Ever have "one of those days"...when everything seems to go RIGHT? Today was one of those rare and beautiful occasions for me (with the slight exception of the incessant sneezing, but let's overlook that for storytelling purposes).
It started with a trip to the dentist. Yes, you read that correctly. Don't misunderstand me: this is NOT something I look forward to, or particularly enjoy (ranks right up there with scrubbing shower scum on my list of faves). However, today's visit was quick, and painless (for someone with "sensitive teeth", this is huge), and ended with the magic words "Everything looks good, see you in six months!"
With my teeth all cleaned and polished, I made my way to the Consignment Shop to "trade in" a few things from around the house (one person's junk is another's treasure...or some such nonsense, I'm told). When the lovely Miss Audrey checked my account, I had $41 coming to me! A wealth of riches, I tell you! I happily pocketed my earnings and drove to the next spot on my Errand List, Kohl's. (Yes, I do see the irony--but I needed capri pants for work, so it was at least semi-justified!) Not only did I find pants that fit me...perfectly...after looking for only 10 minutes or so...without trying on every blessed pair in the stinkin' store...but (here comes the kicker) the total came to: $42. You know what that means in Johna Math? (almost) FREE PANTS, baby!
It can't get any better, right? But wait! At bedtime, I asked Riley if I could hug and kiss him. "You can always hug and kiss me," he replied. After a moment's pause, he amended, "Until I have a wife!" I gravely agreed that this was perfectly reasonable, but I could practically see the little wheels still turning in his head as he formulated another question...and finally he came out with: "Will you always be my Mommy?" "Absolutely forever, and I'll always love you, too!" I assured him. Being Riley, he of course had to test this--"Even when I'm sad? happy? mean? angry?" (yes, yes, yes, yes) Finally he smiled peacefully up at me and sighed sleepily, "You're the BEST Mommy!"
YES! I just love it when I'm the Best Mommy! (Believe me, those moments are few and far between!) What a perfect ending to my awesome day. So, to sum up: Tooth Triumph, Consignment Cash, Shopping Success, Parental Praise. On that note, I'd better go to bed before I run out of luck!
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Monday, April 5, 2010
He calls 'em like he sees 'em!
My older son Derek has always been a Sporto-Boy. If it involves a ball--any kind--and running around, count him in. When he's on his own--taking solitary hitting practice, practicing foul shots, running football patterns--he also has a tendency to provide his own endless Play-by-Play patter. At first it used to confuse me, when I thought he was by himself and I'd hear his voice outside. When I would sneakily listen in, I'd hear things like "here's the pitch from Red Sox closer Jonathan Papelbon to start off the 9th inning; it's a good curve ball, but Derek Westman crushes it to the outfield for a double, scoring Brian Roberts from second. The O's take the lead!" He always uses authentic player names, teams, positions, and jersey numbers...for EVERY sport. Oh, and he includes their stats from either the current or the previous season. It's downright scary, I tell you.
Lately, however, he has expanded into Color Commentary as well. Color Commentators are the ones who provide the interesting facts during games, such as "Did you know Nick Markakis played for the Greek Olympic baseball team in 2004 before becoming an Oriole?" They also get to make witty banter during the broadcast, which is what Derek has apparently been working on recently. For example, during the Butler/Michigan State NCAA basketball game on Saturday, after a shot clanked off the rim, Derek crowed, "Wow, you could build a house with that brick!" The next day, during a hotly-contested driveway basketball game, he exclaimed, "Is it Easter, or St. Patrick's Day...'cause we're gettin' LUCKY!" (Unlike TV or radio personalities, he has the added advantage of reducing his opponent to giggles when he throws out those one-liners!)
Now, can someone tell me how to contact U of ESPN? And do they by any chance recruit 10-year olds?
Lately, however, he has expanded into Color Commentary as well. Color Commentators are the ones who provide the interesting facts during games, such as "Did you know Nick Markakis played for the Greek Olympic baseball team in 2004 before becoming an Oriole?" They also get to make witty banter during the broadcast, which is what Derek has apparently been working on recently. For example, during the Butler/Michigan State NCAA basketball game on Saturday, after a shot clanked off the rim, Derek crowed, "Wow, you could build a house with that brick!" The next day, during a hotly-contested driveway basketball game, he exclaimed, "Is it Easter, or St. Patrick's Day...'cause we're gettin' LUCKY!" (Unlike TV or radio personalities, he has the added advantage of reducing his opponent to giggles when he throws out those one-liners!)
