The Mess

My children are helpful around the house…if pressed.    They will clean up a mess if they’ve made it…if you tell them they have to.   They like to be involved in what you’re doing…especially if it involves something good to eat.   In short, they’re children.

I am proud that they will clean up a mess without too much wailing, although they will push any weak point they can find if they think you’re going to cave and clean up the mess they made quickly so we all can go to lunch.     Today they made such a mess.   They told me it was a mess.   They warned me that not only was their room a mess, their playroom, closet and back storage areas were also total wrecks too.

They were right.    They didn’t want to clean up, but eventually they did most of the work and I was able to organize some things in the process.   I was worried we wouldn’t make lunch, especially given that we’d already blown past snack time with a standing order that no one could set foot past their bedroom door until everything was in Mary Poppin’s Spit Spot order.

There is a fine line between mess that sparks creativity and chaos that stifles it.  In part, I hated cleaning some of it up because they’d come up with some very imaginative things with what they’d done.   We made sure to keep some of those new things out so they could play with them again soon.

This evening they did another round of messy imagination play with the whirlwind that is their closet of toys in the basement.   With strange implements from the lands of Super Heroes and my children’s imagination, my husband, children and dog fought evil from all directions.  

The Big Boy Update:   For our super hero play in the basement tonight my son told me, “Mom you have the power of when you kiss them they turn into good guys.”   I didn’t see a lot of bad guys, but I did a lot of kissing (which was followed by giggling) to make sure my children stayed good guys.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter is usually first with gymnastic, physical or acrobatic things but tonight my son had one on her.   I was going to change one of the swings out on our play set with a different type of swing.   My son told me he could get up on the A-frame bar to help.   I was surprised: that bar is high up and hard for me to climb onto.   My son showed me how by using the rope swing and his arms and legs, he could lever himself up and then could hold on and stand up on the support beam.   He then showed me how he could get down.   My daughter watched the entire time and then said she wanted to try.   She’s a little smaller, but she watched what he had done and followed the same procedure to get up.   She isn’t about to be outdone when it comes to something on the swing set.

Fitness Update:  Our sitter had the children at a park out on a picnic today and I decided to combine two fun things into one trip.   I got on running gear and ran to the shopping strip to get a manicure.   I took the long way around via the park and greenway to get some extra distance in.   I’m not sure if that was a good idea in the ninety-two degree weather, but by the time I figured that out I was committed.   I took the shorter, more nerve-racking route home down the sidewalk-less road towards our neighborhood.   Manicure and seven miles, the hot and sweaty route.

It Started With the Underpants

My son told me his underpants were too small the other day.  (They’re not.)  We were going out to Big Lots—one of my favorite stores for random consumer fun—so I decided to look for some more underpants for him while we were there.

I didn’t see much, but I did find a set of six super hero-esque ones that were his size.    There are just a lot of super heroes these days and quite frankly, I can’t keep them all straight.   I figured I’d sort it out when we got home.  

By the time we got back from our afternoon of errands, my son was in a tired and cranky mood.   In his case more precisely, he was being very, very rigid.    This is how my son deals with too much novelty in his life.   He wants to control everything and everyone and he wants nothing to change.   My daughter is more chaos-oriented, but that’s another story.

So I had the television on because I needed to unpack and they needed to decompress for a while.   I pulled out the new underpants and my son wanted absolutely nothing to do with them.   He yelled and said to throw them away.   He threw them on the floor.    I picked them up and started looking at the great super heroes on them and talking aloud to the underpants.

Then…he got interested.   He got really interested.   In, I swear, an hour, my son was completely obsessed with these six pair of underpants.   He wanted to know what they each did and all sorts of things about them.    By then I had learned I was in trouble.  

You see, these underpants didn’t have a movie or a television show associated with them.   There was no app for them either.   Those were video game characters on my son’s new underpants—for a video game he couldn’t play at his age.

He carried the underpants downstairs.   He told daddy which one he was and which one I was and which one his sister would be.   He came up with gear for us to use based on the sole picture on the underpants.    He was in full-on imagination mood and he was happy.   He was so happy about these new characters.

Finally I had an idea, I sat him in front of my computer and found some video clips on the game site’s YouTube channel and let him learn about the characters some more.   He paid rapt attention and absorbed it all.

The next day, he was so into the characters he managed to get five of the six pair of underpants on at the same time.  He was particularly upset he couldn’t wear the sixth pair because they were dirty from the day before.

The Big Boy Update:  In addition to being obsessed with the Skylander underpants as written above, my son has also admitted that he doesn’t want to go to the potty when he has a need.   He holds it and eventually streaks his pants.   He can only get a star for the day now if he doesn’t streak his pants.   Also, if there is a chance to watch any television, he will not get to watch his favorite show (Transformers, Rescue Bots) if he’s done any streaking.   He loves that show; I hope it’s some serious motivation to go to the bathroom.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  I went to the fitness room this afternoon and passed my children at the neighborhood pool with their sitters, Tristan and Morgan.   My daughter was standing on Tristan’s shoulders and was very excited to be about to jump into the water.

Fitness Update:  I ran a ten-minute mile today on a treadmill.  Only one mile, but I don’t normally run that quickly when I’m just chatting and plodding along on the streets and the trail.   It wasn’t that hard to run at the faster pace.   It’s easier to run faster when the road is moving under you and you have to make a decision to push some buttons to slow down.   When I’m propelling myself, I suppose I just slow down without paying attention.

Imaginary Friends

I took the children to see Inside Out today, the newest Pixar movie.   I had heard it would likely be a bit over the children’s heads, and I agree, it was a little too sophisticated for them in parts, but they did like the movie over all.   Tonight in the bedroom before bath time, I asked my son, “did you like the movie?”   He said yes and then asked, “ what was it about?”

One of the characters in the movie is an imaginary friend from the primary character’s childhood named Bing Bong.   At twelve-years-old, the main character doesn’t play with her imaginary friend any more, but the memory of him still lurks in her mind.    It reminded me of earlier in the day when I had a conversation with my children, without realizing they were talking about an imaginary friend until we were well into the conversation.

We spent a good portion of the day with my running neighbor’s family.   She and I started the morning with a run.   My husband was in a golf tournament so he dropped our children off at their house until she and I returned from running.   It was tough getting the kids out of their house so they could go to church, but we managed to walk home with the promise we were meeting them for a late lunch in a short while.

I got them both into the car an hour-and-a-half later, saying we were on the way to lunch.    They started talking in the back seat to each other about how old various people were.   They had just come from our neighbor’s house a few hours before, so when they were talking about how old Gigi was, I jumped in and said, “Gigi’s not five, she was born two days after you, so she’s three.”     They both protested.

They insisted Gigi was five, or maybe she was six.   It took me a minute to realize they were saying, “Ghi Ghi” their imaginary friend and not Gigi, the neighbor.   I caught on when they started comparing ages with Gah Gah and Pahmer.  

I don’t know how long their imaginary friends will last, but it’s nice while they’re here.

The Big Boy Update:  My son continues to streak his pants because he doesn’t want to go to the bathroom.   We have been trying to work through it.   He doesn’t mind washing his underpants now and, honestly, he’s getting quite good at washing them in the sink.   Tonight, he wanted to go play with his friends in our back yard after we discovered streaky pants.   I told him I was tired of washing pants so he could go out, but he wasn’t allowed to wear pants, only underpants.  That, apparently, was what mattered to him.   He had a terrible fit inside saying he had to have pants to go outside.    He was so mad he told me, "Mom, can you call the police and tell them to put you and daddy in jail and the call uncle Jon to pick me up.”

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter feels much, much better today after one day’s treatment with yeast medication.   Yesterday she was howling when she went to the bathroom.

Fitness Update:  Eleven miles this morning in fantastic weather.   It wasn’t too hot, it wasn’t humid and it was nice and sunny.   Also, we weren’t plagued by bugs

Pool Pizza in the Rain

We had another impromptu pool gathering today at dinner time.  It was a different group of families today, but there was the standard order of pizzas, albeit some with different toppings.    The pizza shop knows how to find us in the back of the clubhouse pool with ease by now.

We gathered in some extra people we didn’t initially invite at first because there was plenty of pizza.   No one coordinated but we had liquor and what seemed like a full bar from one family’s pool bag.   We brought chips and salsa with a side of fresh strawberries.    There were several choices of beverages for the children and multiple options for the adults, people were just passing around.   There were snap peas, sweet, fresh peppers and plenty of napkins for the small but messy children.

Just before the pizza arrived it thundered and rain shortly followed.   No matter, we all relocated to the covered area of the building, pushed tables together and turned on the television for the children so the adults could talk.  Jurassic Park was playing.   My son and daughter were into it as much as the older children.

