As most of the nation sat on the edges of their seats on Tuesday waiting to find out what North Carolina and Indiana would decide, our hometown waited with baited breath for the outcome of local Town Council elections.
Well, "baited breath" is probably an exaggeration, because the town election was the least well-attended in years. But I was there, with Xav in tow, doing my civic duty. After checking in, the poll worker took us to our voting booth and I talked Xavier through the process.
When we stepped out, she put an "I voted!" sticker on Xavier's chest, and gave him one to put on me (he put it on my stomach), and said, "Well, young man, I hope you learned a lot about the election process today."
Xavier replied casually, "Yeah, well, I voted for Iraq Obama, but I'm not sure who my mom voted for."
Evidently Xavier was in the wrong state.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
April Showers
It's hard to believe April is almost over. What a month! Gwen turned seven, we had visits with both sets of grandparents, Xavier had a trip to the ER for croup, and Gwen did the diabetes walk (she collected $149 for the cause -- thanks to everyone who contributed!) If Gwen still owes you a thank-you note for a birthday gift or donation to the diabetes walk, we're still working on those. Since she is writing them all herself, it is taking her awhile.
When Gwen got home from school today, she seemed a little subdued, but I was able to cheer her up in a hurry by showing the "Scary Book" magazine (known to some as the American Girl doll catalog, or to Xav, the "Clone" catalog.) The gist of this product is that you can buy a doll (for $90) that looks vaguely like you (or like you if you were mass-produced, as they are) and then you can buy really expensive matching clothes sets so you and the mass-produced version of you (or, as Xav puts it, your clone) can look alike. If the concept alone does not scare you, the prices will -- these doll outfits cost more than clothes I buy Gwen at Target.
Xav, of course, is just disappointed that they don't make "clones" for boys.
Anyway, this catalog cheered her considerably until dinner, when, left with the boring prospect of eating, her thoughts were able to turn back to the events of the day. Suddenly she announced, "Jack is moving."
Now, if you don't remember Jack, go back and read the post from Halloween 2007. Jack and Gwen have been "dating" since kindergarten (well, insomuch as you can be "dating" someone you never see outside of school.) We've tried to set up playdates, but something (usually his parents) has kept them from happening. I'm not sure what the attraction was -- they have vastly different interests, she is Teacher's Pet while he's the one who gets sent to the principal's office every day ... yet they always describe each other as girlfriend and boyfriend. I guess opposites attract.
Back to the story -- this was big news. "Moving? Where is he moving to?"
"West Virginia. He says his dad doesn't like the municipal pool, so they are going to move to where they can have their own pool and hot tub," Gwen replied.
"Um, I don't think that's why they are moving. Probably Jack's parents got new jobs, and that is why they are moving," Adam suggested.
Gwen gave him a withering look that clearly showed him what she thought of that theory (a foretaste of the future no doubt), and said, "Well, that's not what he said. He said that his dad didn't like the municipal pool." (Please notice the italics on "Well," "not," and "said" above. They are very important.)
Anyway, Adam took Xavier up to brush his teeth while Gwen finished her supper, but now that she only had food to distract, it took her about five seconds to dissolve into tears. Since I sympathy cough with Xav and sympathy cry with Gwen, about five seconds later I was blubbering, too. Adam came back in to wash the dishes, while I looked around desperately for something to distract Gwen and save us both.
"Where ... where did the Scary Book go?" I asked, looking around.
"What, the American Girl catalog? I put it in the recycling bin," Adam replied.
There are few times when I would go dumpster-diving for a catalog (or much of anything, really). But desperate times call for desperate measures.
When Gwen got home from school today, she seemed a little subdued, but I was able to cheer her up in a hurry by showing the "Scary Book" magazine (known to some as the American Girl doll catalog, or to Xav, the "Clone" catalog.) The gist of this product is that you can buy a doll (for $90) that looks vaguely like you (or like you if you were mass-produced, as they are) and then you can buy really expensive matching clothes sets so you and the mass-produced version of you (or, as Xav puts it, your clone) can look alike. If the concept alone does not scare you, the prices will -- these doll outfits cost more than clothes I buy Gwen at Target.
Xav, of course, is just disappointed that they don't make "clones" for boys.
Anyway, this catalog cheered her considerably until dinner, when, left with the boring prospect of eating, her thoughts were able to turn back to the events of the day. Suddenly she announced, "Jack is moving."
Now, if you don't remember Jack, go back and read the post from Halloween 2007. Jack and Gwen have been "dating" since kindergarten (well, insomuch as you can be "dating" someone you never see outside of school.) We've tried to set up playdates, but something (usually his parents) has kept them from happening. I'm not sure what the attraction was -- they have vastly different interests, she is Teacher's Pet while he's the one who gets sent to the principal's office every day ... yet they always describe each other as girlfriend and boyfriend. I guess opposites attract.
Back to the story -- this was big news. "Moving? Where is he moving to?"
"West Virginia. He says his dad doesn't like the municipal pool, so they are going to move to where they can have their own pool and hot tub," Gwen replied.
"Um, I don't think that's why they are moving. Probably Jack's parents got new jobs, and that is why they are moving," Adam suggested.
Gwen gave him a withering look that clearly showed him what she thought of that theory (a foretaste of the future no doubt), and said, "Well, that's not what he said. He said that his dad didn't like the municipal pool." (Please notice the italics on "Well," "not," and "said" above. They are very important.)
Anyway, Adam took Xavier up to brush his teeth while Gwen finished her supper, but now that she only had food to distract, it took her about five seconds to dissolve into tears. Since I sympathy cough with Xav and sympathy cry with Gwen, about five seconds later I was blubbering, too. Adam came back in to wash the dishes, while I looked around desperately for something to distract Gwen and save us both.
"Where ... where did the Scary Book go?" I asked, looking around.
"What, the American Girl catalog? I put it in the recycling bin," Adam replied.
There are few times when I would go dumpster-diving for a catalog (or much of anything, really). But desperate times call for desperate measures.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Doh!
Yes, I foolishly included my email address in my last post -- now I have to close that account because as of 3:40 or so this morning, it became a spam sender as well as a recipient. There's nothing like opening your email account and seeing "You have 2207 new emails!" And they are still coming.
So, if you know me, you can either use my work email or call me and I will give you my new email (when I have it.) If you don't know me ... well, just don't make the same mistake I did!
So, if you know me, you can either use my work email or call me and I will give you my new email (when I have it.) If you don't know me ... well, just don't make the same mistake I did!
Saturday, April 05, 2008
April Flus
Actually, it was March, but the pun on April Fools was too hard to pass up.
Yes, just as our state transitioned from "Widespread Influenza Incidence" to "Regional Influenza Incidence" on the CDC Flu Map, Xavier succumbed. Since he has asthma, we had gone to great lengths to prevent this from happening, but Gwen snuck it in with a case so mild that it was misdiagnosed as allergies. The bestlaid plans of mice and men ...
We were lucky, though -- his fever subsided after three days, and he had no complications.
As coincidence would have it, his fever arrived on the same day as my best-friend-since-high-school's baby shower (which, of course, I was assisting with.) I took him to the doctor in the morning (the doctor refused to commit to anything -- I think he must be being sued or something -- but merely acknowledged that it MIGHT be the flu or it MIGHT be an ear infection or it MIGHT be alien possession), so I knew it was probably flu. Being the on-top-of-things kind of person I am, of course I had not bought my friend's baby gift, I had not bought the supplies the other hostesses had asked me to bring, and I had not bought prizes for the games I was running ... and then it occurred to me that I had not planned the games I was running either ...
Anyway, I managed to pull my part together in the nick of time. Evidently forgetfulness is something inherent to motherhood, because when my friend arrived for her shower, she asked, "How are the kids?"
"Xav has the flu."
"Oh, that's too bad."
Then, when the party was over, she asked, "Will you guys be around tomorrow? I was thinking of stopping by ..."
"You can't," I reminded her. "Xavier has the flu."
Yep, becoming a parent destroys your brain.
I took the kids to the annual International Festival at the local university today. I was hopeful that there would be a Korean exhibit this year; this is actually the first time since Xavier arrived that no one was sick for the festivities, but there was no Korean Exhibit at the International Festival before he arrived.
Anyway, I should have been clued in that we would have problems when the kids were getting dressed. We suggested Xavier wear his Hanbok, but he refused point blank.
Gwen said, "I wish I had an International Outfit." As luck would have it, last time we went, she wore a Chinese outfit my (pregnant) friend Tania had bought her ... five years ago.
Well, as luck would have it, Xavier outgrew his Hanbok anyway. He suggested he could tear it apart to make Lego Star Wars sets, but we declined.
The festival was supposed to start at 11:00, but it occurred to me that I had a package to mail, and the UPS Store was right next to the chocolatier's, so I might as well get Adam a treat for finishing our taxes ... so we left the house early. The kids were so eager to go to the International Festival that THEY DID NOT WANT TO GO TO THE CANDY SHOP. Yes, this called into serious question their untraditional "not sick" status. But we went anyway.
Once we got to the fair, the kids wanted to look at all the exhibits; unfortunately, most seemed to be about serving food that you had to pay for and that the kids would not have eaten anyway. All the same, they raced along, collecting balloons, looking at pictures, watching some decidedly caucasian people doing a half-hearted middle-Eastern dance, and Xavier took it all in with enthusiasm. While he watched the dancers, I consulted the program and saw that not only was there a Korean exhibit, but also a Korean-American exhibit. How cool was that?
Well, we went to the Korean exhibit (after a short detour to the China exhibit to look at some pictures). Gwen continued her animated questioning and investigation of this exhibit as she had at the others, but, strangely, Xavier completely shut down. He hid behind my back, would not talk to the students running the exhibit, and would not select a souvinier. Gwen selected a fan for herself, I picked up a bag for Xavier and a book called "The Facts About Korea." The whole time, Xavier was behind my back, tugging on me to come on!
He would not even allow us to stop at the Korean American exhibit.
He did allow us to stop at the India exhibit (at Gwen's request), where he immediately picked up a key chain with the Taj Mahal on it and said, "This is what I want."
On our way back to the car, I asked, "Xav, what happened back there? Why weren't you interested in the Korean exhibit?"
"They didn't say I was handsome," he muttered in reply.
All the same, Gwen has already started reading "The Facts About Korea" (not a children's book, by the way), which Xavier has already proclaimed as "boring." It doesn't have pictures, though, so it might not have anything to do with the subject matter.
It's interesting to me sometimes how people try to reconcile Xavier and Gwen as siblings. Some people honestly do not realize he is adopted, and comment that he "takes after me." Others try to poke around the subject to get more information; adoptive parents, though advised to be upfront with their children about their origins, are discouraged from advertising the fact to others, so I usually don't volunteer that he is adopted unless directly asked ("Is your husband Asian?" "Is your son adopted?")
Today, though, I got a new reaction at a birthday party for one of my coworker's kids. The kids were playing a highly liberal version of limbo (if you get under the stick -- even if you wiggle under on your belly and bop the stick with your bottom -- you are still in) as the grandmother of the birthday girl and I held the stick. As blond, blue-eyed Gwen went under the stick, I remarked, "That's my daugher!"
"Oh," Birthday Girl's Grandma smiled. "What a pretty girl!"
A few kids later, Xavier went under. "And that's my son!"
"Oh!" she said, but not in a nice way -- her eyes narrowed, and she gave me the kind of look older women usually reserve for "ladies" of the variety that wear short skirts and work at night. Although she did not say it, it was clear that she was thinking, "Two kids of different races of similar ages with the same parent -- now, that just ain't right!"
As a 39-year-old, overweight computer geek, I'm not sure whether to be insulted or flattered.
In other news, Gwen's school is collecting money for the National Diabetes Society, and she is trying to round up donations. Gwen has been especially interested in this project because her great-aunt has diabetes. If you are interested in contributing, drop me an email (death@spammers.com) or comment to this post if you think I have your email address, and I will send you a link to her webpage. If you send me an email and I don't respond, it is because I get hundreds of spammails at this address every day, so don't please don't be offended. Thanks!