Now, can someone tell me how to contact U of ESPN? And do they by any chance recruit 10-year olds?
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Boys' Day Out!
This week is the kids' Spring Break (like they need one, after a week off for the Snowpocalypse of February, but whatever...) so they're spending a few quality days with Dad while I work. Today was the first really, really nice Spring-weather day, so they decided to go hiking. For them, this represents Male Bonding at its utmost: there's dirt, and rocks, and sweating...and snacks! And they take it pretty seriously--you should see them in their special hiking socks (wool, wicking, non-chafing) and sturdy trail boots, carrying energy bars and water bottles filled with Gatorade. They look like all they need is an experienced guide, and they could tackle Mount Kilamanjaro.
I happened to arrive home at the same time they did, and I watched them straggle into the house...a small bunch of grimy, hot, and hungry explorers. The first thing they rushed to do was proudly show me their various scrapes and bruises from the trek (I'm sorry, I meant Badges of Honor). Apparently, the boulders did not take this invasion lightly, and fought back. (From the sheer number of minor wounds displayed, I'm really not sure who won.) Then Royce told me the funniest comment of their adventure. At some point during the climb, Riley was complaining of being tired. What he actually said was: "My fatigue level is getting high; I need to be subbed out." Strange phrasing for a 6-year old, until you realize he took this directly from Derek's Backyard Basketball DS-game, where your virtual player starts messing up shots and playing poorly if they get too worn out. Yes, even in the Great Outdoors, enjoying the bounty of nature, FAR away from electronics of any kind...my boys can effortlessly work Nintendo-speak into conversation. Sure makes a mother proud...
I happened to arrive home at the same time they did, and I watched them straggle into the house...a small bunch of grimy, hot, and hungry explorers. The first thing they rushed to do was proudly show me their various scrapes and bruises from the trek (I'm sorry, I meant Badges of Honor). Apparently, the boulders did not take this invasion lightly, and fought back. (From the sheer number of minor wounds displayed, I'm really not sure who won.) Then Royce told me the funniest comment of their adventure. At some point during the climb, Riley was complaining of being tired. What he actually said was: "My fatigue level is getting high; I need to be subbed out." Strange phrasing for a 6-year old, until you realize he took this directly from Derek's Backyard Basketball DS-game, where your virtual player starts messing up shots and playing poorly if they get too worn out. Yes, even in the Great Outdoors, enjoying the bounty of nature, FAR away from electronics of any kind...my boys can effortlessly work Nintendo-speak into conversation. Sure makes a mother proud...
Monday, March 29, 2010
What's in a Name?
My husband and I sometimes amuse ourselves (when anyone cares enough to smile and nod politely) by telling the story of how we came up with our sons' names. With Baby #1, before we knew the sex, we already had several girls' names in mind. But, we were really struggling with what to call a boy (good thing we decided, huh?) In order to break the mental block (and to feed an incessantly hungry pregnant woman!), we went to Austin Grill for dinner one night and brainstormed over chips and salsa. As we threw out possibilities, the list of potential monikers grew to maybe 10 or so, but the minute someone mentioned "Derek", we knew that was It. With Baby #2, we went down to the wire, disagreeing back-and-forth for months without being able to commit to anything that we both liked. Then the night before I went into labor (which was NOT supposed to happen with a scheduled C-section--again, good thing we made up our minds!) Royce suggested we sit down and hammer it out...Riley Christopher rolled off my tongue, and that was that.
In the seven years since that night, the subject of "names" hasn't come up much (except when one brother calls the other a poopyhead or something similar, and I have to intervene). Until last week, when the same Riley Christopher, now a 6-1/2 year old wiseguy, poked his head into my room after school--no "hi, Mom, I'm home! by the way--and inquired, with a huge hopeful grin, "Can we change my name to Bradley?" I looked at my baby, in his muddy shirt, his face flushed from playing basketball, impish Riley-ness written all over him, and asked the obvious, "Why would you want to do THAT?" Undeterred, he shot back, "My name is kinda getting old, and I'm tired of it." (Dude, how "tired" can you be, you're S-I-X! Heaven help me, this child will be campaigning for tattoos and pierced...somethings by Middle School, to fend off his Adolescent Boredom.) As this was going through my head, he took advantage of the momentary pause in Mommy Protest to proclaim with great pride, "And I know how to spell it! B-r-a-d-l-y!" (Um, there's an "e". He took this in stride as well.) Then he put on his most adorable, most innocent face, and said, "Pleeeeeaaaassssseee?"