It was relaxed.   It was fun.   It was a great summer evening with no real pressure to get home to bed times for the following morning’s grind of school.    We’re in now and we’re not even worried about when the children go to bed because they’ll fall asleep soon enough when they’re tired.

I love every season, but I most love the season I’m in right about when I hit the middle of the season, I think.

The Big Boy Update:  My son told me today, “I love Genevieve,” who is our neighbor’s daughter and his sister’s age.   I also know he has the serious little boy hots for her older sister, Juliette, who is six, because she is savvy and cute and precocious and she doesn’t put up with his shenanigans.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter has launched into a major upswing in drawing.   Her skills are improving, meaning it’s not just scribbles anymore.   She is interested in drawing all the time too. I’ve taken to leaving new things for her to color or draw at her seat at the kitchen bar.   When she saw something new there today, she sat down and immediately colored on it until she’d finished filling it all in.

One Billion Miles

This is a post about our Tesla Model S car.   Today marks the one year mark from when we first got the car.   I think its safe to say, we’re just as enamored with the car today as we were when we first got it.  

My husband and I had planned on looking at some statistics on the cost to operate the car at the year mark.   Interestingly enough, Tesla Motors just announced some statistics of their own, including over one billion miles being driven by Tesla car owners.  

In our first year we contributed 12,554 miles to that billion miles.   We charged the car a total of 3,871 kWh during the year.    What does that equate to though?

• The “pure cost” to operate the car for the year at the rates charged by our energy company equate to $387 to run the car for an entire year.
• The “actual cost” is somewhat higher, because there is a transfer loss of electricity from the power company side to the ultimate utilization point at which the car uses the energy to move the vehicle.   That loss is between ten and twenty percent.   So, the estimated cost to charge the car for the year is more likely $445
• Of the 12,554 miles we drove the car, about 300 of them were free miles, because we charged the car at free charge points or Tesla Motors Super Charger stations.   We do mostly local driving with the car, so our charging is done almost exclusively at home.

There are a lot of great options for cars in the market today.   There are definitely a lot better options than my eight cylinder, premium gas using, eighteen-miles per gallon vehicle we had prior to the Tesla Model S.   The hybrids and other electric cars are helping to make a change in our dependance on fossil fuels.   We’re very happy with the decision we made over a year ago to move to an electric car.  

The Big Boy Update:  My son is enjoying camp; but he’s not enjoying the classroom it’s being held in because it’s not the classroom he is in during the school year.    He was so annoyed by it yesterday he told me he wanted to throw Children’s House West down the hill.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:   My daughter has wet her pants a lot today.  My husband suggested she might have an infection.   Getting out of her if it’s a sting or a burn and when it happens is challenging, but we’ve decided to apply yeast medication and take her to the doctor if that doesn’t clear it up straight away.   After an application earlier today, she seems better, so we’ll hope for the best tomorrow.  

Fitness Update:   Slapping Totally Allowed.   My neighbor and I ran a half marathon distance in the park this afternoon in ninety-one degree weather.   We were sweating and there were lots of horse flies.   We had a standing order to slap the other one silly if a fly landed on us.   I got one at one point, leaving a hand print on my friend that lasted for the next five miles.   

Celery

After I had my two children I realized there was a good bit of weight I didn’t need that needed to go.   There was a bout of dieting that was successful after a long, relatively hungry number of weeks with the support of my husband who also decided to diet at the same time.  It was during that time that I cultured an addiction to broccoli.  

It was low in calories and very filling.   It never seemed like much of an exciting food before, but it turned out to have a nice flavor once you ate it several dozen heads of it.   It was sweet, even in the stalk/stem areas that commonly were thrown out when prepared at home.   It was good raw and didn’t need anything added to be a nice snack.

I liked it cooked and served with meals.   I liked it regularly and I suppose that regularity coupled with other sorts of diet and exercising choices helped me to lose the weight.   My love of broccoli continues, but I have a new favorite vegetable now.  

This time there wasn’t so much weight to be lost.   It was spring time and there were parties and vegetable plates were showing up on platters as I mingled with people.   There was broccoli, but I was old friends with it and I was looking for something new.   Celery.   It was boring, but it had a nice crunch.   It had a great crunch and if it was fresh enough, I could crunch straight through the stringy parts.    Celery started being fun.

I got heads or stalks or bushels of the stuff.  (I need to look up what the term is for a full bunch of celery when I’m done with this post.)   I ate celery all day one day I think, and then I discovered there is such a thing as too much celery in your diet the next day.

I’m a little more tempered in my consumption of celery now, but I really do like the stuff.   I grabbed two stalks before going to get the children then decided to turn around and get more stalks, because two just wasn’t enough.   Celery is my new favorite diet food.    That is aside from cookies.   I just LOVE cookies.

The Big Boy Update:  My son asked me as I put him in the car, “Mom, can I see your fashion?”  I wasn’t sure what he meant until I realized he wanted to see what color I’d had my fingernails painted.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  The children apparently learned about the Americas today at camp.   On the way home, my son was talking about North America and asking me questions.   When we got home, my daughter launched into a song about North America and South America.   My daughter sang long and loudly, mostly repeating the words, “North America, South America” over and over.

Fitness Update:  We ran five miles this morning in beautiful weather.   Rain was predicted for around eleven o’clock but at about six-thirty in the morning the rain (and associated lightning and thunder) came well ahead of schedule.   We curtailed our run on grounds of safety when big bolts of lightning are hammering down around you.

Brony

My son is a Brony.   You don’t know what a Brony is?  That’s okay, I didn’t either.   Let me explain how it happened…

For movie night, we have adult shows downstairs and kids shows in the main floor.   Some of our movie night friends are traveling now so our children contingent is smaller than it once was.   My two children are younger than their good friend, Dylan, who is wiser and more experienced in the ways of picking movies or television shows to watch.    She’s also old enough to not really be interested in a night of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse or Thomas the Train.   So we commonly let her pick what to watch.

My son and daughter don’t particularly mind, they like whatever.   Dylan found out recently that my children didn’t know what My Little Pony was and therefore decided to give them an education on the subject.   I knew what the show was, but only from the original, 1980’s or whenever it was back in time when they first came out.    The ponies went away for some time, but now they’re back, and they’re back with force.   There are shows and movies (yes, there are more than one) and lines of merchandising and the ponies I remembered from when I was young have possibly retired,  I don’t know.

The important thing to know here is that my son listened with rapt attention to all the details and then watched multiple episodes of the cartoon, starting with season one, episode one, because Dylan said he needed a proper foundation.  By the end of the night, my daughter was passed out on the ottoman and my son had a comprehensive knowledge of the characters.

Dylan pronounced him a “Brony.”  There are no male My Little Ponies.   But if you are a male and you like the show and the universe of My Little Pony, this is what you might like to be called.   This is a real thing.   There is a serious following and there’s even Bronycon, a convention for like-minded folks.

My son’s appreciation for My Little Pony has continued past movie night.   He found his sister’s My Little Pony underpants—which I didn’t realize I had bought—and started wearing them, telling me which characters are on the front.  

So what do you do when your son just loves something and you love your son?   That’s right, you take him to the store to get some My Little Pony pajamas.   (He needed some summer pajamas anyway.)

He was so happy in his pink, pajamas with all the ponies all over the pants and the shirt.   I sent Dylan’s mom a picture for Dylan, saying he was a confirmed Brony now.

The Big Boy Update:  My son, while a Brony (see above) is also all boy.   We walked over to the pool today and he delighted in picking up every dead worm that had dried out on the sidewalk.   He wanted to know all about them.  They broke in his hands and listened to them snap.  He wondered why they were so hard when usually they were soft and squishy.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  We drove into the Target parking lot yesterday to get some underpants and pajamas.   My children recognize Target from the red color and the logo.   When we pulled in my daughter cried out from the back seat, “Target looks beeauuuutiful!”

Fitness Update:  I didn’t do much today, but I did go to the fitness room with my son for the first time.   I got a workout in, but it was a stuttering, starting and restarting one as I helped him work with the machines and future out what all the equipment did.   He loved it and I had fun too.

Naked Pasta Night

Our schedule got off today.   I suppose we don’t have a schedule really, and in fact I try very hard to specifically not have a regimented schedule.  I want my children to be able to be flexible and comfortable in differing situations all across their lives.   I hope this will help them lead relaxed, happy lives in which they’re not bound by the ticking of the clock or need to have a specific food in a certain way on a particular night.

That being blathered on about enough, we do tend to do generally the same things around the same time, specifically eating and sleeping.   We eat when we get up, although the time everyone gets up is somewhat flexible.  We have dinner hopefully around noonish and dinner—which used to be at five o’clock due to imminent hunger strikes—can now go as late as six-forty-five.   Snacks happen here and there and I try to make the balance of the snacks more healthy than junk.  

