As if I really needed any more convincing that we moved to an incredibly "green" area, there was a blurb in an email from Riley's school one day about volunteering to help kick off their new Cafeteria Composting Program. I had two thoughts, fairly simultaneously: 1) How awesomely environmentally-conscious and responsible is that? and 2) Oh, baby, this has my name written ALL over it! So naturally (ha!) I responded immediately, signing up for several slots. Then it occurred to me that I might want to warn my child that I'd be...parent-bombing...his lunchtime during the first few weeks of school. You know, just so he could prepare himself emotionally...or whatever.
I brought up the topic in the car one evening as the whole family was driving somewhere together. The first person to formulate a response was Derek, who gave an incredulous snort and exclaimed, "Oh my gosh...we moved to hippie-land!" (Thank you, dear--that reminds me to wear my tie-dyed hemp tee-shirt and Birkenstocks when I show up for my shift...oh wait, I don't own any of those things...not to worry, I'm certain I can purchase them somewhere in the vicinity...) Riley's only comment was, "That's fine, Mom...but DON'T wave to me...I want to actually make friends at my new school!" (After some negotiation, we agreed I could give him a subtle nod...or even say 'hello'...as long as it was in an acceptably understated manner...sigh...)
The first time I showed up (having walked over--it seemed an appropriately low-carbon-emissions way to arrive for such an endeavor) I was given a basic tutorial by the Teacher Supervisor (Mr. G, a 7th-grade Science instructor). There were buckets for the kids to pour out any leftover liquids, trash cans in which to dump trash designated for the Landfill, recycling bins for commingled materials, and one large container for Compostables. This included any uneaten food, paper (even soiled napkins), and cardboard (including the trays used to serve cafeteria lunches). It seemed relatively straightforward...that is, until the swarm of students descended. Some just stood there, waiting for adult guidance about where to place their items. Others simply began chucking things willy-nilly, with no regard about where they landed. It was, in a word, CHAOS.
Besides that, we were hampered by the stupid, complicated plastics. You see, those with the number 2, 4, or 5 on the bottom are recyclable. On the other hand, 1, 6, and 7 are not. (Don't ask me about #3--evidently it doesn't exist, and I don't have any more room in my brain to worry about it at this point...) So when the kids would hold out an empty cup that had been filled with fruit or pudding, for example, this was the procedure: turn the sucker over, locate the triangle imprinted in the plastic, read the tiny little digit inside, turn around and check the helpful reference poster behind us (because for the very life of me, in the middle of all this nonsense I could NOT remember those dang numbers) and sort it into the appropriate location. To add to the festivity, most of the time the remains of food were obscuring the already-nearly-impossible-to-identify numbers, so I ended up relying on the students' younger eyes to tell me what they saw.
Also, if the little diners had left food inside, say, a Ziploc baggie or a potato chip wrapper, they had to toss the edibles into the Compost bin, then throw out the un-reusable plastic. Oh, and while milk cartons and paper juice boxes are recyclable, Capri Sun-type-pouches aren't. The final difficulty lay in the fact that many of the items provided by the cafeteria itself--including each and every plastic utensil and small cup used to hold side items--went into the garbage. That's right, the Food Service company currently utilized by the school system accounts for HUGE amounts of Landfill waste after every lunch period. (When I expressed disbelief and indignation about this, Mr. G confided that there is pressure being placed on the current contractor to "clean up their operation"...or else a different one will be chosen for the next school year. GOOD!)
Finally...I was the crazy lady who, after the students had returned to class, peered into the containers to survey the results...noticed many things had been mis-discarded...and reached right in there to move them to the proper place. (I know---ewwww, right? Sigh...as Kermit would say, "It's not easy bein' green"...) I gotta tell ya, though, despite the ick-factor, it was an oddly satisfying job. Supporting the younger generation in learning about sustainability and environmental stewardship is pretty darn cool. Oh, and I was so busy I didn't even notice Riley when he entered with his 6th grade classmates...but he made a point of saying 'hi' and 'bye' to me, so he couldn't have been TOO embarrassed by my presence. I guess it's a good thing I decided against dressing like my inner Flower Child after all...
Friday, August 29, 2014
Wednesday, August 27, 2014
Day 3...time for a crisis...or, you know, TWO...
So, for the 2014-15 School Year, Week One, "Hump Day" turned out to be kind of a biggie.
First, I noticed that Riley had forgotten to assemble...or take...his lunch. He'd gotten up 10 minutes late, due to the alarm on his phone not going off, so he was rushed and all out of sorts. Thus I added "drop off Riley's lunch bag at the front office by 11" to my agenda for the day.
But perhaps most importantly, Derek and I were both pretty stressed out and worried about getting his schedule snafu fixed ASAP, so he could relax and settle into his high school routine. Also, the bright green paper he brought home from the Guidance Department declared in stern capital letters that if you wanted to make a change after August 27th (um...that would be "today"...) it would require some kind of Major Conference--including the student, parent, teacher, counselor, and I believe even an administrator. Jeesh! I was not keen to jump through fiery hoops for this process, so it needed to get done...like, NOW.
Therefore I emailed his specific assigned counselor last night, and left a message at 8 a.m. this morning (before she had even arrived on campus, apparently). Then I carried my phone around with me all morning as I grocery shopped, went to the library...delivered Riley's food...eagerly awaiting a return call...which never came. However, since my planned travels would take me near the school anyway, I decided to just stop by. I figured all I really needed was about 2 minutes with his advisor, so I could relay our tale of woe, ask her a few pertinent questions, and thereby ensure we made the right choices this time.
In preparation, Derek and I had spent time together last night scanning the online catalog of elective options, and had found one that was somewhat appealing (Graphic Design). But...in our explorations we also stumbled upon the Holy Grail of possibilities, one which could rescue a swamped Freshman from drowning...I'm talking of course about that most marvelous of courses...Study Hall. And get this: it even clearly states in italics underneath the title: "Encouraged for 9th Graders". Well, hellllooooo! If someone had only uttered those four little, helpful words to us at any point in this endeavor, none of the rest of this...foolishness...would have ensued!
Then of course there remained the other little issue, regarding Honors Spanish. By checking the website after Derek left for school, I discovered that there IS no "Ordinary Spanish" level. My best guess is that, since students are only required to take 2 years of a language, anything beyond that is automatically considered "advanced". As Derek's...well..."Home-based Academic Consultant" I'd already encouraged him to speak with his teacher today--describe his background in middle school Spanish, share his concerns, and ask her opinion of his chances for success in her course.
Oh-kaaaay...armed with all of this information, and motivated to get this sucker D-O-N-E, I marched into the school and up to the Guidance Department. My forward progress was then abruptly and completely halted...by a veritable gauntlet of parent volunteers...effectively blocking the door, and presumably protecting the counselors within from just such a...Mom-on-the-Rampage threat...as I obviously presented. One of them saw my distinctive grass-colored flyer and smiled cheerfully while indicating a cardboard box on the table in front of her, "Oh, just drop that right here!" I hated to disappoint her--she looked so pleased to be of assistance--but I had to smile and launch into my spiel about needing to talk to someone before turning in the form, hitting the "we just moved here and don't really know what we're doing" angle pretty hard. Initially her face fell, as she realized I might be more trouble than she was prepared to deal with, but as she listened her expression grew sympathetic. When I wrapped up my story, the Three Musketeers--um, "Parental Aides" shared a conspiratorial look before one of them whispered to me, "Go ahead on in. Miss Donna at the desk will probably bark at you, but she'll be able to help."
And you know what? Miss Donna did NOT, in fact, give me a hard time. She alleviated my concerns about Spanish. ("Did he do well in middle school 1 and 2? Then he'll probably be fine.") She also assured me that yes, in fact many 9th graders do sign up for a study period--therefore we don't even need to manufacture a valid excuse in order to switch him over to that. When I texted Derek to let him know the favorable outcome, he informed me that he had chatted with his Spanish teacher as well. She pretty much told him that she speaks enough English to keep everyone on top of things, that she'd help him whenever necessary, and that she agreed he should be okay. Phew!