Yes, just as our state transitioned from "Widespread Influenza Incidence" to "Regional Influenza Incidence" on the CDC Flu Map, Xavier succumbed. Since he has asthma, we had gone to great lengths to prevent this from happening, but Gwen snuck it in with a case so mild that it was misdiagnosed as allergies. The bestlaid plans of mice and men ...
We were lucky, though -- his fever subsided after three days, and he had no complications.
As coincidence would have it, his fever arrived on the same day as my best-friend-since-high-school's baby shower (which, of course, I was assisting with.) I took him to the doctor in the morning (the doctor refused to commit to anything -- I think he must be being sued or something -- but merely acknowledged that it MIGHT be the flu or it MIGHT be an ear infection or it MIGHT be alien possession), so I knew it was probably flu. Being the on-top-of-things kind of person I am, of course I had not bought my friend's baby gift, I had not bought the supplies the other hostesses had asked me to bring, and I had not bought prizes for the games I was running ... and then it occurred to me that I had not planned the games I was running either ...
Anyway, I managed to pull my part together in the nick of time. Evidently forgetfulness is something inherent to motherhood, because when my friend arrived for her shower, she asked, "How are the kids?"
"Xav has the flu."
"Oh, that's too bad."
Then, when the party was over, she asked, "Will you guys be around tomorrow? I was thinking of stopping by ..."
"You can't," I reminded her. "Xavier has the flu."
Yep, becoming a parent destroys your brain.
I took the kids to the annual International Festival at the local university today. I was hopeful that there would be a Korean exhibit this year; this is actually the first time since Xavier arrived that no one was sick for the festivities, but there was no Korean Exhibit at the International Festival before he arrived.
Anyway, I should have been clued in that we would have problems when the kids were getting dressed. We suggested Xavier wear his Hanbok, but he refused point blank.
Gwen said, "I wish I had an International Outfit." As luck would have it, last time we went, she wore a Chinese outfit my (pregnant) friend Tania had bought her ... five years ago.
Well, as luck would have it, Xavier outgrew his Hanbok anyway. He suggested he could tear it apart to make Lego Star Wars sets, but we declined.
The festival was supposed to start at 11:00, but it occurred to me that I had a package to mail, and the UPS Store was right next to the chocolatier's, so I might as well get Adam a treat for finishing our taxes ... so we left the house early. The kids were so eager to go to the International Festival that THEY DID NOT WANT TO GO TO THE CANDY SHOP. Yes, this called into serious question their untraditional "not sick" status. But we went anyway.
Once we got to the fair, the kids wanted to look at all the exhibits; unfortunately, most seemed to be about serving food that you had to pay for and that the kids would not have eaten anyway. All the same, they raced along, collecting balloons, looking at pictures, watching some decidedly caucasian people doing a half-hearted middle-Eastern dance, and Xavier took it all in with enthusiasm. While he watched the dancers, I consulted the program and saw that not only was there a Korean exhibit, but also a Korean-American exhibit. How cool was that?
Well, we went to the Korean exhibit (after a short detour to the China exhibit to look at some pictures). Gwen continued her animated questioning and investigation of this exhibit as she had at the others, but, strangely, Xavier completely shut down. He hid behind my back, would not talk to the students running the exhibit, and would not select a souvinier. Gwen selected a fan for herself, I picked up a bag for Xavier and a book called "The Facts About Korea." The whole time, Xavier was behind my back, tugging on me to come on!
He would not even allow us to stop at the Korean American exhibit.
He did allow us to stop at the India exhibit (at Gwen's request), where he immediately picked up a key chain with the Taj Mahal on it and said, "This is what I want."
On our way back to the car, I asked, "Xav, what happened back there? Why weren't you interested in the Korean exhibit?"
"They didn't say I was handsome," he muttered in reply.
All the same, Gwen has already started reading "The Facts About Korea" (not a children's book, by the way), which Xavier has already proclaimed as "boring." It doesn't have pictures, though, so it might not have anything to do with the subject matter.
It's interesting to me sometimes how people try to reconcile Xavier and Gwen as siblings. Some people honestly do not realize he is adopted, and comment that he "takes after me." Others try to poke around the subject to get more information; adoptive parents, though advised to be upfront with their children about their origins, are discouraged from advertising the fact to others, so I usually don't volunteer that he is adopted unless directly asked ("Is your husband Asian?" "Is your son adopted?")
Today, though, I got a new reaction at a birthday party for one of my coworker's kids. The kids were playing a highly liberal version of limbo (if you get under the stick -- even if you wiggle under on your belly and bop the stick with your bottom -- you are still in) as the grandmother of the birthday girl and I held the stick. As blond, blue-eyed Gwen went under the stick, I remarked, "That's my daugher!"
"Oh," Birthday Girl's Grandma smiled. "What a pretty girl!"
A few kids later, Xavier went under. "And that's my son!"
"Oh!" she said, but not in a nice way -- her eyes narrowed, and she gave me the kind of look older women usually reserve for "ladies" of the variety that wear short skirts and work at night. Although she did not say it, it was clear that she was thinking, "Two kids of different races of similar ages with the same parent -- now, that just ain't right!"
As a 39-year-old, overweight computer geek, I'm not sure whether to be insulted or flattered.
In other news, Gwen's school is collecting money for the National Diabetes Society, and she is trying to round up donations. Gwen has been especially interested in this project because her great-aunt has diabetes. If you are interested in contributing, drop me an email (death@spammers.com) or comment to this post if you think I have your email address, and I will send you a link to her webpage. If you send me an email and I don't respond, it is because I get hundreds of spammails at this address every day, so don't please don't be offended. Thanks!
Friday, March 21, 2008
Oops, She Did It Again!
I think I used this title once before, except then it was, "Oops, they did it again" related to a toy recall. This is better news.
Gwen won the science fair for her grade for the second year in a row!
We were a little rushed getting the project put together due to illness (on Gwen's part) and a trip to visit my parents (which was well worth it.) By the night of the science fair, Gwen was thoroughly sick of her project, and I was questioning whether perhaps next year we should take a break. I also whacked my head with the hatch on our minivan while loading the science fair project into the back, and I got to go to the science fair sporting a happening Spiderman BandAid on my forehead. None of this seemed auspicious.
Still, despite my disappointment that no one asked what the BandAid was for (my response would have been, "to discreetly cover an obnoxious zit"), Gwen did great and was rewarded for her efforts. As we loaded up to head home, she said, "I can't wait to do the science fair next year!"
How quickly they forget.
In other news, on the same day as the science fair, we got certifiable proof that Gwen is indeed "White and Nerdy." She has been accepted into the gifted and talented program at her school; she'll be taking advanced math and reading next year, as she is already doing math and reading at the 4th grade level. The only area where she is "behind" (at the third grade level) is handwriting. Yup, that's my girl!
Xavier, on the other hand, is learning how to lie. OK, that's not really something I'm proud of, but I do remember going through a phase like this when I was his age. Some of these lies have backfired on him, though ...
One thing Xavier is too busy to do is go to the bathroom, which sometimes results in him backing up the potty (oh, every other day.) I told him that if he went to the bathroom every day for a week, I would get him a toy. So, the other day, after a three-day run of successful "bathroom days", he came in and said, "Guess what, Mom? I just pooped four times! Can I have that toy?"
Well, he did not get a toy. What he got was quarantined (ie, prevented from going out for a planned occasion), because if he had really pooped four times in the previous 15 minutes (as he claimed), then he was clearly sick. Finally, he owned up and told the truth.
Xavier is also continuing his efforts to become the biggest Romeo in preschool. Today, Gwen had a friend over, a pretty little girl named Ailene. Xavier used his tried and true method of winning her over -- that is, acting like a maniac. As they were eating their lunch, Xavier spontaneously quoted his favorite Calvin and Hobbes cartoon, "I'm surrounded by the gender from Outer Space!"
Gwen said smoothly, "No, Xavier. I think it is clear that you are the only person here from Outer Space."
Gwen won the science fair for her grade for the second year in a row!
We were a little rushed getting the project put together due to illness (on Gwen's part) and a trip to visit my parents (which was well worth it.) By the night of the science fair, Gwen was thoroughly sick of her project, and I was questioning whether perhaps next year we should take a break. I also whacked my head with the hatch on our minivan while loading the science fair project into the back, and I got to go to the science fair sporting a happening Spiderman BandAid on my forehead. None of this seemed auspicious.
Still, despite my disappointment that no one asked what the BandAid was for (my response would have been, "to discreetly cover an obnoxious zit"), Gwen did great and was rewarded for her efforts. As we loaded up to head home, she said, "I can't wait to do the science fair next year!"
How quickly they forget.
In other news, on the same day as the science fair, we got certifiable proof that Gwen is indeed "White and Nerdy." She has been accepted into the gifted and talented program at her school; she'll be taking advanced math and reading next year, as she is already doing math and reading at the 4th grade level. The only area where she is "behind" (at the third grade level) is handwriting. Yup, that's my girl!
Xavier, on the other hand, is learning how to lie. OK, that's not really something I'm proud of, but I do remember going through a phase like this when I was his age. Some of these lies have backfired on him, though ...
One thing Xavier is too busy to do is go to the bathroom, which sometimes results in him backing up the potty (oh, every other day.) I told him that if he went to the bathroom every day for a week, I would get him a toy. So, the other day, after a three-day run of successful "bathroom days", he came in and said, "Guess what, Mom? I just pooped four times! Can I have that toy?"
Well, he did not get a toy. What he got was quarantined (ie, prevented from going out for a planned occasion), because if he had really pooped four times in the previous 15 minutes (as he claimed), then he was clearly sick. Finally, he owned up and told the truth.
Xavier is also continuing his efforts to become the biggest Romeo in preschool. Today, Gwen had a friend over, a pretty little girl named Ailene. Xavier used his tried and true method of winning her over -- that is, acting like a maniac. As they were eating their lunch, Xavier spontaneously quoted his favorite Calvin and Hobbes cartoon, "I'm surrounded by the gender from Outer Space!"
Gwen said smoothly, "No, Xavier. I think it is clear that you are the only person here from Outer Space."
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Transitioning
This evening, while I was cleaning the fishbowl, Xavier came running into the bathroom in a panic.
"Mom! Mom!" he cried. "Gwen got an owie, and it is bleeding!"
Picturing a grim scene of Gwen lying prostrate with pain on the floor (with a trivial injury, admittedly -- the kids tend to overreact), I headed into her bedroom. She wasn't there.
I listened -- nothing. No wails of pain or sobs or anything.
"Gwen?" I asked.
"It was really bleeding!" Xavier chimed in.
"What?" Gwen answered in a normal voice from downstairs.
"Where are you?" I asked, as I started down the stairs.
"Putting a band-aid on," Gwen said, matter-of-factedly, like it was no big deal.
"Did you clean it first?"
"Yeah."
She came out of the bathroom and showed me her spiffy Spiderman band-aid. "It was a paper cut."
I looked down at her with a mingling array of emotions. She is growing up, can take care of minor injuries herself, doesn't cry at the drop of a hat anymore. She stood there, looking up at me, expectantly.
"Um, do you want a kiss to make it better?" I asked.
She held up her hand. "Yes, please."
Oh, good. I'm not completely out-moded.
(Although Gwen now tells me that one of her classmates is teaching her not to cry so much -- probably a good thing.)
"Mom! Mom!" he cried. "Gwen got an owie, and it is bleeding!"
Picturing a grim scene of Gwen lying prostrate with pain on the floor (with a trivial injury, admittedly -- the kids tend to overreact), I headed into her bedroom. She wasn't there.
I listened -- nothing. No wails of pain or sobs or anything.
"Gwen?" I asked.
