Mild and Mildew

We made a mistake.   My parents, my husband and I weren't paying attention and didn't think to go and check on their house while they've been away in the mountains, sequestering themselves from contact during COVID-19.   It was by chance that we went over for something (at this point I don't even remember the reason) only to discover their air conditioning wasn't functioning.   The cessation of normally flowing cool air which brought with it removal of moisture in the air, coupled with some flooding in the basement and we had a situation on our hands. 

We got the air conditioning repaired with the replacement of a new condensate pump, but during the time the air conditioning wasn't running, heavy rain had brought some water into their basement that the dehumidifier wasn't able to remove rapidly enough allowing mold and mildew to grow. 

Mechanical things are running as expected now and their basement is nice and dry, leaving us with surface cleanup to contend with.  This is no small task, as you might well imagine.   People have stuff, and every bit of that stuff could have mold or mildew on it.   If I think about all the "stuff" I have and what a mess it might be to clean it all up should it covered in mildew, my head would hurt. 

Today, my husband and I went over to my parent's house to take stock of the situation.   There are some badly cvered things, but fortunately, not everything is affected.   It would appear mildew has preferred surfaces on which to grow.   

There was a wooden chair covered top to bottom in light grey mildew surrounded by a table and work tools that didn't appear to be affected at all.  Which makes our job both easier and harder.   Easier in that there are less things to clean or discard, harder in that we don't want to ignore something that needs attention. 

Fortunately, the living space in my parent's home is on the main floor and now that the humidity is under control, we can close off the basement and not have to scramble to get things cleaned up.   I hate that this happened to their home—which is also my childhood home.   We're looking at it as an opportunity to go through things and do some spring cleaning, or maybe in this case some autumn cleaning. 

The Big Boy Update:  My son has been exhibiting a sudden burst of maturity.   He just seems more grown-up.   It's hard to put my finger on because it's little things: words, reactions, behaviors.   He suddenly seems so much older than he was only a few months ago.   Maybe having his sister move out has been a good thing for his maturity as much as it has been for her.   

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter tried to assault Blake today with her cuticle clippers.  She didn't like that he said she had to do a bit more reading because he'd heard her singing for some time and she couldn't have been reading while that was going on.   She was angry about that and she fought him verbally and then physically when he wouldn't back down and let her get away with saying she had finished her reading when he knew she hadn't.   When she lunged at him with her cuticle clippers, he disarmed her and grounded her.   It took me a half-hour in her room to get her to finally back down from Blake being completely wrong, a liar, etc., etc. and accept that she'd heaped on consequence after consequence for a few more minutes of reading.   She's fighting hard lately, pushing, not backing down, and being willing to take far worse consequences because she's testing boundaries.   She wrote him an apology letter and is now a happy child again.  When she finally gives in, it's a dramatic transformation in mood.

Under The Tree

We had bits of a hurricane's body pass over us within the past twenty-four hours.  We were fortunate in that the rain wasn't too torrential and the winds were on the very mild side for those of a hurricane.  In addition, the weather was clement, improved so in temperature by the onslaught of the rain.  In short, it was nice outside if you're of the sort who likes rain. 

I love weather.  I use the word 'weather' in the broadest of senses, encompassing all sorts of varieties included therein.  I love all the seasons and each of the different kinds of weather they bring.  I could do with a little more snow in the winter, but we live in a location just far enough south that large winter storms are infrequent.   In general though, I like it all.   

Yesterday's weather started out with mild rain in the afternoon.  My son had gone outside and the dog was in the front yard.  When I went out to ask him something, the dog did that bit where she frantically looks for a stick or pinecone hoping to have a game of fetch.   I let her off the leash, grabbed a stick and took shelter under the mid-sized tree in our front yard that has made itself larger each year since being planted ten years ago when we built the house. 

My son was out in the rain, not minding a bit about getting wet.   As I stood under the tree, sheltered from the rain while the dog brought the stick back for subsequent rounds of fetch I was reminded of my childhood, standing in the rain under trees.   

