make a lot of things at the house and I have never let her apply it. I suppose I'll have to, now. Then they played outside on the playground, with their teachers. They had a snack. That's all she could remember. I casually asked her what her and her friend Margaret were talking about (see yesterday's post, where I was dying to know), and she said, "Backpacks and cars". Hmm. I see. She told me about her chair with her name on it: it's blue. I asked her who she sat next to: Jack, and some other kid. She said everyone was nice, and everyone played well together, and she was slightly disgruntled and, I think, sick of discussing it. Brian took some pictures, I'll see if I can't manage to put up a couple.
So all is well for now. Once we get settled into a routine things will be better. In a way that will be easier once Brian leaves, because I have used him the last two mornings to watch over Jacelyn while I get ready, and he's leaving Sunday, so I won't have that option. But she was happy and excited to go to school this morning, so here's hoping that it stays that way. My big girl!
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Jacelyn did it!
She survived the first day of school! I was dying. I was jumping up and down, I tried to call Brian's cell phone but Jen made me hang up. I couldn't wait to see her. When I saw Brian coming through the door I ran (literally) to the door and knelt down for a hug, which I got. I rummaged through her backpack and found her go-home folder. Its' contents: the school bulletin, the bottom of which has to be signed and sent back. A 'Personal Best' award for Jacelyn, and a bookmark. And something else - I don't remember what. She said she had fun; she talked to her friend Margaret (whose name she actually remembered, which says a lot since she is horrible with names) and 'some other kid'. They played outside, and read a story about a mouse, and then they drew a mouse. And had a snack, but she can't remember what. AND she said she didn't get in trouble, which is good.
I stood back and assessed her with a mother's eye: she looked tired, and a little overwhelmed. That was a lot to take in, especially when you're used to spending your day in the company of grown-up family members. But she said she wanted to go back, which is good, since not going back isn't an option. I think after a nap and some lunch she'll be her normal self again. Out of good behavior mode and back into the normal, home swing of things. My big girl! I'm so proud of her. Things feel almost anti-climactic now. The anticipation has been building and building up to this point, and now we're here, and....it's over, and done. Life goes on. This is the new normal for us, I guess, and we'll get used to it. But it doesn't seem right, somehow, to let this day pass on this easily. Just to say, "Well, that was that". But I guess that's what you do?
I can't wait to go home and see her. Talk to her. See if she's different, somehow, or pretty much still the same. I have a feeling she'll be maybe just slightly different, but not in a bad way. Maybe in a sad (for me) way. I'll let you know.
I stood back and assessed her with a mother's eye: she looked tired, and a little overwhelmed. That was a lot to take in, especially when you're used to spending your day in the company of grown-up family members. But she said she wanted to go back, which is good, since not going back isn't an option. I think after a nap and some lunch she'll be her normal self again. Out of good behavior mode and back into the normal, home swing of things. My big girl! I'm so proud of her. Things feel almost anti-climactic now. The anticipation has been building and building up to this point, and now we're here, and....it's over, and done. Life goes on. This is the new normal for us, I guess, and we'll get used to it. But it doesn't seem right, somehow, to let this day pass on this easily. Just to say, "Well, that was that". But I guess that's what you do?
I can't wait to go home and see her. Talk to her. See if she's different, somehow, or pretty much still the same. I have a feeling she'll be maybe just slightly different, but not in a bad way. Maybe in a sad (for me) way. I'll let you know.
She's in school!
We woke up, ate, got dressed, and went to school. Brian drove. We got there and walked her over to her teacher, who was trying to console a little girl who was crying for her mother. Jacelyn looked dubious but was fine. I told her goodbye, and we retreated to the car. The entire school meets outside with their class, and says prayers and the pledge of allegiance, before going in to class. We hid behind a minivan like some sort of overprotective parental spies and watched her. She stood still, talked to a little red headed girl named Margaret that she met at orientation, looked around, but....she behaved! Woo-hoo! At one point she saw me, because I had stepped away from my hiding place to talk to another mom, and I waved, and she gave me this look like, "gosh, mom, you're still here?" and almost, I think, rolled her eyes. But then she blew me a kiss, which is what really got the tears going. Promptly at 7:45, Sister Patricia, the principal (and a nun! a real live nun!) welcomed everyone, and said, "When I say, 'good morning students!', you say 'Good morning sister'". Brian was impressed. The good mornings taken care of, they said the Lord's Prayer, the pledge of allegiance, there were a couple of announcements, and the kids headed to their classrooms. Jacelyn's class, who are tiny little things, were told to walk slowly and carefully in line. Jacelyn, listening for once, was walking so slowly and carefully that she was a good five feet behind the girl in front of her and was actually passed by another little girl. She was being so good. I'm sure that's just because it's new, but she really was being good and wasn't upset in the least. She gets out at 11:30 today - they are on half days until next Tuesday - and since I can't be there to pick her up today Brian and Michelle are going to pick her up and bring her up to work to see me so she can tell me about her day.
I just can't help but think about the fact that right now, she is in school. She is outside the realm of parental or family control, completely in the hands of others. Not that I'm worried - I know she'll be fine, but this is the first time I've dealt with that. I've left her with people, obviously, but it was always family. She's kind of on her own, in a way, without one of us standing over her, correcting her manners or her speech, reminding her of the way she should act. I think she'll do fine. She will need the occassional reminder, but she's basically a well behaved child. The only other time she's been away and free to act as she will is when she goes to the dentist (they don't allow parents in the exam rooms, for good reason) and they always rave about her - "She's so polite!" and "What a sweet, good girl!".
I'm clinging to that, right now. She seemed almost timid, which surprised me. I can be shy (yes, I can, really, I promise), but I've never seen that in her.
One of the things that got me, touched me the most, was her talking to Margaret. She's never really associated with other kids. She's been around Cam occasionally (but really, not enough) and she played with Alex (a friend's son, a little older than her) but other than that this is it: her first experience or foray into the world of friends. And her and Margaret were talking quite a bit. I was dying to know what about - I wanted to be a fly on her bookbag, or find some way to unobtrusively sneak up behind them and eavesdrop. What were they talking about? The weather? Their ugly school jumpers? How parents just don't understand? She has a friend! Yay!
I had better get some work done, but I had to post, and I'm sure I'll post again once I talk to her this afternoon. Send her happy, good behavior thoughts!
I just can't help but think about the fact that right now, she is in school. She is outside the realm of parental or family control, completely in the hands of others. Not that I'm worried - I know she'll be fine, but this is the first time I've dealt with that. I've left her with people, obviously, but it was always family. She's kind of on her own, in a way, without one of us standing over her, correcting her manners or her speech, reminding her of the way she should act. I think she'll do fine. She will need the occassional reminder, but she's basically a well behaved child. The only other time she's been away and free to act as she will is when she goes to the dentist (they don't allow parents in the exam rooms, for good reason) and they always rave about her - "She's so polite!" and "What a sweet, good girl!".
I'm clinging to that, right now. She seemed almost timid, which surprised me. I can be shy (yes, I can, really, I promise), but I've never seen that in her.
One of the things that got me, touched me the most, was her talking to Margaret. She's never really associated with other kids. She's been around Cam occasionally (but really, not enough) and she played with Alex (a friend's son, a little older than her) but other than that this is it: her first experience or foray into the world of friends. And her and Margaret were talking quite a bit. I was dying to know what about - I wanted to be a fly on her bookbag, or find some way to unobtrusively sneak up behind them and eavesdrop. What were they talking about? The weather? Their ugly school jumpers? How parents just don't understand? She has a friend! Yay!
I had better get some work done, but I had to post, and I'm sure I'll post again once I talk to her this afternoon. Send her happy, good behavior thoughts!
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Here We Go....
Jacelyn, my baby, my angel, my stinklepink, starts PreK tomorrow. TOMORROW. She is going to St. John's Catholic school. She will be wearing a uniform - standard catholic school plaid jumper, polo shirt, mary janes. She has a PE outfit to wear on the days she has PE - Monday and Tuesdays. Wednesdays she will have library and computer time and mass with the rest of the school. Thursday is music and Friday is art. They have language arts curriculum (based on a program called 'The Land of the Letter People'), a math program, religious study, and a couple of other programs that I can't remember right now.
Yesterday we took her supplies to school, and she met her teacher and teacher aide. There are eleven kids in her class, which is a good number at that (or really, any other) age. Her classroom is cool - computers, books, toys. There was a little chair with her name on it, which whenever I think about I tear up. I was fine with everything else, but there's something about that damned little chair that gets me. She has a cubby hole where her markers and crap will be.
One of the items they noted was that they are going to learn the alphabet, a letter every four days. Something else said that they will learn number recognition. When they saw that, the Bernardos, as I knew they would, said, "She's going to be bored. You should see if she can skip a grade". Yes, she knows the alphabet, yes, she can write the entire alphabet and some small words (if told how to spell them), and yes, she can recognize and write her numbers. BUT she has never socialized regularly with other children. And just because she has had some one-on-one instruction by Michelle on how to write her letters and numbers and whatnot does not mean that she is ready to advance a grade level. And I'm certainly not going to ask. I figure, if she's some extraordinary genius, they will notice and come to me, not vice versa.
I'm not worried about the separation. I'm worried about how she will behave. And she BETTER behave. I've been drilling her on her manners for the last two weeks. I was a little disappointed at the orientation yesterday, that despite my attempts at having her say 'yes ma'am' and/or 'no ma'am', she just mumbled 'yes' or 'no' and at one point, 'Huh?'. Other than that she behaved well, but I'm a firm believer in the ma'ams and sirs. I'm so nervous. Spread your wings and fly, little one. But you better fly right, lest you lose your TV privileges. Kidding. Maybe.
I'll let you know how it goes. I know she will be fine, I know she will. I'm trying to come up with some sort of something to reinforce good habits and behavior. She will get a daily conduct report with a color code: green for good behavior, yellow for decent, and red for "Tomorrow will be better" - their words. But then again, should I reinforce good behavior? I mean, I was expected to be good, and I usually was (at school, anyway) because if I didn't, I would get in trouble. Ah, well, I'll muddle through. We'll both muddle through. Wish us luck! Well, her mostly, but I could use some, too. She's a big girl now!
Yesterday we took her supplies to school, and she met her teacher and teacher aide. There are eleven kids in her class, which is a good number at that (or really, any other) age. Her classroom is cool - computers, books, toys. There was a little chair with her name on it, which whenever I think about I tear up. I was fine with everything else, but there's something about that damned little chair that gets me. She has a cubby hole where her markers and crap will be.
