Children learn from about three hours old how to work their parents. Cry and I get attention. Cry louder and I get attention more quickly. Throw something and I get negative attention, but hey, it’s still attention. Say something nice and I get what I want maybe even if I don’t deserve it because I just flattered you. Children figure out so many ways to work an angle with us as feeble-minded, gullible adults that it’s interesting they can’t manage to do something as simple as putting their shoes away after school.
But that’s children for you. Smart in all the ways that count. Because truthfully if the shoes are in the middle of the hallway, there’s a good chance we’ll pick them up as parents while they’re out playing in the yard—and they know this.
Madison, my next-door-neighbor’s daughter was over two days ago. She always asks if they can go into the craft room to do this or that or something fun for the children that means supervised work for me and usually a mess to clean up. They know they’re not allowed in without an adult, and they always respect that, which means we’ve gotten at least one thing right.
I was already in the craft room with an older neighbor’s daughter, Keira, enacting a plan. Keira had wanted some paper. I have a lot of paper. There are some papers the children can use and some they can’t. I told Keira I had an idea: that I would put smiley face stickers on all the drawers and containers of things they could use without asking. They still couldn’t enter the room without permission, but this would make things easier for me. They would also help my daughter find what was available as well.
As I was adding stickers more children started to pile in. It’s an interesting room with lots and lots of little things, interesting tiny-drawered bins and toy-like things. I’m a collector and there is just a lot of things in the room that are fun for young children, hence the ban on entering without an adult.
The table tops are ideally cleaned off but I’d been piling up things since Christmas without successfully getting it all sorted and put away, mostly because I had to come up with new locations to store the additional stuff. Add to that a lot of little fun trinkets and things from my obsession with shopping online from China and the table tops were too exciting to ignore. Panda stickers, rainbow markers, tiny little notepads, monkey post-it notes, slime, a unicorn stapler and stocking things still unsorted.
I got the children busy with a painting project and then started going through everything. All the painting stopped when they realized there was candy coming out of the bags. There were lollipops too. Keira asked if she could have one to which I asked if her mother would be okay with it. I trust her and she said yes. Then Madison wanted to know if she could have one too. And then I was in trouble.
Madison’s father is our dentist and he isn’t so fond of lollipops, but I’d already told Keira and my daughter they could have one. I told Madison to go ask her father if they could and if he said yes, it was fine with me. She ran home and not a minute later came running back into the room with her younger brother, saying breathlessly, “my dad says we can have one”.
I trust Madison not to lie as well so I let them choose the flavor of their choice. And then Madison said something I didn’t expect from a six-year-old. She was very matter-of-fact as she explained how simple it was to get permission for the lollipop: “if we tell my dad we’ll be good for the rest of the day, he’ll give us anything we want.”
The next day Madison’s mother came over to borrow some things and I pulled her over, away from the children to tell her what Madison had said. She said exasperatedly, “I know! I’ve told him he’s got to stop doing that because they’re getting away with everything by promising to be good.” We laughed and I told her to not tell that I’d given her daughter’s secret away. I wonder what schemes my children have with my husband and me that we don’t even know they’re using on us?
The Big Boy Update: My mother picked my son up from school a while back. She had plans to take him to her house so they could play with her toys there and visit the neighbor’s playground, but he didn’t want to go. He asked if they could go home instead. As they were riding home my son asked in a concerned voice, “Mimi, are you disappointed that we didn’t go to your house?” She assured him she wasn’t but it was so very nice of him to ask.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My son got into some old Wii video games in the attic over the weekend. He was ecstatic he’d found them and happier still they could be played on the newer Wii U system. The next morning my daughter was explaining it to another neighbor when they came over to play. She said, “we have some new video games that dad used to play when he was little.” I didn’t bother telling her they didn’t have video games yet when dad and I were, “little”.
Monday, April 30, 2018
Sunday, April 29, 2018
The Longest Bath
It was bath night tonight. We had an eczema problem with them when they were younger and their pediatrician recommended we don’t give them a bath every night, saying that children don’t have to have a bath, it would be okay and that we’re not negligent parents if we don’t clean them daily. She said it was better for them even, provided they don’t get too dirty.
We were lax this weekend so I think today was day three for baths which I can tell by the state of my daughter’s hair. It looks nice if we work at it, but it really wants to turn into dreadlocks or something else that defies brushing and looks like the proverbial, “rats nest”. I won’t go into the products and processes we do with my daughter hair to try and keep it manageable but suffice it to say, we haven’t found a combination yet that completely works with her fine, flyaway hair.
This afternoon my daughter wanted to have a slime bath. This is a powdered green product you put into the tub that turns the water into gooey slime—and she loves it. Her brother wasn’t interested and said he’d take a quick shower later. I got the slime powder and my daughter got into the tub. And then she didn’t want to get out.
She was in the tub maybe an hour-and-a-half, maybe more. She had toys and was playing games with herself and when I would come in to check on her she would say, “go away” or, “leave me alone”. So I did. I got laundry folded, helped my neighbor with some things she came over to borrow and my son and I made a special drink he created that he plans on selling and making millions from. (It was pretty tasty.)
Eventually my daughter drained the slime and ran clean water so she could wash her hair. She got out and cleaned up all the toys and then, reluctantly, agreed to have her hair dried. Only she wanted to do the drying herself.
She held the dryer too close to her head so I turned the heat off and she mostly dried two spots, but by then she wasn’t opposed to me helping so we got the job finished fairly quickly. By then her brother wanted to come and put makeup on them both—for some unknown reason he wouldn’t tell me. We got out the makeup Nana gave my daughter and my son delicately made my daughter’s face pink, green and blue, asking me which colors were for the eyes and what applicator or brush he should use for each. Then he wanted me to put some on him.
My son also wanted to do something special with my daughter’s hair—something crazy he said—which I had to put a kibosh on as we had just gotten her hair brushable again. So he brushed her hair and told her it looked beautiful in the back and she was very happy.
It was a good day here. The squabbling that typically happens was nonexistent, which was nice. My children were gracious and kind to each other and had a happy day all around. Maybe we need long baths more often.
The Big Boy Update: My son decided he was allergic to strawberries earlier this school year. He’s not, but we let him avoid them for a while and then I reintroduced them when he’d forgotten. This afternoon I came into the kitchen to find him with the child scissors and some strawberries. He wanted to make a, “Double Strawberry” drink that included strawberry chunks. I got out a cutting board and the children’s waffle cutter and showed him how he could finely chop a strawberry himself. The drink he made was pretty good. He poured little cups for us each to try and put an umbrella and mini straws in them to make the drink extra festive.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My children swish after brushing their teeth for a minute. Typically they ask Alexa to start a timer for a minute or sixty seconds or sixty-five seconds or some other variant. Sometimes they just count. Today I was cleaning up while my daughter swished and I asked her when she was done if she was counting to sixty in her head. And she surprised me. She said, “I was following the clock ticks. It’s easy, you just count them.” I had forgotten the wall clock in the bathroom ticked. But she hears everything.
Saturday, April 28, 2018
Voiceover
This morning my daughter asked for two things. First she wanted an app she was using at school. I thought they used computers and not iPads, but sure enough there was the app on the app store so now she’s practicing writing her letters (print, not braille) in huge format across the entire screen of the iPad.
The second thing she asked was for me to turn Voiceover on on the iPad. And this is interesting. In the early portion of the school year we went to dinner with her VI teacher from the prior two years and her daughter came to watch our children while we went out to eat. Lauren is also blind but with enough vision so she can function with assisted tools.
Lauren showed my daughter how Voiceover would help her on the iPad. That was months ago and I never heard about it until this morning. And get this, it’s right there in the settings of the iPad. When you turn on Voiceover you get a warning that the gestures you use are going to be changed. You have to go back to iPad interface school basically—because it’s that different.
Here’s how it works: everything you can touch on the iPad has a spoken version of what it is. It might be a button that reads, “Enter Name” or a video titled, “Mickey’s Space Capade”. It could be the name of the app on the app screen or even a key on the keyboard.
Voiceover changes things because when you tap something you’re not actually tapping it. You’re asking to have the iPad speak out what you just touched. If you then want to type the letter ‘R’ you double tap. So typing ‘R’ takes three taps instead of one.
We hadn’t completely figured this out before lunch and when we came back after lunch we couldn’t get her iPad unlocked. We thought we were entering her code but we weren’t and we got locked out several times. She decided when we finally got in that she didn’t want a lock code anymore.
She likes voiceover but it doesn’t work on all apps, so we’ve turned it on and off. I think we’ll mess with it a bit more and if it works well for her she can ignore the few apps that don’t support it. She’s got plenty of apps that do. I told her I’d teach her how to get to the area of Settings where she could turn it on and off herself. With her vision that will be very hard to do successfully for her, but she’s tenacious and won’t give up until she can do it.
The Big Boy Update: My son got into the attic today and discovered several things. First he found a secret passage from the attic to the storage room behind their closet. They were throwing a balloon down or something I think and figured out where it went. The second thing was he opened a box and found old Wii games. He ran down excited, saying he didn’t know we had these cool games. I thought he’d found something my husband had bought early and hid from my son until there was a reason for him to get it as a reward for stamps or something. I yelled down the stairs to my husband we had a problem but he couldn’t come up for a few minutes. By then my son had found five “new” games and was positively ecstatic. He’s been banned from the attic for now, but we did let him put up the old Wii games on the Wii U to see how they play.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: There was a party at our neighbor’s house a few days ago. My daughter didn’t really go to the party, although she was invited to join the children on the bouncy house. I told her a few hours later that everyone was leaving. She got her shoes on and went out the door. When I asked her where she was going she said, “I want to say goodbye to the party.”
The second thing she asked was for me to turn Voiceover on on the iPad. And this is interesting. In the early portion of the school year we went to dinner with her VI teacher from the prior two years and her daughter came to watch our children while we went out to eat. Lauren is also blind but with enough vision so she can function with assisted tools.
Lauren showed my daughter how Voiceover would help her on the iPad. That was months ago and I never heard about it until this morning. And get this, it’s right there in the settings of the iPad. When you turn on Voiceover you get a warning that the gestures you use are going to be changed. You have to go back to iPad interface school basically—because it’s that different.
Here’s how it works: everything you can touch on the iPad has a spoken version of what it is. It might be a button that reads, “Enter Name” or a video titled, “Mickey’s Space Capade”. It could be the name of the app on the app screen or even a key on the keyboard.
Voiceover changes things because when you tap something you’re not actually tapping it. You’re asking to have the iPad speak out what you just touched. If you then want to type the letter ‘R’ you double tap. So typing ‘R’ takes three taps instead of one.
We hadn’t completely figured this out before lunch and when we came back after lunch we couldn’t get her iPad unlocked. We thought we were entering her code but we weren’t and we got locked out several times. She decided when we finally got in that she didn’t want a lock code anymore.
She likes voiceover but it doesn’t work on all apps, so we’ve turned it on and off. I think we’ll mess with it a bit more and if it works well for her she can ignore the few apps that don’t support it. She’s got plenty of apps that do. I told her I’d teach her how to get to the area of Settings where she could turn it on and off herself. With her vision that will be very hard to do successfully for her, but she’s tenacious and won’t give up until she can do it.
The Big Boy Update: My son got into the attic today and discovered several things. First he found a secret passage from the attic to the storage room behind their closet. They were throwing a balloon down or something I think and figured out where it went. The second thing was he opened a box and found old Wii games. He ran down excited, saying he didn’t know we had these cool games. I thought he’d found something my husband had bought early and hid from my son until there was a reason for him to get it as a reward for stamps or something. I yelled down the stairs to my husband we had a problem but he couldn’t come up for a few minutes. By then my son had found five “new” games and was positively ecstatic. He’s been banned from the attic for now, but we did let him put up the old Wii games on the Wii U to see how they play.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: There was a party at our neighbor’s house a few days ago. My daughter didn’t really go to the party, although she was invited to join the children on the bouncy house. I told her a few hours later that everyone was leaving. She got her shoes on and went out the door. When I asked her where she was going she said, “I want to say goodbye to the party.”
Friday, April 27, 2018
Model 3
We have friends that got their Tesla Model 3 yesterday. It’s been a long wait for them and will be an even longer one people who placed their reservation later. I remember the day Ben reserved his car: it was the day of the Tesla Model 3 reveal.
The reveal wasn’t until that night, Pacific time, but Ben—sight unseen—got in line first thing in the morning to put his money down and wait in line until, well, he didn’t even know when he might be getting his car.
First thing in the morning and he was something like the hundredth person in line at our sales center alone. This was happening all around the world. By the end of the weekend there were hundreds of thousands of reservations.
This evening was a confusion of cars, visitors, a meeting and children without parents which so far means I haven’t had a chance to go for a ride in their car. Maybe if I can get the children to sleep I can go after the movie is over.
The Big Boy Update: My son loves some things sweet and other things not. He’s not so into cupcake icing for example. There was a cupcake in a paper bag in his lunch box when he got home today. I held it up and asked him where he got it. He glanced over at the bag and said, “oh, you can throw that out.”
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter went to dinner with my mother and father’s sister, our Aunt Martha, tonight. She came home with them and promptly climbed the tree in the front yard. Both my mother and Aunt Martha said she reminded them of me when I was young (I spent a lot of time in trees). As my daughter was climbing back down we asked her if she was being careful when she couldn’t get a foothold for the lower branch. She replied very matter-of-factly, “not really”.
The reveal wasn’t until that night, Pacific time, but Ben—sight unseen—got in line first thing in the morning to put his money down and wait in line until, well, he didn’t even know when he might be getting his car.
First thing in the morning and he was something like the hundredth person in line at our sales center alone. This was happening all around the world. By the end of the weekend there were hundreds of thousands of reservations.
This evening was a confusion of cars, visitors, a meeting and children without parents which so far means I haven’t had a chance to go for a ride in their car. Maybe if I can get the children to sleep I can go after the movie is over.