Weakened by this strong parting shot, I heard myself promising to think about it. And fortunately for me he was fooled by this age-old Parental Stalling Tactic, and left happily to go back outside. So far, to my great relief, he hasn't brought it up again. If he does, maybe I can distract him...maybe he'll accept a cool new nickname...or as a last resort, a temporary tattoo!
In the seven years since that night, the subject of "names" hasn't come up much (except when one brother calls the other a poopyhead or something similar, and I have to intervene). Until last week, when the same Riley Christopher, now a 6-1/2 year old wiseguy, poked his head into my room after school--no "hi, Mom, I'm home! by the way--and inquired, with a huge hopeful grin, "Can we change my name to Bradley?" I looked at my baby, in his muddy shirt, his face flushed from playing basketball, impish Riley-ness written all over him, and asked the obvious, "Why would you want to do THAT?" Undeterred, he shot back, "My name is kinda getting old, and I'm tired of it." (Dude, how "tired" can you be, you're S-I-X! Heaven help me, this child will be campaigning for tattoos and pierced...somethings by Middle School, to fend off his Adolescent Boredom.) As this was going through my head, he took advantage of the momentary pause in Mommy Protest to proclaim with great pride, "And I know how to spell it! B-r-a-d-l-y!" (Um, there's an "e". He took this in stride as well.) Then he put on his most adorable, most innocent face, and said, "Pleeeeeaaaassssseee?"
Weakened by this strong parting shot, I heard myself promising to think about it. And fortunately for me he was fooled by this age-old Parental Stalling Tactic, and left happily to go back outside. So far, to my great relief, he hasn't brought it up again. If he does, maybe I can distract him...maybe he'll accept a cool new nickname...or as a last resort, a temporary tattoo!
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Just a Wacky Wednesday...
I am a person who seeks to cultivate neatness and organization in her life (those who know me: I'll let you decide if this qualifies as the World's Biggest Understatement). I am a (near-fanatical, truth be told) List Maker. I like writing down agenda items--in nice, even columns, in the order they are to be addressed--and I like crossing them off when they have been accomplished. Most days, my system runs fairly smoothly. Today was distinctly NOT one of those days.
My To-Do List looked fairly simple and manageable:
Riley to pediatrician (9:00)
errands: Costco/Target
Dance Class (12:30)
Volunteer in Derek's class (2:00)
We actually came out of the gate strong, arriving at the pediatrician right on time. Then Riley introduced the first glitch into my carefully orchestrated and timed plan, with a deceptively innocent comment that began "when we go home to get my backpack"...Whoa, back up, Bub! Let me get this straight: you left your stuff at home, when you're supposed to be going directly to school (a place we have to drive right past, to get your things from the house). So, add in one extra roundtrip for Mom, who after depositing Riley at school, heads back to retrieve lunch and homework, and bring them to school (the Secretaries, bless their hearts, take this in stride, nodding with sympathy and understanding instead of wondering aloud why the Crazy Lady can't bring her offspring AND his school supplies in at the same time.)
Now I'm already behind schedule for my shopping, so I blaze a trail to Columbia (further than the Gaithersburg Costco, by MUCH swankier). While I'm there, even though I have a half-tank of gas, I fill up anyway (not technically on my List, but 15 cents-per-gallon cheaper than in Olney!). Next I get distracted by the Fancy Beer Store next to the gas station, remembering we have friends coming over for dinner on Saturday. This place has a mind-boggling selection, might as well stop in and get that out of the way (I can check off something from my tomorrow list--yay, me!) I make up time by whipping through Costco--not even stopping for Free Samples, that's how serious I am.
Back in the car, I check the clock...I may JUST have enough time left to hit Target for the 5 items I need. That's when I make what proves to be my Fatal Mistake. "I think if I take this (earlier) exit, it'll save me some time." And in an instant, I was well-and-truly L-O-S-T. It was actually a little surreal, like I'd driven through some kind of invisible gateway into the Columbia Labyrinth from Hell. Office Park, Neighborhood, Community Center--Id never seen any of it and had no idea where I was. I felt the minutes ticking away, becoming increasingly irked by the insipid road names they hand out in this town (hey, it gave me someplace constructive to focus my irritation). Melting Springs Lane. Bluebird Circle. Ick. The very last straw was when I saw a sign that said: Traffic Calming Ahead. What the--you mean speed bumps? (Bouncing over those obnoxious things is supposed to calm you in this Loony Town? How's that working out?)