Getting all THAT cleared up took a large chunk of my day....but also a huge weight of concern off our (collective) shoulders. Then to improve matters even further, when Derek arrived home, he reported that he'd introduced himself to the Bus Stop Boys (as they shall now and forevermore be known) and then later joined them for lunch in their preferred spot (the amphitheatre outside, where evidently many Freshmen dine alfresco...at least while the weather's nice, I presume...). Furthermore, one of them lives...directly across the street from us...and also has a 7th-grade brother. Yessss! Just what we've been seeking: a Neighborhood Posse! Before dinner, Derek and Riley both went over to their new friends' house to play, and returned with tales of Nerf battles and basketball games and...general Fun Boy Stuff.
With a fairly wacky Wednesday behind us, I sincerely hope the rest of the pre-Labor-day week is calm...smooth...predictable...even (dare I say it?) HO-HUM! (Is that too much to ask? Fingers crossed...)
First, I noticed that Riley had forgotten to assemble...or take...his lunch. He'd gotten up 10 minutes late, due to the alarm on his phone not going off, so he was rushed and all out of sorts. Thus I added "drop off Riley's lunch bag at the front office by 11" to my agenda for the day.
But perhaps most importantly, Derek and I were both pretty stressed out and worried about getting his schedule snafu fixed ASAP, so he could relax and settle into his high school routine. Also, the bright green paper he brought home from the Guidance Department declared in stern capital letters that if you wanted to make a change after August 27th (um...that would be "today"...) it would require some kind of Major Conference--including the student, parent, teacher, counselor, and I believe even an administrator. Jeesh! I was not keen to jump through fiery hoops for this process, so it needed to get done...like, NOW.
Therefore I emailed his specific assigned counselor last night, and left a message at 8 a.m. this morning (before she had even arrived on campus, apparently). Then I carried my phone around with me all morning as I grocery shopped, went to the library...delivered Riley's food...eagerly awaiting a return call...which never came. However, since my planned travels would take me near the school anyway, I decided to just stop by. I figured all I really needed was about 2 minutes with his advisor, so I could relay our tale of woe, ask her a few pertinent questions, and thereby ensure we made the right choices this time.
In preparation, Derek and I had spent time together last night scanning the online catalog of elective options, and had found one that was somewhat appealing (Graphic Design). But...in our explorations we also stumbled upon the Holy Grail of possibilities, one which could rescue a swamped Freshman from drowning...I'm talking of course about that most marvelous of courses...Study Hall. And get this: it even clearly states in italics underneath the title: "Encouraged for 9th Graders". Well, hellllooooo! If someone had only uttered those four little, helpful words to us at any point in this endeavor, none of the rest of this...foolishness...would have ensued!
Then of course there remained the other little issue, regarding Honors Spanish. By checking the website after Derek left for school, I discovered that there IS no "Ordinary Spanish" level. My best guess is that, since students are only required to take 2 years of a language, anything beyond that is automatically considered "advanced". As Derek's...well..."Home-based Academic Consultant" I'd already encouraged him to speak with his teacher today--describe his background in middle school Spanish, share his concerns, and ask her opinion of his chances for success in her course.
Oh-kaaaay...armed with all of this information, and motivated to get this sucker D-O-N-E, I marched into the school and up to the Guidance Department. My forward progress was then abruptly and completely halted...by a veritable gauntlet of parent volunteers...effectively blocking the door, and presumably protecting the counselors within from just such a...Mom-on-the-Rampage threat...as I obviously presented. One of them saw my distinctive grass-colored flyer and smiled cheerfully while indicating a cardboard box on the table in front of her, "Oh, just drop that right here!" I hated to disappoint her--she looked so pleased to be of assistance--but I had to smile and launch into my spiel about needing to talk to someone before turning in the form, hitting the "we just moved here and don't really know what we're doing" angle pretty hard. Initially her face fell, as she realized I might be more trouble than she was prepared to deal with, but as she listened her expression grew sympathetic. When I wrapped up my story, the Three Musketeers--um, "Parental Aides" shared a conspiratorial look before one of them whispered to me, "Go ahead on in. Miss Donna at the desk will probably bark at you, but she'll be able to help."
And you know what? Miss Donna did NOT, in fact, give me a hard time. She alleviated my concerns about Spanish. ("Did he do well in middle school 1 and 2? Then he'll probably be fine.") She also assured me that yes, in fact many 9th graders do sign up for a study period--therefore we don't even need to manufacture a valid excuse in order to switch him over to that. When I texted Derek to let him know the favorable outcome, he informed me that he had chatted with his Spanish teacher as well. She pretty much told him that she speaks enough English to keep everyone on top of things, that she'd help him whenever necessary, and that she agreed he should be okay. Phew!
Getting all THAT cleared up took a large chunk of my day....but also a huge weight of concern off our (collective) shoulders. Then to improve matters even further, when Derek arrived home, he reported that he'd introduced himself to the Bus Stop Boys (as they shall now and forevermore be known) and then later joined them for lunch in their preferred spot (the amphitheatre outside, where evidently many Freshmen dine alfresco...at least while the weather's nice, I presume...). Furthermore, one of them lives...directly across the street from us...and also has a 7th-grade brother. Yessss! Just what we've been seeking: a Neighborhood Posse! Before dinner, Derek and Riley both went over to their new friends' house to play, and returned with tales of Nerf battles and basketball games and...general Fun Boy Stuff.
With a fairly wacky Wednesday behind us, I sincerely hope the rest of the pre-Labor-day week is calm...smooth...predictable...even (dare I say it?) HO-HUM! (Is that too much to ask? Fingers crossed...)
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
Back to School...with some growing pains
The start of a school year always inspires a mixed…backpack-full…of
emotions. There’s a sprinkling of melancholy, at bidding farewell to the carefree
days of Summer. Throw in a healthy measure of anticipation and excitement about
the new classes, teachers, and experiences to come. Add a dollop of dread,
sparked by the thought of being forced to heed the insistent call of an alarm
once again…at an hour which is decidedly unpleasant to adolescent constitutions.
These are all normal reactions we expect to encounter on the first day back
each August. However, this year the boys expressed one more feeling, completely
out of character for both of them: jitters.
The night before Day One, as we organized and prepared…stuff…Derek
told me he was nervous—about not knowing any other kids, about attending a new
school…even about not having anyone to sit with at lunch. (Mommy Moment: I
wanted to just wrap him in a big squeeze and tell him I’d be happy to come
along and introduce him to as many people as he wanted. However…nowadays he has
to lean down for a hug, at which point I can barely get my arms around him anyway…and
it’s not preschool he’s trying to navigate…so I know I have to step back and let
him find his own way. But it’s so haaaarrrrrd!) For Riley, it was concern about
the new Middle School model—switching classrooms, getting acquainted with 7
instructors and a whole bunch of fellow 6th graders…and having
someone to share a lunch table. (And what is it with my kids and eating? Oh,
right…it’s absolutely their favorite activity in the whole, wide world…)
I reassured them as best I could that they’d be fine,
and everything would work out (fingers firmly crossed behind my back for luck).
The next morning, Riley bounded out of bed before his alarm even rang (or…beeped…or
chirped…or whatever silly sound he’d set his Kindle to project). This year he’ll
be a walker for the first time in his life, as our neighborhood lies almost
directly across the street from the back of the school building. Even though we’d
figured out pretty much to the second how much time would be required to stroll
in an unhurried fashion and still arrive before the bell…he left 5 minutes
early anyway. “The anticipation is killing me,” he sighed as he practically
skipped out the door. Although I offered—several times—he declined to allow me
to accompany him past the end of the driveway. (Can you imagine? He wanted to
go by himself, without his mother? I just don’t get it…hahahahaha!)
The teenager moved considerably more slowly…true to
form. (Is “not a morning person” an inheritable gene? ‘Cuz yeah, he totally got
it from me. Tragically, he isn’t yet able to self-medicate with the heavenly nectar
commonly known as “coffee”…) But he got himself together without a problem
(well…he’s a BOY, so it was pretty doggone uncomplicated: breakfast, brush
hair, brush teeth…lucky dog!) and left for the bus stop at the appointed time.