It was a magical thing: to be standing in your yard in the middle of a rain shower and yet be protected from the falling droplets by the canopy of the tree.   Eventually, when the tree became saturated, water would fall off the leaves and land in irregular blobs on your body, but for the beginning of the shower at least, you'd be safe.  

The mild rain continued and shortly my son was joined by my daughter as well as Rayan and Keira from two houses over.   The rain didn't seem to impact their play at all as they made requests for certain things from the craft room they knew were there but weren't allowed to have without permission.   I went and got some children's rings of varying materials shapes and colors which they added to their game, saying one ring was the ring of nourishment (it had a bunch of grapes on it) while a second ring was the ring of lightning (it was of silver in tone).  Rings were handed out, powers were granted or claimed, and I went back inside as the rain was picking up. 

A short while later the rain grew more intense, coming down in a mild downpour.  I heard yelps and screams from the back yard and looked out to find all four of them in the trampoline together.   It has been months since the children have been in the trampoline together.  Most children that would come over haven't been over at all.  A few children can knock on the door and ask if they can jump.  They're only allowed to jump with each other (siblings).  For the most part, the trampoline sits empty but yesterday afternoon in the downpour we judged it as safe as could be reasonably expected so they all got in together. 

From my window I took videos of the four children squealing, yelling, jumping and laughing.   I messaged Lisa, Rayan and Keira's mother, who was watching from her window as well.   It was a joyous thing, seeing the children have so much fun in the rain.   We both remembered being in the rain as children, having little concern for getting wet.   We were both smiling as we watched our children, and in a way, wishing we could be young again with the innocence of childhood, jumping on a trampoline in the rain 

The Big Boy Update:  My son loves seltzer water.   My husband and I drank a good bit of it a year or two ago but now he and I have moved to water and unsweet tea.   My son picked up the fad.  I try to get interesting flavors for him when I go shopping.  After the rainstorm and trampoline jumping yesterday the children came in and wanted to get warm (and we wanted them to get clean) so they got in the tub.   My son was lounging back in the tub and randomly said to us, "I think I am the least likely in this house to get dehydrated because I drink so much seltzer water.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter and I went on a playdate at the park Sunday with Adeline and beforehand my daughter rather uncharacteristically wanted to look nice.  Typically, she doesn't care what she's wearing, if her hair is brushed or anything else about her appearance.  On Sunday she divided her hair into three sections and braided three pigtails, one on each side and one in the back.   She got a bracelet that made jingly sounds and put it on her wrist and then found her special necklace that has "MUNCHKIN" stamped in braille on a plate of steel that Shane gave to her.   She even put bows in her hair.  I told her she looked lovely.  

She’s Not Suffering

My daughter had a good time on the very hot play date at the park with her VI friend from school yesterday.   A lot of the time, the majority of it, in fact, was spent walking around the lake on the paved path near the water's edge.   My daughter wanted to feel the water with her cane tip but not touch it herself as we had told her it was mucky at the water's edge.   After feeling the water a few times, she wanted to hug a tree—literally—and did hug several and would have attempted to climb them had we not scurried her on the way, promising ducks, turtles, and a dock.

My daughter and Adeline ('AD-uh-linn) weaved and bobbed around and across the paving with my daughter decidedly not wanting to follow the "stay to the right"  US standards of foot traffic.  She could have easily done so simply by marking the edge of the pavement drop-off with her cane.   But no, she wanted to be free.  Or, more to the point, she didn't want to do what we were telling her she needed to do. 

People are very understanding, especially when they see the white cane indicating blindness.   But this was in a rather narrow path with a reasonable number of people, strollers, bikers, and even a scooter moving along at random intervals.   There was more than enough space for us to walk two-and-two while maintaining above the six-foot social distancing recommendations.   The ladies wanted to run on ahead and given that Adeline was a year older and more experienced with cane work—not to mention had a tad bit more usable vision—we let them do so.  That little freedom and independence are important to both the girls.  

We would call out to move to the right because someone was coming and they would move over, that is unless my daughter didn't want to.   She is respectful of the needs to social distance, but to her, in the loud area we were in where she couldn't hear people walking a bit up ahead, she just didn't want to be told what to do and didn't think it was necessary to get out of the way. 