One of the items they noted was that they are going to learn the alphabet, a letter every four days. Something else said that they will learn number recognition. When they saw that, the Bernardos, as I knew they would, said, "She's going to be bored. You should see if she can skip a grade". Yes, she knows the alphabet, yes, she can write the entire alphabet and some small words (if told how to spell them), and yes, she can recognize and write her numbers. BUT she has never socialized regularly with other children. And just because she has had some one-on-one instruction by Michelle on how to write her letters and numbers and whatnot does not mean that she is ready to advance a grade level. And I'm certainly not going to ask. I figure, if she's some extraordinary genius, they will notice and come to me, not vice versa.
I'm not worried about the separation. I'm worried about how she will behave. And she BETTER behave. I've been drilling her on her manners for the last two weeks. I was a little disappointed at the orientation yesterday, that despite my attempts at having her say 'yes ma'am' and/or 'no ma'am', she just mumbled 'yes' or 'no' and at one point, 'Huh?'. Other than that she behaved well, but I'm a firm believer in the ma'ams and sirs. I'm so nervous. Spread your wings and fly, little one. But you better fly right, lest you lose your TV privileges. Kidding. Maybe.
I'll let you know how it goes. I know she will be fine, I know she will. I'm trying to come up with some sort of something to reinforce good habits and behavior. She will get a daily conduct report with a color code: green for good behavior, yellow for decent, and red for "Tomorrow will be better" - their words. But then again, should I reinforce good behavior? I mean, I was expected to be good, and I usually was (at school, anyway) because if I didn't, I would get in trouble. Ah, well, I'll muddle through. We'll both muddle through. Wish us luck! Well, her mostly, but I could use some, too. She's a big girl now!
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Have you ever heard the expression.....
"....he gave me a look like I had farted in church"? Stephen King has used it once or twice, I believe. I now know what that look is, thanks to Jacelyn. We were in church Sunday. We were standing, singing the entrance hymn. A gentleman had slipped in late and was still on the kneeler, directly behind us. Jacelyn was standing on the pew, singing along, words she was making up. The hymn ended, all was silent, and.... Jacelyn farted. Loudly, and with gusto. And if that wasn't enough, she felt the need to narrate: "Mommy, I just farted. Excuse me." And right in the poor man's face. I looked at her, jaw gaping, then looked down at him. He was looking at her, then looked up at me, there was a moment of indecision on both of our parts, and then he laughed. I laughed, nervously, and in a horrified kind of way.
Fast forward: end of mass, we are off to the school cafeteria for a meeting. We are sitting in this cafeteria with three other people: two gentlemen and another woman. Jacelyn is standing on the chair, singing loudly because she is enjoying the acoustics of the room. She stops singing and....farts AGAIN. Loudly, and with gusto, possibly still appreciating the acoustics of the room. There is another frozen moment of indecision that even Jacelyn joins in: she looks at me, concern on her face, and checks out the other people in the room. Finally, one of the men chuckles. It was what the room needed: everyone else starts laughing, Jacelyn included. I apologize, and life goes on. I ruminated on it for a little bit, and decided to let it go. Everyone farts, some of us have more control over it than others, and no harm was done. And the acoustics were good - it echoed, y'all. Echoed. Good for her. I'm sure she had to feel better after that.
Fast forward: end of mass, we are off to the school cafeteria for a meeting. We are sitting in this cafeteria with three other people: two gentlemen and another woman. Jacelyn is standing on the chair, singing loudly because she is enjoying the acoustics of the room. She stops singing and....farts AGAIN. Loudly, and with gusto, possibly still appreciating the acoustics of the room. There is another frozen moment of indecision that even Jacelyn joins in: she looks at me, concern on her face, and checks out the other people in the room. Finally, one of the men chuckles. It was what the room needed: everyone else starts laughing, Jacelyn included. I apologize, and life goes on. I ruminated on it for a little bit, and decided to let it go. Everyone farts, some of us have more control over it than others, and no harm was done. And the acoustics were good - it echoed, y'all. Echoed. Good for her. I'm sure she had to feel better after that.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Jen looks AWESOME
Jen (my sister) looks amazing with her new haircut. You should see her - she looks great. It's the new Jen. She has quite the life - is a busy teaching professional, a good mother, and smoking hot. You go, Jen. Work it, girl.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
I recently purchased The Bitch in the House, by Cathi Hanauer. It is a collection of essays by women writers about marriage, motherhood, children, sex, and a myriad of other topics. Before I bought the book (it was an Ebay purchase) I checked out some reviews online; many were positive, but there seemed to be a common theme: most reviewers were disturbed by the fact that the book presented so many issues without offering possible remedies or solutions. I duly noted that fact and bought the book anyway. Now, halfway through it, I am glad that is doesn't attempt to offer advice or answers. For one, I wasn't looking for a self-help book, and for two, it leaves you free to draw your own conclusions, to form your own opinions. To freely compare these situations with your own. Some of the writers will note that they could have done things differently, offering hindsighted alternatives that might have eased matters. Others are decidedly unapologetic, simply stating the facts of their lives, unabashed and unembarrassed.
I won't say the book is good - not yet, anyway, but I will say that it is interesting. Some of the essays start to wear on you after a few pages, but I learned that you can't take that at face value - you never know what a page turn will bring. The scope of age, sexual preference, economic status and marital status varies from essay to essay (one of the authors is a Nobel-prize winning scientist). There are single women living alone, women living with men, women with multiple divorces under their belt, women married with children and staying at home, mothers working out of the home. This is not a good selection for the Baptist Women's Book Club - some of the tales shared include discussions of sexual relationships with other women, and lots of sex with men, some of them married (and not the to the author). There are women who became mistresses, women who have affairs, women in open marraiges. Of course, it isn't all about sex, but there's certainly a lot of it going on. Or, there's a lot of thought and discussion going on about it.
Even though some of these talented ladies have made decisions that I wouldn't necessarily have made, I still found myself identifying with many of them. I recommend the book, if you have time. Like I said, it's not great, but it's very thought provoking. Unless you are perfectly content and madly in love with your husband/wife/whatever, and have no qualms with your life or any aspect of it. Then you'll probably just find it bitter and whiny. And parts of it are bitter and whiny, but some fine points are made throughout. It will make you think. You will run the emotional gamut - you will sympathize, judge harshly, feel superior, feel ashamed, commiserate, be baffled and then completely understand. Women rock. Men are great, too, of course. The tone of the book is almost like a good, gossipy lunch with a friend, where you eat and drink and talk about your husband and your children and how the new guy at the gas station was flirting with you.
There is an undercurrent of feminism, which I'm cool with. The point is made, multiple times by multiple authors, about the desire to "have it all" and how having it all (the career, the husband, the children, the house and white picket fence) can sometimes be waaaaaaay too much, something I've felt and expressed a few times myself. I think I want to write my own essay, and I will post if it it doesn't turn out to be too personal-information-overloaded. But now that I'm done with my book review, I had better get some work done. To the coffee maker, and then to work! Talk to you all soon.
I won't say the book is good - not yet, anyway, but I will say that it is interesting. Some of the essays start to wear on you after a few pages, but I learned that you can't take that at face value - you never know what a page turn will bring. The scope of age, sexual preference, economic status and marital status varies from essay to essay (one of the authors is a Nobel-prize winning scientist). There are single women living alone, women living with men, women with multiple divorces under their belt, women married with children and staying at home, mothers working out of the home. This is not a good selection for the Baptist Women's Book Club - some of the tales shared include discussions of sexual relationships with other women, and lots of sex with men, some of them married (and not the to the author). There are women who became mistresses, women who have affairs, women in open marraiges. Of course, it isn't all about sex, but there's certainly a lot of it going on. Or, there's a lot of thought and discussion going on about it.
Even though some of these talented ladies have made decisions that I wouldn't necessarily have made, I still found myself identifying with many of them. I recommend the book, if you have time. Like I said, it's not great, but it's very thought provoking. Unless you are perfectly content and madly in love with your husband/wife/whatever, and have no qualms with your life or any aspect of it. Then you'll probably just find it bitter and whiny. And parts of it are bitter and whiny, but some fine points are made throughout. It will make you think. You will run the emotional gamut - you will sympathize, judge harshly, feel superior, feel ashamed, commiserate, be baffled and then completely understand. Women rock. Men are great, too, of course. The tone of the book is almost like a good, gossipy lunch with a friend, where you eat and drink and talk about your husband and your children and how the new guy at the gas station was flirting with you.
There is an undercurrent of feminism, which I'm cool with. The point is made, multiple times by multiple authors, about the desire to "have it all" and how having it all (the career, the husband, the children, the house and white picket fence) can sometimes be waaaaaaay too much, something I've felt and expressed a few times myself. I think I want to write my own essay, and I will post if it it doesn't turn out to be too personal-information-overloaded. But now that I'm done with my book review, I had better get some work done. To the coffee maker, and then to work! Talk to you all soon.
Friday, July 07, 2006
Bad at Being a Grown-Up
I recently discovered the other day that I don't have full coverage car insurance. I literally had no idea, I honestly thought that I did. Upon my discovery, I immediately starting berating myself. What kind of person doesn't know that? What responsible adult is not aware of the extent of their insurance coverage? In the throes of my self-hate, I was reading "Hotel New Hampshire" by John Irving (thank you, Mary, for the recommendation), and came across this little pearl that I feel describes me very aptly: "I knew I would never grow up; I knew my childhood would never leave me, and I would never be quite adult enough - quite responsible enough - for the world." That's me, right there. Oh well. Instead of fighting it, I'll accept it. I'll try to be responsible for the big things, like car insurance and whatnot. But I'll gladly hold on to the other aspects of childlike existance: my love of theme parks and fair rides, my appreciation for cartoons, playing in sand, turning flips in the pool, my naivete. I could go on and on, but I won't. Suffice it to say that I am still basically a kid, and while I'll try harder to be better at the important grown-up stuff, I'm not promising anything. So there - nyah nyah nyah.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Six Weird Things About Me
Teresa tagged me for this. Six weird things about me:
1.) I hate, and will avoid at all costs whenever possible, making left turns in traffic where there is no traffic light. If there is a light around, I will go blocks out of my way to turn there instead. I will do it, but I hate to. It doesn't make me cry, but it makes me terribly anxious for a bit.