The Big Boy Update: My son loves some things sweet and other things not. He’s not so into cupcake icing for example. There was a cupcake in a paper bag in his lunch box when he got home today. I held it up and asked him where he got it. He glanced over at the bag and said, “oh, you can throw that out.”
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter went to dinner with my mother and father’s sister, our Aunt Martha, tonight. She came home with them and promptly climbed the tree in the front yard. Both my mother and Aunt Martha said she reminded them of me when I was young (I spent a lot of time in trees). As my daughter was climbing back down we asked her if she was being careful when she couldn’t get a foothold for the lower branch. She replied very matter-of-factly, “not really”.
Thursday, April 26, 2018
The Stamp Expansion
I’ve mentioned multiple times about the stamp system we have at our house. The children are rewarded stamps for expected behavior we’re working on being routine for them as well as for things unexpected they did showing kindness or extra work. This has been going well, with a few instances of stamps being removed for poor behavior. My son and daughter are saving up lots of stamps for big items which will take them a while longer to achieve.
The other day my children decided my husband and I should have a stamp chart too. We thought about it and it seemed like a very good idea. Only the children could give us stamps and only the children could take our stamps away. They got to choose what was stamp-worthy. They had all the power and if they didn’t like what we did or said, they could take away stamps too.
So far it’s been working out nicely. I’ve been surprised when and for what they decide to give us stamps. They have been generous and kind and it’s made them happy. This morning my son was mad though and he took a stamp away from both of us. The act itself gave him a lot of satisfaction.
They want to know what we’re going to buy when we get three hundred stamps. I told my children I hadn’t decided yet.
The Big Boy Update: My son was thinking about Halloween in the car on the way to school yesterday morning. He said to me, “this year maybe we could turn my Stay Puft Marshmallow Man costume into a s’mores costume.”
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter’s music lesson is now longer and she doesn’t have to go before or after her brother as he’s taking a break. She could have gone on longer than the full hour today I’m fairly certain, she was having so much fun.
The other day my children decided my husband and I should have a stamp chart too. We thought about it and it seemed like a very good idea. Only the children could give us stamps and only the children could take our stamps away. They got to choose what was stamp-worthy. They had all the power and if they didn’t like what we did or said, they could take away stamps too.
So far it’s been working out nicely. I’ve been surprised when and for what they decide to give us stamps. They have been generous and kind and it’s made them happy. This morning my son was mad though and he took a stamp away from both of us. The act itself gave him a lot of satisfaction.
They want to know what we’re going to buy when we get three hundred stamps. I told my children I hadn’t decided yet.
The Big Boy Update: My son was thinking about Halloween in the car on the way to school yesterday morning. He said to me, “this year maybe we could turn my Stay Puft Marshmallow Man costume into a s’mores costume.”
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter’s music lesson is now longer and she doesn’t have to go before or after her brother as he’s taking a break. She could have gone on longer than the full hour today I’m fairly certain, she was having so much fun.
Wednesday, April 25, 2018
Interviews
I’m on the search committee to find a new head of school for the Montessori school my son goes to. I can’t say enough positive things about the work that our board chairs have done to get us to this point. They have done extensive research on the what the search should entail. They interviewed and selected a consulting firm to help us manage the entire process, which has proven to be invaluable.
Many things have happened since that time resulting in six semi-finalist candidates which we interviewed today via Skype. When looking for a location to host the long session (3:00pm until 10:00pm today) we ended up having the interviews here at our house as opposed to renting a location. My husband and I rearranged our basement and set up the room with tables and chairs so that the nine search committee members could face our television such that the candidate would be able to see us all during the call.
Food and beverages were prepared, dinner was ordered for later and the committee arrived. Then we spend what seemed like no time at all in a forty-five minute interview session with each candidate, prepping for the following candidate in-between.
At the end of the night we discussed our thoughts and will meet again on Friday to determine our finalists, which we will bring to the school (some candidates are from out of state). The finalists will meet the staff, teachers and have an open forum with our families for questions and so that we and the candidate can get to know each other.
After that the committee will make a decision and recommendation to the board of trustees on which candidate to vote on for the head of school position. This will take place by the end of the school year. We have some excellent candidates, I think the school will have both capable and well-received leadership going forward as our current and much beloved head of school prepares for retirement.
The Big Boy Tiny Girl Quiet Update: My children went to dinner with Mimi and my father’s sister, Aunt Martha, who came to visit today. They were on their best behavior at dinner and when they got home, with the search committee interviews happening in the basement, dad asked them to be very quiet. I didn’t even hear them they were so silent. They got bonus stamps for good behavior all evening.
Many things have happened since that time resulting in six semi-finalist candidates which we interviewed today via Skype. When looking for a location to host the long session (3:00pm until 10:00pm today) we ended up having the interviews here at our house as opposed to renting a location. My husband and I rearranged our basement and set up the room with tables and chairs so that the nine search committee members could face our television such that the candidate would be able to see us all during the call.
Food and beverages were prepared, dinner was ordered for later and the committee arrived. Then we spend what seemed like no time at all in a forty-five minute interview session with each candidate, prepping for the following candidate in-between.
At the end of the night we discussed our thoughts and will meet again on Friday to determine our finalists, which we will bring to the school (some candidates are from out of state). The finalists will meet the staff, teachers and have an open forum with our families for questions and so that we and the candidate can get to know each other.
After that the committee will make a decision and recommendation to the board of trustees on which candidate to vote on for the head of school position. This will take place by the end of the school year. We have some excellent candidates, I think the school will have both capable and well-received leadership going forward as our current and much beloved head of school prepares for retirement.
The Big Boy Tiny Girl Quiet Update: My children went to dinner with Mimi and my father’s sister, Aunt Martha, who came to visit today. They were on their best behavior at dinner and when they got home, with the search committee interviews happening in the basement, dad asked them to be very quiet. I didn’t even hear them they were so silent. They got bonus stamps for good behavior all evening.
Tuesday, April 24, 2018
Done Time
I’m done. With everything. Or at least everything on my short-term get it done list. It doesn’t happen often but when it does it feels nice. All the emails have been answered. All the paperwork has been done. Anything that needs to be written or paid or mailed has been completed. The pile of “to do” things I have in the hub spot that’s mine in the kitchen is completely empty. The laundry has been folded and put away. The dish washer is empty and the kitchen is clean. It’s a great feeling, but it doesn’t last for long.
Emails never stay gone for long—people tend to reply back to you. Dishes and laundry are only done for a matter of hours and more things just pile up. We’re hosting an event at our house tomorrow and on Thursday I’m giving two presentations I’ve been finalizing for a week. And by that time I’m sure I’ll be behind on all the other stuff I just got caught up on.
The Big Boy Update: In the car today we passed a church that had a word in it that was similarly spelled to my son’s name. He’s reading everything lately and this sparked a conversation about the different kinds of churches and beliefs and what his friends in school believed in. Then he asked me, “is there a church for people who believe in The Big Bang?”
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: We go to my daughter’s school tomorrow for, “student-led conferences”. We’re not entirely sure what this will entail (although it seems perfectly clear to my daughter) but we’ll find out in the morning.
Emails never stay gone for long—people tend to reply back to you. Dishes and laundry are only done for a matter of hours and more things just pile up. We’re hosting an event at our house tomorrow and on Thursday I’m giving two presentations I’ve been finalizing for a week. And by that time I’m sure I’ll be behind on all the other stuff I just got caught up on.
The Big Boy Update: In the car today we passed a church that had a word in it that was similarly spelled to my son’s name. He’s reading everything lately and this sparked a conversation about the different kinds of churches and beliefs and what his friends in school believed in. Then he asked me, “is there a church for people who believe in The Big Bang?”
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: We go to my daughter’s school tomorrow for, “student-led conferences”. We’re not entirely sure what this will entail (although it seems perfectly clear to my daughter) but we’ll find out in the morning.
Monday, April 23, 2018
Thumb and Index Finger
I have a brace on my right hand to isolate movement in my thumb. I’m not sure if there is torn cartilage of if it’s strained or what, but it’s been bothersome and getting worse for about eight months now. Short of going and having an MRI done on it I opted for the brace to see if it will improve.
I’d tried NSAIDs or rather I should say I was already trying NSAIDs because I take them for issues related to my spine. It didn’t help much. On the contrary, it seemed to be getting worse in spite of the anti-inflammatory medication and had started a clicking thing that added to the discomfort.
I ordered a brace to see if it would help, resting the thumb, giving it a chance to heal. When I asked my chiropractor how long I would need to wear a brace he said six to twelve weeks. I think I scowled at him when he said it, and if I didn’t, I was thinking it because it’s a long time to have your thumb out of commission.
I use my thumb a lot. This post so far has taken me four times as long to write and I can’t even count the number of typos I’ve made but if my backspace key gives out, I won’t be surprised. And texting on the phone—what a mess. Texting is a two thumb job. Down one thumb I’ve switched over to thumb and index finger. And here’s the surprising thing: that wasn’t that hard. I’m not bad with a different finger for texting.
But twelve weeks is still a long time for an unknown level of improvement. I’m going to give it a try though.
The Big Boy Update: My son told me this yesterday as he was getting ready for bath time. “I have my own language. The language is Granan. And Granada is the nation and the race of humankind that live there”
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter made her own breakfast today, including getting her probiotic and vitamin. She got the probiotic little pouch and figured out how to cut it open with her safety scissors. The vitamins, she told me, “Greyson and I figured out how to open the bottle, you push down and turn.”
I’d tried NSAIDs or rather I should say I was already trying NSAIDs because I take them for issues related to my spine. It didn’t help much. On the contrary, it seemed to be getting worse in spite of the anti-inflammatory medication and had started a clicking thing that added to the discomfort.
I ordered a brace to see if it would help, resting the thumb, giving it a chance to heal. When I asked my chiropractor how long I would need to wear a brace he said six to twelve weeks. I think I scowled at him when he said it, and if I didn’t, I was thinking it because it’s a long time to have your thumb out of commission.
I use my thumb a lot. This post so far has taken me four times as long to write and I can’t even count the number of typos I’ve made but if my backspace key gives out, I won’t be surprised. And texting on the phone—what a mess. Texting is a two thumb job. Down one thumb I’ve switched over to thumb and index finger. And here’s the surprising thing: that wasn’t that hard. I’m not bad with a different finger for texting.
But twelve weeks is still a long time for an unknown level of improvement. I’m going to give it a try though.
The Big Boy Update: My son told me this yesterday as he was getting ready for bath time. “I have my own language. The language is Granan. And Granada is the nation and the race of humankind that live there”
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter made her own breakfast today, including getting her probiotic and vitamin. She got the probiotic little pouch and figured out how to cut it open with her safety scissors. The vitamins, she told me, “Greyson and I figured out how to open the bottle, you push down and turn.”
Sunday, April 22, 2018
Painted Planes
My children were making paper airplanes in volume this weekend. They started with just the basic plane model with a piece of my daughter’s braille paper (which is great for the job). Then the neighbor’s children were making planes. This necessitated a way to tell each other’s planes apart, so they put initials on the back of the wings in big letters.
After that they got into striping and coloring the planes. By today they were spending more time making the planes colorful and accurate, using straight edges, than they were in the actual flight testing of the planes.
We have an open ceiling from the first floor to the second floor with a bridge going across part-way to my children’s room. It is from this location that the flight tests were conducted. There are very, very few things that are allowed to go over the bridge. This was something my husband and I put into place at a very early age and have never wavered. Unless there is something we deem okay. For instance a balloon is okay to drop over the bridge. Dirty laundry is always okay because it’s easier on me to drop linens over instead of carrying a basket.
Paper planes were okay to be sent over the bridge, only protest yourself and don’t aim them at people. The children were fine with this as they were looking to break records or do tricks or other goal and were cheering each other on.
I threw a lot of planes away this weekend that were no longer planes, instead they were crumpled balls—rejects I supposed. At the end of the weekend I put together all the best ones, stacked them on top of each other and put them in the children’s catch-all cabinet. They stacked so nicely because every single plane they had made had been the one, basic plane model.
As my son was getting undressed for a bath tonight I told him, “I have some books on how to make other paper plane models; would you like to try some out next weekend?” He looked pretty interested and said he definitely would. Although next weekend is an awful long way away in the timeframe of a child; he might be into something completely different by then.
The Big Boy Update: My son was confuses by how ‘Mrs.’ is pronounced in the book he was reading tonight. He said there wasn’t even an ‘r’ in it when you said it and why would they spell it that way? I explained it several ways and he finally just decided to pronounce it how I was saying and not worry about how it looked like it should be said.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter was writing a letter to her braille teacher from last year. I told her to write ‘Ms.’ and then Raffaella. My daughter said, “no, I want the not contracted version of Ms.”. I had to figure out what she was asking and then I realized there are a lot of shortcuts in “contracted” braille that she’s learning and she thought I was giving her a shortcut. Eventually I just told her to spell ‘Miss’ because she was having none of my explanation.
After that they got into striping and coloring the planes. By today they were spending more time making the planes colorful and accurate, using straight edges, than they were in the actual flight testing of the planes.
We have an open ceiling from the first floor to the second floor with a bridge going across part-way to my children’s room. It is from this location that the flight tests were conducted. There are very, very few things that are allowed to go over the bridge. This was something my husband and I put into place at a very early age and have never wavered. Unless there is something we deem okay. For instance a balloon is okay to drop over the bridge. Dirty laundry is always okay because it’s easier on me to drop linens over instead of carrying a basket.
Paper planes were okay to be sent over the bridge, only protest yourself and don’t aim them at people. The children were fine with this as they were looking to break records or do tricks or other goal and were cheering each other on.