On several occasions, I had to physically pull her over to the right, kneel down on one knee and remind her that if she couldn't stay on the right when we asked her to, she was going to be with me, holding my hand.  She has quite good hearing but one time after she had intentionally swerved across the pavement, causing a man to brake quickly on his bicycle, and I think she got the message.  

We found a secluded spot in the shade where a wooden walkway traversed a dry creekbed and sat down for lunch.   By this time my daughter was mightily cranky.   I hadn't realized we were going to walk quite so far or I would have suggested sneakers instead of sandals, but it was too late at that point.   After lunch, we walked the balance of the way around the lake and then went for ice cream.  

After drinking a lot of the cloyingly sweet sorbet & Sprite freezes, the girls wandered off (in sight) to play in an area where they wouldn't run into anyone.  Adeline's mother and I continued talking about all sorts of things, mostly related to school and other things about how life has been going raising a blind child with siblings.  

She had asked me where we got my daughter's glasses and she's said they had planned to go there last week.  I asked how it went and if they were able to help them.   They hadn't had the particular size frames they needed, but that was okay, they were hard to find, she said.   Then she told me something that has had me thinking since yesterday.   She said a woman approached her after they left and told her she was going to pray for her daughter. 

She thanked the woman, but then she said, "you should know though, she isn't suffering."  She said a few other things, but that's the key statement: "she's not suffering."   What does it mean to suffer?   As I've thought about it since yesterday it seems to me to be largely subjective and a matter of perspective.  What is considered poverty level today would be luxurious indeed when compared to the middle ages.  Case in point, my son believes he's suffering if we require him to fold his own laundry.   There is one YouTube man, blind from birth, that I've watched videos of.   When asked if he could be sighted, would he want to be, his answer is no.   

Perhaps suffering can be equated with pain.   Or at least in one incarnation of suffering do we think of pain.   We all suffer as we grow older, our bodies wearing out on us, eyesight and hearing fading, bones aching, injuries that can't be repaired, and general degeneration of our corporeal form as we age and grow old.   I don't think elderly and suffering are synomous though.  

But with regards to my daughter, is she suffering?  She's not in pain.   She has her own challenges.   To many, they seem insurmountable because imagining life without sight is incredibly hard to do.   Two years ago, to compare, my daughter was happily excelling in school while my son could barely get any work done and had terrible self-esteem as a result.  He was getting negative feedback from his parents and teachers and yet he was trying his best.   Was he suffering while my daughter wasn't?

Where I'm going with this is that it seems like a jungle filled with shades of grey and each person's path through is their own journey.   What is normal to one person, could be suffering to another.   It doesn't fully satisfy me in that I have an answer to the question, "Is my daughter suffering?" but I'm leaning towards a no answer.  Yes, she has challenges, but those challenges aren't insurmountable to her, it's just her life.   She doesn't complain about being blind and how it's unfair, she just adapts.   When the next challenge faces her, she adapts to that too.    

The Big Boy Tiny Girl Solar System Project:  My children are currently building a model of the solar system.  Well, I think it's missing Pluto, which is sad to my husband and me given that we grew up during the "Pluto years."  My son could easily do the project without his sister but she needs him.   When they do projects like this, they work together quite nicely.   Or at least so far they are.   As sure as I type this a bolt of disagreement will come hurling out of the blue and afflict them with anger and malice towards each other.   When they get past the quarreling and have the project completed though, they'll both be excited to show it to their father and me. 

Turdish

As technology increases, so does concern that overuse of the technology will be a detriment to children.  When I was a child, the television was the culprit—and still is to a degree today, although it's known more generally as, "screen time" now.  Did my brain rot out from watching television after school and on Saturday mornings?  I still seem to retain most of my faculties, as do most of my contemporaries, although that evaluation could be relative I suppose. 

I've heard concerns voiced by some that listening to audiobooks isn't as good as reading the text itself.   And I agree that exclusively listening to written works isn't good.  There are statistics that show a growing number of blind children are bypassing learning braille because so much is available in one verbal form or another.  I haven't looked into those statistics, so I can't speak authoritatively on them, but I can see how it could be the case in some situations. 