But today was strange.   It was their second day of camp in which they stayed in after-camp to three o’clock.   I packed their lunches, including things they liked and added a snack for the snack time just before they came home.   I got them at three and we went on one errand and had a drink there because energies were flagging.    I got home at four-fifteen and wasn’t sure if it would be early or late dinner.

That’s when I started unpacking their lunch boxes and things changed.   My son had eaten most of his lunch and snack, but my daughter had eaten hardly anything.   As I unpacked, they came over and became interested in the food.   I stuck it up at their seats and they started eating it.   My son devoured her sandwich she hadn’t even touched at lunch.   She ate the apples and they both got into the sweet peppers.     It was four-forty-five and I wasn’t sure if this was dinner or snack.  

We usually don’t feed them (or let them eat) too close to bed time, but this was early for dinner, especially when my daughter hadn’t eaten much lunch.     After that there was some boisterous playing and then I decided to stick them in the tub well early of bedtime, promising them they could have, “naked pasta” after they got out.

They didn’t know what naked pasta was, so I explained they could eat pasta naked after their baths and I would get all the red sauce off them when they were done so they could put on their pajamas.  And…if they were timely about it, they might get to watch a television show before bedtime.

“Naked Pasta Night” was a huge success.  Four bowls of pasta were demolished.  Two tiny ice-cream cones were eaten.   Everyone was happy.   I was amazed how many spots on their bodies they got sauce.   Amazed.

The Big Boy Update:  My son wanted to know what color energy was this morning.    Then, he asked me what makes the wind blow.   I tried to explain, putting the answers in terms he understood, referring to the World Wide Web for advice first.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter was enjoying Naked Pasta Night this evening when she suddenly said, “I have to go to the potty!”   She jumped down from her chair and said, “oh, no I don’t.”   I went over, checking the leather chair and the floor around her as I watched her move her white cloth on the seat, apparently cleaning something up.   I said, “How much pee pee got on the floor?”   She said, “three scoops.”

Fitness Update:  I did some sort of combination of aerobic activity with a weights workout in the fitness room today.   It is just too hot to run at ninety-seven sunny, humid degrees outside.

That Cardio Thing

With the Apple Watch, I’ve learned more about my level of fitness based on the biometrics it’s been collecting.   I’ve never had a fit bit but I have been tracking my exercise in an app on my phone for a long while now.  I knew how much I could run and how quickly I could do it.   I had an idea what my heart rate was because I had a heart rate monitor I wore for a while.   I got a good estimate on how many calories were burned from a particular exercise based on general statistics combined with what I had done in that specific workout.  

All that information was fairly close to the information I’m getting now, which goes to show all the statistical models for exercise are quite accurate these days.   What I didn’t have was a regular sampling of my heart rate combined with the movement (steps) I was doing throughout the day.  

With the Apple Watch on whenever I’m not submerged in water (pool, tub, waterfall, etc.) or sleeping, I now have confirmation that I really do burn just about 1700 resting calories per day.   This means if I lie in bed watching television or move calmly around, doing nothing exerting at all, I would need seventeen-hundred calories of nourishment each day to maintain my weight.

I’ve found out I generally move enough to get my hear rate to a level where I’m burning “active calories” as Apple calls it, meaning calories above and beyond the base metabolic rate I would burn otherwise.   This is nice because I like to eat and burning extra calories means I get to eat more junk, ahem, I mean healthy food.

What I’ve been surprised about is with the “exercise” calculation the Apple Watch is doing.   I don’t disagree with their calculations, I just didn’t think about it before.   The daily challenge is to do, “30 minutes of exercise.”   You don’t have to do any at all, but you get this green circle filled in if you do, which is gratifying, and you get a ding accompanied by a text message saying how great it is you made your daily exercise goal.  

The surprise for me was that unless I started exercising and did so with something like running or biking, my heart rate might not even get into the range that qualified for “exercise.”  I did a workout with the arms/chest machine one day and was surprised to find out that even though I was working hard, it wasn’t considered, “exercise.”

Again, I have no qualms with the way the calculations are being done by Apple.   I think it’s that I’ve done enough regular exercise now, sometimes for long periods of time, that it takes a bit to get into exercise mode for me.   When I stop exercising, my heart rate drops down very quickly—more quickly than I would have expected until I watched the heart rate on the watch.

So is this good or is this bad?   From a fitness level, I suppose it’s good.  This whole Apple Watch fitness component has been far more interesting than I imagined it would be.

The Big Boy Update:  My son is very social.  He can now get all around our neighborhood pool.   He will go over to anyone, adult or child, talk to them and possibly tell them what he thinks they should do.   He’s made a lot of friends.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter was looking at our digital and picture-based weather station before bed tonight.   She said to me, “Mom, it’s cloud day.”  I looked over and she was right, the picture was of clouds.   She then said, “maybe tomorrow will be sun day.”

Fitness Update:  Two miles in ninety-five-ish weather today to get my blue (or is it green) whirly to go around on the watch.   I was doing some testing on what it took to get in and out of “exercise” levels.  As it turns out, when it’s that hot outside, it doesn’t take much.

First Senior’s Discount

I got my first senior’s discount today.   I was pretty excited about it.   I was not expecting it.  I sure didn’t argue it, though.

My in-laws came to visit today for Father’s Day.   When they arrived we decided to go to a buffet for lunch that everyone likes.    We packed the children and the rest of us into the minivan and headed to the restaurant.    There were complications getting out of the car due to some unexpected sleepiness on the part of my children, but we got inside and started getting our drinks.

I went up to the cashier to tell her how many were in our party.   I first told her four adults and two children.   Then I corrected myself saying, “wait, that’s two seniors, two adults and two children.”   My son was walking up about then and asked in a loud voice, “Mom, are you old?”   It told him that yes, I was old and then told the cashier this was an improvement because last time he decided to tell me, “Mom, you’re not old, you’re fat.”

The cashier thought this was so funny she said,  “I’ll tell you what: since you’re old, I’m going to ring up four seniors and two kids today. “

The Big Boy Update:  My son rode home from the pool the other day in our friend’s car.   Since the pool is only two blocks away in our quiet neighborhood, we let the rules on car seats and seat belts relax.   He was in the back seat, wedged between Dylan (our good friend’s daughter) and his sister.   He looked at them and then said out loud, “I’m with my favorite girls.”

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:   My daughter loves to sing.   She sings and doesn’t know or understand the words, which bothers her not one bit because she just sings syllables that sound close to her.   Two days ago we were stuck in traffic so I put the music on and turned it up.   She was belting out, “All About That Base” in her car seat at the top of her lungs, dancing in her seat as she did so.

Fitness Update:  Given that today is summer solstice, my neighbor and I wanted to run a half marathon distance but due to scheduling issues on both sides, we had to do it in parts.   We ran eight miles starting at five o’clock in the morning, welcoming the sunrise and enjoying the seventy-five degree weather before she had to get back so her husband could leave.   Then we finished out with five-and-a-half miles mid-afternoon in ninety-three degree weather.

Polish is For Girls

I don’t intend for this post to sound sexist, but it may end up coming across that way.   I think fingernail polish is pretty much for the ladies.   Men may care if we look well-groomed, but I don’t think they much care what color we pick—or if we even pick a color at all.

It’s fun to go to the nail salon and get my nails done.   Frequently, we talk about the color choice we’re considering with the person beside us.   Commonly, after I change the color, I’ll get compliments or at least comments on the new color.  

My husband—who is generally quite observant—has commented before that he doesn’t notice when I get my nails done.   I’ll go from clear polish for weeks and weeks and then decide to do something wild like bright blue or yellow.   If he comments, it’s usually days later, if at all.  

I was thinking it must be more a male thing than a female one because I’ve gotten many comments on the black and white nails I have right now from ladies.   And then today, just when I had decided I had a sound theory, a gentleman at the pool said, “I like your colors.”

The Big Boy Update:  I heard my son saying in a loud, robot-like voice the living room this morning, “WE ARE STILL WATCHING.”   I started laughing from the next room.  After a period of time watching something on one of the streaming services we have, the show pauses and a pop-up appears, asking if you’re still watching.   Any button on the remote will continue the show.   My son can’t read, but he knows what question is up on the screen nonetheless.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My children were having a disagreement in the car this morning.  My daughter said from the back seat, “Mom, I do NOT like Greyson any more.”  My son, not to be outdone followed-up with, “Mom, I’m going to throw Reese down the hill.”

Fitness Update:   Due to schedules we had to run extra early this morning.   We made six miles and I was back in bed having showered at six-thirty.  My husband kindly let me sleep while he got the children breakfast.