Husband and I tried to send him off on an encouraging note, giving him pep
talks about such varied topics as: striking up conversations with other kids while
waiting for your transportation…breaking the ice with students by telling
people he’d recently moved from Maryland…staking out a dining spot with people
from your 4th period class, with whom you’ll presumably be
meandering to the cafeteria…you know, Important Life Advice like that…
Then…the house was silent. It was utterly, completely...weird. Husband returned to his office to resume working, and I went back to…I
don’t even remember, just “stuff I had to do”. After about a half-hour, he
emerged for a moment to comment, “Well, no one came back, or texted for help…so
I guess that’s good!” And it was, for hours and hours. At about 3:30, Riley
came racing in the door, bubbling over with cheer about his day. “Middle school
is so COOL!” he exclaimed. He paused for a moment, thoughtfully, before
continuing in a serious tone, “After just one day, I could NEVER go back to elementary
school!” (Yep, that’s my drama boy…also to be blamed on me…) To sum up his enthusiastic,
extended babbling: he ran into lots of other kids walking; he figured out how
to find all of his classes without difficulty (or getting lost); he had
conversations with some people; and he ate lunch with a nice group.
In contrast…Derek seemed considerably more…subdued…and also
overwhelmed. One of his main issues revolved around an elective course he and I
had selected when we registered him in July. No one was available to help us in
the Guidance Office, so we perused the options online and made what we thought
was an interesting choice. And it might very well consist of fascinating course
material…but according to Derek, he is one of only 2 boys on the class roster…the
rest of which contains entirely Junior and Senior girls. (Note: at some future
time this might fill him with hope and glee, but right now it just Freaks. Him.
Out…) To add to his worries, it’s the period right before lunch, compounding
the difficulty of the whole “finding other freshmen to eat with” dilemma.
Another thing weighing on his mind is the fact that, since he’s in Honors courses, the grading system is skewed—A=93-100%, B=85-92%, etc. Aaannnnd, we might have made a teeny error in allowing the counselor who briefly consulted with this Summer to enroll Derek in Honor's Spanish 3. Honestly, I didn't even notice at the time, or think about what that would entail. Well...it means that according to the teacher's handout, the class will be conducted mostly in Spanish. And let me just tell you, Derek is soooo not ready for that quite yet. (Por favor, can we please have the Regular Espanol? Gracias!) Coupled with the sheer numbers of syllabi and other important official forms we had to wade through, file, in some cases even sign to show we’d read them, it was a LOT to manage. Oh, and then he had a few minor pieces of homework to complete for the next day as well. By bedtime, he was struggling to put coherent sentences together while stumbling around his bedroom in a daze. He presented an unfortunate demeanor of equal parts “glazed”…and “shell-shocked”. (I’ve gotta say it: My poor baaaaaby! How can I bear sending him off to Big, Mean High School?)
Another thing weighing on his mind is the fact that, since he’s in Honors courses, the grading system is skewed—A=93-100%, B=85-92%, etc. Aaannnnd, we might have made a teeny error in allowing the counselor who briefly consulted with this Summer to enroll Derek in Honor's Spanish 3. Honestly, I didn't even notice at the time, or think about what that would entail. Well...it means that according to the teacher's handout, the class will be conducted mostly in Spanish. And let me just tell you, Derek is soooo not ready for that quite yet. (Por favor, can we please have the Regular Espanol? Gracias!) Coupled with the sheer numbers of syllabi and other important official forms we had to wade through, file, in some cases even sign to show we’d read them, it was a LOT to manage. Oh, and then he had a few minor pieces of homework to complete for the next day as well. By bedtime, he was struggling to put coherent sentences together while stumbling around his bedroom in a daze. He presented an unfortunate demeanor of equal parts “glazed”…and “shell-shocked”. (I’ve gotta say it: My poor baaaaaby! How can I bear sending him off to Big, Mean High School?)
So, I can already sense that this will be a Year of
Major Growth for the Westman boys…whether they like it or not…and however
painful it may be. The first order of business, I think, is going to be transferring Derek into the appropriate level of his foreign language...and an alternative 4th-period, pre-lunch elective, so he can
bond with some other 14-year olds….or at least MALES. After that…well, who
knows? But Team WestEnders will undoubtedly figure it out…with coffee (for some of us, anyway)… a lot of group hugs…and a small sacrifice to the Education Gods couldn’t hurt, right? Do
you think they’d like a nice PB&J? I'm on it!
Saturday, August 23, 2014
Dobby would LOVE these two...
We've reached quite a momentous crossroads, here at Team WestEnders HQ. In just a few days, Riley will be starting 6th grade, which means that we are officially Done. With. Elementary. School. (Yaaayyyyy!) I think we're all pretty much over the coddling-yet-micro-managing paradigm that characterizes K-5. (Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I disagree with it at all, just that I'm happy to see it in my rear-view mirror...) So of course Riley had his turn with New Student Orientation--getting the full tour, meeting his team of teachers, fraternizing with some of his classmates, and hearing all about heretofore unfamiliar policies and procedures. (Such as "changing clothes for PE"..."keeping cell phones securely stowed and turned off"...and the very critical "choosing your preferred dining spot...and table companions...for lunch time")
With the approaching academic year uppermost in all of our minds lately, I made my traditional annual joke to the boys, "Have you picked a special outfit to wear on the first day?" After the customary chuckling and snorting had subsided, Derek got serious for a moment. "Mom," he said with a grave expression, "I need..." (I braced myself for something dire, based on the way he looked and sounded. My brain cycled through the possibilities: am I about to hear something difficult...expensive...time-consuming...um, painful? Or (gulp) perhaps all of the above?) He looked me in the eye for emphasis, drew a deep breath, and finished "...a complete...sock overhaul."
Now it was my turn to guffaw (in relief, maybe touched with a tinge of hysteria). You see, as the mother of a couple of sons, I blessedly escape the nightmarish traumas of BTSS (Back to School Shopping). My fashion-indifferent kids want to wear shorts and tee-shirts for as much of the year as possible, anyway...and in terms of brand, they strongly prefer the famous and popular label known as..."Clean Stuff in My Drawer". (THANK GOODNESS) Therefore, we tend to make our runs to Kohl's when they hit a growth spurt, and suddenly feel uncomfortable and exposed...generally because their knees are on display a little more than they'd like.
But this past year, a certain type of footwear became all the rage among adolescent males. Since I find the prices to be somewhat...outrageous...(14-bucks each? I don't care if they're "special basketball socks"...do they actually dunk the ball for you? Pfftt, ridiculous!) the boys use their accumulated allowance to buy a few pairs from time to time. (Naturally selecting the most obnoxious color combinations and the loudest hues possible.) And apparently, they need a fresh supply to replace the ones they've recently worn out. Fair enough.
So for our BTSS retail extravaganza...we'll be taking a brief trip to (drumroll) Dick's Sporting Goods. Nothing to try on, no "latest styles" to explore, no separates to match into coordinating sets...just run in, grab the right sizes in acceptable shades, and vamoose. Whew! I think I'm getting off pretty easy...that is, at least until the next time both of them sprout a few inches again...or wear holes in their shoes...fingers crossed for a few more weeks' grace period...
With the approaching academic year uppermost in all of our minds lately, I made my traditional annual joke to the boys, "Have you picked a special outfit to wear on the first day?" After the customary chuckling and snorting had subsided, Derek got serious for a moment. "Mom," he said with a grave expression, "I need..." (I braced myself for something dire, based on the way he looked and sounded. My brain cycled through the possibilities: am I about to hear something difficult...expensive...time-consuming...um, painful? Or (gulp) perhaps all of the above?) He looked me in the eye for emphasis, drew a deep breath, and finished "...a complete...sock overhaul."
Now it was my turn to guffaw (in relief, maybe touched with a tinge of hysteria). You see, as the mother of a couple of sons, I blessedly escape the nightmarish traumas of BTSS (Back to School Shopping). My fashion-indifferent kids want to wear shorts and tee-shirts for as much of the year as possible, anyway...and in terms of brand, they strongly prefer the famous and popular label known as..."Clean Stuff in My Drawer". (THANK GOODNESS) Therefore, we tend to make our runs to Kohl's when they hit a growth spurt, and suddenly feel uncomfortable and exposed...generally because their knees are on display a little more than they'd like.
But this past year, a certain type of footwear became all the rage among adolescent males. Since I find the prices to be somewhat...outrageous...(14-bucks each? I don't care if they're "special basketball socks"...do they actually dunk the ball for you? Pfftt, ridiculous!) the boys use their accumulated allowance to buy a few pairs from time to time. (Naturally selecting the most obnoxious color combinations and the loudest hues possible.) And apparently, they need a fresh supply to replace the ones they've recently worn out. Fair enough.