In the United States, children are required to go to school, and public schools hopefully have the foresight and/or requirement to teach braille to children.  Internationally or in situations where a child doesn't have the opportunity to learn braille, audio information is at least better than no information where braille education isn't an option. 

Reading is essential for spelling, grammar, sentence structure, and learning about written language.   I'm a big advocate of braille, learning it myself and requiring my daughter to do some reading in braille daily, even during the summer.   

But for leisure time, there's nothing like relaxing and watching a movie.  Or, in the case of my daughter, listening to a movie.   Movies or television shows have the inherent problem that a portion of the content is delivered visually.   An epic montage scene in which the protagonist rises above their situation by figuring out how to solve the problem, set to uplifting music, is great if you can see, but give zero information to someone who is blind.   

Books are different.   Everything you need to know is in the words.  Audiobooks are almost the equivalent of movies to my daughter in that way.  We've let her spend much of her time listening to audiobooks lately.  So, has it been a good thing or a bad thing?  Has it, "rotted her brain" as the saying about too much television watching went when I was a child?  I don't think so. 

In fact, I think it's done the opposite.  Today, my daughter and I went to a park for a play date with another VI student from her school.  On the way, she wanted to tell me stories she made up as we drove along.  I was able to jot down some of what she said, snippets mostly, thanks to autopilot.  Her vocabulary and wording have improved dramatically.   

The first story was titled, "Turdish" and was about some turtles and fish we were going to be feeding at the park we were heading to.   She started the book saying, "Prolog," and then explaining what had happened before the story began.  She launched into Chapter One and ended after a few chapters.   Then she said, "About the author" and described herself, saying, "she loves audiobooks and art.  She tells lots of stories.   Some are ones she forgets, but others are too important to forget, like this one.   Then, she said, "Illustrator" and my name.  She talked about me, as her mother, and how I liked crafts and audiobooks too."

Next, she asked if I wanted to hear a story titled, "The Brave Duckling" or one called "Chicken goes Squawk".   I opted for the duckling story since there might be ducks in the lake we'd be visiting (there were).  I didn't get the whole story written down, but here are some of the phrases she used:  "spiraling to the ground," "she wriggled free of his grasp," "by now they had grown up, but they were bound to have their own lives."   I was impressed with the descriptive words she used in her story narrative, giving me a clear image of the ducklings, their mother, and their life in the pond. 

On the way home, she wanted to tell another story, this time about a boy and his sister who had magical things happening to their bodies, such as the girl's hair growing seemingly without bound and turning into solid silver strands.  The boy's fingers and body grew as well.  Here are bits of the story I was able to capture (autopilot is great, but I have to still drive):

Granuald marched into the room.   He looked at his sister.  She had jet black hair like her father.  She was frail, but beautiful with long, dark hair.   She looked at her hair and saw it was growing.   It was growing fast—much too fast.  She noticed her hair wasn't dark anymore but had turned silver.  Her eyes softened when she saw her brother.  He gazed into his sister's sparkly eyes.   Her eyes were so dazzling.  They were twinkling.   Granuald looked and saw his fingers were growing longer.  His whole body was stretching out.  He was getting more buff.  His sister looked into his eyes and noticed they were twinkling.   The blue part of his eyes was now pure gold.  When she looked into his glittering gold eyes she knew.   They had to escape.   When she realized the man was a policeman she grimaced and turned away.   She frowned.   She had a weapon, she realized.   She could use her hair, now pure strands of silver.  She flung her head around, wrapping her hair around him. 

The story above was a bit rambly, and I'm not sure where she was going with the two siblings who's bodies had transformed into physical silver and gold and why they needed to run,  It ended abruptly as we arrived home.   What I find interesting is the descriptiveness of her storytelling.   I wasn't writing prose like this when I was a rising third-grader.   I don't know that I was even writing at all.   

My daughter's vocabulary and language skills are improving, not degrading, as a result of listening to audiobooks, which make them a good thing as far as I'm concerned.  We're just as focused on braille, but my daughter's teachers are making sure she's getting the best education she can on that front.   As the phrase goes, "it's all good."