2.) I cannot and will not sleep with an arm or a leg hanging off the bed. I also generally cannot sleep with my feet uncovered, although there are some exceptions. To me these scenarios make you ripe picking for the monster lurking under the bed. And I don't seriously think that there is a monster under the bed, so I suppose maybe these are lingering childhood habits. Or else there's something seriously wrong with me.
3.) If I have to get out of bed to turn the bedroom light off, I literally run and jump back into bed before said lurking monster (see number two, above) can grab my feet and pull me under. Again, a childhood holdover, I suppose, and quite annoying to Brian when I run and take a flying jump into the bed he's attempting to fall asleep in.
4.) I can't stand MySpace, and avoid it. I don't find this weird, but most of the people I know love it obsessively and find my dislike to be outright bizarre. There's no particular reason, it's just not for me.
5.) I always eat the outside edge of a hamburger or sandwich first, thereby getting crust or the non-meat, cheese and condiment filled part of a bun out of the way, leaving the savory inner part of said sandwich or hamburger for last. I highly recommend this, you should try it at least once, it's a great way to savor the flavor (oh, I'm a poet).
6.) I will eat shrimp, depending on the manner in which it is cooked, and I will go fishing, and catch fish, and take them off hooks and such, but I will not generally eat fish. And cleaning up after the cooking of fish is vile to me; I once stood at the kitchen sink, cleaning out a pan that Brian's father had baked some fish in, scrubbing and gagging. I don't know why, it just completely grossed me out.
Bonus: FedEx's new scanner has the smallest signature area I've ever seen, and after some weeks of trying to cram my signature into the tiny space provided, I have abondoned all attempts at an actual signature and started drawing random shapes. Just this morning, minutes ago, I drew a lovely pyramid. The other day I made a cheerful little star. That's not really weird, but it's not exactly normal, either, so I thought I would include it.
Weird is all in the eye of the beholder, I think. I'm proud to be weird, and enjoy it when people say I'm strange. You're strange, I'm strange, whatever. I enjoy the eccentric people in my company more, because they keep life interesting.
I am apparently supposed to 'tag' people, but I don't know anyone else, so I suppose the chain stops here. My bad.
1.) I hate, and will avoid at all costs whenever possible, making left turns in traffic where there is no traffic light. If there is a light around, I will go blocks out of my way to turn there instead. I will do it, but I hate to. It doesn't make me cry, but it makes me terribly anxious for a bit.
2.) I cannot and will not sleep with an arm or a leg hanging off the bed. I also generally cannot sleep with my feet uncovered, although there are some exceptions. To me these scenarios make you ripe picking for the monster lurking under the bed. And I don't seriously think that there is a monster under the bed, so I suppose maybe these are lingering childhood habits. Or else there's something seriously wrong with me.
3.) If I have to get out of bed to turn the bedroom light off, I literally run and jump back into bed before said lurking monster (see number two, above) can grab my feet and pull me under. Again, a childhood holdover, I suppose, and quite annoying to Brian when I run and take a flying jump into the bed he's attempting to fall asleep in.
4.) I can't stand MySpace, and avoid it. I don't find this weird, but most of the people I know love it obsessively and find my dislike to be outright bizarre. There's no particular reason, it's just not for me.
5.) I always eat the outside edge of a hamburger or sandwich first, thereby getting crust or the non-meat, cheese and condiment filled part of a bun out of the way, leaving the savory inner part of said sandwich or hamburger for last. I highly recommend this, you should try it at least once, it's a great way to savor the flavor (oh, I'm a poet).
6.) I will eat shrimp, depending on the manner in which it is cooked, and I will go fishing, and catch fish, and take them off hooks and such, but I will not generally eat fish. And cleaning up after the cooking of fish is vile to me; I once stood at the kitchen sink, cleaning out a pan that Brian's father had baked some fish in, scrubbing and gagging. I don't know why, it just completely grossed me out.
Bonus: FedEx's new scanner has the smallest signature area I've ever seen, and after some weeks of trying to cram my signature into the tiny space provided, I have abondoned all attempts at an actual signature and started drawing random shapes. Just this morning, minutes ago, I drew a lovely pyramid. The other day I made a cheerful little star. That's not really weird, but it's not exactly normal, either, so I thought I would include it.
Weird is all in the eye of the beholder, I think. I'm proud to be weird, and enjoy it when people say I'm strange. You're strange, I'm strange, whatever. I enjoy the eccentric people in my company more, because they keep life interesting.
I am apparently supposed to 'tag' people, but I don't know anyone else, so I suppose the chain stops here. My bad.
Saturday, June 17, 2006
This Reminds Me of Someone
You know who you are. I enjoy Brian Andreas, it's whimsical, if not a little campy and hokey and sometimes, he doesn't make any sense whatsoever but then, who does? In case you can't make it out, the quote on the print says:"You're the strangest person I ever met, she said & I said, you too & we decided we'd know each other a long time".
Darn tootin. I want a print of this particular piece, and I shall have it, but for now I'm fine to think about the little quote and smile. A good weekend to all!
Please Drive Through
It is high time that some rules were established, some common courtesy and etiquette dictated for the use of fast food drive-through windows. Myself, I generally prefer to go inside a restaurant and order - I find face-to-face communication to be far more effective, and the chances of something being wrong with your order decrease dramatically. I will patronize a drive-through if I am attired in a manner inappropriate for public viewing, like a swimsuit, or pajamas (natty pajamas - anyone who knows me is well aware I am not above wearing pajamas in public). I also generally choose the drive-through on my lunches from work, because I don't really want to be around people. So I will hit the drive-through, get my food, and go to a park somewhere or go sit by the bay and eat, blissfully alone, the only noise being 'All Things Considered' or some similar NPR program on the car radio.
There should be requirements for even entering the drive-through lane. Maybe a big sign. If you attempt to use a drive-through teller at a bank, there are requirements there, discreet little signs posted along the entrance saying things like, "The drive-through teller is for account holders only" and "Please have all deposit forms completed before entering" and whatnot. Why can't fast food restaurants do the same?
I have some suggestions. If you pull into a fast food establishment and are debating drive-through versus walk-in, take a moment to consider the following:
Do you have a vague idea of what you might like to order? If the answer is yes, proceed to the drive-through. If the answer is no, get your lazy ass out of the car and walk inside. If you have to ask a question like, "Ummmmmmm...What makes the Asian salad Asian?" or "Can you give me a list of the ingredients in your oil?" then you need to go inside. Or possibly home. Some other factors to consider:
Do you have a large order? Are you picking up lunch for yourself and six co-workers? Were you on the losing end of a rock-paper-scissors game to see who had to go pick up dinner for you and your fifteen friends? Go inside. This should be obvious, but to many it is not.
Do you need to pay separately for each individual meal, even though you are buying twelve individual meals? GO INSIDE. Are you trolling underneath your passenger seat for change to pay for your meal? Park, complete the trolling, and go inside to mull over what you can get for $1.39 in pennies.
Do you need a menu suggestion? Go somewhere else entirely, it's fast food, not gourmet fine dining. Do not pull up to a drive-through and ask the disembodied, static-y voice, "So what's good here?" If they were honest they would answer, "For you, nothing, because once you finally decide what to order we will punish you for wasting our time by dropping your food on the floor, or by giving you old, smelly lettuce or covering your sandwich in the mayonnaise that someone accidentally left by the grill for four hours. And Jim has a cold, so there's no telling what else could happen".
It's all about common sense and courtesy. The drive-through lane was created to speed up the ordering process, and should not be abused by those who are merely lazy or stupid. This is an actual conversation I overheard at a McDonald's the other day, which inspired this post:
Minivan Driving Idiot: Can I get chocolate milk with that happy meal?
Poor McDonald's Employee: I'm sorry, maam, we're out of chocolate milk
MDI: How can you be out of chocolate milk?
PME: I'm sorry, maam, we just ran out
MDI: Do you have regular milk?
PME: Yes, maam, would you like that, instead?
MDI: Can you use that to make chocolate milk?
PME: Um, no maam
MDI: Fine, just give me a coke, and does that come with apples or oranges?
PME: You can get apple slices
MDI: Hmm, could I get orange slices instead?
PME: We don't have orange slices
MDI: You can't just give me orange slices instead of apples?
PME: No, maam, because we don't have oranges
MDI: So you're telling me I can't have oranges, I have to get apples
And it went on and on, for seven minutes, because I timed it. I was fascinated and repulsed all at the same time. She bought three happy meals and three combo meals, and insisted on paying for them separately. She violated most of the rules of drive-through etiquette: asked about the oil, even threatened legal action, at one point, over wheat products and gluten. It was utterly insane.
So, I say, people of the world, unite, against bad-mannered, thoughtless idiots, clogging and congesting our drive-through lanes with their stupid questions and comments and needy ways. Taking up our precious time that we can never get back, saying things like, "And if it isn't decaf coffee, I'll know". Let's take back the drive-through. Or we could just go inside. :-) Whatever.
There should be requirements for even entering the drive-through lane. Maybe a big sign. If you attempt to use a drive-through teller at a bank, there are requirements there, discreet little signs posted along the entrance saying things like, "The drive-through teller is for account holders only" and "Please have all deposit forms completed before entering" and whatnot. Why can't fast food restaurants do the same?
I have some suggestions. If you pull into a fast food establishment and are debating drive-through versus walk-in, take a moment to consider the following:
Do you have a vague idea of what you might like to order? If the answer is yes, proceed to the drive-through. If the answer is no, get your lazy ass out of the car and walk inside. If you have to ask a question like, "Ummmmmmm...What makes the Asian salad Asian?" or "Can you give me a list of the ingredients in your oil?" then you need to go inside. Or possibly home. Some other factors to consider:
Do you have a large order? Are you picking up lunch for yourself and six co-workers? Were you on the losing end of a rock-paper-scissors game to see who had to go pick up dinner for you and your fifteen friends? Go inside. This should be obvious, but to many it is not.
Do you need to pay separately for each individual meal, even though you are buying twelve individual meals? GO INSIDE. Are you trolling underneath your passenger seat for change to pay for your meal? Park, complete the trolling, and go inside to mull over what you can get for $1.39 in pennies.