"It was really bleeding!" Xavier chimed in.
"What?" Gwen answered in a normal voice from downstairs.
"Where are you?" I asked, as I started down the stairs.
"Putting a band-aid on," Gwen said, matter-of-factedly, like it was no big deal.
"Did you clean it first?"
"Yeah."
She came out of the bathroom and showed me her spiffy Spiderman band-aid. "It was a paper cut."
I looked down at her with a mingling array of emotions. She is growing up, can take care of minor injuries herself, doesn't cry at the drop of a hat anymore. She stood there, looking up at me, expectantly.
"Um, do you want a kiss to make it better?" I asked.
She held up her hand. "Yes, please."
Oh, good. I'm not completely out-moded.
(Although Gwen now tells me that one of her classmates is teaching her not to cry so much -- probably a good thing.)
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Chocolate Fever
No, we aren't dead. We had new floors installed downstairs, new stairs installed, and between work on the house, bouts of illness, etc., we have either been too swamped or too tired to post.
Anyway, we finished our first round of swimming lessons in the meantime. As is the way of the world sometimes, Gwen did not pass to Level 3, despite her best efforts, and Xavier did pass to Level 2, despite not doing anything. Actually, in Xavier's case, he was passed because he is getting too old for that class, even though he still won't put his head in the water.
Anyway, Gwen was devastated, of course, and cried and cried -- and that was before the teacher brought her card over. I had expected this to happen, but by the time the teacher came over, I was bawling too (sympathy pains, I guess.) I'm sure we made an excellent impression. That said, I am really proud of her progress -- considering that on the first day of class she cried twice -- and loudly -- because she was afraid, and by the last class she had passed probably fifteen out of twenty test items on the checklist (and of the five she "failed", she got partial credit on three). I was really impressed by her progress. Actually, out of four kids in the class, only one passed, and she had taken this class -- and private lessons -- before, so I guess the bar is pretty high.
Okay, enough bragging about how my kid failed swim class.
Today was an early release day from school, so we invited a couple of kids over, Teddy and Alexis. Alexis and Gwen have been friends since nursery school, and Teddy -- her older brother -- was kind of along for the ride. Xavier likes him, but he is three years older than Xavier, so when he comes over conflict is inevitable.
Of course, when I confirmed the playdate on Saturday, I was a bit apprehensive, because I was in the early throes of a cold.
I became a tad more nervous when the mother said her husband would pick the kids up at 5:15 (they're nice kids, but they aren't my kids, and my patience wears thin sometimes with other people's kids -- four hours seemed like kind of a lot.)
I probably should have called the whole thing off when Adam came down with my cold yesterday and decided to take today off -- but he said he didn't want to disappoint the kids, so he would just hide in our room. So I didn't call it off.
When I was trying to come up with activities to keep the kids occupied, Gwen showed me an activity that involved dipping various foods -- mostly fruit -- in chocolate and letting them cool to make candy. It was in Highlights Magazine, and given that most of the kids involved were six and up, I figured it was probably age appropriate -- it might be a bit advanced for Xavier, but I could help him as needed.
I was wrong, on so many levels.
First of all, I completely misguessed at what the kids might like to dip in chocolate. I put out a variety of dried fruits, and -- at the last minute -- a bowl of animal crackers. At the end, I still had plenty of fruit, and I had refilled the animal crackers bowl twice. To their credit, Gwen and Xavier mostly stuck to the fruit.
Secondly, I woefully overestimated how long it would take them to do this activity -- within two minutes, Teddy was asking (every thirty seconds) when he could eat his chocolates; after eight minutes of this, I finally gave in (seemed better than killing him), and two minutes after that he was done and wanted to do something else. In the meantime, I caught Alexis using the melted chocolate like dip (and double-dipping), so I had to get a fresh bowl of chocolate for the girls.
Finally, I severely underestimated how long it would take to clean up after the kids. Teddy looked like he had chocolate pox when he was done (he even had chocolate behind his ears), but he was easily outdone by Alexis, who had been two-fisting the chocolate from the bowl once Gwen was done, needed a complete wardrobe makeover, had chocolate even in her hair, all over her chair, and then she tracked it across the kitchen floor. By comparison, Gwen had spilled a spoonful of chocolate on the table -- not too bad. Xav's area was spotless.
So, when all was said and done, I ended up with a fifteen minute activity that took over an hour to clean up after. And a new appreciation of how great my kids are.
Finally, Xavier lost his favorite book, Chocolate Fever, several months ago. I have no idea why this is his favorite book, especially since it is a "chapter" book and he can't read, but who can fathom the ways of kids? Anyway, I finally broke down and ordered him a new copy on Saturday.
He found the old copy on Sunday.
Anyway, we finished our first round of swimming lessons in the meantime. As is the way of the world sometimes, Gwen did not pass to Level 3, despite her best efforts, and Xavier did pass to Level 2, despite not doing anything. Actually, in Xavier's case, he was passed because he is getting too old for that class, even though he still won't put his head in the water.
Anyway, Gwen was devastated, of course, and cried and cried -- and that was before the teacher brought her card over. I had expected this to happen, but by the time the teacher came over, I was bawling too (sympathy pains, I guess.) I'm sure we made an excellent impression. That said, I am really proud of her progress -- considering that on the first day of class she cried twice -- and loudly -- because she was afraid, and by the last class she had passed probably fifteen out of twenty test items on the checklist (and of the five she "failed", she got partial credit on three). I was really impressed by her progress. Actually, out of four kids in the class, only one passed, and she had taken this class -- and private lessons -- before, so I guess the bar is pretty high.
Okay, enough bragging about how my kid failed swim class.
Today was an early release day from school, so we invited a couple of kids over, Teddy and Alexis. Alexis and Gwen have been friends since nursery school, and Teddy -- her older brother -- was kind of along for the ride. Xavier likes him, but he is three years older than Xavier, so when he comes over conflict is inevitable.
Of course, when I confirmed the playdate on Saturday, I was a bit apprehensive, because I was in the early throes of a cold.
I became a tad more nervous when the mother said her husband would pick the kids up at 5:15 (they're nice kids, but they aren't my kids, and my patience wears thin sometimes with other people's kids -- four hours seemed like kind of a lot.)
I probably should have called the whole thing off when Adam came down with my cold yesterday and decided to take today off -- but he said he didn't want to disappoint the kids, so he would just hide in our room. So I didn't call it off.
When I was trying to come up with activities to keep the kids occupied, Gwen showed me an activity that involved dipping various foods -- mostly fruit -- in chocolate and letting them cool to make candy. It was in Highlights Magazine, and given that most of the kids involved were six and up, I figured it was probably age appropriate -- it might be a bit advanced for Xavier, but I could help him as needed.
I was wrong, on so many levels.
First of all, I completely misguessed at what the kids might like to dip in chocolate. I put out a variety of dried fruits, and -- at the last minute -- a bowl of animal crackers. At the end, I still had plenty of fruit, and I had refilled the animal crackers bowl twice. To their credit, Gwen and Xavier mostly stuck to the fruit.
Secondly, I woefully overestimated how long it would take them to do this activity -- within two minutes, Teddy was asking (every thirty seconds) when he could eat his chocolates; after eight minutes of this, I finally gave in (seemed better than killing him), and two minutes after that he was done and wanted to do something else. In the meantime, I caught Alexis using the melted chocolate like dip (and double-dipping), so I had to get a fresh bowl of chocolate for the girls.
Finally, I severely underestimated how long it would take to clean up after the kids. Teddy looked like he had chocolate pox when he was done (he even had chocolate behind his ears), but he was easily outdone by Alexis, who had been two-fisting the chocolate from the bowl once Gwen was done, needed a complete wardrobe makeover, had chocolate even in her hair, all over her chair, and then she tracked it across the kitchen floor. By comparison, Gwen had spilled a spoonful of chocolate on the table -- not too bad. Xav's area was spotless.
So, when all was said and done, I ended up with a fifteen minute activity that took over an hour to clean up after. And a new appreciation of how great my kids are.
Finally, Xavier lost his favorite book, Chocolate Fever, several months ago. I have no idea why this is his favorite book, especially since it is a "chapter" book and he can't read, but who can fathom the ways of kids? Anyway, I finally broke down and ordered him a new copy on Saturday.
He found the old copy on Sunday.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Happy New Year!
Yeah, I know, we're two weeks into the new year. But the fact of the matter is, every year I resolve to lose twenty pounds, and I am always defeated during the first week by my birthday (who can say no to birthday cake?) So this year, I decided to postpone the new year by two weeks.
In addition to the usual resolution, I resolved this year to be a more responsible parent. This means swimming lessons for the kids. Off to a flying start, we have already missed the first class (because I didn't look into it in time ... guess that's a problem with postponing the New Year for two weeks.) Gwen is cautiously optimistic about taking swimming classes. Xavier (aka "The kid who never puts his face in the water ... ever") has been asking me every day since I brought it up, "Are we going to swim lessons today? I can't wait to start swimming lessons!" Groan ... it's a long way to Saturday.
Gwen came up with a whole list of resolutions for 2008.
1. Make my bed.
2. Get my work done on time
3. Read more books
4. Be kind to my friends
5. Feed my pets
6. Help my Mom and Dad
7. Smile, laugh, and dance more
8. Make the world more beautiful
9. Recycle, reduce, reuse
10. Exercise and eat healthy foods
I think this is, for the most part, a very laudable, and may I say, achievable list. I'm not sure about #4 up there (after all, do we make a practice of being mean to our friends?), and she'd better do #5 ... on the other hand, I think she can achieve #8 just by doing #7. And #9 wouldn't hurt, either.
Speaking of #9 ... in Xavier's preschool class, they came up with a wish list for 2008 (so instead of resolving to lose weight, I can just wish for it. Ah, were it that simple!) The list included a lot of funny (but not unexpected entries):
"I wish it would snow a lot so we can go sledding."
"I want a baby sister." (Not sure that boy's mother had the same wish.)
"I want to play with my friends more."
"I want a Wii."
"I want to teach people to be ecofriendly, so they will stop killing animals, destroying the environment, and causing global warming."
I didn't think it was possible to overemphasize environmentalism in the home, but looking at Xavier's wish -- the last one -- I begin to wonder if I have gone overboard.
A new year is a time of transition, and one of my coworkers, Jim, is transitioning right out of my company, which I will call, for the sake of semi-anonymity, "Midas". Jim and I have been working together for six years now (two years at "Midas" and four years at our previous job), so I am kind of sorry to see him go, but it will be a good opportunity for him. In honor of his last days at "Midas", we had a "Chili Day" today at work (and, boy, was it apt, because it was freezing.) For those unfamiliar with the concept, on "Chili Day" all the employees contribute an ingredient and we cook chili in crockpots until lunchtime.
Before lunch, I hurried to Xavier's school to pick him up, and as I walked with him to the car, his warm little hand in mine, I commented, "I love holding your hand." Then, teasingly, I asked, "Will you still hold my hand when you are a grown-up, or will you be too cool to hold hands with your mom?"
Xavier pondered this briefly. "I'll still hold your hand, Mom, but we won't get to do it as often."
"I guess that's to be expected," I replied with a shrug.
"Yeah," he continued, "because when I'm a grown-up, I'll have to get a job, and we probably won't be working together, because there is no way I'm going to work for Midas."
I don't think I'd better probe too much into his reasons for that. Maybe I should resolve in 2008 not to talk so much about work when I'm at home.
In addition to the usual resolution, I resolved this year to be a more responsible parent. This means swimming lessons for the kids. Off to a flying start, we have already missed the first class (because I didn't look into it in time ... guess that's a problem with postponing the New Year for two weeks.) Gwen is cautiously optimistic about taking swimming classes. Xavier (aka "The kid who never puts his face in the water ... ever") has been asking me every day since I brought it up, "Are we going to swim lessons today? I can't wait to start swimming lessons!" Groan ... it's a long way to Saturday.