It’s All About Directionality

I am taking something for granted recently.   I don’t realize I am until I start to be frustrated and figure out the problem is with me.   It’s all about directionality, or the requirement for directionality and my complete disregard for it.

When I was young, we had a television with a knob and a few channels.   Most of the channels on the knob didn’t tune in to anything other than white snow.   The way you changed the channel was to get up, walk over to the CRT and turn the knob.   A lot of times you’d have to mess with the antenna and/or horizontal and vertical hold knobs to get the picture clear.

Then, among other technological advancements heralded in during the “High Fi” age, we got the remote control.  If you were around then and remember using those devices, they were wonderful, although barbaric given today’s standards.

Then we had a problem with remotes.   And by that I do mean “remotes” in the plural sense.   We had one for every device.   Lounge chairs and furniture was sold that had special cubbies to hold all the remotes.    Universal remotes came around to help, but they largely were “intelligence separator” devices in so much that most of us were made to feel dumb by them.   We couldn’t work anything other than our own, home system, and sometimes even our own system was confusing.

But in all that time, you still had to point the remote at the thing you wanted to control.   Then, televisions got flat and were placed over mantles.   Components were dubbed, “visually unappealing” and needed to be hidden in cabinetry.   Pointing in the right direction to increase the volume could be a trick even the owners might have difficulty doing consistently.

Now we have is Bluetooth or radio frequency-based remotes that don’t have to point at the right direction and angle or even have to be in the same room to work.   I think it is the closest I’ve ever been to remote-controler bliss.   I can hide the remote in the kitchen and pause or even turn off the show because otherwise, my children are not getting off the couch to come to dinner.

So it throws me off when I pick up a remote somewhere else, like the clubhouse fitness room, and can’t get anything to turn on.    Is it broken?   Does this remote work for the television on the pool deck and not the one in here?   Is the battery dead?   Oh…wait…I have to point it at the TV to make it work…never mind.

The Big Boy Update:   I was putting my son to bed several nights ago and asked him what he wanted to do the next morning.   He told me, “I want to watch Transformers and one of your shows where they talk a lot.  The one with the orange inside the house.”  I had to think about this for a minute and then I realized what he meant.  I said, “oh, you mean NCIS.”   If you haven’t seen the show, the interior of their office is done in bold oranges.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  Behavioral study.  My daughter has participated in some research studies in the past.   We do this voluntarily.   Usually they’re fun, non-invasive and interesting for me, as the parent, to see what’s being studied.   My daughter returned for a series of tests (games) one year after she did them today.   It was great to see how she’d changed in those twelve months.   Some things, like her impulse control, are the same:  she can wait until asked to take something she wants.   Other things, like repeating a series of notes, she can do at more length than she could last year.   Some things she didn’t understand at all one year ago but did them without even thinking about them this year.   The head researcher is getting her doctorate in the fall so we won’t get to see her again.   We wished her luck.

Bath Water

At the end of the evening my children take a bath.  They like a nice warm bath with toys and splashing about.   Usually they squeal and yell, there is lots of laughter and when its time to get out, no one wants the bath to be over.

I like to take a bath at the end of the night as well.  I like to do the proverbial, “ahhhhh…” while I relax in a warm tub of water, letting my mind calm and my body become clean, before bed.

As of this past week, we’ve moved our evening baths to the pool.   After dinner pool trips are fun times in our neighborhood.   There are relatively young children there, all splashing around, screaming, playing with toys and complaining when the parents say its time to get out and go home because its past bed time.  

I like it because my children go home tired and clean—aside from the saline water from the pool.   I love it because the pool is so warm.   It’s that proverbial, “bath water warm” that makes me happy in any pool.

With no need to get up early for school, and a big need for tired children who sleep well all the way through the night, after dinner trips to the pool are fun times.

The Big Boy Update:   My son asked my husband while they were in the shower, “Hey, where’s your penis?  Oh, there it is, in the middle of your body.”  Then he showed me his penis as I got him out of the shower with a ready towel.   He asked me, “where is your penis, mommy?”

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  Night scares.  My daughter has woken up twice now, run down the stairs crying, gotten in bed with me upset.   She say nothing but calms down almost immediately.   About five minutes later she’ll go back upstairs with my husband and go to sleep with no complaints.

Fitness Update:  I did a smattering of things in the fitness room today since it was too hot to run again.   Tomorrow I’m going to try to run in the early morning cooler air, that is if the rain has stopped.

Soft Shoes

My children wear different shoes in their classroom than they do when they’re outside.   It’s a Montessori thing.   (Montessori schools have lots of “things” like this that are quaintly specific to their educational model.)   In the mornings, children arrive to school, put their bag, jacket and other belongings in their cubby and change from their outside shoes into their “soft shoes” or  “slippers” as they’re also called.

When it’s time to go outside to play later in the day, they change back into their outside shoes, returning their soft shoes to their cubby.  I bought my children some new shoes (Tom’s brand) for the start of the school year—which I swear seems like three months ago—and didn’t think much of them aside from when we saw our children in school pictures and realized they spent hours each day in these shoes we never saw.

At the end of the school year, the shoes come home and I was wondering what to do about them.   We had about a week left in the school year and I asked my children if they wanted new soft shoes for their summer camps or if they liked their current ones.   My son explained his were too tight.   I asked him about them more, but he didn’t want to elaborate, which in no way surprised me.

The last day of school came and went and my son’s bag came home empty.  It came home with nothing in it.  There were not extra clothes from his cubby.  His sound book was conspicuously missing.  There was no completed painting work and his shoes, which I knew he wore each day, were absent.

I emailed his teachers and when she found them, she sent me a picture, saying she wasn’t sure if I still wanted them, but if so, here’s what they looked like:

That worn area in the front is where his toe was coming out.   Fortunately, we’d gotten new shoes the day before.  I’m glad I got them one full size larger than their current measurements. 

The Big Boy Update:  I asked my children to put up the kkckboards before we left the pool today.   I noticed my daughter had forgotten to wear shoes over to the pool so I told my son he could put both up instead.  He was upset and balked about putting both up.   He didn’t want to be helpful.  He didn’t want to do something nice for his sister.  In fact, he said his other arm was very tired and it wasn’t going to be able to carry the second kick board over to the bin.   I explained a few things to him [redacted] and then he decided he figured out how to turn his arm back on again so he could take the second kick board to be put up.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  We put regular infusions of sun screen on my daughter, but she still gets sun.   The sunscreen “life” could be better expressed as “half-life” as over time, sun does begin to get in between the chinks.  She was a little red when she got home and was going through the unexpected cold you get when your dermis is overly hot.    She and I ate outside on the porch in the hot weather and she was fine though.   Tomorrow morning, the little bit of red will be gone.   It’s not much, but it happens.   You can’t spray them wet while they’re in the pool and you can’t get them out of the pool at this age without special act of congress being passed in triplicate.

Fitness Update:  Six miles early morning and then a half-hour on the elliptical this afternoon before I joined the children at the pool.   The pool is hot, but it does help you cool off after a workout.  

I Wish I Could Be a Mermaid

We had a gathering of families tonight at our neighborhood pool.   We met at dinnertime and each brought something to eat.  Some of the children didn’t want to eat, they wanted to get in the water straight away.   My two had so much fun in the water they were perplexed there was no food available at eight o’clock when we were leaving.  

But there was a problem.   There were horse files.   I don’t know the actual type, but they were biting or stinging flying insects that had a strange honing in behavior.   Once they decided you were the one, there was no stopping them, short of you being bitten or them dying.  For the most part, we got bit and they got away.

Two days prior I had met with a bad round of horse flies so this time I came prepared with a fly swatter.   It helped very little, but I did swing it around a lot.   I got two flies, but there were so many it didn’t seem to make much difference.

When you were “selected” by a particular fly, there was no relenting.  we would hide under the water and upon surfacing, these sometimes invisible, sometimes in your face insects would be right back, landing on you and leaving their mark.

As we got more frustrated, my son said aloud, “I wish I could be a mermaid so I could go under the water.”

At that point, I would have been glad to be a mermaid to get away from the horse flies too.

The Big Boy Update:  My son likes to make friends.   At the pool, he will gladly interact with anyone and everyone around him.   He’s not bothered by their personal space in the pool, he’ll just get right up into your space and have a conversation with you about something you may or may not care about.   He is also friendly about pool toys—he will take any he sees, not particularly worried about the owner, because, hey, toys are toys.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  We had our parent teacher end of year conference with my daughter’s teachers today.  She has made significant progress over the year in her class.   I’m looking forward to next year when she’ll get more into language and start math.