Do you need a menu suggestion? Go somewhere else entirely, it's fast food, not gourmet fine dining. Do not pull up to a drive-through and ask the disembodied, static-y voice, "So what's good here?" If they were honest they would answer, "For you, nothing, because once you finally decide what to order we will punish you for wasting our time by dropping your food on the floor, or by giving you old, smelly lettuce or covering your sandwich in the mayonnaise that someone accidentally left by the grill for four hours. And Jim has a cold, so there's no telling what else could happen".
It's all about common sense and courtesy. The drive-through lane was created to speed up the ordering process, and should not be abused by those who are merely lazy or stupid. This is an actual conversation I overheard at a McDonald's the other day, which inspired this post:
Minivan Driving Idiot: Can I get chocolate milk with that happy meal?
Poor McDonald's Employee: I'm sorry, maam, we're out of chocolate milk
MDI: How can you be out of chocolate milk?
PME: I'm sorry, maam, we just ran out
MDI: Do you have regular milk?
PME: Yes, maam, would you like that, instead?
MDI: Can you use that to make chocolate milk?
PME: Um, no maam
MDI: Fine, just give me a coke, and does that come with apples or oranges?
PME: You can get apple slices
MDI: Hmm, could I get orange slices instead?
PME: We don't have orange slices
MDI: You can't just give me orange slices instead of apples?
PME: No, maam, because we don't have oranges
MDI: So you're telling me I can't have oranges, I have to get apples
And it went on and on, for seven minutes, because I timed it. I was fascinated and repulsed all at the same time. She bought three happy meals and three combo meals, and insisted on paying for them separately. She violated most of the rules of drive-through etiquette: asked about the oil, even threatened legal action, at one point, over wheat products and gluten. It was utterly insane.
So, I say, people of the world, unite, against bad-mannered, thoughtless idiots, clogging and congesting our drive-through lanes with their stupid questions and comments and needy ways. Taking up our precious time that we can never get back, saying things like, "And if it isn't decaf coffee, I'll know". Let's take back the drive-through. Or we could just go inside. :-) Whatever.
Saturday, May 27, 2006
In Case You Were Wondering.....
I have been on a CD buying spree lately. Over the last couple of months I have made a whopping 4 CD purchases, very unusual for me. Anyway, if you are interested in checking out something a little different, this is what I have purchased (these links take you to Amazon where you can listen to samples, if you are so inclined):
Imogen Heap, Speak for Yourself
This can get a little pop-py, but 'Goodnight and Go' and 'Hide and Seek' are good tracks. Not my best purchase, and I will confess to some buyer's remorse, but it's mine now, so I'll make the best of it.
Mexico and Mariachis
This is the soundtrack to all three of Robert Rodriguez's Mexico trilogy. Wonderful music, no buyer's remorse at all with this one. If you feel up to it, listen to the sample of 'Malaguena Salerosa' - it rocks. Most of these tracks are quite enjoyable.
Etta James, The Definitive Collection
The queen of blues, a voice like silk. 'W-O-M-A-N' is great, a classic sing along at the top of your lungs while dancing and driving song. Really, the whole CD is quite good. Again, no buyer's remorse.
Prince, 3121
Do I need to say anything? Prince, in all his short, oversexed glory. 'Satisfied' is among my favorite tracks of this CD.
And now, for music that I do not own yet but plan to purchase at my earliest convenience:
Hoodwinked the Movie Soundtrack
There's unfortunately no way to listen to this, and I have discovered that it is virtually impossible to find this here in town, and still quite difficult on the internet. Cute movie, I would recommend it. Well, interesting movie.
Damien Rice, O
This is melancholy, acoustic, plantive music, good for when you're feeling a little down and need to wax dramatic.
That's it, my recent music purchases and my musical desires. I don't think there's any defining (or accounting for) my musical tastes, but I thought I would share. I have learned, thanks to a good friend of mine, that you never know what you might like or even obsessively love, so if you have time check it out.
Imogen Heap, Speak for Yourself
This can get a little pop-py, but 'Goodnight and Go' and 'Hide and Seek' are good tracks. Not my best purchase, and I will confess to some buyer's remorse, but it's mine now, so I'll make the best of it.
Mexico and Mariachis
This is the soundtrack to all three of Robert Rodriguez's Mexico trilogy. Wonderful music, no buyer's remorse at all with this one. If you feel up to it, listen to the sample of 'Malaguena Salerosa' - it rocks. Most of these tracks are quite enjoyable.
Etta James, The Definitive Collection
The queen of blues, a voice like silk. 'W-O-M-A-N' is great, a classic sing along at the top of your lungs while dancing and driving song. Really, the whole CD is quite good. Again, no buyer's remorse.
Prince, 3121
Do I need to say anything? Prince, in all his short, oversexed glory. 'Satisfied' is among my favorite tracks of this CD.
And now, for music that I do not own yet but plan to purchase at my earliest convenience:
Hoodwinked the Movie Soundtrack
There's unfortunately no way to listen to this, and I have discovered that it is virtually impossible to find this here in town, and still quite difficult on the internet. Cute movie, I would recommend it. Well, interesting movie.
Damien Rice, O
This is melancholy, acoustic, plantive music, good for when you're feeling a little down and need to wax dramatic.
That's it, my recent music purchases and my musical desires. I don't think there's any defining (or accounting for) my musical tastes, but I thought I would share. I have learned, thanks to a good friend of mine, that you never know what you might like or even obsessively love, so if you have time check it out.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
And the Living Is Easy
Jacelyn has no hobbies. This concerns me from time to time; especially this time of year, where an endless stream of children parade into the store for recitals. 6 year olds plunking out five finger arrangements of the 'Star Wars' theme, their parents and grandparents beaming from the audience or from behind a videocamera. Am I denying my daughter? While I want her to have interests, and hobbies, I also want her to learn the value of free time. Of getting lost in thought, of laying on a blanket and looking up at the stars or the clouds.
She does things, don't get me wrong. She loves swimming, and playing outside. She enjoys being read to, and will peruse books on her own and make up her own story (although all of her stories seem to involve Cinderella and poo). She loves her V-Smile video game system, and her Leapster handheld games. The love of video games makes me mildly uncomfortable, but the educational value of these games allays my maternal fears. She does do things, she doesn't just lay around on the sofa like a 34-pound throw pillow, but is that enough? Aside from the obvious need for her to be around other children, I find myself rather comfortable with her lack of scheduled activities.
I enjoy being unfettered. Having tasks, errands or activities scheduled in my free time gives me a feeling of dread. Accomplishing these things on my own at my own pace and schedule is fine, but give me a schedule or a timeline and I get all grumbly.
I also want her to decide what she wants to do, as opposed to me or someone else deciding for her. I bought her a violin two years ago for Christmas, and I still haven't put her in lessons yet. I wanted to, and still occasionally entertain the notion, but I want that to be her decision. I am waiting for her to come to me, to say, "Mommy, I want to _________". Then we'll go from there.
I think it's important for children to be allowed to be children. To enjoy the years before school begins, not spend them being shuttled between soccer practice and dance class and french lessons. Just the other day, picking up Jacelyn's forms for school, I heard one mother say to another mother, "He's never been in t-ball? Oh, my, he'll never make it into little league if he's never played t-ball, he'll be eaten alive". What? I was talking to a mother one day about putting Jacelyn in dance class, and she told me, "If you didn't start her at three she'll never have a chance, there's almost no point in starting her now". What? I'm not trying to turn her into a prima ballerina, I just want her to have fun doing the things she enjoys. Of course I want her to try, and to dedicate herself to the activities she pursues, but you don't have to master a skill or art to enjoy taking part in it.
There is freedom and joy in occasionally having nothing to do. The days that I am off work, Jacelyn inevitably asks me, "So what do we have to do today, mommy?", and there is nothing I enjoy more than to say, "Nothing but spend it together".
She does things, don't get me wrong. She loves swimming, and playing outside. She enjoys being read to, and will peruse books on her own and make up her own story (although all of her stories seem to involve Cinderella and poo). She loves her V-Smile video game system, and her Leapster handheld games. The love of video games makes me mildly uncomfortable, but the educational value of these games allays my maternal fears. She does do things, she doesn't just lay around on the sofa like a 34-pound throw pillow, but is that enough? Aside from the obvious need for her to be around other children, I find myself rather comfortable with her lack of scheduled activities.
I enjoy being unfettered. Having tasks, errands or activities scheduled in my free time gives me a feeling of dread. Accomplishing these things on my own at my own pace and schedule is fine, but give me a schedule or a timeline and I get all grumbly.
I also want her to decide what she wants to do, as opposed to me or someone else deciding for her. I bought her a violin two years ago for Christmas, and I still haven't put her in lessons yet. I wanted to, and still occasionally entertain the notion, but I want that to be her decision. I am waiting for her to come to me, to say, "Mommy, I want to _________". Then we'll go from there.
I think it's important for children to be allowed to be children. To enjoy the years before school begins, not spend them being shuttled between soccer practice and dance class and french lessons. Just the other day, picking up Jacelyn's forms for school, I heard one mother say to another mother, "He's never been in t-ball? Oh, my, he'll never make it into little league if he's never played t-ball, he'll be eaten alive". What? I was talking to a mother one day about putting Jacelyn in dance class, and she told me, "If you didn't start her at three she'll never have a chance, there's almost no point in starting her now". What? I'm not trying to turn her into a prima ballerina, I just want her to have fun doing the things she enjoys. Of course I want her to try, and to dedicate herself to the activities she pursues, but you don't have to master a skill or art to enjoy taking part in it.
There is freedom and joy in occasionally having nothing to do. The days that I am off work, Jacelyn inevitably asks me, "So what do we have to do today, mommy?", and there is nothing I enjoy more than to say, "Nothing but spend it together".
Monday, May 22, 2006
The Curse of the Black Thumb
Jacelyn and I, in a combined effort, have managed to kill off the sunflowers we so lovingly nurtured into seedling-hood. A cat (or something) ate our morning glories, and our bachelor's buttons never even sprouted. This leaves us with one drooping citronella plant on the front porch. I'm trying to be extra attentive to it, and will probably over-water it until it, too, dies a withered death. Here's to the survival of our only remaining plant! Keep your fingers crossed!