The Big Boy Update:  My son couldn't get to sleep last night so he came downstairs after ten o'clock to talk to his father.   He was given a choice: go upstairs and read or turn off the light, or watch the remainder of the movie Goonies with his father.   We've been trying to get him to watch this movie for some time now, being pretty sure he'd like it.   He begrudgingly started it a while ago but wanted to quit before the good part where the children hunt for the pirate's treasure got started.  My son opted for the movie choice.   He loved it.   There were a few scary parts, but he laughed and thought the children finding the hidden ship and treasure was just as good as we'd hoped he would.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter had a good time at the park today with Adeline, a VI friend from school who's one year older than she is.   They are similar in temperament, stubbornness, coping with the loss of their sight, intelligence, and percentage of vision remaining.  In short, they're a good match for each other.   They played together while Adeline's mother and I talked about life with a blind child, sharing stories and giving advice from what we'd each respectively learned.  It was a very good, albeit hot, day in the park.   They had such a good time, the girls asked if we could do another gettogether next Sunday. 

Empty Shelf

Our refrigerator is one of stability and regularity on the inside.   The contents we contain therein look largely the same from month to month, year to year with little in the way of variation.   In the door on one shelf are two kinds of milk, whole milk for the children and me, skim milk for my husband and orange juice for everyone.  Water bottles for the children have the same spot so they can find them easily and condiments are finished and replenished as needed. 

In the main body of the refrigerator are leftovers, usually consisting of some kind of pasta noodle and one of the sauces my husband makes as well as leftovers from the last two meals he's made.   On the bottom shelf is water, unsweetened ice tea and a juice, typically lemonade.   The top shelf has waxed and waned on the amount of beer over the years.  We used to have a lot but since we don't drink beer much here these days, the current stock is one lonely beer bottle of some age that no one has bothered to drink yet. 

One area of the refrigerator that has always remained the same is a short shelf in the middle which has had yogurt for the children for probably six years now.   They would eat yogurt at home and it would go in lunch boxes for school.   Some months we'd have the shelf nearly full across with flavors because so much was being eaten.  

Today, that shelf lies empty.   Both children have phased completely out of yogurt with the last remaining few being thrown out prior to our recent trip due to expiration date.   I've continued to buy a few, but it's been tough getting them to agree to eat it.  My daughter liked some different flavors with an adult version of key lime pie being her favorite until relatively recently.   But no, no one wants yogurt. 

I filled the shelf up today with microwaveable single servings of mashed potatoes and mac-and-cheese for my daughter.  She and I had a conversation on how to discern one container from the other and the timings she would need to use for microwaving each.  

School is starting soon—hopefully—and lunches as well as snacks must be sent in by us.  I'm going to give the yogurt a try once more to see if we can get them interested again.   They may have moved on for a time.  If so, I'm thinking it might be like bananas are here: a favorite for a time and then disliked by the children.   I like yogurt, hopefully, it will have a resurgence soon.

The Big Boy Update:  Rayan and Keira are back and the children met outdoors again to play today.   I asked if they wanted the crystals they'd ordered online and had had so much fun playing with a few weeks ago.   I could tell my son didn't want to bring the crystals out.   He's been playing with them alone in his room and I don't think he wanted to share them.   When I reminded everyone they all had to go back in the bag when they were done, my son agreed and suddenly remembered where he'd put them in his room.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter has adopted, with some reservations, listening to the audiobooks she so loves on her iPad.  Many, many audiobooks are free to her from the NLS branch of the Library of Congress because she's blind.  There is an app that mirrors the physical player she has from the library for the blind from our state but she's not yet getting the hang of navigating the player so we're helping.   She's not balking yet and has done a lot of listening on her iPad today.   She's not thrilled because she can't talk to it like she can Alexa, but I told her she was running out of money to buy audiobooks and the same books were free in this format.   That, she understood.   Hopefully there will be an Alexa skill soon for the BARD app she's using so she can listen once again on Alexa.

3D Printer Contemplations

For a long time, my husband has been interested in 3D printing technology.  It's definitely interesting, but when he would talk about it I was never that keen on getting one.   To be sure, the prices some years ago were prohibitive for the casual, home hobbyist but in recent years technology has done what it always does: gets better for less money. 