I threw a lot of planes away this weekend that were no longer planes, instead they were crumpled balls—rejects I supposed. At the end of the weekend I put together all the best ones, stacked them on top of each other and put them in the children’s catch-all cabinet. They stacked so nicely because every single plane they had made had been the one, basic plane model.
As my son was getting undressed for a bath tonight I told him, “I have some books on how to make other paper plane models; would you like to try some out next weekend?” He looked pretty interested and said he definitely would. Although next weekend is an awful long way away in the timeframe of a child; he might be into something completely different by then.
The Big Boy Update: My son was confuses by how ‘Mrs.’ is pronounced in the book he was reading tonight. He said there wasn’t even an ‘r’ in it when you said it and why would they spell it that way? I explained it several ways and he finally just decided to pronounce it how I was saying and not worry about how it looked like it should be said.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter was writing a letter to her braille teacher from last year. I told her to write ‘Ms.’ and then Raffaella. My daughter said, “no, I want the not contracted version of Ms.”. I had to figure out what she was asking and then I realized there are a lot of shortcuts in “contracted” braille that she’s learning and she thought I was giving her a shortcut. Eventually I just told her to spell ‘Miss’ because she was having none of my explanation.
Saturday, April 21, 2018
Ladies Dinner
I just got back from a dinner out with some of my girlfriends. Our hostess had bought a lot of wine. Some people had a few glasses, some drank none. We seemed to come around to exercise and fitness as a group a lot of the night and how drinking too much at night made it harder to get up at five o’clock in the morning to exercise the next day.
I haven’t been doing the amount of running I used to do and I’m excellent at sleeping late if not awakened by children early, but I didn’t drink tonight either. I’m tired enough without the alcohol to add to it.
It was a fun night with some funny friends. It’s also past my bedtime so I’m going to finish this up and go straight to sleep.
The Big Boy Update: We had some very windy weather with rain the other day, including a tornado watch for multiple hours. My son looked outside and said to me “the fans are going cray out there”, using a shortened version of ‘crazy’ to be cool.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: When we were at dinner the other night with Helen as our waitress my daughter didn’t understand (and couldn’t see) that Helen was very busy. She said hello to Helen every time she walked by. She noticed there was someone else who was going by her chair as well, serving other tables. As he walked by she said to him, “hello other person that’s not Helen.”
I haven’t been doing the amount of running I used to do and I’m excellent at sleeping late if not awakened by children early, but I didn’t drink tonight either. I’m tired enough without the alcohol to add to it.
It was a fun night with some funny friends. It’s also past my bedtime so I’m going to finish this up and go straight to sleep.
The Big Boy Update: We had some very windy weather with rain the other day, including a tornado watch for multiple hours. My son looked outside and said to me “the fans are going cray out there”, using a shortened version of ‘crazy’ to be cool.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: When we were at dinner the other night with Helen as our waitress my daughter didn’t understand (and couldn’t see) that Helen was very busy. She said hello to Helen every time she walked by. She noticed there was someone else who was going by her chair as well, serving other tables. As he walked by she said to him, “hello other person that’s not Helen.”
Friday, April 20, 2018
Star Wars Symphony
We took my six- and seven-year-old to the symphony tonight. Star Wars and John Williams music was featured and both my children love Star Wars. We figured my son would be more interested in one way because he could see the stage while my daughter would be more able to hear the details from the live orchestra. But we were gambling with two rambunctious children when the show didn’t start until their bedtimes.
It went well—surprisingly well. We took them to a nice dinner beforehand and then treated them to ice cream before going into the auditorium. There was balking on the part of my son when he was told he had to dress a little nicer while my daughter was happy to put on a fancy dress. She didn’t like the shoes and there was some convincing her that tennis shoes did not count as, “dress shoes”.
As we came in the building my son saw Darth Vader with a long line for pictures with him. He did not want to do that, he said. I took him to our seats and my daughter and husband stood in line and I have the sweetest picture of her holding Darth Vader’s hand, which may well have been a shock to him when she grabbed it.
Settled in (or as settled as you can be as a child) and the music started. There were whispered questions and more of the squirming, but they were great considering their age and lack of sight for my daughter. After intermission we weren’t certain if they would make it through the second half or if we would have to take them home due to cranky tiredness. They both fell asleep after a few songs, which settled that, and my husband and I finished out the symphony while my children weren’t bothered in the slightest by the loud noise.
I think we’ll take them to theme-based events in the future more, like concerts. My daughter seemed to be interested enough in just listening. We took her to a Frozen performance a while back and the loss of vision was too recent and she was upset, saying she couldn’t see. Now she’s happy to listen and ask questions.
The Big Boy Update: We went to our Sushi and Thai restaurant tonight only to find they’d changed the menu. They had added a Ramen noodles dish on the children’s section and my son decided to order it. After a few bites he said, “this couldn’t get better. Like if it got better, I would say it’s un-possible.” He told our favorite waitress, Helen, who had the, “boss man” come out so my son could tell him too.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: In the bathroom at the symphony tonight there was a three-way mirror. I don’t believe my daughter has ever seen herself in one before so I had her step into the area and look at herself on the left and right as well as in front of her. She looked for a bit and then they announced the program would start back in five minutes. As she turned to go she said, “bye me’s” to the mirrors.
It went well—surprisingly well. We took them to a nice dinner beforehand and then treated them to ice cream before going into the auditorium. There was balking on the part of my son when he was told he had to dress a little nicer while my daughter was happy to put on a fancy dress. She didn’t like the shoes and there was some convincing her that tennis shoes did not count as, “dress shoes”.
As we came in the building my son saw Darth Vader with a long line for pictures with him. He did not want to do that, he said. I took him to our seats and my daughter and husband stood in line and I have the sweetest picture of her holding Darth Vader’s hand, which may well have been a shock to him when she grabbed it.
Settled in (or as settled as you can be as a child) and the music started. There were whispered questions and more of the squirming, but they were great considering their age and lack of sight for my daughter. After intermission we weren’t certain if they would make it through the second half or if we would have to take them home due to cranky tiredness. They both fell asleep after a few songs, which settled that, and my husband and I finished out the symphony while my children weren’t bothered in the slightest by the loud noise.
I think we’ll take them to theme-based events in the future more, like concerts. My daughter seemed to be interested enough in just listening. We took her to a Frozen performance a while back and the loss of vision was too recent and she was upset, saying she couldn’t see. Now she’s happy to listen and ask questions.
The Big Boy Update: We went to our Sushi and Thai restaurant tonight only to find they’d changed the menu. They had added a Ramen noodles dish on the children’s section and my son decided to order it. After a few bites he said, “this couldn’t get better. Like if it got better, I would say it’s un-possible.” He told our favorite waitress, Helen, who had the, “boss man” come out so my son could tell him too.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: In the bathroom at the symphony tonight there was a three-way mirror. I don’t believe my daughter has ever seen herself in one before so I had her step into the area and look at herself on the left and right as well as in front of her. She looked for a bit and then they announced the program would start back in five minutes. As she turned to go she said, “bye me’s” to the mirrors.
Thursday, April 19, 2018
Honeybun
My daughter’s hearing is quite acute. It’s almost matched by her ability to not hear you when she doesn’t feel like listening. But for the most part she catches things the rest of us might be able to her, but don’t notice or pay attention to because we have the addition of visual input to process at the same time.
For instance the other day my daughter and her friend had been playing a game on the Xbox called, Kinect Party. There is a camera that sees you standing in front of the television and puts you on the screen immersed in an environment in which you can do things. For instance, my daughter and I were in a popcorn machine. Our job was to run around waving our hands and kicking in order to help the kernels pop. We then had to grab toppings as they fell, like chocolate sauce, and have them splash all over us.
The popcorn machine is one of about thirty different yet cute variants within the game. It rotates through them every few minutes. We left the game on and went upstairs to get a snack in a bit, planning on coming back. Things were happening in the kitchen. Conversations were being had. Noise was occurring in the general area. But Kinect Party was still on downstairs in the basement, barely audible.
My daughter suddenly said, “this is the one where you dig for treasure.” She could hear and was paying attention. A bit later she said, “this is the one where you become a butterfly.” Not only was she able to hear the mini game, she knew which one it was from the music or sounds being played alone. I know the games, but I don’t know them by sound.
Her hearing isn’t always correct though. I went to the chiropractor and had her with me earlier this week. Dr. Burr came in and started to feel my spine to see what needed adjusting. I don’t know if you’ve been to a chiropractor before, but they have to feel your lower back and waistbands get in the way so they feel just inside your waistband. My shirt was tightly tucked in so I said something like, “you can just take my shirt out”.
My daughter asked, “does he take people’s shirts off?” He and I both laughed. After adjusting my lower back he told me to roll over onto my belly. He adjusted me lying face down and as I was getting up my daughter said, “did you just say ‘honeybun’?” He had not said honeybun.
About that time one of the other chiropractors stuck his head in to say hello to my daughter and me. I told him I thought my daughter had an entirely different idea of what went on at the chiropractor’s office than what happens in reality.
The Big Boy Update: It was time to get ready for bed tonight but my son was interested in drawing something. He told us, “sorry, you can’t tell me what to do.” I said that actually dad and I could tell him what to do. That’s part of being a parent. He said, “but I’m responsible”.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: I was talking to my daughter about hair brushing and eye drops this morning and asked her what she thought of that idea? She said, “I didn’t hear what you were saying, I was thinking about Halloween.”
For instance the other day my daughter and her friend had been playing a game on the Xbox called, Kinect Party. There is a camera that sees you standing in front of the television and puts you on the screen immersed in an environment in which you can do things. For instance, my daughter and I were in a popcorn machine. Our job was to run around waving our hands and kicking in order to help the kernels pop. We then had to grab toppings as they fell, like chocolate sauce, and have them splash all over us.
The popcorn machine is one of about thirty different yet cute variants within the game. It rotates through them every few minutes. We left the game on and went upstairs to get a snack in a bit, planning on coming back. Things were happening in the kitchen. Conversations were being had. Noise was occurring in the general area. But Kinect Party was still on downstairs in the basement, barely audible.
My daughter suddenly said, “this is the one where you dig for treasure.” She could hear and was paying attention. A bit later she said, “this is the one where you become a butterfly.” Not only was she able to hear the mini game, she knew which one it was from the music or sounds being played alone. I know the games, but I don’t know them by sound.
Her hearing isn’t always correct though. I went to the chiropractor and had her with me earlier this week. Dr. Burr came in and started to feel my spine to see what needed adjusting. I don’t know if you’ve been to a chiropractor before, but they have to feel your lower back and waistbands get in the way so they feel just inside your waistband. My shirt was tightly tucked in so I said something like, “you can just take my shirt out”.
My daughter asked, “does he take people’s shirts off?” He and I both laughed. After adjusting my lower back he told me to roll over onto my belly. He adjusted me lying face down and as I was getting up my daughter said, “did you just say ‘honeybun’?” He had not said honeybun.
About that time one of the other chiropractors stuck his head in to say hello to my daughter and me. I told him I thought my daughter had an entirely different idea of what went on at the chiropractor’s office than what happens in reality.
The Big Boy Update: It was time to get ready for bed tonight but my son was interested in drawing something. He told us, “sorry, you can’t tell me what to do.” I said that actually dad and I could tell him what to do. That’s part of being a parent. He said, “but I’m responsible”.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: I was talking to my daughter about hair brushing and eye drops this morning and asked her what she thought of that idea? She said, “I didn’t hear what you were saying, I was thinking about Halloween.”
Wednesday, April 18, 2018
Unsqueaking the Door
Sometimes a very little thing can be a big bother over time. The door to our bathroom squeaked. It started small with just a little squeak from time to time. Then it went to squeaking all of the timebut it wasn’t loud. Eventually it became haunted house creaky, squeaky noisy. I’m not sure if I would have paid attention to it so much if it hadn’t been I didn’t want to wake my husband up in the middle of the night.
It must be going on a year now that I would tiptoe quietly into the bathroom and try to shut the door in just the right way so as to prevent the door from squeaking too loudly. I tried all sorts of things: going slowly, opening the door quickly, pushing down on the knob as I swung it and opening it only partially so I could get in and out.
The squeak got louder and more difficult to avoid. The thing is, I knew what to do to stop the squeak. Remembering the next morning what I had had good intentions of doing in the middle of the night was the problem. That, or when it came to mind I was doing other things—or being lazy—and it didn’t get done.
This morning both remembered and wasn’t being lazy. I went to the garage to get the graphite power, a hammer and screwdriver. I asked my husband to help me for five minutes and watched him follow me into the bathroom with a quizzical look on his face as I carried my tools. I had him hammer out the door pins one at a time and I added graphite to them. And then the job was finished.
It was fast, it wasn’t hard, and we had had everything we needed to get the job done in the garage. Now the door is silent and I can sneak in and out of the bathroom as many times as I please at night, without being fearful of waking my husband up if I sneeze or trip or…who am I kidding, he never wakes up. But just in case he does, it won’t be on account of a squeaky bathroom door.
The Big Boy Update: My son came home from camp today and was much less messy and dirty than I had expected. Last year, his kindergarten class made much more or a wreck of their clothes and shoes. This year he didn’t even have one pair of shoes drenched and grimy. He told us he had a good time and has been singing campfire songs all day. While he was there the temperature fluctuated significantly. His evaluation of the temperature during the three-day trip was, “normal, ice cube and sunny”.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Rarely does my daughter sleep without her brother in the same room, and the last two nights she didn’t want to go to sleep alone at bedtime. Last night she asked if we could leave the door to their room open. This morning she got up and was surprised, saying, “I didn’t know you were going to leave the door open all night.”
It must be going on a year now that I would tiptoe quietly into the bathroom and try to shut the door in just the right way so as to prevent the door from squeaking too loudly. I tried all sorts of things: going slowly, opening the door quickly, pushing down on the knob as I swung it and opening it only partially so I could get in and out.