Obviously, Target was cut from the List for today. But fortunately for me and all of my fellow motorists, I soon stumbled across a road I recognized. I even managed to hightail it home in time to unload my purchases and get to Dance Class. AND after that I made it back to the Elementary School (3rd time today, if you're keeping score at home...or if you're Derek's teacher, who actually laughed when she spotted me in the hallway...again) to shape the malleable minds of 4th graders.
The day was winding down, when--drat, I knew I forgot something important! I completely neglected to add "nap with feet up" to the end of my List. Oh well, better start making a new List for Thursday!
My To-Do List looked fairly simple and manageable:
Riley to pediatrician (9:00)
errands: Costco/Target
Dance Class (12:30)
Volunteer in Derek's class (2:00)
We actually came out of the gate strong, arriving at the pediatrician right on time. Then Riley introduced the first glitch into my carefully orchestrated and timed plan, with a deceptively innocent comment that began "when we go home to get my backpack"...Whoa, back up, Bub! Let me get this straight: you left your stuff at home, when you're supposed to be going directly to school (a place we have to drive right past, to get your things from the house). So, add in one extra roundtrip for Mom, who after depositing Riley at school, heads back to retrieve lunch and homework, and bring them to school (the Secretaries, bless their hearts, take this in stride, nodding with sympathy and understanding instead of wondering aloud why the Crazy Lady can't bring her offspring AND his school supplies in at the same time.)
Now I'm already behind schedule for my shopping, so I blaze a trail to Columbia (further than the Gaithersburg Costco, by MUCH swankier). While I'm there, even though I have a half-tank of gas, I fill up anyway (not technically on my List, but 15 cents-per-gallon cheaper than in Olney!). Next I get distracted by the Fancy Beer Store next to the gas station, remembering we have friends coming over for dinner on Saturday. This place has a mind-boggling selection, might as well stop in and get that out of the way (I can check off something from my tomorrow list--yay, me!) I make up time by whipping through Costco--not even stopping for Free Samples, that's how serious I am.
Back in the car, I check the clock...I may JUST have enough time left to hit Target for the 5 items I need. That's when I make what proves to be my Fatal Mistake. "I think if I take this (earlier) exit, it'll save me some time." And in an instant, I was well-and-truly L-O-S-T. It was actually a little surreal, like I'd driven through some kind of invisible gateway into the Columbia Labyrinth from Hell. Office Park, Neighborhood, Community Center--Id never seen any of it and had no idea where I was. I felt the minutes ticking away, becoming increasingly irked by the insipid road names they hand out in this town (hey, it gave me someplace constructive to focus my irritation). Melting Springs Lane. Bluebird Circle. Ick. The very last straw was when I saw a sign that said: Traffic Calming Ahead. What the--you mean speed bumps? (Bouncing over those obnoxious things is supposed to calm you in this Loony Town? How's that working out?)
Obviously, Target was cut from the List for today. But fortunately for me and all of my fellow motorists, I soon stumbled across a road I recognized. I even managed to hightail it home in time to unload my purchases and get to Dance Class. AND after that I made it back to the Elementary School (3rd time today, if you're keeping score at home...or if you're Derek's teacher, who actually laughed when she spotted me in the hallway...again) to shape the malleable minds of 4th graders.
The day was winding down, when--drat, I knew I forgot something important! I completely neglected to add "nap with feet up" to the end of my List. Oh well, better start making a new List for Thursday!
Monday, March 22, 2010
Mini March Madness
It seems fitting that in the midst of the NCAA Tournament, we just survived our own little basketball drama around here. Let me start from the beginning...this was the first winter Derek chose to play in an actual Basketball League (after several years of intense driveway competition with the neighborhood guys). He always said he was nervous about getting pummeled out there, being the skinny dude that he is. I guess he finally felt "big enough"--all 4-1/2 foot, 64 pounds of him!
So, we signed him up for the 4th/5th grade Pee Wee Division (I did not make that up; I would have suggested a MUCH cooler name...like the Half-Pint Hoopsters...or something). He had a wonderful coach, a very patient and positive man. He already knew several of his teammates, from his elementary school (and he was not the shortest one!) Once they started facing other teams, it turned out that the Marshmallows* were really good! And Derek had the time of his life sprinting around the court each week. He fiercely guarded his man, he stole the ball on occasion, he managed a few rebounds, and he even scored once in a while. (When he made a shot, he broadcast his excitement by doing a fist-pump as he ran back on defense. His coaches and I thought that was adorable.)