Gwen came up with a whole list of resolutions for 2008.
1. Make my bed.
2. Get my work done on time
3. Read more books
4. Be kind to my friends
5. Feed my pets
6. Help my Mom and Dad
7. Smile, laugh, and dance more
8. Make the world more beautiful
9. Recycle, reduce, reuse
10. Exercise and eat healthy foods
I think this is, for the most part, a very laudable, and may I say, achievable list. I'm not sure about #4 up there (after all, do we make a practice of being mean to our friends?), and she'd better do #5 ... on the other hand, I think she can achieve #8 just by doing #7. And #9 wouldn't hurt, either.
Speaking of #9 ... in Xavier's preschool class, they came up with a wish list for 2008 (so instead of resolving to lose weight, I can just wish for it. Ah, were it that simple!) The list included a lot of funny (but not unexpected entries):
"I wish it would snow a lot so we can go sledding."
"I want a baby sister." (Not sure that boy's mother had the same wish.)
"I want to play with my friends more."
"I want a Wii."
"I want to teach people to be ecofriendly, so they will stop killing animals, destroying the environment, and causing global warming."
I didn't think it was possible to overemphasize environmentalism in the home, but looking at Xavier's wish -- the last one -- I begin to wonder if I have gone overboard.
A new year is a time of transition, and one of my coworkers, Jim, is transitioning right out of my company, which I will call, for the sake of semi-anonymity, "Midas". Jim and I have been working together for six years now (two years at "Midas" and four years at our previous job), so I am kind of sorry to see him go, but it will be a good opportunity for him. In honor of his last days at "Midas", we had a "Chili Day" today at work (and, boy, was it apt, because it was freezing.) For those unfamiliar with the concept, on "Chili Day" all the employees contribute an ingredient and we cook chili in crockpots until lunchtime.
Before lunch, I hurried to Xavier's school to pick him up, and as I walked with him to the car, his warm little hand in mine, I commented, "I love holding your hand." Then, teasingly, I asked, "Will you still hold my hand when you are a grown-up, or will you be too cool to hold hands with your mom?"
Xavier pondered this briefly. "I'll still hold your hand, Mom, but we won't get to do it as often."
"I guess that's to be expected," I replied with a shrug.
"Yeah," he continued, "because when I'm a grown-up, I'll have to get a job, and we probably won't be working together, because there is no way I'm going to work for Midas."
I don't think I'd better probe too much into his reasons for that. Maybe I should resolve in 2008 not to talk so much about work when I'm at home.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Supernatural ... or surreal?
My poor mother. She has tried so hard to keep her gifts to us a secret. She carefully sent all of the kids' and Adam's stuff to me to wrap (coming from Amazon), and sent my gift to Adam. This worked well until the company she ordered my gift from called and asked for her (she doesn't live with us), then Adam, then told me that my gift was not available in the ordered color.
Well, today I was upstairs when I thought I heard the doorbell ring. I headed for the stairs when it rang again, and as I was coming down the stairs, I heard the painter (yes, we are getting more work done on the house) telling someone outside that I was around somewhere. Probably a butler would be more discrete, and less expensive, too.
Anyway, I opened the door and found two Mormon missionaries standing on the front step ... and a package.
I didn't really have time for the missionaries -- I don't have anything against the Church of Latter Day Saints, but we were late for karate -- but I listened politely as the talkative one spoke his piece and his quiet buddy nodded in agreement. As the talkative missionary wrapped things up, he said, "Would you like us to come back sometime and tell you more about our church?"
"Oh, no, thank you," I said as I leaned down to pick up the package. "I'm pretty happy as a Lutheran, with my church."
"I come in peace," a man's voice said. It sounded kind of like it had come through a megaphone, but not that loud.
I looked around, trying to figure out where that voice was coming from -- it didn't sound like it had come from the quiet missionary. The talkative missionary looked a little confused. "Um, okay. We wouldn't mind really, and, here, we have some coupons so you can get a free video about the first Christmas ..."
I shifted the package in my hand to take the offered coupon. "Uh, thanks, I --"
"This is an intergalactic emergency!"
The missionary still looked confused, but I now knew where the voice was coming from. Quickly saying goodbye to the missionaries, I stepped inside ...
... where I was immediately accosted by the kids. "It's a present!" "Is it for me?" "Do you know what it is?"
"Oh, I know what it is," I said, trying to shift the box as little as possible.
"What is it, Mom?" Xavier begged. "Give me a hint!"
"I am Buzz Lightyear, Interplanetary Space Ranger!" the box replied.
Xavier was ecstatic, Mom, for whatever it's worth. And I still haven't let him open it yet.
Gwen had strep throat last week, and it took close to three days for her fever to break. Still, she did not lay around and watch TV -- no, she worked on her Top Secret adventures that Adam gets her from Highlights magazine. The gist of these Top Secret games is that a crime has been commited in some exotic place like France, Italy, or Detroit, and you use a guidebook and some clues provided in the activity book to solve the crime.
These are probably a little advanced for Gwen, but she is doing much better at them now that she can read. If she asks Adam for help, invariably he gives her clues to try to figure it out herself. I do that, too, some of the time, but sometimes I am too busy, and I just help her find the answer.
The other night, as Xavier and I were headed out to my office Christmas Party (we were just picking up the dinners to bring home), Gwen looked up from her Top Secret du Hour, and said, "I wish I could go!"
"Oh, we won't be gone long," I assured her. "And Daddy will be staying here with you. He'll help you with your Top Secret."
She sighed and looked down at the puzzle she was working on. "I guess," she said listlessly. "He tries to help ... but he isn't very good at it."
Well, today I was upstairs when I thought I heard the doorbell ring. I headed for the stairs when it rang again, and as I was coming down the stairs, I heard the painter (yes, we are getting more work done on the house) telling someone outside that I was around somewhere. Probably a butler would be more discrete, and less expensive, too.
Anyway, I opened the door and found two Mormon missionaries standing on the front step ... and a package.
I didn't really have time for the missionaries -- I don't have anything against the Church of Latter Day Saints, but we were late for karate -- but I listened politely as the talkative one spoke his piece and his quiet buddy nodded in agreement. As the talkative missionary wrapped things up, he said, "Would you like us to come back sometime and tell you more about our church?"
"Oh, no, thank you," I said as I leaned down to pick up the package. "I'm pretty happy as a Lutheran, with my church."
"I come in peace," a man's voice said. It sounded kind of like it had come through a megaphone, but not that loud.
I looked around, trying to figure out where that voice was coming from -- it didn't sound like it had come from the quiet missionary. The talkative missionary looked a little confused. "Um, okay. We wouldn't mind really, and, here, we have some coupons so you can get a free video about the first Christmas ..."
I shifted the package in my hand to take the offered coupon. "Uh, thanks, I --"
"This is an intergalactic emergency!"
The missionary still looked confused, but I now knew where the voice was coming from. Quickly saying goodbye to the missionaries, I stepped inside ...
... where I was immediately accosted by the kids. "It's a present!" "Is it for me?" "Do you know what it is?"
"Oh, I know what it is," I said, trying to shift the box as little as possible.
"What is it, Mom?" Xavier begged. "Give me a hint!"
"I am Buzz Lightyear, Interplanetary Space Ranger!" the box replied.
Xavier was ecstatic, Mom, for whatever it's worth. And I still haven't let him open it yet.
Gwen had strep throat last week, and it took close to three days for her fever to break. Still, she did not lay around and watch TV -- no, she worked on her Top Secret adventures that Adam gets her from Highlights magazine. The gist of these Top Secret games is that a crime has been commited in some exotic place like France, Italy, or Detroit, and you use a guidebook and some clues provided in the activity book to solve the crime.
These are probably a little advanced for Gwen, but she is doing much better at them now that she can read. If she asks Adam for help, invariably he gives her clues to try to figure it out herself. I do that, too, some of the time, but sometimes I am too busy, and I just help her find the answer.
The other night, as Xavier and I were headed out to my office Christmas Party (we were just picking up the dinners to bring home), Gwen looked up from her Top Secret du Hour, and said, "I wish I could go!"
"Oh, we won't be gone long," I assured her. "And Daddy will be staying here with you. He'll help you with your Top Secret."
She sighed and looked down at the puzzle she was working on. "I guess," she said listlessly. "He tries to help ... but he isn't very good at it."
Sunday, December 02, 2007
Gwen's turn
Gwen wanted to write something for the BLOG today. Here she is:
Today I demod at the Kempo Karate demo.I did Thai Boxing Drill 1.Xav did numchuku drill.I had to say,"As a dedicated student of the martial arts,I will live by the principles of the blackbelt excellence." Xav had to say,"Modesty: Being humble and not bragging."Xav was great.We worked very hard.
Mrs.Hoy loved it.She huged me. By: Miranda and Mandy
Today I demod at the Kempo Karate demo.I did Thai Boxing Drill 1.Xav did numchuku drill.I had to say,"As a dedicated student of the martial arts,I will live by the principles of the blackbelt excellence." Xav had to say,"Modesty: Being humble and not bragging."Xav was great.We worked very hard.
Mrs.Hoy loved it.She huged me. By: Miranda and Mandy
Birthday Demo
Xavier turned five years old today. He was still the littlest (though perhaps not the youngest) Kempo Karate student at the Kempo Karate holiday party today. Still, he and Gwen did a great job.
Last night, Xavier had an asthma attack (he is still getting over the latest in a series of colds, and the babysitter who watched him went a little heavy on the fragrance.) It was frustrating, because this cold has dragged on for a couple of weeks now, and yesterday morning I thought maybe he had turned the corner. I told Adam last night as he lay wheezing (and asleep) on our bed, "It will be a miracle if we make it to that demo tomorrow." It took me forever to get to sleep, not only because I was worried about Xav, but I really did not want have to duck out of the demo. Instructor Hoy "who is a girl" had spent a lot of time structuring the demo, and if we couldn't make it, it would take a big chunk out of it (not to mention that I hated to disappoint the kids). Also, since both Mr. and Mrs. Instructor Hoys are moving to Memphis at the end of the month, I really didn't want to be the one to "break their last demo."
Well, a miracle did happen, and Xavier's asthma had subsided by this morning. Gwen did a great Thai boxing drill #1, and Xavier (with a little help) said his line perfectly: "Modesty: being humble and not bragging." (Thankfully, he left off the part about the underwear -- see November 30th posting.)
All of the demos were excellent, but when asked at the end which demo he thought was the best, Xavier replied without hesitation, "Me."
Guess we need to work a little harder on the modesty part.
Last night, Xavier had an asthma attack (he is still getting over the latest in a series of colds, and the babysitter who watched him went a little heavy on the fragrance.) It was frustrating, because this cold has dragged on for a couple of weeks now, and yesterday morning I thought maybe he had turned the corner. I told Adam last night as he lay wheezing (and asleep) on our bed, "It will be a miracle if we make it to that demo tomorrow." It took me forever to get to sleep, not only because I was worried about Xav, but I really did not want have to duck out of the demo. Instructor Hoy "who is a girl" had spent a lot of time structuring the demo, and if we couldn't make it, it would take a big chunk out of it (not to mention that I hated to disappoint the kids). Also, since both Mr. and Mrs. Instructor Hoys are moving to Memphis at the end of the month, I really didn't want to be the one to "break their last demo."
Well, a miracle did happen, and Xavier's asthma had subsided by this morning. Gwen did a great Thai boxing drill #1, and Xavier (with a little help) said his line perfectly: "Modesty: being humble and not bragging." (Thankfully, he left off the part about the underwear -- see November 30th posting.)
All of the demos were excellent, but when asked at the end which demo he thought was the best, Xavier replied without hesitation, "Me."
Guess we need to work a little harder on the modesty part.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
It's Time .... to D-d-d-d-d-d-dual!