The squeak got louder and more difficult to avoid. The thing is, I knew what to do to stop the squeak. Remembering the next morning what I had had good intentions of doing in the middle of the night was the problem. That, or when it came to mind I was doing other things—or being lazy—and it didn’t get done.
This morning both remembered and wasn’t being lazy. I went to the garage to get the graphite power, a hammer and screwdriver. I asked my husband to help me for five minutes and watched him follow me into the bathroom with a quizzical look on his face as I carried my tools. I had him hammer out the door pins one at a time and I added graphite to them. And then the job was finished.
It was fast, it wasn’t hard, and we had had everything we needed to get the job done in the garage. Now the door is silent and I can sneak in and out of the bathroom as many times as I please at night, without being fearful of waking my husband up if I sneeze or trip or…who am I kidding, he never wakes up. But just in case he does, it won’t be on account of a squeaky bathroom door.
The Big Boy Update: My son came home from camp today and was much less messy and dirty than I had expected. Last year, his kindergarten class made much more or a wreck of their clothes and shoes. This year he didn’t even have one pair of shoes drenched and grimy. He told us he had a good time and has been singing campfire songs all day. While he was there the temperature fluctuated significantly. His evaluation of the temperature during the three-day trip was, “normal, ice cube and sunny”.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Rarely does my daughter sleep without her brother in the same room, and the last two nights she didn’t want to go to sleep alone at bedtime. Last night she asked if we could leave the door to their room open. This morning she got up and was surprised, saying, “I didn’t know you were going to leave the door open all night.”
Tuesday, April 17, 2018
Keeping It Clean
This post isn’t about me swearing, which I think I’d better get out of the way right at the start, because some of you know me and know that I’m not very good at keeping my language clean. If I heard myself talking I might even offend myself I would venture to say—it’s that bad some days. I have a collection of colorful words I use, mostly of the four-letter variety. In this case, the post is about our first Tesla Model S.
We have a buyer flying in to purchase the car on Thursday morning. If all goes to plan he’ll be picked up by my husband and the final details will be completed and then he’ll drive to his home to another state. The process has been a positive one hopefully on both sides and we’re looking forward to having our parking pad freed up for visiting cars and so the basketball net is available for use again.
We’re trying to figure out how to keep the car clean between now and when my husband picks up the buyer at the airport. It’s pollen season here in the south and currently that means there are a lot of yellow, itchy, small particles covering everything. It rained recently, which put a damper on the clouds of pollen swirling around with the wind, but even a good rain doesn’t keep production down for long.
So things have been coordinated on our end, including asking my mother if she can help us get my son tomorrow at his camping trip with my daughter and me so we can leave the car in the garage, safely away from the pollen. Thanks, Mimi.
The Big Boy Update: It was cold last night outside. My son was at camp in the woods with his class. He was in a cabin and he has a warm sleeping bag so hopefully all went well. He didn’t want to take a blanket. Tomorrow we pick him up at one and I’m sure we’ll get to hear all about what he did (and see the very dirty clothes) when he gets home.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My husband and I were just arguing over something. My daughter had her hand raised for a good while, then complained that we were cutting into her time to read stories to us for her homework. When that didn’t work she said to me, “you are the rusted scraplet of this family”. I had to put things on hold with our discussion to write that down so I wouldn’t forget.
Congratulations Are in Order: Congratulations to our Uncle Jonathan on finishing the Boston Marathon yesterday in the cold, rainy weather at 3:12:33. It was his dream to make it there and complete the race and we’re all proud of him. My daughter is very touched that he had her hair tie with him as he ran the race as well. She told me she hoped it helped keep his hair out of his eyes while he ran.
We have a buyer flying in to purchase the car on Thursday morning. If all goes to plan he’ll be picked up by my husband and the final details will be completed and then he’ll drive to his home to another state. The process has been a positive one hopefully on both sides and we’re looking forward to having our parking pad freed up for visiting cars and so the basketball net is available for use again.
We’re trying to figure out how to keep the car clean between now and when my husband picks up the buyer at the airport. It’s pollen season here in the south and currently that means there are a lot of yellow, itchy, small particles covering everything. It rained recently, which put a damper on the clouds of pollen swirling around with the wind, but even a good rain doesn’t keep production down for long.
So things have been coordinated on our end, including asking my mother if she can help us get my son tomorrow at his camping trip with my daughter and me so we can leave the car in the garage, safely away from the pollen. Thanks, Mimi.
The Big Boy Update: It was cold last night outside. My son was at camp in the woods with his class. He was in a cabin and he has a warm sleeping bag so hopefully all went well. He didn’t want to take a blanket. Tomorrow we pick him up at one and I’m sure we’ll get to hear all about what he did (and see the very dirty clothes) when he gets home.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My husband and I were just arguing over something. My daughter had her hand raised for a good while, then complained that we were cutting into her time to read stories to us for her homework. When that didn’t work she said to me, “you are the rusted scraplet of this family”. I had to put things on hold with our discussion to write that down so I wouldn’t forget.
Congratulations Are in Order: Congratulations to our Uncle Jonathan on finishing the Boston Marathon yesterday in the cold, rainy weather at 3:12:33. It was his dream to make it there and complete the race and we’re all proud of him. My daughter is very touched that he had her hair tie with him as he ran the race as well. She told me she hoped it helped keep his hair out of his eyes while he ran.
Monday, April 16, 2018
Abu Simbel
I went to Egypt and Turkey when I was in college. It was a trip I will never forget. There are dozens of stories I could tell from the two-weeks time I was traveling but I was reminded of Abu Simbel the other day and the memories of being there in person came back like it was yesterday.
Our travels the week we were in Egypt took us to some key locations, but the visit to Abu Simbel required a quick airplane flight to get to the location. It was a small plan and a fast up and down in the air and then a tour guide shepherded us to the entrance of the temple. You can tell from the size of the people in the image below how large it is.
We walked into the eerily quiet inside, lit mostly from sunlight entering from the outer door with supplemental light in the side chambers. It was large and yet warm and solid. It felt like you could look into the corner or crevice and possibly find a treasure no one had seen before. It was a beautiful structure, carved out of the side of the cliff above the Nile river.
After we had been through the temple the guide had us walk around the side and up an embankment to a metal door. From the back, the temple was sort of dome like it seemed. He opened the door and we walked into the back side of the temple. And I was doubly impressed.
When the Aswan dam was built back in the 1960’s the temples at Abu Simbel would be covered in water and lost forever—so a plan was made to save them. The temples (there are two) in their entirety were cut into pieces and relocated higher and further back. The area we’d been escorted in was to the false back of the temple. You could see a dome shape of concrete (that was covered in rock and rubble from above) and the outline of the temple’s rooms in front.
You couldn’t see the rock cuts they were done so expertly and were it not that I’d seen it for myself, it was almost too much to believe. I’ve looked on the internet for pictures of the inside of the back of the temple and I can see some drawings, but very little in the way of pictures. I went there in 1989, perhaps they stopped letting tourists into that area some time after that.
I’m not sure which part impressed me more, the historical engineering or the modern one. Either way, it was one of the most impressive sights I saw in Egypt.
The Big Boy Update: We dropped my son off in the big park across from our neighborhood this morning for a three-day camping trip with his class. It’s a big park and by that I mean it extends from the edge of our neighborhood to the borders of the airport, which is a twenty minute drive from our house. It’s also a twenty minute drive to get him into the camp location in a car as we have to drive on small, gravel roads for a good while to get him to a spot that’s not that far from where our house is proximally. He was happy when I left, although he had some anxiety about going this morning. It rained a lot last night but was sunny today. I think he’s going to come home with a lot of very dirty clothes though. We’ll find out when we pick him up on Wednesday.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My husband has been working on selling our car. He was talking to me about two people who were both interested and my daughter was listening in. She offered up, “if those guys both wanted the car at the same time, they would have to fight over it. Or maybe eeny meeny miny moe.”
Our travels the week we were in Egypt took us to some key locations, but the visit to Abu Simbel required a quick airplane flight to get to the location. It was a small plan and a fast up and down in the air and then a tour guide shepherded us to the entrance of the temple. You can tell from the size of the people in the image below how large it is.
We walked into the eerily quiet inside, lit mostly from sunlight entering from the outer door with supplemental light in the side chambers. It was large and yet warm and solid. It felt like you could look into the corner or crevice and possibly find a treasure no one had seen before. It was a beautiful structure, carved out of the side of the cliff above the Nile river.
After we had been through the temple the guide had us walk around the side and up an embankment to a metal door. From the back, the temple was sort of dome like it seemed. He opened the door and we walked into the back side of the temple. And I was doubly impressed.
When the Aswan dam was built back in the 1960’s the temples at Abu Simbel would be covered in water and lost forever—so a plan was made to save them. The temples (there are two) in their entirety were cut into pieces and relocated higher and further back. The area we’d been escorted in was to the false back of the temple. You could see a dome shape of concrete (that was covered in rock and rubble from above) and the outline of the temple’s rooms in front.
You couldn’t see the rock cuts they were done so expertly and were it not that I’d seen it for myself, it was almost too much to believe. I’ve looked on the internet for pictures of the inside of the back of the temple and I can see some drawings, but very little in the way of pictures. I went there in 1989, perhaps they stopped letting tourists into that area some time after that.
I’m not sure which part impressed me more, the historical engineering or the modern one. Either way, it was one of the most impressive sights I saw in Egypt.
The Big Boy Update: We dropped my son off in the big park across from our neighborhood this morning for a three-day camping trip with his class. It’s a big park and by that I mean it extends from the edge of our neighborhood to the borders of the airport, which is a twenty minute drive from our house. It’s also a twenty minute drive to get him into the camp location in a car as we have to drive on small, gravel roads for a good while to get him to a spot that’s not that far from where our house is proximally. He was happy when I left, although he had some anxiety about going this morning. It rained a lot last night but was sunny today. I think he’s going to come home with a lot of very dirty clothes though. We’ll find out when we pick him up on Wednesday.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My husband has been working on selling our car. He was talking to me about two people who were both interested and my daughter was listening in. She offered up, “if those guys both wanted the car at the same time, they would have to fight over it. Or maybe eeny meeny miny moe.”
Sunday, April 15, 2018
Powered Pollen
It’s a lot of yellow here right now. There is pollen everywhere. I came home from the grocery store and I tried to get the garage door shut as quickly as I could so less pollen would come into the house. The pollen was boosted today, powered if you will, by the weather. And while the quantity of the pollen makes it a formidable foe to clean-minded, allergy avoiding people, it was the assist by the weather that made it a real nasty business today.
I just scrolled through my phone’s notifications and it was an exciting weather day. We had twelve hours of tornado watch alerts. The incidents of tornados in our area is quite low, but it means a lot of wind. High wind whipping about pollen into in your eyes and mouth and, bleh, I’m staying indoors.
We got thunderstorm warnings at dinner time and my husband pulled up the radar on the phone and showed my son. This was a good thing, he said, pointing to the big band of precipitation, because the rain will help get some of the pollen gone. My son goes on a three-day camping trip starting tomorrow morning with his class.
We did get rain, although not as much as I wanted. Somewhere close to us must have because we ended the night with a flash flood warning. That’s enough weather for me, I’m going to bed. Although I’d love a good thunderstorm to lull me to sleep…
The Big Boy Tiny Girl Lightning & Thunder Clean Up: My son wanted to know if the “thunderstorm warning” meant that there would be lightning? I said yes, that the thunder followed the lightning. This was exciting to both of them so they went out to the porch to wait. They discovered it was dirty out there and thought getting cloths to wipe off the dirt and pollen would be a nice idea. Five minutes later they were filthy and the porch was no cleaner. It’s a good thing it was bath night.
I just scrolled through my phone’s notifications and it was an exciting weather day. We had twelve hours of tornado watch alerts. The incidents of tornados in our area is quite low, but it means a lot of wind. High wind whipping about pollen into in your eyes and mouth and, bleh, I’m staying indoors.
We got thunderstorm warnings at dinner time and my husband pulled up the radar on the phone and showed my son. This was a good thing, he said, pointing to the big band of precipitation, because the rain will help get some of the pollen gone. My son goes on a three-day camping trip starting tomorrow morning with his class.
We did get rain, although not as much as I wanted. Somewhere close to us must have because we ended the night with a flash flood warning. That’s enough weather for me, I’m going to bed. Although I’d love a good thunderstorm to lull me to sleep…
The Big Boy Tiny Girl Lightning & Thunder Clean Up: My son wanted to know if the “thunderstorm warning” meant that there would be lightning? I said yes, that the thunder followed the lightning. This was exciting to both of them so they went out to the porch to wait. They discovered it was dirty out there and thought getting cloths to wipe off the dirt and pollen would be a nice idea. Five minutes later they were filthy and the porch was no cleaner. It’s a good thing it was bath night.
Saturday, April 14, 2018
Modesty
The Big Boy Modesty Night:
We went out with friends tonight and left our children in the capable hands of our next-door neighbor’s daughter, Shane. She’s known the children since they were babies and they’re always glad to have her come to watch them. When we got home she told me there had been an accident with my son. Because I know her, she wasn’t upset and she hadn’t called, I wasn’t worried. She started telling me they story with, “your son wanted to be alone as he got ready for bed, saying he wanted some, ‘modesty’”.
So she’d left them alone in the bathroom of our bedroom to get their clothes on and do their teeth. She was in the living room when she heard a crash and then my son yelling and crying. She went in and pieced together a story of how he’d fallen or slipped while brushing his teeth and had cut his inner thigh at his groin on the door below the sink. His sister had opened the door to throw away her flosser and he was hanging or something on the counter (or maybe he was on the counter itself, we don’t know) and had scraped himself on the sharp corner of the cabinet door.