So for our BTSS retail extravaganza...we'll be taking a brief trip to (drumroll) Dick's Sporting Goods. Nothing to try on, no "latest styles" to explore, no separates to match into coordinating sets...just run in, grab the right sizes in acceptable shades, and vamoose. Whew! I think I'm getting off pretty easy...that is, at least until the next time both of them sprout a few inches again...or wear holes in their shoes...fingers crossed for a few more weeks' grace period...
Thursday, August 21, 2014
Sum-sum-summertime
Today we were firmly reminded that (whispering) "the s-word"--you know, "school"--is lurking right around the corner, just waiting to pounce us right out of our ongoing...vacation vibe. What happened was, Derek had to drag his teenage butt out of bed, ahem..."early" (that is, 8:00 rather than the sluggish 9/9:30 wake up he's been enjoying for months) to attend his high school Orientation Program. After I dropped him off, it suddenly occurred to me that it's been an abnormally...lazy...Summer for us. (Well...except for boxing up everything in the old house...making all the arrangements for the relocation...moving ourselves and our possessions...unpacking and setting up the new residence...you know, "little stuff" like that.)
You see, Husband and I quickly got into the habit of letting the kids stay up late to watch TV with us. There was no run-around-like-crazy WestEnders family trip. I didn't send the boys to their usual 2 weeks of camp. Actually...it was pretty darned...relaxing. And all that comes to a screeching halt on Monday. (Which feels both weird and unsettling for me personally, since for the past 13 years I've started back to work the same day the kids mosey off to school...which won't be happening this time...but that's a whole 'nother wriggly can 'o worms for a later post...)
So it'll be a (probably jarring) return to structure and routine in a few days. No more slow mornings when you surface from sleep whenever you feel like it, stroll across the hall to chat with your brother, then play a few games on your phone or Kindle and check sports scores. So much for eating meals on a haphazard schedule. Farewell to lunches and snacks catered by Mom, featuring fresh fruits and veggies cut up every day to order. So long, leisurely lunches on the screened porch and morning baseball practice and midday bike rides to explore the neighborhood woods and creek. Ugh. Okay, this is officially starting to bum me out...and I won't even have unfamiliar schools, and seven classes, and homework assignments to deal with next week!
Today Derek returned from his crash course in Freshmen 101, having gained an Upperclass Mentor (or "Tiger Link", as they shall be known), met a few of the nearly 400 fellow 9th graders, obtained his schedule, located all of his classrooms, (in 3 different buildings...and a trailer!) and practiced finding them in order...and in a timely fashion. I'd say that's quite a day's worth of work! I suppose he's as prepared as possible for August 25th. However, he really only has pens, mechanical pencils, looseleaf paper and a spiffy new binder (cloth-covered, zip-close...awesomely-cool....yeah, I'm jealous...office superstores are like...Disneyland...to the uber-nerd...) to take with him, because unlike in years past, when we've received a detailed list of all the required items well ahead of time, high school apparently doesn't feel a need to specify what to bring...that is, until you arrive and hear it from each individual teacher.
Therefore I predict that our last few days of freedom will include lots of lounging, plenty of playing...and one more run to Target and Staples. Long live Summer!
You see, Husband and I quickly got into the habit of letting the kids stay up late to watch TV with us. There was no run-around-like-crazy WestEnders family trip. I didn't send the boys to their usual 2 weeks of camp. Actually...it was pretty darned...relaxing. And all that comes to a screeching halt on Monday. (Which feels both weird and unsettling for me personally, since for the past 13 years I've started back to work the same day the kids mosey off to school...which won't be happening this time...but that's a whole 'nother wriggly can 'o worms for a later post...)
So it'll be a (probably jarring) return to structure and routine in a few days. No more slow mornings when you surface from sleep whenever you feel like it, stroll across the hall to chat with your brother, then play a few games on your phone or Kindle and check sports scores. So much for eating meals on a haphazard schedule. Farewell to lunches and snacks catered by Mom, featuring fresh fruits and veggies cut up every day to order. So long, leisurely lunches on the screened porch and morning baseball practice and midday bike rides to explore the neighborhood woods and creek. Ugh. Okay, this is officially starting to bum me out...and I won't even have unfamiliar schools, and seven classes, and homework assignments to deal with next week!
Today Derek returned from his crash course in Freshmen 101, having gained an Upperclass Mentor (or "Tiger Link", as they shall be known), met a few of the nearly 400 fellow 9th graders, obtained his schedule, located all of his classrooms, (in 3 different buildings...and a trailer!) and practiced finding them in order...and in a timely fashion. I'd say that's quite a day's worth of work! I suppose he's as prepared as possible for August 25th. However, he really only has pens, mechanical pencils, looseleaf paper and a spiffy new binder (cloth-covered, zip-close...awesomely-cool....yeah, I'm jealous...office superstores are like...Disneyland...to the uber-nerd...) to take with him, because unlike in years past, when we've received a detailed list of all the required items well ahead of time, high school apparently doesn't feel a need to specify what to bring...that is, until you arrive and hear it from each individual teacher.
Therefore I predict that our last few days of freedom will include lots of lounging, plenty of playing...and one more run to Target and Staples. Long live Summer!
Saturday, August 16, 2014
Mostly About Boats
Okay, Day 2 of our little end-of-Summer getaway...presented its own special circumstances. First, we were all dragging a bit from our Wednesday Beach Extravaganza. Call it a....Coastal Hangover...if you will. Second, I had been informed via email that Riley had fi-na-lly been placed with a soccer team, and the coach had scheduled an impromptu practice...for later that evening. So any fun stuff at the shore would have to be wrapped up in time to hightail it home and prep for a session of recreational running amok with his new teammates. Third...well, we were having some trouble pinning down exactly what we were in the mood for.
I quickly ruled out dragging them to any historic houses, after one glance at their glazed faces and low-energy demeanors. We had toured a museum the previous week, so we discarded that idea. What really interested us was an aquarium I found described online...until I dug further and determined that it was located 20 miles further south, away from Team WestEnders HQ, which would add to our return time and cramp our already tight schedule unnecessarily. (We did file that one away for a future, longer visit to the region.) I finally came up with something beautifully simple and obvious: journey back into Wilmington, take a boat ride on the river, and explore the USS North Carolina battleship, which sits permanently docked on the opposite bank and is open to the public as a self-guided walk-through tourist experience. Done!
Once we arrived in the city, we surveyed our options for traveling the short distance across the water. There's a huge old-time riverboat--with 3 decks and a gigantic paddlewheel--but it only left on the hour, and we'd just missed one. Instead, we made the choice to go by motorboat (also incidentally a bargain at $6 each for a round-trip ticket) which departed in...oh, at that very moment, as a matter of fact. When deposited at the appropriate dropoff, we meandered on deck to begin the simulated sailing portion of our day. And let me just say, I've toured decommissioned ships before, from many different periods in U.S. history, and this one blew them all...right the heck out of the water. There were NINE decks that you could wander around, displaying everything from bunk areas, to the galley and dining rooms, to communication centers, (complete with--of all things--a post office) to officers' quarters to...munition storage. Guess which one the boys found utterly irresistible? Yep, (admittedly) impressively large warheads, ginormous cannons, and long, deck-mounted guns that you could move around, aim, and pretend to fire.
There was something new and interesting around each corner, and absolutely every inch of the space was used for something. Suffice it to say, we were all suitably amazed and amused by our brief, enlightening stay in the maritime world. Then it was time to reclaim our landlubber status, and start the trek back inland. Our first excursion to the North Carolina shore was highly successful and satisfying...even if it was a bit...short... We look forward to many more opportunities to become thoroughly acquainted with our little section of the Eastern seaboard...with additional time at our disposal...and minus the sunburn, of course!
I quickly ruled out dragging them to any historic houses, after one glance at their glazed faces and low-energy demeanors. We had toured a museum the previous week, so we discarded that idea. What really interested us was an aquarium I found described online...until I dug further and determined that it was located 20 miles further south, away from Team WestEnders HQ, which would add to our return time and cramp our already tight schedule unnecessarily. (We did file that one away for a future, longer visit to the region.) I finally came up with something beautifully simple and obvious: journey back into Wilmington, take a boat ride on the river, and explore the USS North Carolina battleship, which sits permanently docked on the opposite bank and is open to the public as a self-guided walk-through tourist experience. Done!