Ice Cream for Dinner

I’m starting a tradition tonight.   On the first day of summer in which we don’t have school, we’re going to have ice cream for dinner.   I’ve been looking for a nice spot in our area, but the ice cream parlors of old aren’t around any more.   There are some great places we could go and eat outdoors, but it’s ninety-nine degrees right now and ice cream in that amount of heat doesn’t stay ice cream for long.

My in-laws are flying in from visiting my brother-in-law’s family and plan to join us out.   I’ll see how it goes tonight, as my children aren’t that excited and don’t understand, asking questions like, “are we having dinner for dessert?”

I think I’m going to have to do a little dinner myself and then dig into a nice sundae or something.   After the amount of exercising I did today, I’m ready for some real food before dessert.  

We’ll see how this new tradition goes.  I’m mostly hoping for a memory that will resonate with them in future years.

The Big Boy Update:  My son asked us this morning, “is it okay for adults to watch kids shows?”

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter was trying to talk to my husband, but he wasn’t responding.   When I told her he had his headphones on and was reading she said, “then why isn’t his mouth moving?”

Fitness Update:  I ran seven miles this morning and then worked out doing elliptical for another hour with Uncle Jonathan.   I’m a bit tired, but since it’s, “Ice Cream for Dinner night," burning all those calories may well be a good thing.

Phone-Free Meals

Our phones do so many things for us.   Neither my husband nor I intend to look at our phones that much, but they are so invaluable at getting information to us and for us that we seem to be “on the phone” more than we intend.

As of today, we’re instituting a “phone-free meal” policy so that we can interact with each other more at meals.   We’re not taking away the crayons and the coloring pages the kids menu’s offer at many restaurants, but we’re going to try and engage our children more.

I’m sure there will be exceptions, but being aware of something is the first step in making a change.

The Big Boy Tiny Girl Birthday Update:   Today was Pahmer’s birthday.   I’m not sure how this was decided, but both children started talking about it in the morning and said they needed to plan Pahmer’s birthday party.   While I went to the fitness room this afternoon, my husband helped them make and decorate mini cupcakes to celebrate.   When I got home we sang the birthday song and ate the cakes.   Pahmer, we discovered, is now fifteen-years-old.

Fitness Update;  It was over ninety degrees today and I wasn’t running our even thinking about running in the heat so I went to the fitness room instead.   I saw some soccer on the television in which England was playing.   No idea who was winning or even what color each team was wearing.  I don’t know how sports can just drain out of my brain, but it always has.   I got a good workout in though and talked with a nice man visiting who was visiting his brother’s family.

Where Did They Take Swim Lessons?

I get this question a lot.   I get it because I’m at the pool with my three- and four-year-old children and people are watching them swim.   I’m not in the water with them.  I’m usually off, chatting with other parents while I watch them swim.   I’m letting them swim, without helping them.   I’m letting them discover what their limits are and work to push those limits.    I’m hopefully giving them the confidence that they can swim without having to have an adult there, cautiously watching over them.

What do my children do in our neighborhood five-and-a-half foot maximum depth pool?  At first they paddled and splashed around the entry steps and hand rail.   Then they’d go over to the shared toy bin and get dive sticks and water rings and other things.    They want to get the dive sticks on the very bottom of the pool, but they could only get them on the higher-up steps initially.   They had to warm up with the first steps, then work their way down the steps to the bottom.  They didn’t know how to get down to the bottom of the pool below the bottom step.   They tried for a good while—several days—and didn’t really have a breakthrough.

Eventually, they figured out how to tip their body over and kick downwards.    There were some words of advice from me and our sitter and a demo or two, but we mostly let them try and figure it out.   Now they’re able to get things off the bottom of the pool easily at three feet of depth.

They do the dive stick thing for a while, but it gets boring after a while and they don’t really swim distance yet, but they want to move around, so they start jumping off the side.   They will jump off from anywhere, regardless of pool depth, because they’ve figured out their bodies are buoyant and will float back up after they’ve jumped in.   That means they jump with wild, reckless, childlike abandon all over the pool.   There are ladders in a few places and those are fun to jump off near.    They don’t mind if there is no ladder though, because they know how to reach up and grab the edge of the pool.  

We didn’t help them in getting out of the pool, so they had to figure out options.   First, they could hand-walk down the pool ledge while holding on until they get to a ladder or stairs.  Or second, they could learn how to pull their bodies up and out of the pool.   They started with the former, but mostly have decided it’s easier to just climb out all the time.  

Sometimes they’ll get floats or noodles and swim around to be with friends who are in the middle of the pool area, but they’re not dependent on anything to keep them afloat.   They both can swim a decent distance and then lift their head up to take a breath.    This is something relatively new that’s still in development, but for the most part, I have very little concern anyone is going to not be able to breath while in the pool.   Worse case, we’ve talked to them about dropping to the bottom and pushing off to get to the surface.   That’s something I’ve practiced with them both.

So why do parents ask me where they took their swim lessons?   It’s not because they’re doing proper stroking or kicking, because they really don’t do those things well.   I think it’s because they have utter confidence in the pool and spend their afternoons having fun without an adult looming over them, worrying about them and making them wear “floaties,” which keep you from drowning, while simultaneously preventing you from learning to swim on your own.

I do get in the pool, but I don’t do so to help my children.   When I do, they want me to throw them, which I will gladly do if they’ll swim out a good distance to me in the middle of the pool.   But the moment they start hanging on me, I suddenly discover I have a neighbor I need to have a conversation with in a lounge chair.

I am very, very proud of how well my children swim and their confidence in the water at this age.   We are taking formal swim lessons next week.   Hopefully they’ll get some tips to expand their swimming knowledge.

The Big Boy Update:  A song came on the radio today in the car and my daughter started to sing along.   My son said, “Reese, you’re rockin’ out.”   Then he said to me, “what does, ‘rockin’ out mean?’”

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter plays by herself a lot in the pool.   She does this because she’s having fun doing things alone and is very happy.   She’s underwater so much of the time, I suppose that makes sense.   She can dive for things and jump off the side of the pool for hours.

Self-Management

Today was the last day of the school year for our children.   We celebrated with an all-school picnic in a local park.   My husband was coordinating the event’s food.   He arrived early and was in the main shelter, working with people dropping off food and answering questions as needed.    I spent a lot of time up there as well, more than I anticipated.

I spent more time because, well, there was a lot of food.   We got the first crack at the hot pizza and the popsicles after we’d finished lunch.    There was a large amount of fruit brought by families and some other desserts that all looked delicious.   I had issues with those desserts.   I had a strong need to try them all.    As far as calorie control goes, today was an unmitigated disaster.

The interesting thing about the entire afternoon was our children though.   We didn’t watch after them.   We assumed they were on the playground, playing with their friends.   We trusted they’d come to us if they needed anything—and they did.   There were requests for a popsicle.   There were later requests for fruit.  

Other than that, they took care of themselves, including cleaning up and bringing their things to the car when it was time to go.  I think my children had a great time today.   I know my husband and I did, as we spent over two hours talking happily to friends from our school.

I like this level of independence my children have grown into.

The Big Boy Update:  My son not only will use the “wee wee bushes,” he’ll use the wee wee grass or anything else he deems is outside and worthy.   This sometimes is not appropriate.   He peed in the grass at Rudino’s when I wasn’t looking and even though it was out in an area people didn’t walk in, a waitress put a chair over the spot.   I had to help him understand going in the flower pots at the pool was not okay (he was gearing up to go when I caught him.)  Today, we had a talk about Bryna’s grass and how it didn’t qualify as a “wee wee bush,” even if he had to go quite badly.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  Sometimes television series will go Broadway and have an entire episode where everyone sings every line.   I can think of four shows I know that have done this, and it always turns out funny.   My children’s favorite show, Transformers: Rescue Bots, did a singing episode.   My daughter loved it.   Before the show was over, she was trying to sing along with the characters.

Fitness Update:  I walked two miles, but in no way did it make up for the massive, massive amount of food I ate today.   I look bloated.   But boy, was it tasty.

It Is Officially Hot

Summer has suddenly hit with a big, meaty, sweat-inducing hammer that’s waiting just outside any air-conditioned building in which you may be hiding.   The moment you step out, you’re doomed.   If you’re wearing something light and airy, it will get sweat-soaked more quickly than sturdier, thicker clothing, but you may be less-uncomfortable for at least a few minutes.

This happens every year.  Sometimes it’s after summer solstice, sometimes it’s before.   This year, summer didn’t dither, it came to town on the fastest bus it could find.  

In general, this wouldn’t be a problem, only we live in the South and that means it’s humid.  Hot weather only a month ago sounded far off and a hopeful event so we could all jump in and enjoy the pool.   Now, just making it to the pool to get in and cool off requires a significant amount of water loss from your thighs onto the leather seats in the car.  