He was crying a lot—which he rarely does—and was yelling at his sister, saying how mad he was at her even though he knew she wasn’t trying to hurt him. He wanted to know where the polysporin was so he could put it on his cut—only he wouldn’t let Shane see it. She found the ointment and he slathered some on himself and then asked for a bandaid. One wasn’t going to stick there based on location as well as the now slippery mess of ointment. She asked if she could see it but modesty prevailed and he wouldn’t let her. She knew it was bleeding some from the blood that was on his finger as he pulled it out of his pajama bottoms. She didn’t press him because it didn’t look that bad.
He was brushing his teeth while crying and stopped to say, “it’s really hard to brush your teeth while you’re crying”. Then he told Shane he couldn’t walk upstairs to bed. I’m not sure if she carried him or not, but he did get upstairs eventually. He asked his sister if he could sleep in her bed with her but she said no. Then he wanted to know if he could sleep on the floor because he didn’t want to climb the steps to his bunk bed. Shane said that would be okay.
She thinks he’s going to be sore tomorrow. I’m debating going up with my cell phone light to see what the damage is now. I don’t think I’ll wake him up, he’s a pretty sound sleeper.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: While my daughter didn’t want him sleeping in her bed tonight, she was concerned about him with the cut on his leg. Shortly after Shane had left the room my daughter came out and told her, “he’s up in his bed now.”
We went out with friends tonight and left our children in the capable hands of our next-door neighbor’s daughter, Shane. She’s known the children since they were babies and they’re always glad to have her come to watch them. When we got home she told me there had been an accident with my son. Because I know her, she wasn’t upset and she hadn’t called, I wasn’t worried. She started telling me they story with, “your son wanted to be alone as he got ready for bed, saying he wanted some, ‘modesty’”.
So she’d left them alone in the bathroom of our bedroom to get their clothes on and do their teeth. She was in the living room when she heard a crash and then my son yelling and crying. She went in and pieced together a story of how he’d fallen or slipped while brushing his teeth and had cut his inner thigh at his groin on the door below the sink. His sister had opened the door to throw away her flosser and he was hanging or something on the counter (or maybe he was on the counter itself, we don’t know) and had scraped himself on the sharp corner of the cabinet door.
He was crying a lot—which he rarely does—and was yelling at his sister, saying how mad he was at her even though he knew she wasn’t trying to hurt him. He wanted to know where the polysporin was so he could put it on his cut—only he wouldn’t let Shane see it. She found the ointment and he slathered some on himself and then asked for a bandaid. One wasn’t going to stick there based on location as well as the now slippery mess of ointment. She asked if she could see it but modesty prevailed and he wouldn’t let her. She knew it was bleeding some from the blood that was on his finger as he pulled it out of his pajama bottoms. She didn’t press him because it didn’t look that bad.
He was brushing his teeth while crying and stopped to say, “it’s really hard to brush your teeth while you’re crying”. Then he told Shane he couldn’t walk upstairs to bed. I’m not sure if she carried him or not, but he did get upstairs eventually. He asked his sister if he could sleep in her bed with her but she said no. Then he wanted to know if he could sleep on the floor because he didn’t want to climb the steps to his bunk bed. Shane said that would be okay.
She thinks he’s going to be sore tomorrow. I’m debating going up with my cell phone light to see what the damage is now. I don’t think I’ll wake him up, he’s a pretty sound sleeper.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: While my daughter didn’t want him sleeping in her bed tonight, she was concerned about him with the cut on his leg. Shortly after Shane had left the room my daughter came out and told her, “he’s up in his bed now.”
Friday, April 13, 2018
Weekly Warrior
My daughter spent this week at Track Out camp at the rock climbing club close to us. There were about twenty children in camp, which went from 9am-4pm every day. She had a very good time from what we could tell as we picked her up each day.
She made friends and would introduce us when she heard their voices near. The camp wasn’t for visually impaired children but she’d been to a day camp before with their approval and she was welcomed back for a full week’s camp if she’d like. And she wanted to go.
Today they had open house for the last half-hour of the day, followed by a “graduation ceremony”. For the open house part my daughter wanted to know if I would belay her, and since I’m belay certified at that club I got a harness and proceeded to do my best to keep up with her rapid ascent of the walls. She has made a lot of progress in climbing skills.
While I was belaying her one little girl came over to me and said Reese and she were best friends. She told me her name was Reagan. Then Kate came over, who was older and said she had to leave early. My daughter hugged her three times. Kate was very helpful all week I had heard with making sure my daughter moved around safely and didn’t run into doors or stumble on floor elevation changes.
We were called into the graduation ceremony at that point, which made my hands happy because they were about done with belaying. The ceremony consisted of a short presentation and a bag with a picture of them climbing and shirt. She got a certificate and for the parents there were coupons for additional camps or days climbing.
As the camp director talked about the things they’d done during the week (which was more than just climb) he said they had two people who were voted by their peers as, “Weekly Warriors”. These two people showed perseverance, outgoingness and respect. My daughter was one of the two.
Her friends congratulated her and she was proud to have been selected (she told me later she had voted for herself). As we were getting her things together to leave more of her friends came to say goodbye. She recognized them all by voice, calling out their name from a good distance when she heard them talking. She got many hugs and told her friends she hoped to see them soon.
I asked her if she wanted to go back over the summer again as we got in the car and she said definitely. We’ve been looking for something she could do during her few weeks of summer track out when we’re not visiting family. I’m glad she wants to go back.
The Big Boy Update: My son was drinking his drink with a straw the other night. He put the straw in his nose and said, “I’m drinking out of my nose”. He didn’t get the drink all the way up or I think he might have changed his mind. He liked the second option better: using the straw to blow into his drink saying, “now I’m farting out of my nose”.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter was telling me about her friends at camp today. She said, “I have another friend named Lexi. She uses a lot of toilet paper.” Then she snickered.
She made friends and would introduce us when she heard their voices near. The camp wasn’t for visually impaired children but she’d been to a day camp before with their approval and she was welcomed back for a full week’s camp if she’d like. And she wanted to go.
Today they had open house for the last half-hour of the day, followed by a “graduation ceremony”. For the open house part my daughter wanted to know if I would belay her, and since I’m belay certified at that club I got a harness and proceeded to do my best to keep up with her rapid ascent of the walls. She has made a lot of progress in climbing skills.
While I was belaying her one little girl came over to me and said Reese and she were best friends. She told me her name was Reagan. Then Kate came over, who was older and said she had to leave early. My daughter hugged her three times. Kate was very helpful all week I had heard with making sure my daughter moved around safely and didn’t run into doors or stumble on floor elevation changes.
We were called into the graduation ceremony at that point, which made my hands happy because they were about done with belaying. The ceremony consisted of a short presentation and a bag with a picture of them climbing and shirt. She got a certificate and for the parents there were coupons for additional camps or days climbing.
As the camp director talked about the things they’d done during the week (which was more than just climb) he said they had two people who were voted by their peers as, “Weekly Warriors”. These two people showed perseverance, outgoingness and respect. My daughter was one of the two.
Her friends congratulated her and she was proud to have been selected (she told me later she had voted for herself). As we were getting her things together to leave more of her friends came to say goodbye. She recognized them all by voice, calling out their name from a good distance when she heard them talking. She got many hugs and told her friends she hoped to see them soon.
I asked her if she wanted to go back over the summer again as we got in the car and she said definitely. We’ve been looking for something she could do during her few weeks of summer track out when we’re not visiting family. I’m glad she wants to go back.
The Big Boy Update: My son was drinking his drink with a straw the other night. He put the straw in his nose and said, “I’m drinking out of my nose”. He didn’t get the drink all the way up or I think he might have changed his mind. He liked the second option better: using the straw to blow into his drink saying, “now I’m farting out of my nose”.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter was telling me about her friends at camp today. She said, “I have another friend named Lexi. She uses a lot of toilet paper.” Then she snickered.
Thursday, April 12, 2018
Cable Television
It would appear we don’t watch cable television at our house very often. Before we left for vacation I went to get something from the mechanical room and there was a loud whine from something in the server rack area. It’s a spot on the wall where my husband has drilled some shelves directly against the plywood and put some shelves. On there we have our cable modem the file and movie server and a few smaller things. One of them was making a noise, and it was loud.
This was the night before we left to go to Florida so we didn’t worry about it and did that thing where you hope it will go away but know that’s only wishful thinking. A week later and we’re back and the noise was still there and my husband planned on looking into it but we got busy and with the door shut, you couldn’t hear it because it was a high-pitched noise that didn’t penetrate the walls.
Two days ago I noticed the cable box in the bonus room wasn’t showing the time. Well, the power had been out for hours due to a fire down the road so maybe it was that, I thought and rebooted the box.
We’ve been back most of a week now and last night my husband came upstairs and said, “I figured out what that whine was. It was for the cable modem. We must not watch much cable television because no one’s noticed it.”
We’re switching away from cable shortly, meaning as soon as my husband gets around to making the switch. He’s been talking about it for a good while and said he’s doing it any day now.
The Big Boy Tiny Girl On Their Own Update: I was on a phone call this evening while my husband was out. The children wanted to know if they could ride their bikes. My daughter decided she wanted to drive, “my little car” meaning her Radio Flyer Tesla and I said sure. Then they asked if they could go around the corner two houses over and I said to stay on the sidewalks and be careful.
Twenty minutes later I got off my call and went outside. I found my son speeding up our road in my daughter’s car and my daughter on a skateboard they’d gotten from the garage with her arms out, saying, “weeeeeee!” going down the road into the cul de sac. The ramp my husband had made was out in the driveway, conveniently aimed at the loaner vehicle we had while our car has an annual service done.
I went to ask my daughter to head back up the hill and she told me, “we went to Nicholas’s house and then we came back the long way.” I sort of gulped. They had gone all the way around the block—a half mile, passing the entryway to the neighborhood which has a lot more traffic than our safe, short, dead-end street. She said she stayed on the side walk and my son stayed on the sidewalk, “some, well most of the time”. It wasn’t a big deal to them and I was pretty proud of them too.
This was the night before we left to go to Florida so we didn’t worry about it and did that thing where you hope it will go away but know that’s only wishful thinking. A week later and we’re back and the noise was still there and my husband planned on looking into it but we got busy and with the door shut, you couldn’t hear it because it was a high-pitched noise that didn’t penetrate the walls.
Two days ago I noticed the cable box in the bonus room wasn’t showing the time. Well, the power had been out for hours due to a fire down the road so maybe it was that, I thought and rebooted the box.
We’ve been back most of a week now and last night my husband came upstairs and said, “I figured out what that whine was. It was for the cable modem. We must not watch much cable television because no one’s noticed it.”
We’re switching away from cable shortly, meaning as soon as my husband gets around to making the switch. He’s been talking about it for a good while and said he’s doing it any day now.
The Big Boy Tiny Girl On Their Own Update: I was on a phone call this evening while my husband was out. The children wanted to know if they could ride their bikes. My daughter decided she wanted to drive, “my little car” meaning her Radio Flyer Tesla and I said sure. Then they asked if they could go around the corner two houses over and I said to stay on the sidewalks and be careful.
Twenty minutes later I got off my call and went outside. I found my son speeding up our road in my daughter’s car and my daughter on a skateboard they’d gotten from the garage with her arms out, saying, “weeeeeee!” going down the road into the cul de sac. The ramp my husband had made was out in the driveway, conveniently aimed at the loaner vehicle we had while our car has an annual service done.
I went to ask my daughter to head back up the hill and she told me, “we went to Nicholas’s house and then we came back the long way.” I sort of gulped. They had gone all the way around the block—a half mile, passing the entryway to the neighborhood which has a lot more traffic than our safe, short, dead-end street. She said she stayed on the side walk and my son stayed on the sidewalk, “some, well most of the time”. It wasn’t a big deal to them and I was pretty proud of them too.
Wednesday, April 11, 2018
$23.88
My mother and father handed something down to my husband and me this week. It was something they’d had in the attic for many years and decided it was time to either give it to us or find it a new home. My husband and I gladly accepted because it’s a unique thing in a way.
They gave us books of coins. A small coin collection from a total number of coins perspective. When my parents got married one of them (I’m not sure which) decided to collect pennies, nickels and dimes. They got books that listed the various versions of each Lincoln penny from a certain year range and when they’d find one they didn’t have in their change, they’d press it into the cardboard slot.
None of the coins are mint and a lot of them aren’t in great shape, but what I found interesting was the information listed right below the slot on how many of that coin was minted in a given year. A lot of the books are mostly full, some are complete and a few are mostly empty.
They stopped collecting when I was still living at home I think, but I remember the books around and my father putting a coin in from time to time. Before my mother gave them to us yesterday she did a count of the face value of the whole collection which came to a staggering $23.88. The market value of the collection is not likely to be much, but it’s not the value in dollars that’s important to me, it’s that it’s a collection that my parents worked on together, now over fifty years old as they’ve been married for fifty-four years.
The Big Boy Update: My son was having a dinner conversation last week with his cousin, Kyle. I didn’t hear it at the time but after dinner Kyle told me my son had explained to him how he was fifty percent robot and fifty percent alien. Then, to be sure his heritage was clearly understood, he told Kyle, “aliens are part goat.”
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter came in from playing with friends outside for dinner tonight. She was eating dinner rather quietly and then said a phrase we don’t use so it made me laugh when she said to me, “Madison had some serious attitude today.”
They gave us books of coins. A small coin collection from a total number of coins perspective. When my parents got married one of them (I’m not sure which) decided to collect pennies, nickels and dimes. They got books that listed the various versions of each Lincoln penny from a certain year range and when they’d find one they didn’t have in their change, they’d press it into the cardboard slot.
None of the coins are mint and a lot of them aren’t in great shape, but what I found interesting was the information listed right below the slot on how many of that coin was minted in a given year. A lot of the books are mostly full, some are complete and a few are mostly empty.