To Hell With Me
I've re-discovered religion, all in the name of quality preschool education. Horrible? Yes. Possibly blasphemous? Indeed. My heart is in the right place, for what it's worth. We don't fit the qualifications to receive the discounted tuition for practicing Catholics at the preschool Jacelyn will (hopefully) be going to. I've come to terms with that; it's only an additional $50 a month. I say that like I'm rolling in fifty dollar bills, which I assure you I'm not, but when it comes to Jacelyn's education, I'm not going to mess around. There is a woefully inadequate preschool system in place here in Pensacola; actually, there really isn't a system. Jeb Bush has entitled us all to state-funded preschool at assorted day care centers, while the public schools with Pre-K classes (all four of them, no less)have waiting lists for miles. There's many things about the private education that appeal to me at this level, but I won't get into them right now.
I called the catholic church where we are registered earlier to obtain offertory envelopes. That is one of the things they check for when deciding whether or not you can receive the catholic discount - or, the 'Parish Participation Grant'. We missed the boat this year, but next year, all we have to do is: 1.) be registered members of the parish (which we are - one down!), 2.) Attend mass every Sunday, 3.) Tithe either via numbered offertory envelopes or with a personal check (for proof, I suppose), 4.) Participate in the Annual Catholic Sharing Appeal (a church-wide stewardship event), and 5.) in their words - "volunteer use of your time and talent to the various ministries and organizations within the parish".
I don't have a problem with the above - after all, if you attend a church, that is what you are supposed to do, correct? My problems are the motives behind suddenly becoming such active, tithing church members. For school. Not for any greater, spiritual reason - for the class size and test scores. Granted, I have been wanting to get back into a church, and I want Jacelyn to go to church. But I'm still not 100% certain on the catholic thing. For myself. Jacelyn....well, she can decide for herself later in life.
My issues with the catholic church are theological, mostly. I also don't think that the parish we live in is very kid-friendly. They don't have a nursery, for younger children, and they don't have any kind of junior church or anything during mass. So going to church is difficult with a child Jacelyn's age. It's hard for me to sit through a sermon sometimes, I certainly can't expect her to. I was raised Baptist, where for every service, regardless of day or time, there was a children's service. Jr. Church, Sunday School, Youth Group. The only thing Little Flower offers is a crying room, a small soundproofed room with a window that looks out onto the pulpit/altar area (whatever you call it). If your kid gets whiny, you go in there where they can't bother anyone else.
I think having children's services enhances the churchgoing experience for everyone involved. The days I have attended services with Jacelyn were trying; forget any attempts to listen to a sermon. She fidgets, and acts out, and I spend an entire service trying to keep her quiet and entertained. It's stressful. On any given Sunday we will make two trips to the bathroom. She will try and show the nice couple behind us her 'My Little Pony' panties. She will 'read' out loud, usually during a prayer, from the bulletin. I always bring two baggies of fruit snacks, which I reserve for moments where loud whining (or reading aloud) seems imminent. It's hard, and neither of us glean anything from it.
That being said, maybe this is an opportunity. To change things, or to recommend change. Maybe help to make the church more child (and parent with child) friendly.
Who knows. I'm going to try all this, and see how it works out, and keep my options open. I'll let you know how it goes. I can only hope that I'm making the right decisions.
A side note: a friend of mine recommended Pensacola Christian's preschool, and I just laughed and laughed. Anyone who knows my mother knows how fast she would be spinning in her grave if I did that, and I have no desire to do that anyway.
I called the catholic church where we are registered earlier to obtain offertory envelopes. That is one of the things they check for when deciding whether or not you can receive the catholic discount - or, the 'Parish Participation Grant'. We missed the boat this year, but next year, all we have to do is: 1.) be registered members of the parish (which we are - one down!), 2.) Attend mass every Sunday, 3.) Tithe either via numbered offertory envelopes or with a personal check (for proof, I suppose), 4.) Participate in the Annual Catholic Sharing Appeal (a church-wide stewardship event), and 5.) in their words - "volunteer use of your time and talent to the various ministries and organizations within the parish".
I don't have a problem with the above - after all, if you attend a church, that is what you are supposed to do, correct? My problems are the motives behind suddenly becoming such active, tithing church members. For school. Not for any greater, spiritual reason - for the class size and test scores. Granted, I have been wanting to get back into a church, and I want Jacelyn to go to church. But I'm still not 100% certain on the catholic thing. For myself. Jacelyn....well, she can decide for herself later in life.
My issues with the catholic church are theological, mostly. I also don't think that the parish we live in is very kid-friendly. They don't have a nursery, for younger children, and they don't have any kind of junior church or anything during mass. So going to church is difficult with a child Jacelyn's age. It's hard for me to sit through a sermon sometimes, I certainly can't expect her to. I was raised Baptist, where for every service, regardless of day or time, there was a children's service. Jr. Church, Sunday School, Youth Group. The only thing Little Flower offers is a crying room, a small soundproofed room with a window that looks out onto the pulpit/altar area (whatever you call it). If your kid gets whiny, you go in there where they can't bother anyone else.
I think having children's services enhances the churchgoing experience for everyone involved. The days I have attended services with Jacelyn were trying; forget any attempts to listen to a sermon. She fidgets, and acts out, and I spend an entire service trying to keep her quiet and entertained. It's stressful. On any given Sunday we will make two trips to the bathroom. She will try and show the nice couple behind us her 'My Little Pony' panties. She will 'read' out loud, usually during a prayer, from the bulletin. I always bring two baggies of fruit snacks, which I reserve for moments where loud whining (or reading aloud) seems imminent. It's hard, and neither of us glean anything from it.
That being said, maybe this is an opportunity. To change things, or to recommend change. Maybe help to make the church more child (and parent with child) friendly.
Who knows. I'm going to try all this, and see how it works out, and keep my options open. I'll let you know how it goes. I can only hope that I'm making the right decisions.
A side note: a friend of mine recommended Pensacola Christian's preschool, and I just laughed and laughed. Anyone who knows my mother knows how fast she would be spinning in her grave if I did that, and I have no desire to do that anyway.
Saturday, May 13, 2006
Part 3: Working Mother
I am not very fond of that term, 'working mother'. It implies that some mothers do not work, which is not true in the slightest. I would have changed the title to 'Part 3: Mother Who Works Outside the Home' but that seems a little fussy and slightly long, so I left it as it was but with this disclaimer.
Despite my qualms with stay at home motherhood, I could not envision myself doing anything else. I knew, in my heart of hearts, that I was going to stay home with my child at least until she started school. I wanted to be this cool, do-it-all myself super mom. I wanted to say things like, "It's almost time for playgroup! Let me grab the homemade flaxseed cookies. Everybody into the minivan!". When the harsh realities of economics forced me into a job search after two years of stay at home motherhood, I was horrified. Work? Leave my baby? Be out of the house? Then I was accepting and almost eager. Work? Get out of the house? When can I start?
My first foray back into the working world was cleaning offices part time at night. I went to work around five, and got home a little after nine. It was hard work, and more than a little dirty, but it paid decently and I was really enjoying getting out, being around other people, and helping out with the finances. I did miss Jacelyn's recently instituted 8 o'clock bedtime, but trusted in Brian and his family to make sure she stayed on her schedule. Working part-time wasn't too bad, and inspired very little separation anxiety for Jacelyn or myself. Michelle and Joe had recently moved back into town and in with us, and she suddenly had two new and doting relatives around to keep her busy. I didn't have to worry about paying anyone to watch her, because Brian was off by 6pm at the latest and he could watch her.
The novelty of working again wore off fairly quickly. I found myself watching the clock more during the day, thinking, 'I only have 3 more hours with Jacelyn until I have to leave for work' and so on. Working in the evenings caused me to miss out on family dinners, and I found myself missing bathtime, storytime and bedtime with Jacelyn more and more. The bedtime schedule that I had so strictly adhered to slowly started slipping away, a victim of well-intended yet slightly indulgent family members. I felt a little frazzled, even with Michelle's help after she moved in, trying to get everything done around the house during the day.
A convenient excuse to find another line of work arose when my boss called me at home one morning, yelling about me stealing clocks, of all the ridiculous things. I was devastated and very upset by the angry accusation, made without merit or proof, and even though the clocks were found and my good name restored, I didn't want to work for the company or the owner anymore. I was secretly pleased that I had found a reason to leave the job, and wondered if staying home again was a possibility. It was not.
Opportunity arose in the form of dear Jen, who got me a job working part-time with her at Dollarhide's. Michelle, who had not yet found a job in town, offered to watch Jacelyn while I worked, so I had in home childcare. I enjoyed the work, found it interesting and different, but despaired about money. After paying Michelle and putting gas in the car, there wasn't a whole lot left over. Working part time was not paying off, and when the opportunity to work full time arose, I hesitantly agreed. I'll never forget that first morning. Since Michelle was watching Jacelyn and living with us, I didn't have to worry about getting Jacelyn up and dressed and ready for day care, which saved me considerable time and trouble. I do remember how bizarre it felt, that first morning of going in early, to know that when Jacelyn woke up, it wouldn't be to me. When she climbed out of bed and went down the hall calling out my name, I wouldn't be there to answer.
It's a balancing act - just like everything else in life, only with motherhood the stakes feel higher (to me). I'm half the mother I want to be, half the employee I could be, and none of the wife I should be. And I understand fully how easy I have it - living with family eases the burden considerably. I don't know how real working mothers do it, much less single mothers, yikes. I feel wrung out, overextended. Upon arriving home in the evenings, my daughter needs my attention. And so does the laundry, and the bathroom. There are dishes to be done, toys to pick up, everything is covered in dust, Jacelyn's room needs a thorough bulldozing to clean up the crap on the floor, there are errands to be run, bills to be paid, and the weeds in the front yard are up to the baby's waist. There's a neverending stream of dull activities and tasks to be accomplished, and in the middle of it all is a precocious little toddler who doesn't understand why her mother is never home anymore, and why when she is home she's so grumpy.
I lose sight, now and then, and find myself buried in the stress and drudgery. Overwhelmed and fraught with woe. Jacelyn always manages to help me throw off the doldrums, somehow. She'll say something funny, or she'll give me a snuggle, or she will say, "I need a big smile, mommy. Show me a big smile". How can I refuse?
For some time I always considered myself to be something of a feminist. Maybe a more conservative feminist, but I held some feminist viewpoints. While I appreciate the work of our foremothers to assure us of the rights we have today, I don't really affiliate myself with the movement (I'm certain they're devastated, ha-ha). Women became increasingly free to pursue higher education and careers. Liberating? Yes. Empowering? Certainly. It's also dangerous. The underlying message is that women can have it all. We can have careers and husbands and children, and because we are strong, giving and powerful we can balance it.