Once we arrived in the city, we surveyed our options for traveling the short distance across the water. There's a huge old-time riverboat--with 3 decks and a gigantic paddlewheel--but it only left on the hour, and we'd just missed one. Instead, we made the choice to go by motorboat (also incidentally a bargain at $6 each for a round-trip ticket) which departed in...oh, at that very moment, as a matter of fact. When deposited at the appropriate dropoff, we meandered on deck to begin the simulated sailing portion of our day. And let me just say, I've toured decommissioned ships before, from many different periods in U.S. history, and this one blew them all...right the heck out of the water. There were NINE decks that you could wander around, displaying everything from bunk areas, to the galley and dining rooms, to communication centers, (complete with--of all things--a post office) to officers' quarters to...munition storage. Guess which one the boys found utterly irresistible? Yep, (admittedly) impressively large warheads, ginormous cannons, and long, deck-mounted guns that you could move around, aim, and pretend to fire.
There was something new and interesting around each corner, and absolutely every inch of the space was used for something. Suffice it to say, we were all suitably amazed and amused by our brief, enlightening stay in the maritime world. Then it was time to reclaim our landlubber status, and start the trek back inland. Our first excursion to the North Carolina shore was highly successful and satisfying...even if it was a bit...short... We look forward to many more opportunities to become thoroughly acquainted with our little section of the Eastern seaboard...with additional time at our disposal...and minus the sunburn, of course!
Friday, August 15, 2014
Boats, Beach(es)...and Boys (no Bars or Ballads, this time)
Sometimes in life...ya just gotta do what ya gotta do. In the case of Team WestEnders, staring down the calendar at the impending approach of doom--um, I mean "the new school year"--and sensing the last precious few bits of Summer melting away, this meant only one thing: GET. TO. THE. BEACH! We couldn't very well slide into Autumn without first experiencing at least a little taste of sun, surf, and sand. Besides, as newly minted North Carolina residents, we have a novel coastline to explore, and it was calling our names. (Fortunately, those voices in my head...are waves...)
So we decided to take a simple overnight jaunt to the nearest spot-on-the-shore. It would just be me and the kids, as Husband was unfortunately chained to his desk (but fortunately, not literally...) with meetings and...stuff...he couldn't miss. That left it to me to work my Internet-research-magic, book us a hotel room, and...well, that's really about all I did to prepare. The plan was to leave our house fairly early in the morning, (and by that, I mean "in Johna-scheduling-language", thus NOT at the crack of dawn...) drive to Wrightsville Beach, spend as much time as we wanted until we'd had our fill, then retire to our lodgings in the nearby city of Wilmington.
After several consecutive days of cool, rainy conditions, Beach Day (as it shall be known to us...or "Wednesday" to the rest of you, if you prefer) dawned clear and bright. (Yaaayyyy!) With a cooler full of beverages and snacks--and only a scant half-hour behind "estimated departure"--the 3 of us hit the open road. Annnnd, we made it approximately an hour before I had to pull over and caffeinate, having suffered from very poor sleep the previous night. Iced coffee (and of course 2nd breakfast for the hobbits...I mean "beloved sons") did the trick, and the rest of the journey transpired without further...yawning and/or nodding off...incident.
Happily, Wrightsville could not have been easier to find. We breezed right in, found a parking spot mere steps from a Public Access point to the beach, paid the meter the proper amount for a "Day Pass", and POOF, we were ready for our rendezvous with the Mother Ocean. Now...I have a somewhat complicated relationship with...the Atlantic. You see, although I grew up in Maryland, visiting Ocean City and generally tolerating the cold-ish water, I then got spoiled when I began regularly traipsing down to Florida to visit my Great Aunt Renie. Once I got a taste of tropical-feeling-surf, it was all over--I never wanted to find myself damp and chilly again. Therefore it was with great joy that I discovered--at least by this time in August, anyway--the North Carolina water is just fiiiiiine, thank you very much. Naturally the fish-boys leaped right in, cavorting gleefully amongst the waves. But even I spent quite a bit of time...frolicking...chest-deep in the salt water, doing my own version of wave-jumping.
Overall, it was deeeelightful. At about 4:00, everyone was satisfied (and sunburned--more on that in a minute), so we packed back up and headed to the hotel...where the crazy kids promptly asked if they could swim in the indoor pool. Suuuuure, why not--that means I get the shower first, and can de-sand-and-salt myself in peace and quiet. Now for the Bad Mom Confession. As very pale people of Western European descent, we are usually absolutely vigilant about the sunscreen. However, we also tend to gravitate towards shade whenever possible, cover ourselves with protective clothing, and just kind of naturally avoid the height of the most-potent-sun hours. What I'm getting at is: it's highly out-of-character for us to go to the beach at high-noon and spend 4-1/2 hours out in the blazing Summer sun.
So while we did of course apply--and re-apply--the lotion...we probably could have done with ONE more lathering. Bottom line, the boys ended up with very pink faces, and found it to be both unexpected and uncomfortable. The silver lining, however, is that even though I've told them repeatedly why the protection is important, and how much it sucks to get burned, they still often give me a hard time about sunscreen ("it's slimy, I don't waaaannnnt to put it on, it makes my face all white" are some of the popular whining rants). But having gained personal, unpleasant experience, Riley actually said, "Okay, I get it now...I don't ever want to feel this again..." So I guess we can chalk that up to an important Life Lesson, anyway...)
Then, since several hours had passed without sustenance for the bottomless pits, we needed a dinner agenda. There was nothing in the immediate vicinity of our hotel, (save a Japanese steakhouse and Buffalo Wild Wings...obviously not vegetarian-friendly) so we voted to get all crazy...and see what downtown Wilmington had to offer. The answer, as it turns out, was "quite a lot". Stunning sunset views of the waterfront (Cape Fear River, in case you were curious, which you can enjoy from a rustic wooden boardwalk), a charming mix of historic buildings, one-of-a-kind restaurants, quirky shops...and...camera crews and film trucks all over the place. (I looked it up later and learned that the 2nd season of Fox's show Sleepy Hollow is currently shooting in the city!) We chose to dine at a deli called Chops, that was on the list provided by our hotel. The sandwiches were, in a word, yummy. Then we strolled the streets for a while, taking in the atmosphere and appreciating the balmy evening air.
When we returned to our cozy inn, pleasantly full from our meal and worn out from our activities, we had one more marvelous surprise: Orioles vs Yankees on ESPN. Yes, Day 1 of our mini-vacation was successful, and complete! Now all we had to do was figure out how to spend Day 2 before making the trek home...zzzzz (that would happen the next morning, over the complimentary hotel breakfast...Part Dos to follow....)
So we decided to take a simple overnight jaunt to the nearest spot-on-the-shore. It would just be me and the kids, as Husband was unfortunately chained to his desk (but fortunately, not literally...) with meetings and...stuff...he couldn't miss. That left it to me to work my Internet-research-magic, book us a hotel room, and...well, that's really about all I did to prepare. The plan was to leave our house fairly early in the morning, (and by that, I mean "in Johna-scheduling-language", thus NOT at the crack of dawn...) drive to Wrightsville Beach, spend as much time as we wanted until we'd had our fill, then retire to our lodgings in the nearby city of Wilmington.
After several consecutive days of cool, rainy conditions, Beach Day (as it shall be known to us...or "Wednesday" to the rest of you, if you prefer) dawned clear and bright. (Yaaayyyy!) With a cooler full of beverages and snacks--and only a scant half-hour behind "estimated departure"--the 3 of us hit the open road. Annnnd, we made it approximately an hour before I had to pull over and caffeinate, having suffered from very poor sleep the previous night. Iced coffee (and of course 2nd breakfast for the hobbits...I mean "beloved sons") did the trick, and the rest of the journey transpired without further...yawning and/or nodding off...incident.
Happily, Wrightsville could not have been easier to find. We breezed right in, found a parking spot mere steps from a Public Access point to the beach, paid the meter the proper amount for a "Day Pass", and POOF, we were ready for our rendezvous with the Mother Ocean. Now...I have a somewhat complicated relationship with...the Atlantic. You see, although I grew up in Maryland, visiting Ocean City and generally tolerating the cold-ish water, I then got spoiled when I began regularly traipsing down to Florida to visit my Great Aunt Renie. Once I got a taste of tropical-feeling-surf, it was all over--I never wanted to find myself damp and chilly again. Therefore it was with great joy that I discovered--at least by this time in August, anyway--the North Carolina water is just fiiiiiine, thank you very much. Naturally the fish-boys leaped right in, cavorting gleefully amongst the waves. But even I spent quite a bit of time...frolicking...chest-deep in the salt water, doing my own version of wave-jumping.