They stopped collecting when I was still living at home I think, but I remember the books around and my father putting a coin in from time to time. Before my mother gave them to us yesterday she did a count of the face value of the whole collection which came to a staggering $23.88. The market value of the collection is not likely to be much, but it’s not the value in dollars that’s important to me, it’s that it’s a collection that my parents worked on together, now over fifty years old as they’ve been married for fifty-four years.
The Big Boy Update: My son was having a dinner conversation last week with his cousin, Kyle. I didn’t hear it at the time but after dinner Kyle told me my son had explained to him how he was fifty percent robot and fifty percent alien. Then, to be sure his heritage was clearly understood, he told Kyle, “aliens are part goat.”
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter came in from playing with friends outside for dinner tonight. She was eating dinner rather quietly and then said a phrase we don’t use so it made me laugh when she said to me, “Madison had some serious attitude today.”
Tuesday, April 10, 2018
Cleaning the Table
When I was a child of unknown years, but certainly older than my children are now, I had a responsibility at dinner time. I had to bring the dishes in from the table to the kitchen. This was cruel and unusual punishment I reckoned, what with me being a child and child labor being largely illegal. But I didn’t know who to call to report my parents and so I was stuck with the duty.
There was an additional job I had to do a lot of nights and that was to wipe the table after the dishes were removed. Removed and just placed on the counter, I might add. No scraping food or putting them in the dishwasher, merely conveying them from one room to the next. Once the table was empty I had to get a cloth and wet it and then I had to wipe the entire table. The whole thing—a round table for four, a huge surface area I thought. It was agony. I protested. My plea went unheard and so I drudged through the whole minute-and-a-half process including returning the cloth to the sink area.
Later on when I was older I had to put dishes into the dishwasher, but I’m scarred from the memory and I can’t retell it now for fear of going into a deep depression on the terrible childhood I had to endure with parents so uncaring and inconsiderate as mine were, knowing how much I wanted to go do something fun instead of helping the family out.
My children are responsible for bringing their things to the sink area now. They’re rewarded with a stamp for it, which they accrue and when they’ve reached a very large number they get to get some reward. Later the clearing off of their dishes will become mandatory and we’ll roll out something else on their responsibilities list.
Tonight as I was doing the very quick job of wiping down the table I remembered how much I hated the task as a child, and how much I enjoy seeing a crumb and smear-free table as an adult instead.
The Big Boy Tiny Girl Tub War: It was bath night, as it is some nights in our house. My daughter was already in the tub when her brother came careening around the corner saying, “let’s play cards!” She asked how they could do that in the tub and my son grinned a sly grin at me and told her the new cards I had gotten were plastic and could get wet. While they checked out the cards I went to help clean up from dinner. I came back a bit later and told them it was time to get out when they asked to finish their game. They were playing War and they only had a few more cards to go. The game ended soon enough, but there was the matter of counting the cards to see who had won. We had to call it a tie when after three counts I realized my daughter was counting her cards and then dropping them back into the tub and losing them. They plan on a rematch at next bath time.
There was an additional job I had to do a lot of nights and that was to wipe the table after the dishes were removed. Removed and just placed on the counter, I might add. No scraping food or putting them in the dishwasher, merely conveying them from one room to the next. Once the table was empty I had to get a cloth and wet it and then I had to wipe the entire table. The whole thing—a round table for four, a huge surface area I thought. It was agony. I protested. My plea went unheard and so I drudged through the whole minute-and-a-half process including returning the cloth to the sink area.
Later on when I was older I had to put dishes into the dishwasher, but I’m scarred from the memory and I can’t retell it now for fear of going into a deep depression on the terrible childhood I had to endure with parents so uncaring and inconsiderate as mine were, knowing how much I wanted to go do something fun instead of helping the family out.
My children are responsible for bringing their things to the sink area now. They’re rewarded with a stamp for it, which they accrue and when they’ve reached a very large number they get to get some reward. Later the clearing off of their dishes will become mandatory and we’ll roll out something else on their responsibilities list.
Tonight as I was doing the very quick job of wiping down the table I remembered how much I hated the task as a child, and how much I enjoy seeing a crumb and smear-free table as an adult instead.
The Big Boy Tiny Girl Tub War: It was bath night, as it is some nights in our house. My daughter was already in the tub when her brother came careening around the corner saying, “let’s play cards!” She asked how they could do that in the tub and my son grinned a sly grin at me and told her the new cards I had gotten were plastic and could get wet. While they checked out the cards I went to help clean up from dinner. I came back a bit later and told them it was time to get out when they asked to finish their game. They were playing War and they only had a few more cards to go. The game ended soon enough, but there was the matter of counting the cards to see who had won. We had to call it a tie when after three counts I realized my daughter was counting her cards and then dropping them back into the tub and losing them. They plan on a rematch at next bath time.
Monday, April 9, 2018
Sushi Box Dinner
My parents and I went to dinner tonight with the children. My husband was working at the office and wouldn’t make it for dinner so we had to go to our favorite sushi/Thai restaurant without him. For the longest time my children ordered the same thing, the children’s teriyaki meal, but lately they’ve been branching out.
My son was the first to want to try sushi. He said he liked it the first time and then a few trips later he said he wanted to order sushi. He picked some things from the picture menu, which I worried he would most definitely not like, so I split the meal with him and hedged on the ordering by putting in some safer options for his palette.
Tonight my son wanted to order sushi again and was reaching for the picture menu when I noticed there was a, “Kid’s Sushi Box” item on the children’s menu. All he had to do were hear the words and he was sold. My daughter suddenly said she wanted that too, which surprised me. She’s never been interested in sushi.
The thing was, the genius in the menu selection from the restaurant, was the box included sushi and french fries. Two items that don’t go together to my tastes, but to a child (and parents) one or both has got to be acceptable to the child. So we ordered for them both and I got a side salad and cup of soup, expecting to be helping with their sushi.
My son did better than he’d done before and my daughter did okay, what with it being her first real sushi ordering experience. I’m not sure if they’ll go back to their usual orders next time though, but I’m glad they’re willing to eat sushi at their young ages.
The Big Boy Update: In the car going to dunner my son said, “I just farted and it smells horrible. I didn’t know farts could smell that bad that weren’t mom’s.”
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Tonight just before leaving for the car she suddenly remembered to bring Helen, her stuffed rabbit, given to her by Helen the waitress at the restaurant we were going to. She was sad Helen wasn’t there though. As we were leaving I asked the hostess if she could pass on a message to Helen for us. She told me Helen was there, she was just working in the back. When Helen came out she and my daughter had the best conversation about how well Bunny Helen was being taken care of, what she was being fed, etc. My son got interested in the conversation and told Helen they fed Bunny Helen carrot cake for dessert. My daughter told Helen she loved her as we left and that we would be back soon.
My son was the first to want to try sushi. He said he liked it the first time and then a few trips later he said he wanted to order sushi. He picked some things from the picture menu, which I worried he would most definitely not like, so I split the meal with him and hedged on the ordering by putting in some safer options for his palette.
Tonight my son wanted to order sushi again and was reaching for the picture menu when I noticed there was a, “Kid’s Sushi Box” item on the children’s menu. All he had to do were hear the words and he was sold. My daughter suddenly said she wanted that too, which surprised me. She’s never been interested in sushi.
The thing was, the genius in the menu selection from the restaurant, was the box included sushi and french fries. Two items that don’t go together to my tastes, but to a child (and parents) one or both has got to be acceptable to the child. So we ordered for them both and I got a side salad and cup of soup, expecting to be helping with their sushi.
My son did better than he’d done before and my daughter did okay, what with it being her first real sushi ordering experience. I’m not sure if they’ll go back to their usual orders next time though, but I’m glad they’re willing to eat sushi at their young ages.
The Big Boy Update: In the car going to dunner my son said, “I just farted and it smells horrible. I didn’t know farts could smell that bad that weren’t mom’s.”
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Tonight just before leaving for the car she suddenly remembered to bring Helen, her stuffed rabbit, given to her by Helen the waitress at the restaurant we were going to. She was sad Helen wasn’t there though. As we were leaving I asked the hostess if she could pass on a message to Helen for us. She told me Helen was there, she was just working in the back. When Helen came out she and my daughter had the best conversation about how well Bunny Helen was being taken care of, what she was being fed, etc. My son got interested in the conversation and told Helen they fed Bunny Helen carrot cake for dessert. My daughter told Helen she loved her as we left and that we would be back soon.
Sunday, April 8, 2018
The Idiot’s Dinner
My son had an idea yesterday that dad could teach cooking lessons each week. He thought it would be good to charge five dollars, he said. And then he added, “per month”. The conversation expanded into what each of us could teach as a class in our family with my son deciding he would be best at telling people about glitches in video games and my daughter teaching braille using her smart brailler.
My husband said he would teach his first lesson if my son was interested, tonight, with making pasta. At the time, my son was very interested but he was occupied tonight when dinner preparations began and had a very hard time transitioning. He yelled that he hated cooking. He didn’t want to learn how to cook. He didn’t mean him, when he was talking about lessons.
So my husband used some reverse psychology on him and told him he didn’t want his help and anyone who was that rude wasn’t someone he wanted to teach. That made my son more angry about the situation and he shouted out, “you’re an idiot!” to my husband. We’ve never heard either child say that before and it was most certainly not okay, so my son got sent to his room.
He begged to be allowed to help. He cried. He slammed the bedroom door. My daughter complained and whined that she wanted to help (she always does) but was told this time it wasn’t her turn. That made her more angry and more complaints ensued.
My son calmed down and he was allowed to come back down and apologize and then had a great time making angel hair noodles from scratch with his father. His sister, in the meantime, couldn’t let anything alone and even with some new paint markers I had occupied her with, refused to stay out of the kitchen situation—so she got sent to her room too.
Her anger was pretty impressive. With the door shut she screamed and yelled for twenty minutes, until dinner was ready. But once both children say down at the dinner table they were polite and well-mannered. It wasn’t pleasant for anyone this evening, but hopefully they learned something from the experience. Hopefully.
The Big Boy Update: My son wanted to know why my husband never laughs when tickled. Dad told him it was because he had willpower to overcome the tickle sensation. My son tried one more time to tickle him and when he failed complained, “aww, why can’t you for once not let it bother you?”
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter got a toothbrush from school a while back. She loved it and wanted to use it over her sonic one and we let her for a while. We told her tonight was the last night she could use it and then we had to throw it away. She asked me to take a picture of the front and the back of the toothbrush, “so I can remember it”, she said.
My husband said he would teach his first lesson if my son was interested, tonight, with making pasta. At the time, my son was very interested but he was occupied tonight when dinner preparations began and had a very hard time transitioning. He yelled that he hated cooking. He didn’t want to learn how to cook. He didn’t mean him, when he was talking about lessons.
So my husband used some reverse psychology on him and told him he didn’t want his help and anyone who was that rude wasn’t someone he wanted to teach. That made my son more angry about the situation and he shouted out, “you’re an idiot!” to my husband. We’ve never heard either child say that before and it was most certainly not okay, so my son got sent to his room.
He begged to be allowed to help. He cried. He slammed the bedroom door. My daughter complained and whined that she wanted to help (she always does) but was told this time it wasn’t her turn. That made her more angry and more complaints ensued.
My son calmed down and he was allowed to come back down and apologize and then had a great time making angel hair noodles from scratch with his father. His sister, in the meantime, couldn’t let anything alone and even with some new paint markers I had occupied her with, refused to stay out of the kitchen situation—so she got sent to her room too.
Her anger was pretty impressive. With the door shut she screamed and yelled for twenty minutes, until dinner was ready. But once both children say down at the dinner table they were polite and well-mannered. It wasn’t pleasant for anyone this evening, but hopefully they learned something from the experience. Hopefully.
The Big Boy Update: My son wanted to know why my husband never laughs when tickled. Dad told him it was because he had willpower to overcome the tickle sensation. My son tried one more time to tickle him and when he failed complained, “aww, why can’t you for once not let it bother you?”
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter got a toothbrush from school a while back. She loved it and wanted to use it over her sonic one and we let her for a while. We told her tonight was the last night she could use it and then we had to throw it away. She asked me to take a picture of the front and the back of the toothbrush, “so I can remember it”, she said.
Saturday, April 7, 2018
Left Behind
Today I gave my son what I hoped would be a learning experience. We were traveling from Florida back home, which involved two flights. The connection to the second flight was rather tight which means we adults were in a hurry and under stress. Adult concern doesn’t necessarily extend to children though, and this can add to the adult stress which can cause tempers to rise.
My son needed to go to the bathroom—had to go, couldn’t hold it for another second. This need wasn’t something he expressed while on the plane, but it was okay, he could go quickly, he said. And he did and we were making good time to our gate. Only there were people movers, and these are fun things to children. We reminded them to walk while on them, or get to the right, or get ready to get off and turn left and once we even had to remind my son to move forwards, not backwards on the people mover.
But we made the connection with time to spare because it arrived fifteen minutes late, which enabled us to get some lunch we thought we were going to have to miss. Our second flight was a short one. As we left the gate all we had to do was go from the end of the terminal to baggage claim and we were off to our car and home.
My husband was with my daughter and I was with my son. We got on one of the people movers in the relatively calm terminal and I told him to go ahead. He said I should go first because, “ladies first” so I thanked him and went ahead. As I stood on the people mover I turned around to see him walking backwards again, playing games with his backpack and having no interest in a timely arrival at the baggage claim area.
I exited the people mover, caught up with my husband and looked back at my child, now two gates away, and said, “go ahead, I’m going to teach him a lesson.” I got to the escalator to go up to baggage claim, went up and then stood so I could watch for him to come around and notice we weren’t in sight. And I waited.
I waited about five minutes. I wasn’t concerned for his safety, there was no where for him to go. He was going from one end of a secured terminal to where I was. There wasn’t anywhere else to go and no one could have taken him anywhere without passing by where I was waiting.