At any rate, if you’re looking for a great way to lose water weight, come on down, we have the weather you’ve been waiting for.

The Big Boy Update:  My son went to his dermatologist for the third visit today about his mollescum.   It’s almost all gone, with only a few small bumps rapidly receding.   His doctor proclaimed him, “nearly cured” and said there was no need to come back.  

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  Sticker remover.   If there as a job that required skills in getting stickers off sticker pages and sticking them on parts of your body, wrapping them around fingers and stacking them one on top of another, my daughter would be over-qualified for the position.

Fitness Update:  It was too hot to run.  I went to the fitness room and did a mixed workout on the elliptical machine.   It’s a pretty good workout if you use the arm handles and have high resistance.   I was a dripping mess when I left.

Returners

I hate returning things.   I don’t like having to drive all the way back to the store and go through the whole process of returning an item I bought, but for whatever reason, now don’t want.   I think I’ve written about this before.  I feel like I’ve failed as a consumer if I don’t make a good decision at the store when I choose to purchase an item.

Recently I had to return some pillows.  I was sullen about it, but I did it.   I have a difficult time finding a pillow that works with my neck.   Too fluffy and it’s painful.   Too firm and my arms go to sleep.  Too thick and I’m not able to use it at all.    I tried to make good decisions at the store, including laying my head on the pillow in strange places in order to get a better idea if it would work.  

I don’t like having to give an answer to the question, “why are you returning the item today?”  I feel like I need to lie, even if I’m returning the merchandise for good reason.   I just don’t like returning things.  

I was in the back yard the other day, talking about my pillow woes: my current pillow is shot and I can’t find a good replacement.   I mentioned how I hated returning things and I’d had to do two returns already.   My neighbor gave me a quizzical look and said, “I return things all the time.”   She didn’t understand why I didn’t like the whole process.   She explained how she would buy things to bring them home and see how they looked in her house, or get two pair of the same pants in different sizes and return the one that didn’t fit her daughter.    She had whole shopping plans around buying things, deciding if they worked out later and then returning the portion of what she bought that didn’t work. 

She didn’t understand why I disliked returning things.   She’s a returner.  I don’t understand why she would willing want to go through the whole return “rigamarole” (as my mother would say.)  

The Big Boy Update:  On the way to dinner my son informed us, “I know everything on Earth.”   Then he paused and said in a quieter voice, “but not in space.”   Then he said, “what temperature is Jupiter?”

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  One of my daughter’s favorite flavors is “danilla.”  She is pretty sure it’s not “vanilla,” even when we suggest she pronounce the word with a, “vuh, vuh, vanilla.”

Fitness Update:  We biked the children to school today in very nice seventy-degree weather.   Everyone had a fun time this morning.   I went to the fitness room this afternoon to do an upper body workout with this one machine.   The exercises are explained via pictograms on the frame of the machine and it only takes twenty-five minutes to make your arms, shoulders and back feel like rubber.  

Write It Out

I don’t like abbreviating most things.   I don’t like taking written shortcuts to say the same thing.  I think it’s because reading things fully written out flows easier as they’re read.   Here’s an example:

I would tell you that on Tuesday, my sitter came to get our car at eleven-forty-five to pick up the children.   She said they’d be at the pool until four o’clock.   I told her I put twenty pretzels and two cheese sticks in their lunch boxes and to tell my son that four-and-a-half-year-old children are expected to eat their sandwiches without taking them apart.   If she needed me, I’d be over on Traven Court at a neighbor’s house.

I find the above easier to read than:

I would tell you that on Tues., my sitter came to get our car at 11:45 to pick up the children.   She said they’d be at the pool until 4:00.   I told her I put 20 pretzels and 2 cheese sticks in their lunch boxes and to tell my son that 4.5 year old children are expected to eat their sandwiches without taking them apart.   If she needed me, I’d be over on Traven Ct. at a neighbor’s house.

The former is what you’d more likely find in a more formal or official writing, but I just like it better.  

The Big Boy Update:  After four hours at the pool today my sitter messaged me saying they might be a bit late getting home.   She said my son informed her, “he never wants to leave and that it would be nice if someone could bring his bed to the pool so he could live here.”

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter was talking to someone the other day.   Somehow the topic of coffee must have come up because I heard my daughter reply, “I don’t like coffee, but my mother likes star coffee.”

Fitness Update:  My sitter picked up the children and took them to the pool for lunch and an afternoon of fun.   I could have walked over to the clubhouse to get the car to go to the store and lunch, but hey, why not walk instead?  It was about five miles total walking distance, although the cars and trucks zipping by on a road with no shoulder wasn’t the most ideal safety-wise.   But it was exercise.

Right Hand, Rubber Band

I’m left handed and I wear my watch on my left hand.   Well, I did wear a watch on my left hand, then, it broke several years back.   I decided to have a go at wearing no watch and see if I really needed it.   I had my cell phone with me all the time and it told time just fine.  

It turned out I didn’t need the watch and I’ve been glad to have one less thing to manage and put on each day until Apple came out with their Apple Watch.  It is friendly, useful and non-intrusive.   I like it.   But it’s caused a change.

I keep a hair band on my wrist for when I need to put my hair up.   It might be that it’s hot or that I’m going running or that the windows in the car are down and I want to keep it from blowing about.   Maybe it’s the look of the day or maybe—and this is the big one—I don’t want my hair to fall into my food.  

I had elastics in my purse for years, but ever since I stopped wearing my broken watch, I’ve just put on an elastic every day as a ready-to-go accessory.   The Apple Watch does some amazing things, but holding back my hair isn’t one of them so I still need an elastic.   Only the wrist I was wearing the elastic bands on for many years is now busy with a watch and I’ve had to move to the other wrist.

Typically what happens is I go to put my hair up, pull my hair upwards with my hands and then reach for the elastic band on my left wrist.   I know it will be there because my hair is down.   If my hair was up, it wouldn’t be there because it would be in my hair…only it’s not there.   There is no elastic band on my left wrist.    Did I lose the elastic band?   It only lives two places: my wrist or my hair.   What could I have done with it…oh, that’s right, it’s on my right wrist now because of the Apple Watch.   “Right hand, rubber band,” I mutter to myself when I realize this for the fifth time that day.

The next part of the process is interesting in my brain, because I’m having to work through a set of hair-putting-up steps I did so routinely and effortlessly with a left-wrested elastic band.  Only with a right-wrested starting point, things are backwards.   I start out holding the hair in the wrong attitude for my fingers to even be able to reach the elastic band.  

I’m getting more adept at the reversal of hands, but habits are hard to relearn.

The Big Boy Update:  Uncle Jonathan had the children at lunch today.   He noticed asked my son, “Why are you grabbing your crotch?  I think it means you need to go potty.”  My son replied, “No.  It’s my symbol!  It means I’m ready for my toy.”

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter was drawing pictures on her teacher end of year cards tonight.   She was drawing trees.   She would tell me about the leaves, then she’d draw the trunk and then she’d make some marks below the trunk.   These, she told me, were the “croots.”

Fitness Update:  Eight slow miles.   I thought I was running fast, only I wasn’t.   I thought the pace numbers I kept getting were slow, but they were correct.    When I got home I realized it may have been the eighty-five degree temperature and high humidity that contributed.    I didn’t think about it too long, though, because I wanted to get something to drink.

"Spooner”

We got in from the mountains today after having a fun weekend visiting with family and friends.  Yesterday was encompassed mostly by a visit to an amusement park for younger-aged children on a day with excellent weather for everyone in attendance.  We went to sleep last night with a window opened to our bedroom and in the middle of the night it began to rain.

I just love rain.  I woke up, most assuredly smiled in the dark, listened to the pelting rain and fell back asleep in short order.  When I awoke in the morning, it was still raining.   It was one of those delightful stay-in-the-cabin type days where you can play penuchle—I don’t know how to play penuchle—or perhaps Cheerioingo, a game of bingo played with Cheerios, targeted at children just my age.

After a leisurely morning, one of my parent’s closest friends came down from her house around the corner to watch my children do their thing and then go to lunch with us.   She has been featured in this blog in the past as she was the person who made my daughter her “Treasure Chest.”  That treasure chest gets lots of play in our house.  I’m not sure if treasure is put into it or taken out of it more, but it’s almost always filled with things we adults would label, “junk” or “random stuff” or even “debris,” but to them, it is, treasure.

When we arrived at the mountains this trip I had noticed a new painting going up the staircase.   I asked my father, “Is this one of Beth’s?”  He told me that yes, it was something he had gotten recently.   I told him if I got to see Beth this trip, I was going to insist she let me come up to her house and look at her work, because I wanted one of her pieces.   I was going to be ever-so-bothersome about it, because her style just spoke to me.