I think I posted sometime back that the mother of one of Xavier's (girl) friends Janey told me that Xavier had been teaching Janey how to play "Bionicles" on the playground. She thought this was cute and friendly of Xavier, until she caught Janey (an only child) watching "Bionicles" on the Saturday morning cartoons and was horrified at how violent they are. (If I didn't post this, that was the gist of it, and I'm sorry.) Before I had a son, I pooh-poohed people who remarked that boys are different from girls.
Okay, now I am saying it: Boys are different from girls.
Gwen was fixated on dinosaurs and animals; Xavier -- despite our best efforts -- is fixated on adventure, excitement, and -- yes -- violence. Bionicles are just Lego robots (we don't let him watch anything with human-against-human violence), and Transformers are not exactly cuddly teddy bears having a tea party. But after that incident, I did wish he could focus his energies on something a little less ... warlike.
Well, be careful what you wish for. Adam allowed Xavier to check out a Yu-gi-oh! DVD from the video store. At first I was relieved -- no guns! Basically, it is just about some good guys and bad guys who fight each other by ... playing cards. No one gets killed, although some people do have their minds sent to the "shadow realm." I began to turn against the Yu-gi-oh! videos, though, when I realized that it can take two hours (four half-hour episodes) to play a game. It is about as riveting and intellectually stimulating as watching static when your cable has been unplugged, although not quite as exciting.
Anyway, Xavier has become fascinated by Yu-gi-oh!, so much so that he wants that to be his birthday party theme, and he wants to play Yu-gi-oh! all the time (the card game, not the video -- he gave up Yu-gi-oh! the video in favor of his new favorite, Ratatouie). The only problem? He does not have any Yu-gi-oh! cards. But he does not let that stop him.
Whereas we used to play Bionicles in the front yard while we waited for Gwen's bus in the afternoon (and I would cringe and look around, hoping that none of the neighbors were watching, for they would surely think I was coaching a sociopath), now he wants to play Yu-gi-oh! Since we don't have real cards, we just pretend we have cards. He is an expert at imitating the mannerisms and expressions of the players in the video, not to mention a deep knowledge of the cards and the rules. The problem is, I don't watch the videos, so I don't know any of the actual cards are, so I have to make them up. A typical exchange runs something like this (and this is, in fact, one of the "duals" we had today.)
Xavier: I summon up the Magnetic Warrior, and he takes away fifteen-a-million-hundred of your life points!
Me: Um, well, I guess I lose.
Xavier: No, you didn't, Mommy -- you still have zero-zero-five points. And I place one card face down.
Me: Oh, yeah, well I summon up the, uh, Mr. Caliban card. He's a 2000/2000 creature, and he attacks your magnetic warrior. (For the less-informed out there, Caliban is our cat.)
Xavier: Ah, but now I turn over the card I had face down -- my Magnetic Warrior is fifteen-a-million-hundred times more powerful than he was before! I'm afraid he sends your Mr. Caliban card to your graveyard. (Then, prompting me) You say, "Noooo!"
Me: Ah, but I'm afraid you have triggered Mr. Caliban's secret ability he, uh ... pukes all over you and your Magnetic Warrior, so you can't attack.
Xavier: Mommy! You aren't doing this right!
These duals always end with the arrival of the bus. He's funny to watch, but I have to admit I wonder if he will be disillusioned when someone gives him a real deck.
In other news, we are getting ready to do a karate demo this Sunday. Instructor Jones-Cox and "Instructor Hoy who is a Girl" have put a lot of time into getting the kids ready. For Instructor Hoy, this is an especially bittersweet demo because she is getting ready to move to Memphis, so this probably her last one with this group. Gwen has learned Thai Boxing drill #1 in preparation, and Xavier is going to do a little (very little) numchuku number followed with one of the principles of the black belt: "Modesty: Being humble and not bwagging."
Needless to say, "Modesty: Being humble and not bragging," is getting drilled into their heads as we rehearse this at every class. Today after class, Gwen came running downstairs (in our house), and yelled, "Mommy! Look at me!" She was -- ahem -- all ready for her bath, despite my best efforts to keep her upstairs when she is in the altogether.
I said, "Hmmm, looks like modesty is not one of your virtues."
She looked confused, and said, "What does 'modesty' mean?"
Realizing the conflict, I said, "Well, 'modesty' does mean being humble and not bragging, but it also means not showing off your private parts."
Hours later, when I was at the adult class, Xavier was telling Adam all about the demo. "And I get to do this thing with the numchukus and I get to say, 'Modesty: being humble and not bwagging'!"
Gwen chimed in, "And not showing off your underwear!"
Oh, lord. This in front of the kid who has been reciting lines from movies -- verbatum -- since he was two, and who is going to do this demo in three days. I don't think I need to tell you where this is going.
I sure hope "Instructor Hoy who is a Girl" has a good sense of humor.
Okay, now I am saying it: Boys are different from girls.
Gwen was fixated on dinosaurs and animals; Xavier -- despite our best efforts -- is fixated on adventure, excitement, and -- yes -- violence. Bionicles are just Lego robots (we don't let him watch anything with human-against-human violence), and Transformers are not exactly cuddly teddy bears having a tea party. But after that incident, I did wish he could focus his energies on something a little less ... warlike.
Well, be careful what you wish for. Adam allowed Xavier to check out a Yu-gi-oh! DVD from the video store. At first I was relieved -- no guns! Basically, it is just about some good guys and bad guys who fight each other by ... playing cards. No one gets killed, although some people do have their minds sent to the "shadow realm." I began to turn against the Yu-gi-oh! videos, though, when I realized that it can take two hours (four half-hour episodes) to play a game. It is about as riveting and intellectually stimulating as watching static when your cable has been unplugged, although not quite as exciting.
Anyway, Xavier has become fascinated by Yu-gi-oh!, so much so that he wants that to be his birthday party theme, and he wants to play Yu-gi-oh! all the time (the card game, not the video -- he gave up Yu-gi-oh! the video in favor of his new favorite, Ratatouie). The only problem? He does not have any Yu-gi-oh! cards. But he does not let that stop him.
Whereas we used to play Bionicles in the front yard while we waited for Gwen's bus in the afternoon (and I would cringe and look around, hoping that none of the neighbors were watching, for they would surely think I was coaching a sociopath), now he wants to play Yu-gi-oh! Since we don't have real cards, we just pretend we have cards. He is an expert at imitating the mannerisms and expressions of the players in the video, not to mention a deep knowledge of the cards and the rules. The problem is, I don't watch the videos, so I don't know any of the actual cards are, so I have to make them up. A typical exchange runs something like this (and this is, in fact, one of the "duals" we had today.)
Xavier: I summon up the Magnetic Warrior, and he takes away fifteen-a-million-hundred of your life points!
Me: Um, well, I guess I lose.
Xavier: No, you didn't, Mommy -- you still have zero-zero-five points. And I place one card face down.
Me: Oh, yeah, well I summon up the, uh, Mr. Caliban card. He's a 2000/2000 creature, and he attacks your magnetic warrior. (For the less-informed out there, Caliban is our cat.)
Xavier: Ah, but now I turn over the card I had face down -- my Magnetic Warrior is fifteen-a-million-hundred times more powerful than he was before! I'm afraid he sends your Mr. Caliban card to your graveyard. (Then, prompting me) You say, "Noooo!"
Me: Ah, but I'm afraid you have triggered Mr. Caliban's secret ability he, uh ... pukes all over you and your Magnetic Warrior, so you can't attack.
Xavier: Mommy! You aren't doing this right!
These duals always end with the arrival of the bus. He's funny to watch, but I have to admit I wonder if he will be disillusioned when someone gives him a real deck.
In other news, we are getting ready to do a karate demo this Sunday. Instructor Jones-Cox and "Instructor Hoy who is a Girl" have put a lot of time into getting the kids ready. For Instructor Hoy, this is an especially bittersweet demo because she is getting ready to move to Memphis, so this probably her last one with this group. Gwen has learned Thai Boxing drill #1 in preparation, and Xavier is going to do a little (very little) numchuku number followed with one of the principles of the black belt: "Modesty: Being humble and not bwagging."
Needless to say, "Modesty: Being humble and not bragging," is getting drilled into their heads as we rehearse this at every class. Today after class, Gwen came running downstairs (in our house), and yelled, "Mommy! Look at me!" She was -- ahem -- all ready for her bath, despite my best efforts to keep her upstairs when she is in the altogether.
I said, "Hmmm, looks like modesty is not one of your virtues."
She looked confused, and said, "What does 'modesty' mean?"
Realizing the conflict, I said, "Well, 'modesty' does mean being humble and not bragging, but it also means not showing off your private parts."
Hours later, when I was at the adult class, Xavier was telling Adam all about the demo. "And I get to do this thing with the numchukus and I get to say, 'Modesty: being humble and not bwagging'!"
Gwen chimed in, "And not showing off your underwear!"
Oh, lord. This in front of the kid who has been reciting lines from movies -- verbatum -- since he was two, and who is going to do this demo in three days. I don't think I need to tell you where this is going.
I sure hope "Instructor Hoy who is a Girl" has a good sense of humor.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
Dummy!
This posting is not likely to win me any Parent of the Year awards ... then again, I was not a likely candidate for that anyway, so here goes ...
The other day, my husband showed me a video on YouTube.com called "Jeff Dunham -- Achmed the Dead Terrorist." Jeff Dunham is a ventriloquist, and although this sketch -- which features a skeleton dummy made up like a Terrorist -- has some bad language, it is also VERY funny. They also have some other sketches up there involving Jeff Dunham and some dummies named "Walter" and "Peanut."
OK, here's where the bad parent part comes in: I have let the kids watch some of the Jeff Dunham sketches. For that matter, I have also let them watch Shrek, which contains some humor that is less than G-rated. Most of this goes right over their heads, but they laugh anyway, because the dummies (or cartoon characters) are funny anyway. Nevertheless, every time a bad word comes on, I interject, "Bad word -- don't say this at school." "Bad word -- don't ever say this."
Tonight, as I was putting the kids to bed, Xavier recited one of the scenes from the Jeff Dunham video, that goes like this:
Walter: My wife is getting old.
Jeff Dunham (smiling): But a woman ages like a fine wine ...
Walter (disparaging look at Jeff): My wife is aging like milk.
As Xavier finished reciting this, he said, "Mommy, what does it mean that his wife ages like milk?"
"Well, Xavier, wine is supposed to improve as it gets older, and milk goes sour."
Xavier laughed, then said, "Don't say that at work, mommy!"
The other day, my husband showed me a video on YouTube.com called "Jeff Dunham -- Achmed the Dead Terrorist." Jeff Dunham is a ventriloquist, and although this sketch -- which features a skeleton dummy made up like a Terrorist -- has some bad language, it is also VERY funny. They also have some other sketches up there involving Jeff Dunham and some dummies named "Walter" and "Peanut."
OK, here's where the bad parent part comes in: I have let the kids watch some of the Jeff Dunham sketches. For that matter, I have also let them watch Shrek, which contains some humor that is less than G-rated. Most of this goes right over their heads, but they laugh anyway, because the dummies (or cartoon characters) are funny anyway. Nevertheless, every time a bad word comes on, I interject, "Bad word -- don't say this at school." "Bad word -- don't ever say this."
Tonight, as I was putting the kids to bed, Xavier recited one of the scenes from the Jeff Dunham video, that goes like this:
Walter: My wife is getting old.
Jeff Dunham (smiling): But a woman ages like a fine wine ...
Walter (disparaging look at Jeff): My wife is aging like milk.
As Xavier finished reciting this, he said, "Mommy, what does it mean that his wife ages like milk?"
"Well, Xavier, wine is supposed to improve as it gets older, and milk goes sour."
Xavier laughed, then said, "Don't say that at work, mommy!"
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Halloween!
Woo-hoo! This is the first time since the kids were old enough to trick or treat that neither of them were sick! Not to say that the day was not fraught with drama and suspense ...