After waiting another minute or two I went back down the escalator and walked back up the terminal. I saw him standing with two members of security. When they saw me I pointed to my son and they sent him in my direction. I waved my thanks to them.
My son was not happy with me. “You left me!” he told me. I explained that he had not been paying attention and had we exited the terminal without him we wouldn’t be allowed back in without a valid ticket and I don’t know what we would have done. (Which we wouldn’t have done.) He said he wasn’t playing around. I told him airports were places where you needed to pay attention and stay together. I was nice about it, acting very concerned. I told him he would be going to his room to think about what had happened when he got home.
He took my hand, which was rather the last thing I expected him to do, and we had a nice conversation about being home as we caught up to his father and sister. We went over contact information for his parents and where he lived in case he got lost in the future and what flight he had been on and the city we started travel from. I didn’t think any of it was sinking in until we got in the car and his sister wanted to know what had happened. He said, “I don’t want to talk about it!” which meant he was upset about it. Then he asked her if she’d go be in his room with him when we got home. She was happy to, she said.
It was a lesson learned in a safe situation. I hope he remembers it. His sister isn’t likely to wander off because she needs to be near sighted people to navigate in unfamiliar locations, but my son isn’t afraid or timid and sometimes doesn’t pay attention. Maybe he’ll do so more after today.
The Big Boy Update: My mother made soup for us and brought it over for dinner tonight after we arrived home. My son got a bay leaf in his bowl and was rather happy about it. He thought about it for a minute and said, “does it make you lucky in soup too, or is it just pasta?” Normally we have bay leafs in our pasta and my husband says getting it in your bowl means you’re lucky. My son wasn’t sure if luck extended to soup. My mother said she thought getting the bay leaf meant you had to do the dishes.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter was glad to get home so she could type on her new smart brailler. I was looking at what she did and I noticed she made a mistake in a letter. I saw her back up and then type another letter. I asked her if she was going to start writing the word over again or use her eraser. I didn’t expect what she told me though. She realized the letter was wrong and then figured the braille letter she meant to do was one additional dot. So she pressed the backspace and added the missing dot (which the brailler spoke as a second letter, confusing me). The dots in the two letters combined to the original letter she meant to type. She understands braille far better than I would have expected her to in Kindergarten.
My son needed to go to the bathroom—had to go, couldn’t hold it for another second. This need wasn’t something he expressed while on the plane, but it was okay, he could go quickly, he said. And he did and we were making good time to our gate. Only there were people movers, and these are fun things to children. We reminded them to walk while on them, or get to the right, or get ready to get off and turn left and once we even had to remind my son to move forwards, not backwards on the people mover.
But we made the connection with time to spare because it arrived fifteen minutes late, which enabled us to get some lunch we thought we were going to have to miss. Our second flight was a short one. As we left the gate all we had to do was go from the end of the terminal to baggage claim and we were off to our car and home.
My husband was with my daughter and I was with my son. We got on one of the people movers in the relatively calm terminal and I told him to go ahead. He said I should go first because, “ladies first” so I thanked him and went ahead. As I stood on the people mover I turned around to see him walking backwards again, playing games with his backpack and having no interest in a timely arrival at the baggage claim area.
I exited the people mover, caught up with my husband and looked back at my child, now two gates away, and said, “go ahead, I’m going to teach him a lesson.” I got to the escalator to go up to baggage claim, went up and then stood so I could watch for him to come around and notice we weren’t in sight. And I waited.
I waited about five minutes. I wasn’t concerned for his safety, there was no where for him to go. He was going from one end of a secured terminal to where I was. There wasn’t anywhere else to go and no one could have taken him anywhere without passing by where I was waiting.
After waiting another minute or two I went back down the escalator and walked back up the terminal. I saw him standing with two members of security. When they saw me I pointed to my son and they sent him in my direction. I waved my thanks to them.
My son was not happy with me. “You left me!” he told me. I explained that he had not been paying attention and had we exited the terminal without him we wouldn’t be allowed back in without a valid ticket and I don’t know what we would have done. (Which we wouldn’t have done.) He said he wasn’t playing around. I told him airports were places where you needed to pay attention and stay together. I was nice about it, acting very concerned. I told him he would be going to his room to think about what had happened when he got home.
He took my hand, which was rather the last thing I expected him to do, and we had a nice conversation about being home as we caught up to his father and sister. We went over contact information for his parents and where he lived in case he got lost in the future and what flight he had been on and the city we started travel from. I didn’t think any of it was sinking in until we got in the car and his sister wanted to know what had happened. He said, “I don’t want to talk about it!” which meant he was upset about it. Then he asked her if she’d go be in his room with him when we got home. She was happy to, she said.
It was a lesson learned in a safe situation. I hope he remembers it. His sister isn’t likely to wander off because she needs to be near sighted people to navigate in unfamiliar locations, but my son isn’t afraid or timid and sometimes doesn’t pay attention. Maybe he’ll do so more after today.
The Big Boy Update: My mother made soup for us and brought it over for dinner tonight after we arrived home. My son got a bay leaf in his bowl and was rather happy about it. He thought about it for a minute and said, “does it make you lucky in soup too, or is it just pasta?” Normally we have bay leafs in our pasta and my husband says getting it in your bowl means you’re lucky. My son wasn’t sure if luck extended to soup. My mother said she thought getting the bay leaf meant you had to do the dishes.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter was glad to get home so she could type on her new smart brailler. I was looking at what she did and I noticed she made a mistake in a letter. I saw her back up and then type another letter. I asked her if she was going to start writing the word over again or use her eraser. I didn’t expect what she told me though. She realized the letter was wrong and then figured the braille letter she meant to do was one additional dot. So she pressed the backspace and added the missing dot (which the brailler spoke as a second letter, confusing me). The dots in the two letters combined to the original letter she meant to type. She understands braille far better than I would have expected her to in Kindergarten.
Friday, April 6, 2018
Womanhole
Children can say things that are innocent to them but can make adults laugh. My daughter had me laughing twice in the last few days.
The first one was a simple observation today. As we walk along in unfamiliar territory, someone holds my daughter’s hand. We, the adults, steer her clear of obstacles and tell her when there’s something she needs to do, like climb steps or step off a curb. But we make mistakes. Today there was some unevenness with a manhole cover that was inset into the sidewalk a bit and my daughter stumbled over it.
I explained to her what she’d walked over and asked if she knew what a manhole was for? She said she did, but what she really wanted to know was why weren’t there any womanholes?
The one that I’ve been trying to not giggle about is what she’s been doing when I apply sunscreen. She got burned in a few places badly on the first day and ever since it seems like every adult has been putting an added layer of sunscreen on her at least once a day. One of the areas was at the back of her bathing suit where we had put sunscreen, but when she jumped around in the pool, her suit rode up on her bottom, exposing about a half-inch of additional skin.
She would have her overly big swim shirt on or some shorts and when I would get to the tops of her legs she’d pull the material aside and say, “I’m opening up my garage for you”. She’d do this for each side. I asked her where she’d heard the saying and she said, “oh, I just made it up”.
The Big Boy Update: My son has been making these faces lately. They’re complex faces with lots of messaging behind it, like credulity or feigned anger. He’s really good at them and we almost always laugh when he does it—which is what he’s aiming for. A month ago he didn’t have this level of expressiveness without words. It’s really cute to watch.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: We were out of toilet paper and my daughter wanted to help. She took the old roll end off, got the new roll and then put it on. Then she informed my husband, “you can be the first to use the new roll” in a sheer gesture of kindness.
The first one was a simple observation today. As we walk along in unfamiliar territory, someone holds my daughter’s hand. We, the adults, steer her clear of obstacles and tell her when there’s something she needs to do, like climb steps or step off a curb. But we make mistakes. Today there was some unevenness with a manhole cover that was inset into the sidewalk a bit and my daughter stumbled over it.
I explained to her what she’d walked over and asked if she knew what a manhole was for? She said she did, but what she really wanted to know was why weren’t there any womanholes?
The one that I’ve been trying to not giggle about is what she’s been doing when I apply sunscreen. She got burned in a few places badly on the first day and ever since it seems like every adult has been putting an added layer of sunscreen on her at least once a day. One of the areas was at the back of her bathing suit where we had put sunscreen, but when she jumped around in the pool, her suit rode up on her bottom, exposing about a half-inch of additional skin.
She would have her overly big swim shirt on or some shorts and when I would get to the tops of her legs she’d pull the material aside and say, “I’m opening up my garage for you”. She’d do this for each side. I asked her where she’d heard the saying and she said, “oh, I just made it up”.
The Big Boy Update: My son has been making these faces lately. They’re complex faces with lots of messaging behind it, like credulity or feigned anger. He’s really good at them and we almost always laugh when he does it—which is what he’s aiming for. A month ago he didn’t have this level of expressiveness without words. It’s really cute to watch.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: We were out of toilet paper and my daughter wanted to help. She took the old roll end off, got the new roll and then put it on. Then she informed my husband, “you can be the first to use the new roll” in a sheer gesture of kindness.
Thursday, April 5, 2018
iPad Addiction?
We just got back from dinner at a wood-fired pizza place and I ate too much to be able to focus properly on this blog so I’ll make it short. My children have iPads. It’s like interactive television. It can be educational, but a lot of the content isn’t. And it’s a very useful “down time” activity for my children.
And when I say, “down time” I’m not always referring to their need for down time. Sometimes we want it as parents too. But we try to keep it reasonable. One of the rules we have is no screen time on school days. This works well with their schedules although we have been know to make exceptions to the rule on occasion.
My daughter can see things on her iPad though, which is precious to her and is something we do want to take advantage of. It’s a break from the assault on her other senses as the compensate for the loss of vision. It also helps her see things and make visual memories in case she loses more or all of her vision.
But it does seem like on vacation weeks like this week that they’re on screens a good bit. They’re in the pool and spending time with family a lot of the day but early morning and late afternoon they have some time on their devices. With one exception this week: my daughter broke her iPad.
The situation wasn’t ideal, with the iPad being put on a bar-height counter above a tile floor with a child that can’t see well (otherwise know as tempting disaster) but it was an accident and she was upset about it.
She hadn’t said much about being without her iPad until the next day when someone mentioned my son and how he could easily have an iPad addiction. Her comment? “I can’t have an iPad addition, I broke mine.”
The Big Boy Update: Last night after dinner some of our family members went for a walk. My son saw something bright in the sky and told everyone it was a planet. He was right, it was Venus.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: At dinner tonight I missed the action down towards where my son was sitting buy my daughter caught me up, “Greyson’s acting like a robot, but to my calculations he’s not a robot.”
And when I say, “down time” I’m not always referring to their need for down time. Sometimes we want it as parents too. But we try to keep it reasonable. One of the rules we have is no screen time on school days. This works well with their schedules although we have been know to make exceptions to the rule on occasion.
My daughter can see things on her iPad though, which is precious to her and is something we do want to take advantage of. It’s a break from the assault on her other senses as the compensate for the loss of vision. It also helps her see things and make visual memories in case she loses more or all of her vision.
But it does seem like on vacation weeks like this week that they’re on screens a good bit. They’re in the pool and spending time with family a lot of the day but early morning and late afternoon they have some time on their devices. With one exception this week: my daughter broke her iPad.
The situation wasn’t ideal, with the iPad being put on a bar-height counter above a tile floor with a child that can’t see well (otherwise know as tempting disaster) but it was an accident and she was upset about it.
She hadn’t said much about being without her iPad until the next day when someone mentioned my son and how he could easily have an iPad addiction. Her comment? “I can’t have an iPad addition, I broke mine.”
The Big Boy Update: Last night after dinner some of our family members went for a walk. My son saw something bright in the sky and told everyone it was a planet. He was right, it was Venus.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: At dinner tonight I missed the action down towards where my son was sitting buy my daughter caught me up, “Greyson’s acting like a robot, but to my calculations he’s not a robot.”
Wednesday, April 4, 2018
Beach
We’re in Florida visiting my in-laws. We have a lot of family here, which I always love. This is one of my favorite weeks of the year for multiple reasons. First, winter is usually waning where we live, but the daily temperature still fluctuates from snow-worthy to short-sleeved, outdoor biking and playing outside weather. But it’s not full-blown spring and most certainly not pool-worthy weather.
When our family converges in Florida we have warm, shorts weather every day. Each year I bring a jacket for the children—just in case—but we never need it. There is a small pool in my in-law’s back yard which is the highlight of the trip. Every day we can go out as soon as people want to and get in the hot tub part (which overflows into the pool when it’s not heating up to adult-level hot temperatures). Some people would spend all day in the pool (my daughter) if allowed and all of us are in and out of the house most of the day eating lunch on the pool deck and mostly relaxing if you’re the children, playing all sorts of games they make up as they bounce around in the pool.
We play volleyball in the pool too. There’s a little net that can be put across the middle of the pool, but it’s not exactly even in pool space or depth, but no one seems to care. We play with children’s 15” bouncy balls that are easy to hit for everyone, including my children. And no one keeps score, it’s mostly about having fun together.
After lunch today my mother-in-law suggested we go to the beach. We’re in Florida and they live about fifteen minutes from the beach, which should be an attractive draw for us, but her suggestion was met with minimum enthusiasm. But when Nana wants to do something she has a way of convincing the rest of us we should as well.
The eleven of us piled into two cars and on the way saw a drawbridge go up and down, which was interesting to the child who could see and uneventful for the one who can’t, but I think she’s used to that by now. We got to the beach/park and walked over a long, winding path that included a long pedestrian bridge to the beach area.
We put our towels on the one chair and those interested in checking out the water went to investigate the temperature. My son and daughter got sand everywhere. And then, ten minutes after we arrived, the children wanted to go home. They were partially sunburned from the days before and both of them had rashes on their skin from maybe sunburn, maybe long exposure to chlorine or maybe food that caused them to have eczema. Whatever it was made the salt water and sand painful on their skin.