There was another factor that made a home 3D printer impracticable in my opinion: what would we use it for?  We wouldn't be on the International Space Station in need of a replacement widget to get us home safely.   And even if we were, we lacked the skills to build a CAD model of the needed widget.   So good news all around we're not astronauts with a need to save the day...because we would fail. 

I argued with my husband, challenging him to come up with a single thing we could print that would actually be useful and if we could make such a part—after lots of time creating an accurate software model, followed by the slow process of building it on the 3D printer—couldn't I have just ordered it from Amazon and gotten it in by then?  I thought it was a sound argument, and at the time it probably was, 

Back then, if you wanted to print something you mostly had to create the model yourself.   Today, there are libraries of models created by people who commonly let you have the file for free.   If you have the printer, you can just download the specifications and print them.   There was one YouTube video I saw where a call went out to all the people with 3D printers in their area in Alabama to print a component of needed face shields.   Hundreds of people with all different makes and models of 3D printers downloaded the same specification file and printed the parts.  They dropped them off and a stringent procedure of sanitization and preparation was done so the shields could be safely delivered to hospital workers in need during COVID-19.  If there was ever a more important use to put a home 3D printer, this was it. 

What suddenly got me interested in the possibility of a 3D printer at home was another YouTube video from someone who's content typically has nothing to do with 3D printers.  He had decided to get one and became so enthusiastic about it, his channel has featured nothing but since.   His first video very clearly explained some of the pros and cons but also the joy of being able to create something useful. 

I was interested enough at that point to send a link of the video to my husband, but not to purchase a 3D printer myself but then another thing happened.  On a fluke, I searched for models available to be printed on a 3D printer that had braille on them.   Lots of things popped up.   The first thing I saw was some dice better than the tactile version my daughter uses now.  The second was a map of the United States done in such a way that each state was a different height and state abbreviations were done in braille on then.

My daughter, of course!  We could use a 3D printer to print all kinds of things for her.   We could print a model of a bumblebee and let her feel the wings and where the stinger is—and she could understand more than she ever could with words.  It was at this point that I became a pest to my husband, saying I wanted to get one and asking him all about his thoughts on the matter. 

And at this point, we're considering getting one.  The price point starts as low as a few hundred dollars.  The software is much more developed for hobbyist users such as we would be.  But that doesn't make the decision a straightforward one.   The number of available printers is huge.  There are considerations like what materials you're going to print using which will necessitate a heated tray or hooded enclosure.   What slicing software will you be using? (Slicing software is what you use to prepare the model to be printed by your specific printer and is a complex step before actually sending the model to the printer that has a bit of a learning curve.)   How big a "thing" do you want to print?  The size of the bed limits how much you can print at once and if you need to divide up the model into parts.

There are lots more questions to be asked and things to consider, but as of today, 3D printing has gone from costly and useless in mind to affordable and useful.   I don't know if we'll get one, but it's definitely fun to look at the advances in technology and the ways in which people have used it.

The Big Boy Update:  Blake was over today and my son wanted to play Minecraft with him.   I came downstairs later to what was definitely not Fortnite.  My son was giggling and saying, "press X to exit!"  Blake was piloting a jet on the screen, straight into the sky.   When he pressed X, he jumped out of the jet and started freefalling down towards the ground—as a cow.   My son had loaded Just Cause 3 and put in the cow mod or something.   Blake's cow was definitely female because of the udders underneath her.   Her hair was flapping in the wind.   Apparently, there is a competition to see how far you can fall and the points you can make.  Blake beat my son's high score. 