First, I noted that Xavier had a watery nose this morning. We thought maybe it was associated with crying, but since he kept having intermittent crying lags, it was hard to be sure. And of course, crying can be a sign of illness ... hoo, boy. Of course, he also got a Bionicle yesterday (if you are unfamiliar with them, they are lego "robots" that have their own movie franchise); the only problem with getting Xavier Bionicles is that he can't put them together himself, and no one had time to help him this morning.
Well, when we got home from school, Xavier was dry-nosed, and Adam had taken the time this morning to assemble the Bionicle, so I breathed a sigh of relief and the afternoon went pretty smoothly until --
(Insert dramatic music here)
-- Gwen got off the bus in tears. "What's wrong, honey?" I asked.
"I lost my tail at the Halloween Party at school." (She was a black cat this year.)
Playing the part of superhero (as we moms are often called upon to do), I replied confidently, "No problem, honey -- we have time to make a new one before we go trick-or-treating tonight." As I spoke these words, a voice-over in my head was going, "How the heck are we going to do that? We don't have any fake fur. We don't have any black fabric at all! Maybe we have some black yarn?" And a third voice piped up, "Quiet in there! Don't panic! Kids can sense fear!"
I opened up her backpack and stared into the gaping maw in horror. The third voice whispered, "Okay, time to panic." Looking up with as much casualness as I could muster, I asked, "Um, Gwen, about your tail ... where is the rest of your costume?"
Her jaw dropped as tears sprang to her eyes. Inside my head, I heard, "Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! We are going down!"
Racing in terror to the van. Will we get there in time before they lock the school? Get stuck behind someone who clearly has no idea where he is going, stops at a stop sign and waves everyone through, oblivious to the van behind him. Finally get away from this clown and get to school. Wait for five minutes in the principal's office for permission to go back to Gwen's classroom. Much to our collective relief, the costume and the tail are there. Back to the van. Back home.
Ten minutes after getting home, while Xavier was in the bathroom, Gwen looked up at me in tears. "What's wrong, Gwen?"
"I broke Xavier's Bionicle." Yup, sure enough, the new Bionicle was lying in her lap, and she had successfully snapped off the piece that holds one of the wings on.
"What did you say?" Xavier called from the bathroom.
Even as my temperature was plummeting -- I swear I could see my breath -- I put on the hero face again. "Well, that's okay, honey -- it's a Bionicle and we have a zillion spare parts in the lego box." Convincing Xavier of that took some more doing, but despite the drama of the moment, this crisis was relatively smoothly averted.
Face-painting time. Run around like crazy people in the front yard playing Bionicles (which, to Xavier, means running up to me, karate-chopping me in the leg, and screaming, "I killed you! You're dead!") It occurs to me that our neighbors probably think we are raising a couple of homicidal maniacs.
Then I served the kids supper. Nothing dangerous there, yet the kids were so excited that it took them an hour to finish a cup of butternut squash and a hot dog. Then Xavier announced, "How about I go trick-or-treating without my costume?" (This may sound trivial, but he refused to wear his costume -- a Bionicle -- at the school parade yesterday, and I got yelled at by his teacher for encouraging him to put it on, so this is a touchy subject with me.)
Finally came to a compromise on the costume. Got Gwen into her costume. Got Xavier to finish his supper, then into the compromise costume. We joined the group of neighbors we were trick-or-treating with at the rendevous point in the nick of time.
The trick-or-treating itself went relatively smoothly ... the calm before the storm.
I knew we were in trouble when we got home, and Gwen was no sooner through the door when she asked Adam (who stayed home, passing out treats), "Did I miss Jack?" Jack is a close friend of Gwen's who lives across Givens Lane from us. Now, she keeps reassuring us that she and Jack are "just friends", but it soon became clear that this was far from true.
Ding-dong!
Thumpthumpthump. "IsitJackisitJackisitJack?"
"No ..."
Heart-rending sigh, sometimes a few tears.
We live in a pretty high-density neighborhood, so this tableau played itself over and over again, until it was time for Gwen to go to bed. There were many tears at this point, and it was only with the promise that, should Jack come, we would get her out of bed, and if he didn't, she could take him some candy at school tomorrow.
Two minutes after the kids were in bed, the doorbell rang. As I headed down the hall toward the door I see -- to my deepest relief -- Jack, attempting to look through the window. "Gwen! Jack is here!"
I opened the door and Jack sauntered in as Gwen's door slammed open upstairs.
Gwen came running down the stairs. "Jack! Jack! Jack!"
Xavier was right behind her. "Jack! Jack! Jack!" (He has never met Jack before.)
Gwen threw her arms around Jack, pinning his arms to his side. Jack was accompanied by another boy about his age and a girl who appeared to be a little older. The other boy also followed him in, but the girl stood on the step with a long-suffering expression on her face. Turning to a car parked in front of our house with parent-types in it, she calls, "Just a minute -- Jack's in there with his lover." I gave her some extra candy, but nothing could wipe that look of tired endurance from her face.
Jack emerged, and Gwen leaned out the door and blew him a kiss as he disappeared into the darkness. Yeah, she plays it close to the vest, that one.
Adam and I sat down to dinner. I said, "Wow, I'm glad he got here before she fell asleep."
Adam replied, "Hell, I'm just glad he got here!"
All was quiet for about twenty minutes, then the doorbell rang again. I went to answer it, and there was a toddler dressed like Tinkerbell on the step. I was leaning down to give her some candy, when I heard a rhythmic thump! thump! thump! behind me. Was it some grave horror coming through my house? Was it the beating of my heart?
No. "Let me do it, Mommy," Xavier said, taking the candy from me.
Just when you thought it was safe to get out of the water.
First, I noted that Xavier had a watery nose this morning. We thought maybe it was associated with crying, but since he kept having intermittent crying lags, it was hard to be sure. And of course, crying can be a sign of illness ... hoo, boy. Of course, he also got a Bionicle yesterday (if you are unfamiliar with them, they are lego "robots" that have their own movie franchise); the only problem with getting Xavier Bionicles is that he can't put them together himself, and no one had time to help him this morning.
Well, when we got home from school, Xavier was dry-nosed, and Adam had taken the time this morning to assemble the Bionicle, so I breathed a sigh of relief and the afternoon went pretty smoothly until --
(Insert dramatic music here)
-- Gwen got off the bus in tears. "What's wrong, honey?" I asked.
"I lost my tail at the Halloween Party at school." (She was a black cat this year.)
Playing the part of superhero (as we moms are often called upon to do), I replied confidently, "No problem, honey -- we have time to make a new one before we go trick-or-treating tonight." As I spoke these words, a voice-over in my head was going, "How the heck are we going to do that? We don't have any fake fur. We don't have any black fabric at all! Maybe we have some black yarn?" And a third voice piped up, "Quiet in there! Don't panic! Kids can sense fear!"
I opened up her backpack and stared into the gaping maw in horror. The third voice whispered, "Okay, time to panic." Looking up with as much casualness as I could muster, I asked, "Um, Gwen, about your tail ... where is the rest of your costume?"
Her jaw dropped as tears sprang to her eyes. Inside my head, I heard, "Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! We are going down!"
Racing in terror to the van. Will we get there in time before they lock the school? Get stuck behind someone who clearly has no idea where he is going, stops at a stop sign and waves everyone through, oblivious to the van behind him. Finally get away from this clown and get to school. Wait for five minutes in the principal's office for permission to go back to Gwen's classroom. Much to our collective relief, the costume and the tail are there. Back to the van. Back home.
Ten minutes after getting home, while Xavier was in the bathroom, Gwen looked up at me in tears. "What's wrong, Gwen?"
"I broke Xavier's Bionicle." Yup, sure enough, the new Bionicle was lying in her lap, and she had successfully snapped off the piece that holds one of the wings on.
"What did you say?" Xavier called from the bathroom.
Even as my temperature was plummeting -- I swear I could see my breath -- I put on the hero face again. "Well, that's okay, honey -- it's a Bionicle and we have a zillion spare parts in the lego box." Convincing Xavier of that took some more doing, but despite the drama of the moment, this crisis was relatively smoothly averted.
Face-painting time. Run around like crazy people in the front yard playing Bionicles (which, to Xavier, means running up to me, karate-chopping me in the leg, and screaming, "I killed you! You're dead!") It occurs to me that our neighbors probably think we are raising a couple of homicidal maniacs.
Then I served the kids supper. Nothing dangerous there, yet the kids were so excited that it took them an hour to finish a cup of butternut squash and a hot dog. Then Xavier announced, "How about I go trick-or-treating without my costume?" (This may sound trivial, but he refused to wear his costume -- a Bionicle -- at the school parade yesterday, and I got yelled at by his teacher for encouraging him to put it on, so this is a touchy subject with me.)
Finally came to a compromise on the costume. Got Gwen into her costume. Got Xavier to finish his supper, then into the compromise costume. We joined the group of neighbors we were trick-or-treating with at the rendevous point in the nick of time.
The trick-or-treating itself went relatively smoothly ... the calm before the storm.
I knew we were in trouble when we got home, and Gwen was no sooner through the door when she asked Adam (who stayed home, passing out treats), "Did I miss Jack?" Jack is a close friend of Gwen's who lives across Givens Lane from us. Now, she keeps reassuring us that she and Jack are "just friends", but it soon became clear that this was far from true.
Ding-dong!
Thumpthumpthump. "IsitJackisitJackisitJack?"
"No ..."
Heart-rending sigh, sometimes a few tears.
We live in a pretty high-density neighborhood, so this tableau played itself over and over again, until it was time for Gwen to go to bed. There were many tears at this point, and it was only with the promise that, should Jack come, we would get her out of bed, and if he didn't, she could take him some candy at school tomorrow.
Two minutes after the kids were in bed, the doorbell rang. As I headed down the hall toward the door I see -- to my deepest relief -- Jack, attempting to look through the window. "Gwen! Jack is here!"
I opened the door and Jack sauntered in as Gwen's door slammed open upstairs.
Gwen came running down the stairs. "Jack! Jack! Jack!"
Xavier was right behind her. "Jack! Jack! Jack!" (He has never met Jack before.)
Gwen threw her arms around Jack, pinning his arms to his side. Jack was accompanied by another boy about his age and a girl who appeared to be a little older. The other boy also followed him in, but the girl stood on the step with a long-suffering expression on her face. Turning to a car parked in front of our house with parent-types in it, she calls, "Just a minute -- Jack's in there with his lover." I gave her some extra candy, but nothing could wipe that look of tired endurance from her face.
Jack emerged, and Gwen leaned out the door and blew him a kiss as he disappeared into the darkness. Yeah, she plays it close to the vest, that one.
Adam and I sat down to dinner. I said, "Wow, I'm glad he got here before she fell asleep."
Adam replied, "Hell, I'm just glad he got here!"
All was quiet for about twenty minutes, then the doorbell rang again. I went to answer it, and there was a toddler dressed like Tinkerbell on the step. I was leaning down to give her some candy, when I heard a rhythmic thump! thump! thump! behind me. Was it some grave horror coming through my house? Was it the beating of my heart?
No. "Let me do it, Mommy," Xavier said, taking the candy from me.
Just when you thought it was safe to get out of the water.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Another Public Service Announcement (and a story)
Business first.
If you live in my town (and you know if you do) then
if you are familiar with a certain toy store on South Main then
if you have been thinking about buying FLEX furniture from them then
BUY NO LATER THAN TOMORROW;
end if; end if; end if;
(Sorry, a little PL/SQL humor there.)