Overall, it was deeeelightful. At about 4:00, everyone was satisfied (and sunburned--more on that in a minute), so we packed back up and headed to the hotel...where the crazy kids promptly asked if they could swim in the indoor pool. Suuuuure, why not--that means I get the shower first, and can de-sand-and-salt myself in peace and quiet. Now for the Bad Mom Confession. As very pale people of Western European descent, we are usually absolutely vigilant about the sunscreen. However, we also tend to gravitate towards shade whenever possible, cover ourselves with protective clothing, and just kind of naturally avoid the height of the most-potent-sun hours. What I'm getting at is: it's highly out-of-character for us to go to the beach at high-noon and spend 4-1/2 hours out in the blazing Summer sun.
So while we did of course apply--and re-apply--the lotion...we probably could have done with ONE more lathering. Bottom line, the boys ended up with very pink faces, and found it to be both unexpected and uncomfortable. The silver lining, however, is that even though I've told them repeatedly why the protection is important, and how much it sucks to get burned, they still often give me a hard time about sunscreen ("it's slimy, I don't waaaannnnt to put it on, it makes my face all white" are some of the popular whining rants). But having gained personal, unpleasant experience, Riley actually said, "Okay, I get it now...I don't ever want to feel this again..." So I guess we can chalk that up to an important Life Lesson, anyway...)
Then, since several hours had passed without sustenance for the bottomless pits, we needed a dinner agenda. There was nothing in the immediate vicinity of our hotel, (save a Japanese steakhouse and Buffalo Wild Wings...obviously not vegetarian-friendly) so we voted to get all crazy...and see what downtown Wilmington had to offer. The answer, as it turns out, was "quite a lot". Stunning sunset views of the waterfront (Cape Fear River, in case you were curious, which you can enjoy from a rustic wooden boardwalk), a charming mix of historic buildings, one-of-a-kind restaurants, quirky shops...and...camera crews and film trucks all over the place. (I looked it up later and learned that the 2nd season of Fox's show Sleepy Hollow is currently shooting in the city!) We chose to dine at a deli called Chops, that was on the list provided by our hotel. The sandwiches were, in a word, yummy. Then we strolled the streets for a while, taking in the atmosphere and appreciating the balmy evening air.
When we returned to our cozy inn, pleasantly full from our meal and worn out from our activities, we had one more marvelous surprise: Orioles vs Yankees on ESPN. Yes, Day 1 of our mini-vacation was successful, and complete! Now all we had to do was figure out how to spend Day 2 before making the trek home...zzzzz (that would happen the next morning, over the complimentary hotel breakfast...Part Dos to follow....)
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
The joy of...freaking out the kids (by accident, I swear!)
Ever found yourself in the middle of a conversation that you think is perfectly innocuous...except maybe you just slightly...misjudge...your audience and their tender sensibilities...and send the whole thing speeding right the heck off the rails? (Well, duh, of course you have, right? That's your cue to nod and smile in complete support and sympathy, by the way...) Anyway...I was researching medical practices yesterday on our health insurance provider's website, looking for a new pediatrician, dermatologist, orthodontist, etc. in our area. After I compiled my list, I figured I'd also go ahead and see if there were massage therapists nearby. (Even though it's something we have to pay for out-of-pocket, my every-other-month treatments keep all the muscles in my body much happier...so I just consider it preventive care, and soooo well worth it...)
Well...in the teensy-tiny little town of Carrboro (6.5 square miles, population 20,000, about a minute from our house) there are no fewer than FIVE separate massage therapists with their own websites. (It's...a bounty...of bodyworkers, I tell ya!) Needless to say, I was thrilled with this information--as well as the rates, which are about a third less than I was paying in Maryland. Later in the day, I was chatting with Riley, and told him what I'd discovered. In the guise of being "helpful", he began joking, "But Mom, you don't want a cheap massage! A cheap massage would be like this:" (demonstrates by whacking me in the back, with the hard edges of his hands). When I protested (I believe my exact wording went something like this: "Owwww! Knock it off!") he smiled smugly, "See? That's what I'm talking about! You should go with the more expensive place!"
However, when I told him what it actually costs, he was flabbergasted. "That much money? For an HOUR?" I assured him that the benefits were many, and the price was therefore reasonable. He was having none of it, though. In a dubious tone he continued, "What do you DO for all that time...just lay there?" Well...yeah...it's relaxing. I explained that you spend time on both your stomach and back, so the person working on you can get to all of the muscle groups effectively...and it's like being in bed, since you're under a sheet. He looked puzzled, "Why are you under covers?" (Here's where an alarm should have gone off, with a siren, and maybe some cool multicolored, flashing strobe lights: Danger! Red Flag! WARNING: DO NOT CONTINUE if you know what's good for you! C'mon, you're a parent, you should know better! But nooooo, I ignored the signs and answered him anyway...) "Um...because you're...naked."
Hoo boy, what I wouldn't give for a fly-on-the-wall camera to record his face for posterity. His jaw went slack. His eyes widened to saucer-size. He froze in a full-body posture of utter, paralyzing horror. He was mute for possibly 3 or 4 seconds (an absolute record for Riley) before bursting out with an outraged, "Moooommmm! That is NOOOOTTTTT something parents need to share with their kids! (a pause to inhale another furious breath) That is not part of growing up!" (He might have added more to his rant at this point, but I was by now howling with laughter and couldn't hear him anyway.)
So if my Mom Mission for this week was to traumatize my younger son, it seems I can check that one off the To Do List. Who knew it would be so easy to offend an almost-11-year old boy? (On second thought, I shouldn't be that surprised, since I have to cover his eyes when there's any kind of kissing on TV...and I'm talking Once Upon a Time, here, not...Scandal...) But that's okay--my baby can stay sheltered for as long as possible...and in the future, I won't tell him when I make an appointment to visit the massage therapist!
Well...in the teensy-tiny little town of Carrboro (6.5 square miles, population 20,000, about a minute from our house) there are no fewer than FIVE separate massage therapists with their own websites. (It's...a bounty...of bodyworkers, I tell ya!) Needless to say, I was thrilled with this information--as well as the rates, which are about a third less than I was paying in Maryland. Later in the day, I was chatting with Riley, and told him what I'd discovered. In the guise of being "helpful", he began joking, "But Mom, you don't want a cheap massage! A cheap massage would be like this:" (demonstrates by whacking me in the back, with the hard edges of his hands). When I protested (I believe my exact wording went something like this: "Owwww! Knock it off!") he smiled smugly, "See? That's what I'm talking about! You should go with the more expensive place!"
However, when I told him what it actually costs, he was flabbergasted. "That much money? For an HOUR?" I assured him that the benefits were many, and the price was therefore reasonable. He was having none of it, though. In a dubious tone he continued, "What do you DO for all that time...just lay there?" Well...yeah...it's relaxing. I explained that you spend time on both your stomach and back, so the person working on you can get to all of the muscle groups effectively...and it's like being in bed, since you're under a sheet. He looked puzzled, "Why are you under covers?" (Here's where an alarm should have gone off, with a siren, and maybe some cool multicolored, flashing strobe lights: Danger! Red Flag! WARNING: DO NOT CONTINUE if you know what's good for you! C'mon, you're a parent, you should know better! But nooooo, I ignored the signs and answered him anyway...) "Um...because you're...naked."
Hoo boy, what I wouldn't give for a fly-on-the-wall camera to record his face for posterity. His jaw went slack. His eyes widened to saucer-size. He froze in a full-body posture of utter, paralyzing horror. He was mute for possibly 3 or 4 seconds (an absolute record for Riley) before bursting out with an outraged, "Moooommmm! That is NOOOOTTTTT something parents need to share with their kids! (a pause to inhale another furious breath) That is not part of growing up!" (He might have added more to his rant at this point, but I was by now howling with laughter and couldn't hear him anyway.)