So while she was laughing at my children I asked her (hopefully more politely than emphatically) and she said she would be glad to show me what she’d been working on—if I didn’t mind there being a mess about.    I assured her I would avert my eyes from every direction but her artwork.

We had a delightful lunch together and after lunch she took me up to her house (this is literally “up” as she lives up the mountain.)   She had told me there was a particular piece she’d made she had titled, “Spooner” in honor of my father, who’s last name is Spooner and sometimes goes by that name.   She told us how she had made this entire piece from materials he’d brought her over the past several years—rugged, industrial, delicate and unusual items—that she’d put into this one piece.

She didn’t want me to feel obligated to take it, but that was never a problem as I thought it was splendid.   What to do with it, though?  Do I put it in the garage, my first thought?   My father has spent enough time in his garage over the years to get several PhD’s in Junk discovery, restoration and creation.   But when I got home, that didn’t seem to fit.

It was such an interesting and three-dimensional piece, I wanted it to be somewhere people could look at it up close, down low and even touch it.   Then it hit me (and don’t laugh here) the bathroom.   I brought my husband in behind me as I wielded this heavy piece of repurposed art and showed him where I was talking about:  down low, just where it can be appreciated, when we have guests use our powder room.

This thing has shelves, it has wheels, it has safety deposit box keys, it has glitter and color galore.   Oh, did you want to see a picture?

Tomorrow, my husband is going out to get some serious picture hanging apparatus to put it up.   I am looking forward to hearing all the conversations “Spooner” is going to start over the years to come.  

Beth, thank you for “Spooner” and the other beautiful piece you painted and dedicated to my children that we’ll be placing in their bedroom tomorrow as well.  

The Big Boy Update:  My son almost lost his sandwich in the car today because he wanted to pull it apart and eat only the ingredients he wanted to eat, namely, the ham.   I’ve been too lax on the sandwich deconstruction issue for too long.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter almost lost her sandwich in the car today because she wanted to pull it apart and eat the ingredients in the order she wanted to eat them in, namely, cheese, bread and then ham.    From here on out, sandwiches stay as sandwiches, and not a collection of ingredients.  

Comfort in Independence

Our children are very independent.  They’re not clingy, they don’t cower and they even enjoy launching off and discovering something new.   That’s not true one-hundred percent of the time, but it is in most situations and environments.    Children have innate personality traits and this makes each of our children different in their own way.  That notwithstanding, I believe firmly that we have had a lot to do with their independence.

A child who can only find comfort in the arms of a parent in a new or novel situation, is a child who may be more timid, more shy and more likely to avoid something just because they need support to have the confidence to try something new.

My husband and I from early on were known to say things like, “my arms aren’t available to hold your right now, but you can go over and look at the friendly dog yourself, if you’d like.”   When you make yourself emotionally unavailable to a child in a safe situation where they can stretch their boundaries and try something new, they gain new-found confidence in themselves when they’re successful.

We made sure our children had no comfort items like “lovies” that were a requisite for them to feel safe and secure in every day situations.   We encouraged them to stretch their boundaries and intentionally didn’t help in cases that would have been easy to step in, saying, “Mr. Bubbles the clown is nice, you can sit on my lap if you want.  I’ll be here for you.   It’s okay.  Don’t worry.  Etc.”   We didn’t  over-reassure, giving our children any reason or cause to think the situation they found themselves in was anything other than regular or normal.

Today, I was proud of both my children.  We went to Tweetsie Railroad with some friends.   My children got in and out of the stroller as they became tired, but they never once had to be held by my husband or me.   They ran off to the train-shaped bounce house and didn’t even care when we went to an area off to the side, out of sight, because they had confidence we would be there for them if there was a need.

There were rides, some of them pretty exciting.   My three-year-old excitedly went of with my husband to ride the chair lift that went up and above the park.   My son and daughter both wanted to ride the Rainbow and Round Up and were quite disappointed to find out they were inches too short and several years too young to go.    They scoffed at the merry-go-round, opting for the Tilt-a-Whirl instead and eagerly leaned into the spin of our car so we could spin faster.    And I don’t think I’ll forget my daughter giggling and laughing as we zipped around in the Tweetsie Twister.

When they were younger, sometimes it was hard not picking them up or cuddling them when they were anxious, but it was always a pleasure to watch as they gained confidence in themselves in their ability to experience new things.

The Big Boy Update:  We rode on the Tweetsie Railroad train today.   About half-way through, the train stops at a fort structure and the engineer says, “we’ve got a situation here, there may be Indians in the area…”    Then a cowboy and Indian show ensues.    In the middle of the show, my son said, “is this a situation?”   Then after it was over he told us, “I want to see another situation.”

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  We were in line for ice cream at the park this afternoon.   My daughter said to me, “mom, are you getting dripping drops?”   I told her they were called, Dippin’ Dots but now that she mentioned it, about five minutes after we purchase them, they do tend to turn into dripping drops.

Fitness Update:  It was a hard day to quantify exercise-wise.   We only walked four miles in the amusement park today, but those miles were up and down the side of a lush, green mountain.   I got home and ran two-and-a-half miles in the heat up and down some fierce hills (and I walked a bit to be truthful.)   Then, I went and ate a lot of dinner.   Delicious dinner.

The One Outfit Day

Something has started happening in our household lately.   Our children get up in the morning, get dressed for school and come down for breakfast.   They have selected their outfit from underpants to socks sometimes with an eye for fashion and other times with a seemingly expert ability to clash every part of their attire.

We head off to school after breakfast and I wave to the children as they walk into school.   At noon when we come back to pick them up, both children are still wearing the same outfit.   This means there were no accidents and no paint, water or other kitchen events that would make their clothing wet or dirty enough to merit a change.

We may head off to lunch or go home.  We might have activities away from the house or it might be an afternoon of playing in the back yard with friends.  When it's time for dinner, the children come in—after both managing their toileting needs themselves—to eat their meals.  

Bath time ends the day.   The children come in, take off their clothes, put them in the hamper, select far more toys than any two children could possibly need to put in the tub and then proceed to have an uproarious time in the bath getting clean.

What I've noticed lately is the very same outfit they came down stairs with in the morning is the one going in the hamper before bath time.    That means we have two toilet trained offspring that can manage their bodily needs appropriately.    It also means less laundry.

I'm very proud of my children for the independence they demonstrate on a daily basis.   Maybe we'll have them start doing their laundry next?

The Big Boy Update:  My son called out in the middle of the night, which is unusual.   I went to check on him and found out his hand had fallen asleep.   I talked to him about what that meant while I massaged his hand and helped him get comfortable so he could go back to sleep.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  We went on a walk around the block after dinner.   My husband and mother went with us.   As the children collected flowers,  they delighted in running up and giving them to Mimi.   As we got towards the end of the walk, my daughter got one large flower and said she was going to give it to Gramps when she got home.

Fitness Update:  Upper body workout in the gym today.  I wonder how my arms will feel tomorrow?

The Thirty Little Hands

I substituted today in one of our school's Lower Elementary classrooms.   Montessori has mixed-age classrooms and this level spans the traditional first through third grade levels.   The third year students were on their end of year trip to Washington, D.C. with their teachers so I was helping out with the first and second years.

I had a charming day getting to know some of the students I hadn't had a chance to work with before and had a chance to get re-accquainted with those I knew but hadn't seen in a while.   I learned a lot about dinosaurs and reptiles as they shared with me their current project work and I discovered how well these children played together outside in football as a team, without adult intervention or supervision.

When the afternoon's work cycle was over, the student with the responsibility to ring the three o'clock bell rang the small, brass handbell hanging from the cabinet knob.   All the children began immediately putting up their work.    The room had been covered with research projects, art projects, language lessons and books and within three minutes, everything was put up in the appropriate cubby or on the proper shelf.    Then, I watched something I didn't expect to see.

Each of these students had an assigned job for the day (or possibly week.)   Some of them got hand brooms and dust pans and started sweeping up crumbs, dirt and debris from the floors.   Some children had cloths and spray bottles and began to clean not only the table tops, but the chairs and table legs.     There were two students who had rug cleaning as their chore for the day.   They folded them up, took them outside and beat them off before bringing them back into the classroom and placing them neatly in their spots on the floor.

There were jobs I didn't even know were being done.   Two of the students went upstairs to the Upper Elementary classroom to feed the turtles and fish, since the entire class was on a field trip for the day. Three other students sounded like they were in the bathroom together making unnecessary noise until I looked in to find them shredding newspaper and spraying water into a large plastic bin.   When I asked, they told me they were rotating the compost for the earthworms in the container.