The gist of it is, Adam and I have been toying around for some time with the idea of getting Gwen a bunk bed, moving her bed (my old bed) to the guest room, and moving the little-used blue sofa bed in the guest room down to the living room to replace our much-abused green sofa bed. We have been delaying this action for awhile because bunk beds are not cheap (especially FLEX beds, because they are solid wood -- well, except for the mattress -- and we are trying to avoid particle board). Also, for whatever reason, the blue couch latches onto cat hair like a covalent bond, so we thought we'd postpone the weekly sofa-vacuuming sessions. Alas, Xavier's recent bout of illness made the green couch even less appealing, and the toy store will stop selling FLEX at the end of November (FLEX is becoming exclusive), so I bullied Adam into letting me go ahead.
When I got there today, the first thing the salesgirl asked the manager was, "When do the new prices go into effect?" The answer is November 1st, and the rates are going up 25%. So if you have been thinking, "We'll buy that new at the end of the year," think again. Not only will FLEX be gone, if it is still there when you go, it will be a lot more expensive. So buy now!
And someone told me recently I shouldn't be in sales. :)
Now for pleasure.
So, we went to the toy store today to order a bunk bed for Gwen. Of course, buying a new bunk bed, we have to buy (two) new mattresses, and even though Adam and I bought the best mattresses we could for Gwen's (current) bed and Xavier's bed, we've gotten lazy in our old age, so we decided to order the mattresses from FLEX as well, provided that Gwen liked the one on the floor model of the bed.
Well, as it turns out, the floor model was not a mere bunk bed -- it was a bells-and-whistles bed. You know what I'm talking about: elevated bed with the "castle playhouse" underneath, pink "castle-themed" curtain at the top of the ladder, and another on the -- get this -- slide to the floor. It didn't take much persuading to get Gwen to climb on up and try out that mattress!
As we were driving home, Gwen said, "Did you order my bed?"
"Yes, ma'am. And the mattresses are going to be pink." (For whatever that is worth, since they'll be encased in a mattress cover and sheets.)
"Is it going to be like the bed at the store?"
"Nope, just a bunk bed."
Gwen sighed. "I wish it was going to be like the one at the store."
"Gwen, we weren't buying you a playground, we were buying you a bed."
Another sigh. "I know." Then, hopefully, "Will it have a ladder?"
"Yes."
"What else?"
"Roll-out drawers underneath."
"What else?"
"Um, nothing else. Isn't that enough?"
"Oh." Disappointed pause. "I kind of hoped it would have a slide."
"Gwen, you are going to have this bed until you're a teenager. When you are a teenager, you are not going to want a bed with a slide when you are seventeen."
So we went home. Adam comes home.
"So, Gwen," he said. "I hear you got a bed today."
"It doesn't have a slide," she sighed.
"A slide?" he laughed. "Gwen, we were getting you a bed, not a playground."
"I know. That's what Mommy told me."
Xavier's school had it's Hallowe'en Party today. I happened to overhear two mothers (of younger children) talking in the hall when I was picking Xav up on Friday, and I heard one of them say, "Ryan wants to be Thomas the Tank Engine. In a way, I was so relieved he changed his mind from being a ballerina, but now I need to find a Thomas costume."
Hearing opportunity knocking, and being the proud owner of a Thomas the Tank Engine costume that was gathering dust on Xavier's closet floor, I approached the mother. We exchanged numbers, and twenty-four hours later she was the proud owner of a lightly-used Thomas costume, and I was the proud owner of a clean closet.
As Adam walked Xavier into school today, they saw the mother walking in with her son and (admittedly cumbersome) Thomas the Tank Engine costume. Xavier perked up a little and said, "There's the costume that was my Thomas the Tank Engine costume, but I gave it away because it shrank."
Amused, Adam said, "It didn't shrink, honey. You've grown."
"No, it's shrinking," Xavier insisted. "It's getting smaller and smaller. Soon it will be the size of a pea."
After a moment, he added, "I mean, like a vegetable pea."
If you live in my town (and you know if you do) then
if you are familiar with a certain toy store on South Main then
if you have been thinking about buying FLEX furniture from them then
BUY NO LATER THAN TOMORROW;
end if; end if; end if;
(Sorry, a little PL/SQL humor there.)
The gist of it is, Adam and I have been toying around for some time with the idea of getting Gwen a bunk bed, moving her bed (my old bed) to the guest room, and moving the little-used blue sofa bed in the guest room down to the living room to replace our much-abused green sofa bed. We have been delaying this action for awhile because bunk beds are not cheap (especially FLEX beds, because they are solid wood -- well, except for the mattress -- and we are trying to avoid particle board). Also, for whatever reason, the blue couch latches onto cat hair like a covalent bond, so we thought we'd postpone the weekly sofa-vacuuming sessions. Alas, Xavier's recent bout of illness made the green couch even less appealing, and the toy store will stop selling FLEX at the end of November (FLEX is becoming exclusive), so I bullied Adam into letting me go ahead.
When I got there today, the first thing the salesgirl asked the manager was, "When do the new prices go into effect?" The answer is November 1st, and the rates are going up 25%. So if you have been thinking, "We'll buy that new
And someone told me recently I shouldn't be in sales. :)
Now for pleasure.
So, we went to the toy store today to order a bunk bed for Gwen. Of course, buying a new bunk bed, we have to buy (two) new mattresses, and even though Adam and I bought the best mattresses we could for Gwen's (current) bed and Xavier's bed, we've gotten lazy in our old age, so we decided to order the mattresses from FLEX as well, provided that Gwen liked the one on the floor model of the bed.
Well, as it turns out, the floor model was not a mere bunk bed -- it was a bells-and-whistles bed. You know what I'm talking about: elevated bed with the "castle playhouse" underneath, pink "castle-themed" curtain at the top of the ladder, and another on the -- get this -- slide to the floor. It didn't take much persuading to get Gwen to climb on up and try out that mattress!
As we were driving home, Gwen said, "Did you order my bed?"
"Yes, ma'am. And the mattresses are going to be pink." (For whatever that is worth, since they'll be encased in a mattress cover and sheets.)
"Is it going to be like the bed at the store?"
"Nope, just a bunk bed."
Gwen sighed. "I wish it was going to be like the one at the store."
"Gwen, we weren't buying you a playground, we were buying you a bed."
Another sigh. "I know." Then, hopefully, "Will it have a ladder?"
"Yes."
"What else?"
"Roll-out drawers underneath."
"What else?"
"Um, nothing else. Isn't that enough?"
"Oh." Disappointed pause. "I kind of hoped it would have a slide."
"Gwen, you are going to have this bed until you're a teenager. When you are a teenager, you are not going to want a bed with a slide when you are seventeen."
So we went home. Adam comes home.
"So, Gwen," he said. "I hear you got a bed today."
"It doesn't have a slide," she sighed.
"A slide?" he laughed. "Gwen, we were getting you a bed, not a playground."
"I know. That's what Mommy told me."
Xavier's school had it's Hallowe'en Party today. I happened to overhear two mothers (of younger children) talking in the hall when I was picking Xav up on Friday, and I heard one of them say, "Ryan wants to be Thomas the Tank Engine. In a way, I was so relieved he changed his mind from being a ballerina, but now I need to find a Thomas costume."
Hearing opportunity knocking, and being the proud owner of a Thomas the Tank Engine costume that was gathering dust on Xavier's closet floor, I approached the mother. We exchanged numbers, and twenty-four hours later she was the proud owner of a lightly-used Thomas costume, and I was the proud owner of a clean closet.
As Adam walked Xavier into school today, they saw the mother walking in with her son and (admittedly cumbersome) Thomas the Tank Engine costume. Xavier perked up a little and said, "There's the costume that was my Thomas the Tank Engine costume, but I gave it away because it shrank."
Amused, Adam said, "It didn't shrink, honey. You've grown."
"No, it's shrinking," Xavier insisted. "It's getting smaller and smaller. Soon it will be the size of a pea."
After a moment, he added, "I mean, like a vegetable pea."
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Halloween Kempo and Other News
Yes, I have been incredibly busy this month. I apologize for neglecting the BLOG!
First order of business ... last night the kids tested and passed their second rank (belt) test in Universal Kempo Karate. I was a little worried about Xavier at first because he was really cranky when I dropped him off for the test (he fell asleep on the way over.) Professor Ragone, the regional Universal Kempo dude, offered Xavier his hand, and told him everything was going to be okay (mistaking his sad demeanor for nerves instead of grumpiness). Parents are not permitted to watch the exam, so I got to watch a bunch of stranger's kids going through their karate lessons instead, but Professor Ragone came out and assured me that Xavier was all smiles, back to his normal self. Of course, that meant I now had something else to worry about ...
Anyway, by the end, Xavier had clearly warmed to Professor Ragone, because as the kids came around the barricade for the promotion ceremony, Xavier held up his water bottle and shouted to Professor Ragone, "Look how big my bottle is! It's the biggest bottle in the world!"
I don't know if we'll be able to bring him back there for his next test -- it is clear he has lost all fear of authority.
Anyway, if you were wondering about the title of this entry, the belt color for PeeWee second rank is Orange. With the karate outfit for Universal Kempo Karate being black, and the month being October ... well, you can draw your own conclusions. Kempo tradition dictates that you may not wear your belt outside of class, so I guess I can't take advantage of the situation and let the kids just wear their karate uniforms trick or treating ... as if the kids would let me.
In other news, we had our first parent-teacher conference of the year with Gwen's teacher. Spoiler alert -- this is a bragging paragraph. You can skip it if you are not up for that. Gwen is reading at the Second grade/Five month level (not bad for First grade/Second month status.) The teacher says she is almost certainly going to recommend Gwen for the Gifted and Talented program (she says her real question at this point is why Gwen was not recommended last year.)
She added that Gwen was a real darling to work with. She said she is friendly to many of the kids, but she also spends a lot of time talking to the teachers at recess, for "more mature" conversation. The teacher related a story of one time when she was sitting with the other teachers at the picnic table, watching the kids at recess, when Gwen ran up and shouted excitedly, "Mrs. White! Have you read the latest National Geographic? They have an article in there all about how they can make fuel for cars out of corn!"
We also read part of Gwen's daily journal. The teacher explained that at the beginning of the day, the kids get to write a paragraph on any topic they want, and draw a picture to go along with it. As we read through Gwen's journal, we started noticing a theme. The entries went something like this:
"Today my baby ladybugs looked like they were starting to make their chrysalises, but I was wrong. I have karate. I will be good."
"We have a field trip today to the library. It will be a good day. I will be good."
"The ladybugs came out of their chrysalises today. They are pink. I will be good. I am so happy!"
After several entries like this, the teacher remarked, "Hmmm, I never noticed before that she always says she will be good." As we read a little further, she murmured, "Hmm, maybe I should show this to some of the other kids -- might give them ideas." By the end, she was saying, "I don't know what her interest is in being good, but I like her attitude -- I think I will share this with the other kids ..."
But, mostly, she is impressed with what a gifted student Gwen is. This is a tad ironic in light of the fact that today Gwen forgot I was picking her up at school today (because of the timing of the conference), and we only managed to get her off the bus in the nick of time.
Jilian, you recommended I take the kids to the Reptile Roundup at the Community Center, and I did, but I didn't have time to BLOG until now. The kids loved the Reptile Roundup, Gwen especially of course. We were five minutes into the presentation when Gwen turned to me, her face beet red, a giant smile on her face, and she said, "I love this stuff!" The presenter did not to appear to be one comfortable with kids (actually, he did not seem all that comfortable with people, so it seemed completely natural that he should be working with reptiles), but when he commented as he answered one of Gwen's questions ("How can you tell girl and boy snakes apart?") that it was a very good question, she was so pleased with herself that I wasn't sure at first whether she had heard the answer.
On our way out of the roundup, we passed a Tae Kwon Do class being held in one of the other rooms at the Community Center. Xavier looked in and cried, "Look, Mommy! They have a Korean flag and an American flag!"
"You're right, Xavier!" I responded.
"It's Korean-American, just like me!" he continued. "This side of me is Korean," he added, pointing to his right side, "And this side," the left, "is American."
Amused, I asked, "And which side is the side that loves me?"