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter had a rough middle of the day.  She and Blake started playing a new version of Monopoly that has an Alexa-like thing that manages the game for you.   This game had different rules and she got very angry when Blake was able to trade his property for her Boardwalk (she loves Park Place and Boardwalk). Things got very bad for a while and Blake went downstairs to play with my son because my daughter tried to get violent with him.  There had to be more at play here than just the taking of the property.   It appeared that Blake was moving her piece for her and she took it as him thinking she wasn't capable on her own.   There are loads of other factors in play such as it wasn't a standard Monopoly board and I hadn't had time to make it fully tactile.  Plus, I had upset her with some requests to try on other glasses earlier and had asked if any made it easier for her to see.   Perhaps that raisded some hope and when they were all just as bad, it upset her.   Regardless, she was livid for a long time and her throat has got to be sore from all the screaming.   In the end, she wrote Blake a letter of apology on her braillewriter,  I delivered it to the basement and he wrote a letter back to her that I went upstairs to read to her, telling her he would like to talk to her if she wanted to later.   I thought she was going to have none of him for the rest of the day but no, she wanted to go downstairs and happily talk to him right then.  She even wanted to play Monopoly again.  I warned against it but she said, "it's okay Mom, I've learned my lesson."

Getting Rid of Us

Blake was scheduled to come over this afternoon at 2:30 to take the children to the pool.   They were reading from one to two and had both been looking forward to time at the pool when we talked about it earlier in the day, but like all things with children and even us as adults, our thoughts can change on something as time passes. 

There was resistance to the reading, but they both got into it after a few rounds of firm encouragement.   Both of my children like reading, but it seems like work when it's assigned and they like to object in various ways.   My daughter doesn't like the particular book or wants to read something we don't have in braille format.   My son starts books but then doesn't want to finish them, preferring to move on to another book.  My son can't sit still—at all—and would probably devour seven books a week if he could wiggle around, flip and bounce off sofas at the same time. 

The plan was to read until 2:00, then get into their swimsuits and when Blake arrived, they would go to the pool for the two-hour slot my husband had reserved earlier in the day.  I went upstairs to help my daughter, who wasn't so sure she wanted to go to the pool now that she was done reading.   When Blake arrived she told him—hostilely—that she was only going to the pool for the sortest amount of time possible because she wanted to get back to her audiobook.   

My son had for some reason thought it was a good idea to go to the basement and start playing Minecraft at 2:00, even though he had to be ready at 2:10 when Blake arrived.   Disengaging him from the game was, for once, not that hard, making me think the groundings of late had made a positive impression on him.   He had certainly been polite and used respectful words with me all day. 

His sister had been the same, not using angry words when I paused Alexa and saying thank you and please a lot.   She was the sweet child I know she can be all morning.  But now that her bathing suit was on, she was angry, rude, and threatening, saying we couldn't make her go to the pool.   I had tried to help her with several things and put up with it to a point, but then I snapped.  Blake, realizing he'd better get the three of them out of the house and to the pool said he'd take over right after I grounded my daughter for an hour when she returned (with no Alexa). 

My son was mad suddenly too.  Why is it they want to go to the pool and then when it's time to go they lose their minds?   My husband came in earshot and starting asking the children what was going on?  I shit the door to the craft room (yes, I'm still working on the craft room) and thought they'd gone when my son flung open the door and said to me, "mom, I know you're only sending us to the pool because you want to get rid of us so you can have your own time, but..."

I don't remember what the 'but' was, but it wasn't the part I cared about.   I realized my son thought we were trying to get rid of them.   We weren't.   I mean, yes, I can get a lot more done when they're not around because I got virtually nothing done in the morning and I had things to do for the day.   I told him that wasn't it.  I didn't want him thinking we didn't want them around or that we were pawning them off on a sitter.   We were sending them to the pool to have fun and to get some physical activity.   I think he believed me, but at that moment, he just wanted to try one last thing to see if he could get out of going to the pool.  

They went to the pool and had fun like they always do with Blake.   It's this strange pattern of wanting to go, hating going, and then loving swimming.   It baffles me.  

The Grounding Again Update:  Upon returning home from the pool the children came in and I heard loud voices.   They were both so angry and my son was doing the best he could do to insult Blake without actually insulting him because that would be another consequence.   My daughter sweetly apologized for her pre-pool behavior but was deflated, mad even, that the apology didn't get her out of her hour in her room.   My son was so furious at Blake, saying he was never going to listen to him again and he had no authority over him, yelling back at his father and refusing to go in his room, that he was grounded until dinner.    They hate being grounded and losing Alexa.   It's been a rough few days for them, but they're learning valuable lessons and it's starting to pay off.