As the economy weakens and the two-career family becomes the norm rather than the exception, having it all often means having too much. I'm certain that there are women out there with careers, children, and good, healthy relationships with their husbands and they are sailing through, feeling fine. I'm not handling things with that much grace, but I'm certainly trying. And as I've said before, and as a dear, dear friend of mine likes to remind me, that is what matters. That I'm trying.
And I will continue to try.
I'm constantly reminded of Jacelyn when I'm at work, and I think of her all the time. I know she's safe and well cared for. But I miss her, greatly. I will leave work for lunch, and the weather will be beautiful, and I will think sadly about what she and I could be doing at that particular moment were I not at work. At a park? Swimming somewhere? Maybe blowing some bubbles? When there's a loud thunderstorm, I will think longingly of the mornings we would snuggle in my bed on rainy mornings, watching Sesame Street and singing, 'Rain, Rain, Go Away'. I also consider that those home-together-all-day times are rapidly drawing to a close with the start of pre-school in August. My baby is growing up, and I'm tearfully standing by and watching it happen, and can almost feel time passing me by.
I want a balanced life. John Boland once told me, "You work to live, you don't live to work". Amen, John - I want to work enough to live and enjoy the rest of my time. I want time with my daughter, while still allowing time for household tasks and maybe even for myself. And sometimes, when there's grass to cut and laundry to wash and my beautiful daughter says, "Mommy, let's go to the playground!", I'm going to go. And forget about the grass and the laundry and remember that my little girl isn't going to be four years old much longer, and we'll never get this time back. I will gleefully and shamelessly shirk responsibility for the sake of love and lasting memories.
Despite my qualms with stay at home motherhood, I could not envision myself doing anything else. I knew, in my heart of hearts, that I was going to stay home with my child at least until she started school. I wanted to be this cool, do-it-all myself super mom. I wanted to say things like, "It's almost time for playgroup! Let me grab the homemade flaxseed cookies. Everybody into the minivan!". When the harsh realities of economics forced me into a job search after two years of stay at home motherhood, I was horrified. Work? Leave my baby? Be out of the house? Then I was accepting and almost eager. Work? Get out of the house? When can I start?
My first foray back into the working world was cleaning offices part time at night. I went to work around five, and got home a little after nine. It was hard work, and more than a little dirty, but it paid decently and I was really enjoying getting out, being around other people, and helping out with the finances. I did miss Jacelyn's recently instituted 8 o'clock bedtime, but trusted in Brian and his family to make sure she stayed on her schedule. Working part-time wasn't too bad, and inspired very little separation anxiety for Jacelyn or myself. Michelle and Joe had recently moved back into town and in with us, and she suddenly had two new and doting relatives around to keep her busy. I didn't have to worry about paying anyone to watch her, because Brian was off by 6pm at the latest and he could watch her.
The novelty of working again wore off fairly quickly. I found myself watching the clock more during the day, thinking, 'I only have 3 more hours with Jacelyn until I have to leave for work' and so on. Working in the evenings caused me to miss out on family dinners, and I found myself missing bathtime, storytime and bedtime with Jacelyn more and more. The bedtime schedule that I had so strictly adhered to slowly started slipping away, a victim of well-intended yet slightly indulgent family members. I felt a little frazzled, even with Michelle's help after she moved in, trying to get everything done around the house during the day.
A convenient excuse to find another line of work arose when my boss called me at home one morning, yelling about me stealing clocks, of all the ridiculous things. I was devastated and very upset by the angry accusation, made without merit or proof, and even though the clocks were found and my good name restored, I didn't want to work for the company or the owner anymore. I was secretly pleased that I had found a reason to leave the job, and wondered if staying home again was a possibility. It was not.
Opportunity arose in the form of dear Jen, who got me a job working part-time with her at Dollarhide's. Michelle, who had not yet found a job in town, offered to watch Jacelyn while I worked, so I had in home childcare. I enjoyed the work, found it interesting and different, but despaired about money. After paying Michelle and putting gas in the car, there wasn't a whole lot left over. Working part time was not paying off, and when the opportunity to work full time arose, I hesitantly agreed. I'll never forget that first morning. Since Michelle was watching Jacelyn and living with us, I didn't have to worry about getting Jacelyn up and dressed and ready for day care, which saved me considerable time and trouble. I do remember how bizarre it felt, that first morning of going in early, to know that when Jacelyn woke up, it wouldn't be to me. When she climbed out of bed and went down the hall calling out my name, I wouldn't be there to answer.
It's a balancing act - just like everything else in life, only with motherhood the stakes feel higher (to me). I'm half the mother I want to be, half the employee I could be, and none of the wife I should be. And I understand fully how easy I have it - living with family eases the burden considerably. I don't know how real working mothers do it, much less single mothers, yikes. I feel wrung out, overextended. Upon arriving home in the evenings, my daughter needs my attention. And so does the laundry, and the bathroom. There are dishes to be done, toys to pick up, everything is covered in dust, Jacelyn's room needs a thorough bulldozing to clean up the crap on the floor, there are errands to be run, bills to be paid, and the weeds in the front yard are up to the baby's waist. There's a neverending stream of dull activities and tasks to be accomplished, and in the middle of it all is a precocious little toddler who doesn't understand why her mother is never home anymore, and why when she is home she's so grumpy.
I lose sight, now and then, and find myself buried in the stress and drudgery. Overwhelmed and fraught with woe. Jacelyn always manages to help me throw off the doldrums, somehow. She'll say something funny, or she'll give me a snuggle, or she will say, "I need a big smile, mommy. Show me a big smile". How can I refuse?
For some time I always considered myself to be something of a feminist. Maybe a more conservative feminist, but I held some feminist viewpoints. While I appreciate the work of our foremothers to assure us of the rights we have today, I don't really affiliate myself with the movement (I'm certain they're devastated, ha-ha). Women became increasingly free to pursue higher education and careers. Liberating? Yes. Empowering? Certainly. It's also dangerous. The underlying message is that women can have it all. We can have careers and husbands and children, and because we are strong, giving and powerful we can balance it.
As the economy weakens and the two-career family becomes the norm rather than the exception, having it all often means having too much. I'm certain that there are women out there with careers, children, and good, healthy relationships with their husbands and they are sailing through, feeling fine. I'm not handling things with that much grace, but I'm certainly trying. And as I've said before, and as a dear, dear friend of mine likes to remind me, that is what matters. That I'm trying.
And I will continue to try.
I'm constantly reminded of Jacelyn when I'm at work, and I think of her all the time. I know she's safe and well cared for. But I miss her, greatly. I will leave work for lunch, and the weather will be beautiful, and I will think sadly about what she and I could be doing at that particular moment were I not at work. At a park? Swimming somewhere? Maybe blowing some bubbles? When there's a loud thunderstorm, I will think longingly of the mornings we would snuggle in my bed on rainy mornings, watching Sesame Street and singing, 'Rain, Rain, Go Away'. I also consider that those home-together-all-day times are rapidly drawing to a close with the start of pre-school in August. My baby is growing up, and I'm tearfully standing by and watching it happen, and can almost feel time passing me by.
I want a balanced life. John Boland once told me, "You work to live, you don't live to work". Amen, John - I want to work enough to live and enjoy the rest of my time. I want time with my daughter, while still allowing time for household tasks and maybe even for myself. And sometimes, when there's grass to cut and laundry to wash and my beautiful daughter says, "Mommy, let's go to the playground!", I'm going to go. And forget about the grass and the laundry and remember that my little girl isn't going to be four years old much longer, and we'll never get this time back. I will gleefully and shamelessly shirk responsibility for the sake of love and lasting memories.
Mothers, Daughters, and Ladybugs
I like to remember my mother as the strong, downright feisty woman she was when I was in elementary school. For someone who cannot remember much of her childhood, I can recall a surprisingly large number of occasions from that time. As for the woman that my mother became, after the recovered memories and the diagnosis of bi-polar disorder, I can only say that she tried. Which is more than I can say for myself. I'm not proud of my behavior; on the contrary, I'm very ashamed of it, and hindsight being what it is, would love to go back and change it. That being said:
Mom and I got very close after I had surgery my sophomore year of high school. I was admitted into the hospital right at the end of school before Christmas break began, and we spent the following two weeks of my recovery together, staying up late, getting up early, putzing around in general. Before school started again I remember sitting down and tearily writing her a thank-you letter, telling her how much I enjoyed spending that time with her. I can't remember if I ever gave it to her or not. I would like to think that I did, but I can't remember.
Then we moved. And I turned, viciously and suddenly, into a sullen, angst-ridden, defiant teenager. I rebelled with fervor and passion, dropping out of school, picking up bad and dangerous habits and friends. I remember the last few months that I lived in Jacksonville Mom and I went at each other almost nightly. I would waltz through the door, usually rather late into the evening, all full of attitude and swagger. Mom, who would sit up and wait for me, would find something to pick a fight about: the late hour, my appearance, I smelled funny, was I on drugs? We would argue for hours, and sometimes, despite our best efforts, would get a little too loud, and either Dad or Teresa would come into the room, squinting in the light and sighing heavily, either asking us or ordering us to quiet down. "Just stop," I remember Dad saying one night. "Just stop, you're killing me". It was in the midst of one of these fights that she said, "One day, I hope you have a daughter just like you and then you'll know how I feel right now".
After she returned to Pensacola our relationship had cooled down. We no longer fought so bitterly, but there was nothing. I pitied her. I pitied her choices in life, pondered what made her the way she was, and, in a way, grieved for the woman that she had been. I have always wondered about the nature vs. nurture theory. Did her upbringing and incidents in her past make her who and what she was? Or was she just that way? Could she have changed, if she wanted to, and did she want to change? Did she like the way she was? Of course, I never thought to ask her. I remember the day she and dad were supposed to close on the house, she was over-medicated. She would fall asleep anywhere, at any moment. She was sitting at breakfast at Grandma's house, a biscuit in her hand, snoring and slack-jawed. Dad was wringing his hands and fretting and trying to wake her up. "Vicki, we have to be around people for this, you can't be like this". I left the house and drove around, angry, smoking cigarette after cigarette and hating her, just a little bit, for the way she was. And hating myself for hating her.