Without hesitation, he replied, "Both sides."
First order of business ... last night the kids tested and passed their second rank (belt) test in Universal Kempo Karate. I was a little worried about Xavier at first because he was really cranky when I dropped him off for the test (he fell asleep on the way over.) Professor Ragone, the regional Universal Kempo dude, offered Xavier his hand, and told him everything was going to be okay (mistaking his sad demeanor for nerves instead of grumpiness). Parents are not permitted to watch the exam, so I got to watch a bunch of stranger's kids going through their karate lessons instead, but Professor Ragone came out and assured me that Xavier was all smiles, back to his normal self. Of course, that meant I now had something else to worry about ...
Anyway, by the end, Xavier had clearly warmed to Professor Ragone, because as the kids came around the barricade for the promotion ceremony, Xavier held up his water bottle and shouted to Professor Ragone, "Look how big my bottle is! It's the biggest bottle in the world!"
I don't know if we'll be able to bring him back there for his next test -- it is clear he has lost all fear of authority.
Anyway, if you were wondering about the title of this entry, the belt color for PeeWee second rank is Orange. With the karate outfit for Universal Kempo Karate being black, and the month being October ... well, you can draw your own conclusions. Kempo tradition dictates that you may not wear your belt outside of class, so I guess I can't take advantage of the situation and let the kids just wear their karate uniforms trick or treating ... as if the kids would let me.
In other news, we had our first parent-teacher conference of the year with Gwen's teacher. Spoiler alert -- this is a bragging paragraph. You can skip it if you are not up for that. Gwen is reading at the Second grade/Five month level (not bad for First grade/Second month status.) The teacher says she is almost certainly going to recommend Gwen for the Gifted and Talented program (she says her real question at this point is why Gwen was not recommended last year.)
She added that Gwen was a real darling to work with. She said she is friendly to many of the kids, but she also spends a lot of time talking to the teachers at recess, for "more mature" conversation. The teacher related a story of one time when she was sitting with the other teachers at the picnic table, watching the kids at recess, when Gwen ran up and shouted excitedly, "Mrs. White! Have you read the latest National Geographic? They have an article in there all about how they can make fuel for cars out of corn!"
We also read part of Gwen's daily journal. The teacher explained that at the beginning of the day, the kids get to write a paragraph on any topic they want, and draw a picture to go along with it. As we read through Gwen's journal, we started noticing a theme. The entries went something like this:
"Today my baby ladybugs looked like they were starting to make their chrysalises, but I was wrong. I have karate. I will be good."
"We have a field trip today to the library. It will be a good day. I will be good."
"The ladybugs came out of their chrysalises today. They are pink. I will be good. I am so happy!"
After several entries like this, the teacher remarked, "Hmmm, I never noticed before that she always says she will be good." As we read a little further, she murmured, "Hmm, maybe I should show this to some of the other kids -- might give them ideas." By the end, she was saying, "I don't know what her interest is in being good, but I like her attitude -- I think I will share this with the other kids ..."
But, mostly, she is impressed with what a gifted student Gwen is. This is a tad ironic in light of the fact that today Gwen forgot I was picking her up at school today (because of the timing of the conference), and we only managed to get her off the bus in the nick of time.
Jilian, you recommended I take the kids to the Reptile Roundup at the Community Center, and I did, but I didn't have time to BLOG until now. The kids loved the Reptile Roundup, Gwen especially of course. We were five minutes into the presentation when Gwen turned to me, her face beet red, a giant smile on her face, and she said, "I love this stuff!" The presenter did not to appear to be one comfortable with kids (actually, he did not seem all that comfortable with people, so it seemed completely natural that he should be working with reptiles), but when he commented as he answered one of Gwen's questions ("How can you tell girl and boy snakes apart?") that it was a very good question, she was so pleased with herself that I wasn't sure at first whether she had heard the answer.
On our way out of the roundup, we passed a Tae Kwon Do class being held in one of the other rooms at the Community Center. Xavier looked in and cried, "Look, Mommy! They have a Korean flag and an American flag!"
"You're right, Xavier!" I responded.
"It's Korean-American, just like me!" he continued. "This side of me is Korean," he added, pointing to his right side, "And this side," the left, "is American."
Amused, I asked, "And which side is the side that loves me?"
Without hesitation, he replied, "Both sides."
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Tooth!
Oops! I forgot to add, Gwen did lose that first tooth -- finally -- last Saturday while we were watching Star Wars: A New Hope with the kids. Yes, it took a really long time, I think in part because her permanent tooth got tired of waiting and came in behind the original tooth in the meantime. Yes, we've started an account to start saving for her braces.
And the kids loved Star Wars. Xav's favorite character was R2D2, and I think he now wants to be R2D2 (or Artie-D2, as he calls him) when he grows up.
After hearing him refer to R2D2 as Artie-D2 through most of the movie, I gently corrected him, "Xav, it is R-2-D-2."
"Artie-D2?" he asked.
"R-like-the-letter, 2-like-the-number, D-like-the-letter, 2-like-the-number," I replied.
"R2D2?" he asked.
"Yes, you got it."
"Oh." He paused, then asked, "But can I call him whatever I want?"
"Umm, I guess," I replied.
"Then, I say we call him, 'Artie-D2.'"
We also played Star Wars later that afternoon in the backyard. Xavier played -- you got it -- Artie-D2, but evidently did not feel that he was short enough for the part, because he was running around the backyard using one of his arms as kind of a third leg. I personally thought he looked more like Quasimodo or Tarzan that way, but I kept my opinion to myself.
Oh, and he wants a lightsaber for Christmas, even though Artie-D2 did not personally use one. I guess some concepts are just too cool to take literally.
And the kids loved Star Wars. Xav's favorite character was R2D2, and I think he now wants to be R2D2 (or Artie-D2, as he calls him) when he grows up.
After hearing him refer to R2D2 as Artie-D2 through most of the movie, I gently corrected him, "Xav, it is R-2-D-2."
"Artie-D2?" he asked.
"R-like-the-letter, 2-like-the-number, D-like-the-letter, 2-like-the-number," I replied.
"R2D2?" he asked.
"Yes, you got it."
"Oh." He paused, then asked, "But can I call him whatever I want?"
"Umm, I guess," I replied.
"Then, I say we call him, 'Artie-D2.'"
We also played Star Wars later that afternoon in the backyard. Xavier played -- you got it -- Artie-D2, but evidently did not feel that he was short enough for the part, because he was running around the backyard using one of his arms as kind of a third leg. I personally thought he looked more like Quasimodo or Tarzan that way, but I kept my opinion to myself.
Oh, and he wants a lightsaber for Christmas, even though Artie-D2 did not personally use one. I guess some concepts are just too cool to take literally.
Piper
The bad part about being too swamped to BLOG is that when you do have time to BLOG, you can't remember the funny stuff. However, we had a couple of timely funny things that happened in the past couple of days that I can pass on.
The other night the kids were brushing their teeth, and Xavier announced, "I love my teeth. They're pretty much my favorite part of my body. They're the most important part."
Adam replied, "I think the brain is the most important."
Xavier responded, "Well, my teeth are my favorite, anyway."
Gwen piped up, "My brain and my teeth are my favorite parts of my body. And my eyes. And my ears. And my nose."
"So pretty much your whole head," Adam said, amused.
"Yeah, my whole head," she replied. Then, after thinking for a moment, she added, "And my pancreas."
Teeth-brushing must be a great time for random thoughts for my kids, because as Xavier was brushing his teeth tonight, he placed his hand thoughtfully on my tummy. When he didn't remove it after a little while, I said, "Don't worry -- there is no baby brother or sister growing in there."
"Oh," he mused. "I wish there was."
"You wish you had a younger sibling?" I asked, surprised, because Xavier is usually pretty possessive of his position as baby of the family.
"I wish we had a Piper," he said vaguely, referring to his two-year-old cousin who visited us a couple of months ago.
"Really? Why?" we asked.
"Because she is really cute," he replied.
And what better reason does he need?
The other night the kids were brushing their teeth, and Xavier announced, "I love my teeth. They're pretty much my favorite part of my body. They're the most important part."
Adam replied, "I think the brain is the most important."
Xavier responded, "Well, my teeth are my favorite, anyway."
Gwen piped up, "My brain and my teeth are my favorite parts of my body. And my eyes. And my ears. And my nose."
"So pretty much your whole head," Adam said, amused.
"Yeah, my whole head," she replied. Then, after thinking for a moment, she added, "And my pancreas."
Teeth-brushing must be a great time for random thoughts for my kids, because as Xavier was brushing his teeth tonight, he placed his hand thoughtfully on my tummy. When he didn't remove it after a little while, I said, "Don't worry -- there is no baby brother or sister growing in there."
"Oh," he mused. "I wish there was."
"You wish you had a younger sibling?" I asked, surprised, because Xavier is usually pretty possessive of his position as baby of the family.
"I wish we had a Piper," he said vaguely, referring to his two-year-old cousin who visited us a couple of months ago.
"Really? Why?" we asked.
"Because she is really cute," he replied.
And what better reason does he need?
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
More problems on the Island of Sodor
Yep, another recall: http://www.recalls.rc2.com/recalls_Wood_0907.html . Heck, we haven't gotten our trains back from the first recall (although we did get a gift to thank us for our patience.)
I think it is time to introduce my kids to the fun you can have with sticks and stones.
I think it is time to introduce my kids to the fun you can have with sticks and stones.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Iconic
Adam was listening to NPR this morning, and they were having some piece on some great Jazz artist (I don't know who -- I wasn't there.) Adam was not following the piece, either, but suddenly Gwen piped up, "What is a 'jazz icon'?"
Adam said, "Well, an icon is something that everyone has heard about. For example, a monarch butterfly could be considered a butterfly icon -- if you have heard of butterflies, you have probably heard of the monarch."
"But who would be a jazz icon?" Gwen asked.
"Duke Ellington would be a jazz icon. Everyone has heard of him," Adam replied.
"Well, I haven't," Gwen muttered, returning to her cereal.
Ah, alas, evidently we are not teaching our children culture.
On the other hand, it seems that we are not teaching them appropriate phone etiquette either. Xavier was home from school, sick with a cold, and Adam was -- ahem -- "busy" when the phone rang. Assuming that no one but I would call at this time of morning, he called to Xavier to answer the phone.
He could hear Xavier rattling on in the next room, and after about three minutes, Xavier brought the phone into the "powder room" and said, "It's for you, daddy. It's Miss Joan." (The woman who lives next door.)
Hey, "Instructor Hoy who is a Boy" (as Xavier now calls you), Adam had a story he wanted me to share with you that he heard on the radio. Some robber had the bright idea of attempting to rob a karate school while class was in session. In his defense, he was armed with a gun.
The police apprehended him at the hospital.
Adam said, "Well, an icon is something that everyone has heard about. For example, a monarch butterfly could be considered a butterfly icon -- if you have heard of butterflies, you have probably heard of the monarch."
"But who would be a jazz icon?" Gwen asked.
"Duke Ellington would be a jazz icon. Everyone has heard of him," Adam replied.
"Well, I haven't," Gwen muttered, returning to her cereal.
Ah, alas, evidently we are not teaching our children culture.
On the other hand, it seems that we are not teaching them appropriate phone etiquette either. Xavier was home from school, sick with a cold, and Adam was -- ahem -- "busy" when the phone rang. Assuming that no one but I would call at this time of morning, he called to Xavier to answer the phone.
He could hear Xavier rattling on in the next room, and after about three minutes, Xavier brought the phone into the "powder room" and said, "It's for you, daddy. It's Miss Joan." (The woman who lives next door.)
Hey, "Instructor Hoy who is a Boy" (as Xavier now calls you), Adam had a story he wanted me to share with you that he heard on the radio. Some robber had the bright idea of attempting to rob a karate school while class was in session. In his defense, he was armed with a gun.
The police apprehended him at the hospital.
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