But Nana prevailed and they continued to have fun in the water while some of our group took a walk on the beach. When we got back in the car, still sand-ridden despite the spray showers at the edge of the bridge, I think the overall consensus was that a sand-free, heated pool replete with hot tub in your back yard was a far superior Florida water option.
Nana’s also suggested we go to a waterpark later this week. Since there is no sand involved and lots of fun motion, I think we might be all aboard on that idea.
The Big Boy Update: My husband found a coconut on the beach. He showed the children the barnacles growing on it and then explained it needed to go back into the ocean to keep the barnacles alive. But my son didn’t want to let it go. There was a funny bit of time just before we left where my husband would throw it into the ocean and my son would run after it, swimming to retrieve it, smiling the whole time. After the third time we all laughed and said it was a little like playing fetch with a dog.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter has several spots on her that are bad enough to need cortisone applied to her skin. This morning my husband was rubbing it in and my daughter was complaining loudly about it stinging. After he was done she said, “I hate cortisone, it’s my mortal ‘en-em-ee’”.
When our family converges in Florida we have warm, shorts weather every day. Each year I bring a jacket for the children—just in case—but we never need it. There is a small pool in my in-law’s back yard which is the highlight of the trip. Every day we can go out as soon as people want to and get in the hot tub part (which overflows into the pool when it’s not heating up to adult-level hot temperatures). Some people would spend all day in the pool (my daughter) if allowed and all of us are in and out of the house most of the day eating lunch on the pool deck and mostly relaxing if you’re the children, playing all sorts of games they make up as they bounce around in the pool.
We play volleyball in the pool too. There’s a little net that can be put across the middle of the pool, but it’s not exactly even in pool space or depth, but no one seems to care. We play with children’s 15” bouncy balls that are easy to hit for everyone, including my children. And no one keeps score, it’s mostly about having fun together.
After lunch today my mother-in-law suggested we go to the beach. We’re in Florida and they live about fifteen minutes from the beach, which should be an attractive draw for us, but her suggestion was met with minimum enthusiasm. But when Nana wants to do something she has a way of convincing the rest of us we should as well.
The eleven of us piled into two cars and on the way saw a drawbridge go up and down, which was interesting to the child who could see and uneventful for the one who can’t, but I think she’s used to that by now. We got to the beach/park and walked over a long, winding path that included a long pedestrian bridge to the beach area.
We put our towels on the one chair and those interested in checking out the water went to investigate the temperature. My son and daughter got sand everywhere. And then, ten minutes after we arrived, the children wanted to go home. They were partially sunburned from the days before and both of them had rashes on their skin from maybe sunburn, maybe long exposure to chlorine or maybe food that caused them to have eczema. Whatever it was made the salt water and sand painful on their skin.
But Nana prevailed and they continued to have fun in the water while some of our group took a walk on the beach. When we got back in the car, still sand-ridden despite the spray showers at the edge of the bridge, I think the overall consensus was that a sand-free, heated pool replete with hot tub in your back yard was a far superior Florida water option.
Nana’s also suggested we go to a waterpark later this week. Since there is no sand involved and lots of fun motion, I think we might be all aboard on that idea.
The Big Boy Update: My husband found a coconut on the beach. He showed the children the barnacles growing on it and then explained it needed to go back into the ocean to keep the barnacles alive. But my son didn’t want to let it go. There was a funny bit of time just before we left where my husband would throw it into the ocean and my son would run after it, swimming to retrieve it, smiling the whole time. After the third time we all laughed and said it was a little like playing fetch with a dog.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter has several spots on her that are bad enough to need cortisone applied to her skin. This morning my husband was rubbing it in and my daughter was complaining loudly about it stinging. After he was done she said, “I hate cortisone, it’s my mortal ‘en-em-ee’”.
Tuesday, April 3, 2018
Remind Me Again
I’m good about getting some things done and not so good about other things. Perhaps most of us are. My husband is excellent about getting lots of things done. But some things, typically the things I’m most interested in him getting done, he’s not so interested in doing.
And I hate being a nagging wife. And yet I’d really like that item on my husband’s to do list (that I added) completed. To be fair, I don’t just assign him things. There are areas my husband is much better at than I am. And then there are things neither of us want to do, so we split the responsibility across the two of us.
And then I stumbled on a way to not nag my husband that he likes. I just put a calendar entry for ten o’clock in the morning, repeating daily, forever. I had one that said, “How are the taxes going?” for a while. It worked. He laughed at the reminder and it did it’s job at the same time.
I hope I don’t abuse this new power—because it sure is tempting…
The Big Boy Update: On the way home from dinner our car was full with seven people. My husband had to move quickly into traffic and we all had a good time acting like it was a crazy ride, leaning into each other and yelling out. My daughter, happy for large changes in motion, asked to have it done again, so my husband moved the steering wheel back and forth quickly. My son seemed to like it but let us know, “if you move up and down, back and forwards my butt and my penis feel weird.”
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter has decided she wants to have a top sheet on her bed. She would get into our bed from time to time and she knew we had a top sheet. Last week we put one on her bed for the first time. It’s more to manage cover-wise for her as she’s a messy sleeper, but she’s happy to have it.
And I hate being a nagging wife. And yet I’d really like that item on my husband’s to do list (that I added) completed. To be fair, I don’t just assign him things. There are areas my husband is much better at than I am. And then there are things neither of us want to do, so we split the responsibility across the two of us.
And then I stumbled on a way to not nag my husband that he likes. I just put a calendar entry for ten o’clock in the morning, repeating daily, forever. I had one that said, “How are the taxes going?” for a while. It worked. He laughed at the reminder and it did it’s job at the same time.
I hope I don’t abuse this new power—because it sure is tempting…
The Big Boy Update: On the way home from dinner our car was full with seven people. My husband had to move quickly into traffic and we all had a good time acting like it was a crazy ride, leaning into each other and yelling out. My daughter, happy for large changes in motion, asked to have it done again, so my husband moved the steering wheel back and forth quickly. My son seemed to like it but let us know, “if you move up and down, back and forwards my butt and my penis feel weird.”
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter has decided she wants to have a top sheet on her bed. She would get into our bed from time to time and she knew we had a top sheet. Last week we put one on her bed for the first time. It’s more to manage cover-wise for her as she’s a messy sleeper, but she’s happy to have it.
Monday, April 2, 2018
The Stairs and The Eye Spot
My children are burned from the sun today. And before I get in trouble for being a bad parent, we did our best to put sunscreen on them. But we missed spots. We also apparently missed the reapplication window and the result is they got more sun in a few spots and a decent bit of sun all over.
We have shirts for them, with my daughter having a long-sleeved shirt that’s high on her neck but we missed the very backs of her legs at the top where her bathing suit is. My son’s forearms are red. And my daughter’s nose got too much sun and she wanted to have a band aid on it today to give it extra protection from the sun (which was cute to look at).
My daughter has a mental map of the world around her, but when she gets to some place new she has to map it all out and then use that with the remaining vision she has to move around safely. She’s been to Nana and Papa’s every spring of her life and she knows their little back yard pool well. But it’s been a year and a year is a long time for a six-year-old.
My daughter was on the perimeter of the pool yesterday moving slowly. Historically when she had first lost her vision, she would hop around on all fours because it was a safer position for her. Now she knows how to use her hands and walk carefully to investigate her surroundings. She was walking towards the far side of the pool when she said aloud to me while pointing, “I remember there were stairs there”.
She was correct. I told her the two steps were still there and that there was a volleyball net tied to the fence she should feel for in the same area. So she did. And now she navigates around the area with ease, although slowly and carefully every time.
Then today in the hot tub my daughter suddenly said, “I can’t see out of my left eye”. I started to panic internally, because that’s her one working eye. But my daughter wasn’t overly upset. She rolled her eye around and had a conversation with us about how she could and then couldn’t see. She said it had just started and that there was something in her eye that was moving around, blocking her vision from time to time, “but it’s gone now”.
Am I concerned? Yes. We’re watching it though because it doesn’t seem to be there all the time and she isn’t worried about it. She can still see to the extent she normally does. She hasn’t had any head trauma, but her vasculation isn’t normal which makes her prone to bleeds under trauma. We’re increasing the dosage of steroid drops and we’ll watch it. Hopefully it will go away.
The Big Boy Update: My son was asked us yesterday, “what’s half past never?”
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter was telling me about something she was watching. She said, “I don’t like the purse fart of it. I mean the first part of it.”
We have shirts for them, with my daughter having a long-sleeved shirt that’s high on her neck but we missed the very backs of her legs at the top where her bathing suit is. My son’s forearms are red. And my daughter’s nose got too much sun and she wanted to have a band aid on it today to give it extra protection from the sun (which was cute to look at).
My daughter has a mental map of the world around her, but when she gets to some place new she has to map it all out and then use that with the remaining vision she has to move around safely. She’s been to Nana and Papa’s every spring of her life and she knows their little back yard pool well. But it’s been a year and a year is a long time for a six-year-old.
My daughter was on the perimeter of the pool yesterday moving slowly. Historically when she had first lost her vision, she would hop around on all fours because it was a safer position for her. Now she knows how to use her hands and walk carefully to investigate her surroundings. She was walking towards the far side of the pool when she said aloud to me while pointing, “I remember there were stairs there”.
She was correct. I told her the two steps were still there and that there was a volleyball net tied to the fence she should feel for in the same area. So she did. And now she navigates around the area with ease, although slowly and carefully every time.
Then today in the hot tub my daughter suddenly said, “I can’t see out of my left eye”. I started to panic internally, because that’s her one working eye. But my daughter wasn’t overly upset. She rolled her eye around and had a conversation with us about how she could and then couldn’t see. She said it had just started and that there was something in her eye that was moving around, blocking her vision from time to time, “but it’s gone now”.
Am I concerned? Yes. We’re watching it though because it doesn’t seem to be there all the time and she isn’t worried about it. She can still see to the extent she normally does. She hasn’t had any head trauma, but her vasculation isn’t normal which makes her prone to bleeds under trauma. We’re increasing the dosage of steroid drops and we’ll watch it. Hopefully it will go away.
The Big Boy Update: My son was asked us yesterday, “what’s half past never?”
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter was telling me about something she was watching. She said, “I don’t like the purse fart of it. I mean the first part of it.”
Sunday, April 1, 2018
Maisey
Honestly, I don’t know how to spell it, but ‘Maisey’ is how it’s pronounced and I feel like going with the phonetic spelling for today. Maisey is a dog my in-laws have been watching for the past two weeks. Everyone has had a fun time playing with Maisey. We’re sad to see her go, but she’ll go back home next door after dinner tonight.
It’s Easter Sunday and we’re about to have dinner at my in-law’s home in Florida. Dinner follows a long day out at the small pool in the back of their house or, as in the case of some of the adults, multiple trips to stores that were open on this holiday day. But either way, we made it to dinner and soon after that, dessert.
My mother-in-law is running the show. She has given us each responsibilities during the day. My responsibilities, in addition to making sure my children were being watched by adults while out at the pool (and they were in the pool *all* day) included making the peppermint ice-cream and creating name cards for the dinner table setting.
None of my duties were taxing in the slightest. Firstly, all the adults—which includes everyone aside from my two children—were aware of them in the pool and made sure they weren’t left unattended and that sunscreen was applied on a regular basis. Secondly, the ice cream making and name card creation was more of an assist by me with credit graciously given than me actually stepping in and doing much. For the ice cream I poured the ingredients in and then scooped the completed ice cream into a container to be frozen. For the name cards I was in charge of sticker application. See? Easy.
I’m being called to dinner now, I’ll report tomorrow on how things went, but since Nana is our Master of Ceremonies, I’m sure it will all go off without a hitch.
The Big Boy Update: My son got out of the pool today and asked, “how long it it until half past never?” He was told it was a long time. It turns out this is a phrase his cousin, Kyle, said and he picked up on. I wonder if he got the complexity of the phrase when he said it?
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter was in the pool today at Nana and Papa’s in Florida. She’s been here for every year of her life but she remembers things differently every year. She was walking around the back side of their small pool, moving slowly, when she said, “I remember there being stairs here”. She was correct, there were two steps at that point in the pool deck. She was cautious for a reason. That level of caution will save her later in her life from injury I am most certain.
It’s Easter Sunday and we’re about to have dinner at my in-law’s home in Florida. Dinner follows a long day out at the small pool in the back of their house or, as in the case of some of the adults, multiple trips to stores that were open on this holiday day. But either way, we made it to dinner and soon after that, dessert.
My mother-in-law is running the show. She has given us each responsibilities during the day. My responsibilities, in addition to making sure my children were being watched by adults while out at the pool (and they were in the pool *all* day) included making the peppermint ice-cream and creating name cards for the dinner table setting.
None of my duties were taxing in the slightest. Firstly, all the adults—which includes everyone aside from my two children—were aware of them in the pool and made sure they weren’t left unattended and that sunscreen was applied on a regular basis. Secondly, the ice cream making and name card creation was more of an assist by me with credit graciously given than me actually stepping in and doing much. For the ice cream I poured the ingredients in and then scooped the completed ice cream into a container to be frozen. For the name cards I was in charge of sticker application. See? Easy.
I’m being called to dinner now, I’ll report tomorrow on how things went, but since Nana is our Master of Ceremonies, I’m sure it will all go off without a hitch.
The Big Boy Update: My son got out of the pool today and asked, “how long it it until half past never?” He was told it was a long time. It turns out this is a phrase his cousin, Kyle, said and he picked up on. I wonder if he got the complexity of the phrase when he said it?
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter was in the pool today at Nana and Papa’s in Florida. She’s been here for every year of her life but she remembers things differently every year. She was walking around the back side of their small pool, moving slowly, when she said, “I remember there being stairs here”. She was correct, there were two steps at that point in the pool deck. She was cautious for a reason. That level of caution will save her later in her life from injury I am most certain.
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