The months before her death are sort of vague and blurry. In my own defense, I was pregnant and in the throes of completely rearranging my life. It became as though she was on the perimeter of my life, just someone who I passed by occasionally. Her hospital bed was in the living room, immediately to the right when you opened the front door. I would come in the house and she would immediately start throwing down rapid fire questions. I would offer vague responses, generally over my shoulder as I walked down the hall to close myself in my room. That was how we communicated: short questions from her, shorter answers from me as I walked into the kitchen, or to the garage, or out the front door.
When mom died, I was numb. I didn't expect her to die. I remember how crowded it seemed afterwards, how wherever I went there just seemed to be so many people around. At our house, and Grandma's house, at Brian's house. I would escape by driving around, slowly and with no destination. I would listen to music and cry, and would occasionally say, out loud, "Oh, mama". Always 'mama', never mom. And I would hope that she knew that I loved her, always, despite how I may have acted or what I may have said. I still hope that: that she knew, and knows, that I love her.
And now I have a daughter, a daughter who, according to my mother, is going to be just like me. And I'm scared. I want so much for her, and I want so much for us. I want her to have a good sense of self worth without thinking the world revolves around her. I want her to develop her own dreams, and I want her to be ambitious but patient. I understand that she has her own personality, and I want to impart standards of behavior and morals while allowing her to maintain that shining personality.
I once said, in the throes of self-pity and woe, that the only good advice I have to offer my daughter is to not turn out like me. While in some ways I still feel that is true, she has picked up some of my habits and personality traits that I don't mind imparting. She cares deeply about other people, and can't stand to see the people she loves mad at each other (Teresa can vouch for this). She's creative, and imaginative, and has a sense of whimsy that I find breathtaking. I might not have practical advice or skills to offer, but whimsy and imagination I've got, and it's delightful to see it in my daughter.
I said in my first paragraph that I can only say that mom tried. Before I had a daughter myself, I didn't think that was good enough. Now, however, I give her more credit. No matter what else she was going through, mom still tried. And she loved us.
There have always been ladybugs around mom's grave. Every time I'm there, there are a few ladybugs buzzing around. And I seem to attract ladybugs. In the spring and summertime they like to perch on me. Just the other day, I left work for lunch, spent the entire time in the car running errands, and when I went back inside there was a ladybug meandering around on my back. There was one on the windshield of my the other night. Jacelyn attracts them as well; when she sees them on her and freaks out, I'll calm her down and tell her the ladybugs are from her Grandma, so she will know that she loves her. Now, when she sees them on me she'll brush them off and say, "Grandma's giving you bugs again". Incidentally, whether or not I actually believe they are from mom is completely beside the point, to me. I find the idea to be lovely.
Happy Mother's Day to all. Live well, love much, laugh often, and all those other cliches about life. And, I suppose, don't let the little stuff get in the way of the bigger picture. I love y'all.
Mom and I got very close after I had surgery my sophomore year of high school. I was admitted into the hospital right at the end of school before Christmas break began, and we spent the following two weeks of my recovery together, staying up late, getting up early, putzing around in general. Before school started again I remember sitting down and tearily writing her a thank-you letter, telling her how much I enjoyed spending that time with her. I can't remember if I ever gave it to her or not. I would like to think that I did, but I can't remember.
Then we moved. And I turned, viciously and suddenly, into a sullen, angst-ridden, defiant teenager. I rebelled with fervor and passion, dropping out of school, picking up bad and dangerous habits and friends. I remember the last few months that I lived in Jacksonville Mom and I went at each other almost nightly. I would waltz through the door, usually rather late into the evening, all full of attitude and swagger. Mom, who would sit up and wait for me, would find something to pick a fight about: the late hour, my appearance, I smelled funny, was I on drugs? We would argue for hours, and sometimes, despite our best efforts, would get a little too loud, and either Dad or Teresa would come into the room, squinting in the light and sighing heavily, either asking us or ordering us to quiet down. "Just stop," I remember Dad saying one night. "Just stop, you're killing me". It was in the midst of one of these fights that she said, "One day, I hope you have a daughter just like you and then you'll know how I feel right now".
After she returned to Pensacola our relationship had cooled down. We no longer fought so bitterly, but there was nothing. I pitied her. I pitied her choices in life, pondered what made her the way she was, and, in a way, grieved for the woman that she had been. I have always wondered about the nature vs. nurture theory. Did her upbringing and incidents in her past make her who and what she was? Or was she just that way? Could she have changed, if she wanted to, and did she want to change? Did she like the way she was? Of course, I never thought to ask her. I remember the day she and dad were supposed to close on the house, she was over-medicated. She would fall asleep anywhere, at any moment. She was sitting at breakfast at Grandma's house, a biscuit in her hand, snoring and slack-jawed. Dad was wringing his hands and fretting and trying to wake her up. "Vicki, we have to be around people for this, you can't be like this". I left the house and drove around, angry, smoking cigarette after cigarette and hating her, just a little bit, for the way she was. And hating myself for hating her.
The months before her death are sort of vague and blurry. In my own defense, I was pregnant and in the throes of completely rearranging my life. It became as though she was on the perimeter of my life, just someone who I passed by occasionally. Her hospital bed was in the living room, immediately to the right when you opened the front door. I would come in the house and she would immediately start throwing down rapid fire questions. I would offer vague responses, generally over my shoulder as I walked down the hall to close myself in my room. That was how we communicated: short questions from her, shorter answers from me as I walked into the kitchen, or to the garage, or out the front door.
When mom died, I was numb. I didn't expect her to die. I remember how crowded it seemed afterwards, how wherever I went there just seemed to be so many people around. At our house, and Grandma's house, at Brian's house. I would escape by driving around, slowly and with no destination. I would listen to music and cry, and would occasionally say, out loud, "Oh, mama". Always 'mama', never mom. And I would hope that she knew that I loved her, always, despite how I may have acted or what I may have said. I still hope that: that she knew, and knows, that I love her.
And now I have a daughter, a daughter who, according to my mother, is going to be just like me. And I'm scared. I want so much for her, and I want so much for us. I want her to have a good sense of self worth without thinking the world revolves around her. I want her to develop her own dreams, and I want her to be ambitious but patient. I understand that she has her own personality, and I want to impart standards of behavior and morals while allowing her to maintain that shining personality.
I once said, in the throes of self-pity and woe, that the only good advice I have to offer my daughter is to not turn out like me. While in some ways I still feel that is true, she has picked up some of my habits and personality traits that I don't mind imparting. She cares deeply about other people, and can't stand to see the people she loves mad at each other (Teresa can vouch for this). She's creative, and imaginative, and has a sense of whimsy that I find breathtaking. I might not have practical advice or skills to offer, but whimsy and imagination I've got, and it's delightful to see it in my daughter.
I said in my first paragraph that I can only say that mom tried. Before I had a daughter myself, I didn't think that was good enough. Now, however, I give her more credit. No matter what else she was going through, mom still tried. And she loved us.
There have always been ladybugs around mom's grave. Every time I'm there, there are a few ladybugs buzzing around. And I seem to attract ladybugs. In the spring and summertime they like to perch on me. Just the other day, I left work for lunch, spent the entire time in the car running errands, and when I went back inside there was a ladybug meandering around on my back. There was one on the windshield of my the other night. Jacelyn attracts them as well; when she sees them on her and freaks out, I'll calm her down and tell her the ladybugs are from her Grandma, so she will know that she loves her. Now, when she sees them on me she'll brush them off and say, "Grandma's giving you bugs again". Incidentally, whether or not I actually believe they are from mom is completely beside the point, to me. I find the idea to be lovely.
Happy Mother's Day to all. Live well, love much, laugh often, and all those other cliches about life. And, I suppose, don't let the little stuff get in the way of the bigger picture. I love y'all.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Every day is an adventure
Last night, I was standing in the kitchen drying dishes when Jacelyn went waltzing past me on her way to the restroom. She looked up at me and said, while still walking, "Mommy, I just put the biggest boogar on the wall, go look". What?! She went into the bathroom and did her business while I went to check the wall in question, and there was indeed a very large boogar placed at 4-year old height. Upon her return from the restroom she stood back and admired her placement. "Big, isn't it" she commented proudly. I directed her to get a napkin and remove the boogar from the wall, while instructing her as to proper boogar removal and discarding procedures. She did not seem convinced; she seemed to think display to be far more appropriate. Only time will tell if anything sunk in, I suppose I'll just have to keep checking the walls.
Monday, May 01, 2006
Bedding Bonanza
I bought this duvet cover yesterday. We got our tax return and I decided to be a good American, GW style, and return a little of it to the economy. :-) It was on sale, and I liked it, and it actually means quite a lot to me, as goofy as that sounds, for reasons that I can't really get into right now. Anyway, here it is: my horrid taste in bedding. I did not buy the flowery sheet set or the white bed skirt - didn't so much like those, but I love the duvet cover and shams.
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Happy Birthday, Emily!
Emily Lenz is Jacelyn's first friend. She was a born a week - to the day! - before Jacelyn. She was four yesterday - I'm off by a day, sorry. Nicole, Emmy's mommy, is me if I lived better and didn't use so much foul language. She is me with better morals, me if I wasn't so lazy. Nicole is my soul sister - we were that rarity of rarities - two mommies who were very different people but had similar, almost identical, parenting ideas. We breastfed, we made our own baby food, talked smack about our husbands, sympathized and cajoled each other about our rotten children. :-)
I miss her dearly for many, many reasons, and if I can ever formulate a good enough excuse I am so going up to visit her. But I digress; I got off subject. Happy Birthday, Emmy! We miss you!
I miss her dearly for many, many reasons, and if I can ever formulate a good enough excuse I am so going up to visit her. But I digress; I got off subject. Happy Birthday, Emmy! We miss you!
My daughter is so cool.....
Sunday was magical, really. It had its' less than splendid moments, just like any other day, but there were lots of downright magical moments:
- Brian's mother bought Jacelyn a stuffed mop puppy and a stuffed bunny in a little gingham dress. I asked her what she was going to name her two new friends. Her response? The puppy's name is 'Meenka' and the bunny's name is 'Geena' (not with a 'geometry' sounding G, with a 'God' sounding G). I was thrilled - no "Fluffy" or "Tiffany" names from my baby, no sir. To me, that signified great imagination.
- We were in the bathroom at Sear's. I was waiting for her to wrap up the business that she was attending to, and was getting annoyed. We had been in the bathroom for going on ten minutes, and she had spent the last five telling the same knock-knock joke over and over (it ended, every time, in 'Jacelyn Banana')at top speed at the top of her lungs. I was getting annoyed, in all honesty, so I stopped responding to the jokes. Finally, she changed the joke and surprised me by making me laugh out loud:
Her: Knock-knock, mommy
Me: Who's there?