So if my Mom Mission for this week was to traumatize my younger son, it seems I can check that one off the To Do List. Who knew it would be so easy to offend an almost-11-year old boy? (On second thought, I shouldn't be that surprised, since I have to cover his eyes when there's any kind of kissing on TV...and I'm talking Once Upon a Time, here, not...Scandal...) But that's okay--my baby can stay sheltered for as long as possible...and in the future, I won't tell him when I make an appointment to visit the massage therapist!
Friday, August 8, 2014
Friday...walk in the woods...
Ah, we've reached the inevitable crossroads of every Summer...when the long, glorious days of freedom and unplanned hours--at first ushered in with thankfulness and joy after the repetitiveness and structure of the academic year--have become stale, and even (dare I say it) boooorrring. Yes, I'm talking specifically about that delightful moment when two brothers...who have thus far enjoyed each others' company and relished the extended moments of togetherness...begin to grate on one anothers' (and Mom's) Very. Last. Nerve.
Fortunately for all, the end of the week rolled around (at last), and you know what that means: Friday Field Trip time. A chance to discover something new and interesting. An opportunity to escape the activities and situations that cause us (and by that I of course mean "the boys") to bicker unbearably. And an excuse for three people to vacate the house and leave it in a state of utter peace and quiet, at a time when Husband reported that he could feel a full-blown migraine ominously developing. So, everybody seemingly would come out a winner in this one...
For today's excursion, I chose a nature destination: West Point on the Eno River. Supposedly there were hiking trails, scenic views, and historic buildings--so we could satisfy both our physical and mental requirements in one fell swoop. Setting our sights for Durham, loaded with snacks and water, we set off. And it all went well at first: we found the park with no difficulty, procured a map from the helpful guidepost sign, and headed for the first structure, right in front of us in our direct line of vision. This was an auspicious beginning...except....the door to the restored wooden house was firmly locked...and the posted hours informed us that it was open...Saturdays from 1-5. Reeeallly? That seems...unneccessarily restrictive? (And it would have been quite useful to note that information in the handy printed guidebook from which I chose our outing, don't you agree?)
Not to worry, there's a photography museum just a few yards away--that should be pretty cool...when it's available to tour...you guessed it, "Saturdays, 1-5". Sigh. Well, they can't close off the FOREST--so into the trees we went, winding our way along various paths through the peaceful landscape. There were little frogs to admire when they jumped skittishly across our trail. There was a lazily-flowing river to appreciate. There was some fascinating plant life to examine and discuss. Speaking of which: really, the only jarring moment came when I paused to photograph the biggest, most brightly-colored mushroom I've ever seen in my life...and Derek enthusiastically-yet-(hopefully) jokingly asked, "Ooh...can I lick it?" (High school? In 2 weeks? Ay yi yi...)
Finally, I wanted to try to find the "working mill" that I'd read about. The one with the authentic water wheel, that actually grinds grain into flour, which you can then purchase on site if you wish. And there it was! But wait a minute--the huge metal machinery was silent...yep, (theme of our day) "Open Saturdays, 1-5". Well, we did get a very nice hike out of the trip. There are actually many more acres of walking paths that we didn't even begin to cover in one visit. And this park is only about a half-hour away from us, so some weekend when we're not otherwise engaged, we can return to accomplish the "learning" portion that eluded us today. But definitely NOT tomorrow...I'll be busy from 1-5...resting my tired legs...
Fortunately for all, the end of the week rolled around (at last), and you know what that means: Friday Field Trip time. A chance to discover something new and interesting. An opportunity to escape the activities and situations that cause us (and by that I of course mean "the boys") to bicker unbearably. And an excuse for three people to vacate the house and leave it in a state of utter peace and quiet, at a time when Husband reported that he could feel a full-blown migraine ominously developing. So, everybody seemingly would come out a winner in this one...
For today's excursion, I chose a nature destination: West Point on the Eno River. Supposedly there were hiking trails, scenic views, and historic buildings--so we could satisfy both our physical and mental requirements in one fell swoop. Setting our sights for Durham, loaded with snacks and water, we set off. And it all went well at first: we found the park with no difficulty, procured a map from the helpful guidepost sign, and headed for the first structure, right in front of us in our direct line of vision. This was an auspicious beginning...except....the door to the restored wooden house was firmly locked...and the posted hours informed us that it was open...Saturdays from 1-5. Reeeallly? That seems...unneccessarily restrictive? (And it would have been quite useful to note that information in the handy printed guidebook from which I chose our outing, don't you agree?)
Not to worry, there's a photography museum just a few yards away--that should be pretty cool...when it's available to tour...you guessed it, "Saturdays, 1-5". Sigh. Well, they can't close off the FOREST--so into the trees we went, winding our way along various paths through the peaceful landscape. There were little frogs to admire when they jumped skittishly across our trail. There was a lazily-flowing river to appreciate. There was some fascinating plant life to examine and discuss. Speaking of which: really, the only jarring moment came when I paused to photograph the biggest, most brightly-colored mushroom I've ever seen in my life...and Derek enthusiastically-yet-(hopefully) jokingly asked, "Ooh...can I lick it?" (High school? In 2 weeks? Ay yi yi...)
Finally, I wanted to try to find the "working mill" that I'd read about. The one with the authentic water wheel, that actually grinds grain into flour, which you can then purchase on site if you wish. And there it was! But wait a minute--the huge metal machinery was silent...yep, (theme of our day) "Open Saturdays, 1-5". Well, we did get a very nice hike out of the trip. There are actually many more acres of walking paths that we didn't even begin to cover in one visit. And this park is only about a half-hour away from us, so some weekend when we're not otherwise engaged, we can return to accomplish the "learning" portion that eluded us today. But definitely NOT tomorrow...I'll be busy from 1-5...resting my tired legs...
Sunday, August 3, 2014
Team WestEnders to go...
Last week, after some time had passed since we'd moved South and settled into our new environment and living situation, a disturbing thought suddenly struck me: we'd become shameful Summer slackers. I mean, it'd been a whole month already, and we hadn't taken even one Friday Field Trip--what an egregious oversight! Well, that little...misdemeanor...obviously needed to be remedied, in a hurry.
So--overflowing with good intentions--I set about planning our excursion. However, I made one fatal mistake...first I consulted my research materials (not the error); then I compiled a short list of options to present to the kids (obviously still a good thing); and finally (here it comes) I allowed them to choose which activity they'd like to tackle first (yep, there's the Big Oops). I had given it extensive thought, and carefully included a variety of possibilities, such as a historical site, a state park, a local botanical garden...and mini-golf. One guess as to which one they insisted upon for our very first official NC-FFT? (Sigh. I have no one to blame but myself...) And all I have to say in summary is: it was just your run-of-the-mill course, for crying out loud--fun while it lasted, but in the end, completely forgettable. (Eh, we'll just chalk it up to precious...Mother/Son Bonding Time...and move on...)
Therefore, the next week, I determined that I had definitely earned the right to select our destination. (Mwah hah hah!!) The weather forecast was somewhat unfavorable, with showers predicted on-and-off for the entire day, so I went with a seemingly-safe choice: the Museum of Life and Science in Durham (incidentally, the place I wanted to go originally, when I was outvoted in favor of the Putt-Putt-yawnfest). I knew there were outdoor things to do there as well, but I figured we could find plenty to amuse ourselves indoors if need be. After an easy half-hour commute, we arrived. (So far, so dry...she said ominously...) The building itself isn't much to look at from the outside, but let me tell ya, we were in for super-cool-buckets-'o-fun from the minute we strolled through the front door.
It's one of those hands-on museums, chock full of dials to spin, buttons to push, things to climb on, experiments to run, and even stuff to build and test. There's an area dedicated to math, one for health, another for weather, and (one of our favorites) a section for aerospace. One display that Riley gave 2 thumbs-up was located near the spaceships: a game where you assemble a foam rocket, pump a lever to build up air pressure, and launch it toward a parachute on the ceiling. (And bonus points when it comes back down and bonks your unsuspecting brother on the head, of course!) In the math wing, both boys got a kick out of creating and manipulating beat patterns on a music simulating machine...like mini-mix-masters, spinning at a kids' club...or something.