In twelve minutes from the point the one student rang the bell, thirty little hands had made short work of the cleaning up.   At thirteen minutes, all the students were sitting quietly in a circle, waiting for the teacher to speak.   These first- and second-grade children are happy to be a part of the cleaning process and are proud of what they have contributed to the classroom.

It is amazing how much small children can accomplish.

The Big Boy Update:  We went to a seafood restaurant for dinner last night.   My son loved his popcorn shrimp and orange slices.   As we were leaving he said, "can I have my birthday here?"

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:   My daughter is telling me in a loud voice down the stairs that she ate all of her pasta and her brother ate all of his raisins but he didn't eat all of his pasta.   There is more information, but it involves a lot of 'and's' and constitutes one of the longest run-on sentences in the northern hemisphere, so I won't burden you with it.

Fitness Update:  Six miles in misting rain in perfect weather.   Very refreshing.

End of Day Stories

We do different things to end the day with the children.   They share a bedroom and at eleven-months apart in age, we've had them sleeping in one room since my daughter was three-months-old.   We think they enjoy sharing the space and building the bond that only siblings can have.   There are pros and cons to it of course, but one thing that works to our advantage is our nighttime routine.

With two children in one room, stories can be read together in their room.   My husband is our primary story-reader.   He loves reading stories to them.  He practiced reading the more challenging Dr. Seuss books before my children were even old enough to understand them (or at least that's how I tell the story.)

My children love stores of all type.   They can be picture books, in-depth stories or board books with only a few words per page.   They also like made up stories.   Again, my husband is the king of stories in our house and frequently comes up with something new and exciting I hear about the next day from the children.

One night recently, I was putting the children to bed.   My husband had gone off to the movies and I was sitting in the rocking chair, in the dark, in the children's room working on a story.    My children were helping though: my daughter told me the story was about someone named, "Boinger" (and that person was her, she said.)  I asked her if I was in the story and she said, "yes mom, you're 'The Nice Maker.'"  My son piped up, saying dad was a super hero named, "Jumper."  Jumper could do impressive things like jump very high.  I asked my son if he was in the story too and not surprisingly was told yes, and that he was called, "Lifter."   Lifter, he told me, was very strong and could lift lots of heavy things.

We had an imaginative time talking what our family of super heroes was out there doing before it was time for me to leave and them to go to sleep.

The Big Boy Update:  Last night I needed to run next door to drop off something to my neighbor.   As I was getting ready to go, my son said, "we'll miss you, mommy," in just the right intonation to make me feel like I was headed off on an extended safari expedition, possibly never to return.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  Coloring inside the lines.   My daughter is getting better at fine motor control and the pincer grasp.   She was working hard at dinner tonight to color in segments in a children's menu drawing.   She was still going over the lines, but she was doing better than I've seen her do before, especially since she was "coloring" an area solid, instead of "scribbling" in a general area on the paper.

Fitness Update:  Our trainer has us to pull-ups from time to time.   I can do some, but I seem to always need a bit of guidance (read help) to do them.   I can do multiple reps, I just can't get my body up without a little weight-reduction from the trainer.   I'm getting better over time.

The Twenty-Five Year Filling

I went to see my dentist today.  There was a crown he had made for me a few months ago he wasn't happy with.   He wanted to remake the crown.   I was fine with remaking the crown, but I wasn't looking forward to the temporary coming off again and again for three weeks while we waited for the permanent crown due to the shallowness of the tooth.  

This time though, he had a plan that worked out well.   He did some things on his end he could control while I was still in the office and he sent me home with some of his dentist tools and several packets of temporary cement in case the temporary fell out.   His plan worked, though, and I happily returned his bag of dentistry item, unused, today when he placed the permanent crown.

We had been talking about one other thing he could do too, and today he did it.   I chipped one of my lower front teeth some over twenty-five years ago.   At the time, my dentist told me anything he did would just break or fall out because the chip was small and in a highly-used location.   Short of putting a veneer on the tooth—something I didn't want for an aesthetic chip—I was stuck with the look.

When I mentioned it to my neighbor recently, he looked at the chip (which turned out to be two small chips on side-by-side teeth) and told me it was something he could fix easily, but that it may not stay forever.   He said he wouldn't even have to drill into the tooth, he would just chemically etch the edges.  With dental work, nothing is forever.  I told him and to sign me up.

This morning he placed the crown and then took about twenty minutes to put two small fillings on top of the existing tooth.   It's something little.  It's something most likely only I will truly notice, but it's something that made my overall smile uneven.

I told him I was so happy about those little fillings (he refused to charge me for them) and that I'd been waiting twenty-five years to have level bottom front teeth.     I have been looking in the mirror and smiling all day.  

The Big Boy Update:  My son asked my husband today, "daddy, why do you hate cheese?"   I burst out laughing, because my husband doesn't like most cheese.   How was he going to answer this one?   He explained that he didn't "hate" cheese and then went on to say some other things I didn't pay attention to because I was still laughing at my son's question.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter said to my son in the car today, "Greyson, did you know that people are creatures?"

Fitness Update:  I went to the fitness room and did some elliptical today.  It wasn't as boring as I had expected it to be because Uncle Jonathan went with me and we talked the whole time.

The Breakthrough Paralysis

My husband and I have been trying to be more environmentally friendly over the past several years.   We rarely use disposable plates, cups, utensils and napkins.   We use white cloths in abundance for napkins, cleaning and many other things we might use other paper products for.

We further looked into how we could cut down on our carbon footprint electrically in our lives.   We replaced over three-hundred light bulbs in our house with LED or CFL alternatives.   There was an upfront cost, but we'll recoup the entire amount in less than three years.   That being said, it wasn't about the dollars, it was about the right thing to do.    We know we're using less electricity every month as a result and will continue to do so, for years to come and we won't have to replace light bulbs to do so.

We then looked at an electric car and if you read this blog, you know we purchased a Tesla Model S.   Buying an electric car is a wonderful thing, but it's not something you do to recoup the full cost of the car.   Even the most economically-priced electric car will take over a decade in fuel cost savings to get close to repaying the cost of the car.  Our car, which we love, would take significantly longer to recoup in cost.   That's not why we did it though—we did it because we believed it was the right thing to do.   We're not burning fossil fuels in an inefficient internal combustion engine vehicle.   We are, instead, charging the car on the more efficient energy sources provided from the electrical company's power grid.

We did a calculation on the car and it's usage of energy.   The cost of charging the car is like adding seven weeks of electricity usage on our power bill each year—a dramatic savings from the gas costs we were incurring in prior years.

The thing we've most wanted to do of late is add solar panels to the house.   We would very much like to defray the entire burden of our energy consumption by solar energy production from panels on our roof.    We looked at solar as an option last year before we purchased the Tesla and were disappointed in what we found out.    First, we don't have an ideal angle on our house.   We're east/west facing whereas north/south facing with the southern face at the back of the house ideal.    Second, the pitch of our house is such that any solar panels on the back of our house go into shadow after three o'clock most days as the sun sets into the west.   There were trees and we also had a broken up roof line.   All things that made the number of panels and the production numbers on the panels not ideal.  

So we decided to wait.  It was hard to wait in part, because state and federal incentives were so alluring.   Sixty-five percent of the total cost of the implementation was covered via eligible tax credits from federal and state government.   Those incentives remain this year, but legislation is in play that may change this.  

The next concern I had was panel technology.   What if we bought something this year and next year there's a new product that has far higher production capacity per panel?   My husband is well-read and he's been following the solar technology in both past, present and predicted future.   There have been advances, but they've been slow increments in production over time.   Doing nothing because, "next year there might be something better," will always be true.  Having breakthrough paralysis won't put solar panels on the house and we'll keep burning fossil fuels.  The panels today are excellent.   They perform well and produce significant amounts of energy and we have enough roof to make it work.  

The question is, what are we going to decide to do?   I'll let you know when we figure it out.

The Big Boy Update:  "Rayan is Stupid!"  My son was angry yesterday because his sister and his two best friends didn't do exactly what he wanted them to do when he wanted them to do it...so he called them all stupid in turn.    I was in earshot and snatched his arm, walking him quickly in the other direction.   He was immediately contrite, but that was only because he got caught.   He hears these things at school and realizes words are powerful.   It took a while before his attitude was adjusted enough to join his friends at the graduation party he desperately wanted to attend.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter was eating he salad with ginger dressing at lunch at our favorite sushi and Thai restaurant when she dropped her "tweezers" as she calls them.   She is getting good at eating with chopsticks with the child attachment.

Fitness Update:  I've decided our trainer, Don, is trying to either kill us or train us for the Donathalon.   I'm hoping it's the latter, but sometimes my muscles think it's the former.