Her: Jacelyn
Me: Jacelyn who?
Her: Jacelyn McSaltnPepper
I don't know why, but this cracked me up.
- We bought some flower seeds, and decided to plant them Sunday afternoon. I did the heavy stuff - pulling up the vegetation, moving around soil, putting down top soil, all that stuff. I had worked up a sweat and a backache by the time we were ready to put the seeds in the ground. I was sitting there watching her plant stuff, my hand full of seeds, feeling sweaty and kind of cranky. I happened to look over at Jacelyn and she was kissing every seed before she planted it. Is that not the sweetest thing in the world? It made me tear up, a little, and greatly improved my mood.
We stayed outside all afternoon. We blew bubbles, and then popped them (she did most of that, but I did venture from my lawn chair occassionally to assist). We attempted
a clumsy form of some tennis-like game with an egg-shaped, fabric covered ball and two paddles, but neither of us could really get that going, so we abandoned it in favor of more bubbles and some t-ball. She's pretty good; my stats aren't so hot. I end up whacking the tee into pieces half the time. There was some wagon riding, until a bug crawled into the wagon. She attempted to fix her power wheel (which is suffering from no more than a dead battery) with her toy weedwhacker, a feat which I greatly enjoyed watching. All in all, I would call it a rousing success. I hope everyone's Easter was equally enchanting.
- Brian's mother bought Jacelyn a stuffed mop puppy and a stuffed bunny in a little gingham dress. I asked her what she was going to name her two new friends. Her response? The puppy's name is 'Meenka' and the bunny's name is 'Geena' (not with a 'geometry' sounding G, with a 'God' sounding G). I was thrilled - no "Fluffy" or "Tiffany" names from my baby, no sir. To me, that signified great imagination.
- We were in the bathroom at Sear's. I was waiting for her to wrap up the business that she was attending to, and was getting annoyed. We had been in the bathroom for going on ten minutes, and she had spent the last five telling the same knock-knock joke over and over (it ended, every time, in 'Jacelyn Banana')at top speed at the top of her lungs. I was getting annoyed, in all honesty, so I stopped responding to the jokes. Finally, she changed the joke and surprised me by making me laugh out loud:
Her: Knock-knock, mommy
Me: Who's there?
Her: Jacelyn
Me: Jacelyn who?
Her: Jacelyn McSaltnPepper
I don't know why, but this cracked me up.
- We bought some flower seeds, and decided to plant them Sunday afternoon. I did the heavy stuff - pulling up the vegetation, moving around soil, putting down top soil, all that stuff. I had worked up a sweat and a backache by the time we were ready to put the seeds in the ground. I was sitting there watching her plant stuff, my hand full of seeds, feeling sweaty and kind of cranky. I happened to look over at Jacelyn and she was kissing every seed before she planted it. Is that not the sweetest thing in the world? It made me tear up, a little, and greatly improved my mood.
We stayed outside all afternoon. We blew bubbles, and then popped them (she did most of that, but I did venture from my lawn chair occassionally to assist). We attempted
a clumsy form of some tennis-like game with an egg-shaped, fabric covered ball and two paddles, but neither of us could really get that going, so we abandoned it in favor of more bubbles and some t-ball. She's pretty good; my stats aren't so hot. I end up whacking the tee into pieces half the time. There was some wagon riding, until a bug crawled into the wagon. She attempted to fix her power wheel (which is suffering from no more than a dead battery) with her toy weedwhacker, a feat which I greatly enjoyed watching. All in all, I would call it a rousing success. I hope everyone's Easter was equally enchanting.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
It's freaking spring, ok
A little template change, commemorating the change in seasons, and how it's already hot as blazes here. I also thought the change in template would make the blog a little easier on the eyes - particularly MY eyes, since there is something about the color blue on a computer screen that makes my eyes ache. Anything on a computer screen makes my eyes ache these days, though. I am not aging gracefully - I am clunking around in my late twenties, dispiritedly watching 30 looming in towards me. I know that I am not old, and I don't consider 30, 40, or 50 to be old (I shamefacedly confess that I do consider 65 or so to be kind of old - just kind of, but kind of old, nonetheless - sorry). But signs of my aging do bother me, from time to time. My eyesight is in the crapper. My hair has so much silver in it someone needs to stamp "sterling" on my forehead. I am happy that it is a bright, shiny silver - no dull gray for me, nosiree. But there's a lot of it. And time and gravity are taking their toll, and things are drooping.
But you know what? Screw it. It's freaking spring. Jacelyn and I have managed to get some sunflowers to sprout, and even grow a little. They aren't flowers yet or anything - I'm certain we'll do something to kill them off long before they have the chance to become actual flowers, but they are little sprouts that have grown fairly tall. Plants are blooming, birds are singing, we're surrounded by beauty, and I'm just going to enjoy life. Ha! I sounded like an optimist for a second there, didn't I? Don't be fooled or concerned; I am still the deeply negative person you all might know a little and that some love. There's a lot of stress to be found inside; with this weather, and a almost-four year old to show you just how fun it can be, outside is pretty nice. So if you need me, that's where I'll be. Happy Easter.
But you know what? Screw it. It's freaking spring. Jacelyn and I have managed to get some sunflowers to sprout, and even grow a little. They aren't flowers yet or anything - I'm certain we'll do something to kill them off long before they have the chance to become actual flowers, but they are little sprouts that have grown fairly tall. Plants are blooming, birds are singing, we're surrounded by beauty, and I'm just going to enjoy life. Ha! I sounded like an optimist for a second there, didn't I? Don't be fooled or concerned; I am still the deeply negative person you all might know a little and that some love. There's a lot of stress to be found inside; with this weather, and a almost-four year old to show you just how fun it can be, outside is pretty nice. So if you need me, that's where I'll be. Happy Easter.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Welcome, Karma
Not the concept, the infant. My friend Leeann delivered her baby daughter, whom she named 'Karma', yesterday. Sweet little Karma was born six weeks before her due date, has a cleft palate, small lungs, some potential kidney problems, and some issues with bone development in her legs and hips. She is breathing on her own, and is breathtakingly beautiful. She is most assuredly a very, very special little girl, and if you think of it, mention her in your prayers. Or, if you don't pray, think of her fondly and send her happy thoughts. Congratulations to Leeann and Karma, we love you both very much.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
A Post-Script to Part 2
I am on a mission to rid my life of unnecessary clutter. I got rid of things in DROVES yesterday - purses, shoes, belts, clothing. Threw away things that needed to be thrown away. I went through my pitiful, neglected and unused craft stuff and tossed the things that were old. Then I came across my scrapbook and paused. That scrapbook dated back to a few months after Jacelyn was born, when I went through a crafting phase because I thought that was what I should do.
Mommies that I knew could churn out magazine-quality scrapbook pages with perfectly cropped and scalloped photos and whimsical, themed designs. I once spent three consecutive evenings staying up until 3am meticulously cutting and pasting Jacelyn's name (in my defense, it was her FULL name) and birth picture onto a scrapbook page. Three nights with my tongue poking out of the corner of my mouth, sweat beading on my forehead, wielding an exacto knife and alphabet stencil. Three nights, and on the third night, my task finally completed, I held out my finished product and to my dismay, it was crap. The letters of her name were at an angle, her picture was crooked, and the whole thing was just wonky. I promptly tossed the scrapbooking material (including the wonky page I had just created) into a rubbermaid tote and forgot about it, until last night.
I looked at my scrapbooking attempt and waited for the inevitable rush of guilt - if I really loved my daughter, I would commemorate her upbringing with a well documented, thoughtfully compiled scrapbook. And the guilt never came. I peeled the picture off and threw away not only the page I had made but also the entire blank scrapbook. I do not mourn my lack of creativity in the scrapbooking department - the photos of Jacelyn will not mean any less in a regular old photo album. They will not cease to make me smile because they are not surrounded by stickers and gingham patterned paper. She might not have a lovingly crafted scrapbook to remember her trips to the zoo, or the first time she went bowling, but she will remember the nights we sat on the front porch and looked up at the stars - that doesn't require a scrapbook page (although many of the talented scrapbookers I know could certainly make one of it, and it would be breathtaking). My point here is not to knock scrapbooking as an art - it's just to say that I am not good at scrapbooking, and therefore do not attempt it, and I'm ok with that. It doesn't make me a bad mother, or mean that I care less.
It's rare for me to not experience guilt over things like this, so I felt the need to document it. And one day, I promise, part three is coming.
Mommies that I knew could churn out magazine-quality scrapbook pages with perfectly cropped and scalloped photos and whimsical, themed designs. I once spent three consecutive evenings staying up until 3am meticulously cutting and pasting Jacelyn's name (in my defense, it was her FULL name) and birth picture onto a scrapbook page. Three nights with my tongue poking out of the corner of my mouth, sweat beading on my forehead, wielding an exacto knife and alphabet stencil. Three nights, and on the third night, my task finally completed, I held out my finished product and to my dismay, it was crap. The letters of her name were at an angle, her picture was crooked, and the whole thing was just wonky. I promptly tossed the scrapbooking material (including the wonky page I had just created) into a rubbermaid tote and forgot about it, until last night.
I looked at my scrapbooking attempt and waited for the inevitable rush of guilt - if I really loved my daughter, I would commemorate her upbringing with a well documented, thoughtfully compiled scrapbook. And the guilt never came. I peeled the picture off and threw away not only the page I had made but also the entire blank scrapbook. I do not mourn my lack of creativity in the scrapbooking department - the photos of Jacelyn will not mean any less in a regular old photo album. They will not cease to make me smile because they are not surrounded by stickers and gingham patterned paper. She might not have a lovingly crafted scrapbook to remember her trips to the zoo, or the first time she went bowling, but she will remember the nights we sat on the front porch and looked up at the stars - that doesn't require a scrapbook page (although many of the talented scrapbookers I know could certainly make one of it, and it would be breathtaking). My point here is not to knock scrapbooking as an art - it's just to say that I am not good at scrapbooking, and therefore do not attempt it, and I'm ok with that. It doesn't make me a bad mother, or mean that I care less.
It's rare for me to not experience guilt over things like this, so I felt the need to document it. And one day, I promise, part three is coming.
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