For our final sheltered moments before heading outside, we explored the Butterfly Conservatory, a tropical habitat where the delicate, winged beauties swoop freely through the air while you admire their colors and graceful flights. Oh, and lest I forget...we gave ourselves probable future nightmares by checking out the Insectarium as well...cave cockroaches 2-inches wide and as long as your middle finger (ick), a tarantula bigger than my hand (shudder), stag beetles with pincers so large they look like they could take off your nose (at this point it was high time to run screaming from the room...which you'll be relieved to hear I refrained from doing...just barely....) Altogether extraordinarily creepy...yet somehow oddly fascinating as well...as long as I never, ever meet any of those crawly buggers out from behind the glass, it'll be okay...
Then, as we went to the cafe to grab a snack to fortify us for the "wandering the grounds" portion of our visit, we noticed a slight drizzle starting to descend from the heavens. "Oh well, we're hearty folk," we shrugged, "so we'll just ignore it and be on our way." (Note: I did pause for a moment to ask the boys if they'd like me to get the umbrella from the car, but of course they scoffed at this suggestion. This would have come back to haunt them in the near future...if they were the kind of creatures that cared at ALL about being soaked to the skin...now, back to our story...) The museum's campus invites you to continue frolicking--offering a playground, a farmyard harboring all sorts of live animals, a Dinosaur Trail with awesomely-real-looking life-sized replicas of the ancient beasts, and a couple of interactive sections that we just loved.
Into the Wild featured rescued wolves, black bears, and lemurs in habitat enclosures set up to resemble their natural surroundings. The neatest thing about this (and one of Riley's highlights) was that there were also cameras, so if the animals happened to be out of your direct line of sight, you could still watch them remotely. It was sort of like pretending to be a...Wildlife Biologist/Spy. Derek reported that he enjoyed the Wetlands exhibit which encouraged you to study how erosion occurs--by arranging rocks in patterns, and observing how the shapes affected the direction and strength of flowing water. Riley also was hugely entertained by a display in Catch the Wind, where you use the force of your hand to "shoot" an air cannon. You can aim at the nearby leaves...or a dangling metal sheet that resembles chain mail and ripples when you hit it...or (ahem) each other...and see the effects of breezes on the natural world.
But the absolute peak experience, I'd have to say, came in the part called Into the Mist. By this time, the rain had picked up...to the point that we were all pretty darn damp. So how much...moister...could we get? We were about to find out--in fields of astro-turf, with hills and valleys to catch and distribute the water vapor...and an innocent little button, which when depressed, causes sheets of fog to stream out. The boys whooped with glee as they leaped and spun and sprinted through the spooky landscape, emerging suddenly to startle each other, then disappearing again to sneak silently away. Because of the downpour, we were the only ones braving the outdoor arena...literally we had them entirely to ourselves. So believe me when I say the guys would have stayed there all day if I'd let them...but the precipitation had begun to seep into--let's just say "uncomfortable spots", and leave it at that--so it was time to vamoose.
So, with the promise that we'll certainly come back another time, we said farewell and sloshed back to the car to return home and dry off. Riley summed up our day with an emphatic, "That was the best museum I've EVER been to!" And there you have it: there was laughing, there was learning (shhhh!!!) and Mom looks like a genius for brilliantly arranging the whole thing. Nothing to call that but a W-I-N!
So--overflowing with good intentions--I set about planning our excursion. However, I made one fatal mistake...first I consulted my research materials (not the error); then I compiled a short list of options to present to the kids (obviously still a good thing); and finally (here it comes) I allowed them to choose which activity they'd like to tackle first (yep, there's the Big Oops). I had given it extensive thought, and carefully included a variety of possibilities, such as a historical site, a state park, a local botanical garden...and mini-golf. One guess as to which one they insisted upon for our very first official NC-FFT? (Sigh. I have no one to blame but myself...) And all I have to say in summary is: it was just your run-of-the-mill course, for crying out loud--fun while it lasted, but in the end, completely forgettable. (Eh, we'll just chalk it up to precious...Mother/Son Bonding Time...and move on...)
Therefore, the next week, I determined that I had definitely earned the right to select our destination. (Mwah hah hah!!) The weather forecast was somewhat unfavorable, with showers predicted on-and-off for the entire day, so I went with a seemingly-safe choice: the Museum of Life and Science in Durham (incidentally, the place I wanted to go originally, when I was outvoted in favor of the Putt-Putt-yawnfest). I knew there were outdoor things to do there as well, but I figured we could find plenty to amuse ourselves indoors if need be. After an easy half-hour commute, we arrived. (So far, so dry...she said ominously...) The building itself isn't much to look at from the outside, but let me tell ya, we were in for super-cool-buckets-'o-fun from the minute we strolled through the front door.
It's one of those hands-on museums, chock full of dials to spin, buttons to push, things to climb on, experiments to run, and even stuff to build and test. There's an area dedicated to math, one for health, another for weather, and (one of our favorites) a section for aerospace. One display that Riley gave 2 thumbs-up was located near the spaceships: a game where you assemble a foam rocket, pump a lever to build up air pressure, and launch it toward a parachute on the ceiling. (And bonus points when it comes back down and bonks your unsuspecting brother on the head, of course!) In the math wing, both boys got a kick out of creating and manipulating beat patterns on a music simulating machine...like mini-mix-masters, spinning at a kids' club...or something.
For our final sheltered moments before heading outside, we explored the Butterfly Conservatory, a tropical habitat where the delicate, winged beauties swoop freely through the air while you admire their colors and graceful flights. Oh, and lest I forget...we gave ourselves probable future nightmares by checking out the Insectarium as well...cave cockroaches 2-inches wide and as long as your middle finger (ick), a tarantula bigger than my hand (shudder), stag beetles with pincers so large they look like they could take off your nose (at this point it was high time to run screaming from the room...which you'll be relieved to hear I refrained from doing...just barely....) Altogether extraordinarily creepy...yet somehow oddly fascinating as well...as long as I never, ever meet any of those crawly buggers out from behind the glass, it'll be okay...
Then, as we went to the cafe to grab a snack to fortify us for the "wandering the grounds" portion of our visit, we noticed a slight drizzle starting to descend from the heavens. "Oh well, we're hearty folk," we shrugged, "so we'll just ignore it and be on our way." (Note: I did pause for a moment to ask the boys if they'd like me to get the umbrella from the car, but of course they scoffed at this suggestion. This would have come back to haunt them in the near future...if they were the kind of creatures that cared at ALL about being soaked to the skin...now, back to our story...) The museum's campus invites you to continue frolicking--offering a playground, a farmyard harboring all sorts of live animals, a Dinosaur Trail with awesomely-real-looking life-sized replicas of the ancient beasts, and a couple of interactive sections that we just loved.
Into the Wild featured rescued wolves, black bears, and lemurs in habitat enclosures set up to resemble their natural surroundings. The neatest thing about this (and one of Riley's highlights) was that there were also cameras, so if the animals happened to be out of your direct line of sight, you could still watch them remotely. It was sort of like pretending to be a...Wildlife Biologist/Spy. Derek reported that he enjoyed the Wetlands exhibit which encouraged you to study how erosion occurs--by arranging rocks in patterns, and observing how the shapes affected the direction and strength of flowing water. Riley also was hugely entertained by a display in Catch the Wind, where you use the force of your hand to "shoot" an air cannon. You can aim at the nearby leaves...or a dangling metal sheet that resembles chain mail and ripples when you hit it...or (ahem) each other...and see the effects of breezes on the natural world.
But the absolute peak experience, I'd have to say, came in the part called Into the Mist. By this time, the rain had picked up...to the point that we were all pretty darn damp. So how much...moister...could we get? We were about to find out--in fields of astro-turf, with hills and valleys to catch and distribute the water vapor...and an innocent little button, which when depressed, causes sheets of fog to stream out. The boys whooped with glee as they leaped and spun and sprinted through the spooky landscape, emerging suddenly to startle each other, then disappearing again to sneak silently away. Because of the downpour, we were the only ones braving the outdoor arena...literally we had them entirely to ourselves. So believe me when I say the guys would have stayed there all day if I'd let them...but the precipitation had begun to seep into--let's just say "uncomfortable spots", and leave it at that--so it was time to vamoose.
So, with the promise that we'll certainly come back another time, we said farewell and sloshed back to the car to return home and dry off. Riley summed up our day with an emphatic, "That was the best museum I've EVER been to!" And there you have it: there was laughing, there was learning (shhhh!!!) and Mom looks like a genius for brilliantly arranging the whole thing. Nothing to call that but a W-I-N!
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