The Light-Brown Bombers bulldozed their way through the season, racking up a 6-2 record. The playoffs were single-elimination, and his team had to win three times to make it to the finals. The first two games went well, with little need for hyperventilating on Mom's part. The third contest was a rematch with one of the teams that beat Derek's squad during the regular season. By this time everyone--parents and kids alike--were stoked, because the Championship would be held at the high school, in the main gym, using the real scoreboard...VERY big deal. After leading 17-2 midway, Derek's team survived a strong second-half comeback, and held on by their fingernails to secure a one-point victory in the Semifinal game. (I alternated between yelling words of encouragement and holding my breath, until the final buzzer.)
They earned themselves a spot in the Championship game; as a reward, they got to face the only other team that had beaten them during the season! And watching those 10 and 11-year olds out there, it was impossible to imagine Maryland or Kentucky or anyone playing with more heart and determination. They left everything they had out on that floor, and ended up losing a heartbreaker, 32-29. (Incidentally, Coach told us later in an email that the opposing team hadn't lost a game...IN 2 YEARS.) Afterwards, Derek shuffled his feet in the middle of the floor, head hanging, struggling not to let the tears in his eyes spill over in front of everyone. You know the phrase "I feel your pain"? It was agonizing to see my baby so upset. Of course I told him how tremendously proud we were of him and his team, and reminded him of what a great season they had, and assured him they'd given it their best shot...when none of that seemed to be helping, I pulled out the last resort: celebratory milkshake, anyone? (and once again, ice cream cures all!)
*I swear this is what they called themselves, due to their light-tan shirts. However, we parents just could not bring ourselves to yell "Go Marshmallows" at games!
So, we signed him up for the 4th/5th grade Pee Wee Division (I did not make that up; I would have suggested a MUCH cooler name...like the Half-Pint Hoopsters...or something). He had a wonderful coach, a very patient and positive man. He already knew several of his teammates, from his elementary school (and he was not the shortest one!) Once they started facing other teams, it turned out that the Marshmallows* were really good! And Derek had the time of his life sprinting around the court each week. He fiercely guarded his man, he stole the ball on occasion, he managed a few rebounds, and he even scored once in a while. (When he made a shot, he broadcast his excitement by doing a fist-pump as he ran back on defense. His coaches and I thought that was adorable.)
The Light-Brown Bombers bulldozed their way through the season, racking up a 6-2 record. The playoffs were single-elimination, and his team had to win three times to make it to the finals. The first two games went well, with little need for hyperventilating on Mom's part. The third contest was a rematch with one of the teams that beat Derek's squad during the regular season. By this time everyone--parents and kids alike--were stoked, because the Championship would be held at the high school, in the main gym, using the real scoreboard...VERY big deal. After leading 17-2 midway, Derek's team survived a strong second-half comeback, and held on by their fingernails to secure a one-point victory in the Semifinal game. (I alternated between yelling words of encouragement and holding my breath, until the final buzzer.)
They earned themselves a spot in the Championship game; as a reward, they got to face the only other team that had beaten them during the season! And watching those 10 and 11-year olds out there, it was impossible to imagine Maryland or Kentucky or anyone playing with more heart and determination. They left everything they had out on that floor, and ended up losing a heartbreaker, 32-29. (Incidentally, Coach told us later in an email that the opposing team hadn't lost a game...IN 2 YEARS.) Afterwards, Derek shuffled his feet in the middle of the floor, head hanging, struggling not to let the tears in his eyes spill over in front of everyone. You know the phrase "I feel your pain"? It was agonizing to see my baby so upset. Of course I told him how tremendously proud we were of him and his team, and reminded him of what a great season they had, and assured him they'd given it their best shot...when none of that seemed to be helping, I pulled out the last resort: celebratory milkshake, anyone? (and once again, ice cream cures all!)
*I swear this is what they called themselves, due to their light-tan shirts. However, we parents just could not bring ourselves to yell "Go Marshmallows" at games!
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Holy Hormones, Batman!
When I showed up for my Volunteer Time in Derek's classroom today, I was all fired-up to tackle 4th-grade Writer's Workshop. Bring on the commas and semi-colons! Let's analyze those Themes and Morals and whatnot! Ahem. Instead, as I quietly slipped into the back of the room and took a seat to await instructions, I was treated to an unscheduled Class Discussion about (apparently unacceptable) Recess Behavior...and (evidently questionable) Personal Hygiene.
Issue #1: It seems that after a winter chock-full of epic snowstorms, weeks and weeks and WEEKS of indoor recess, and unseasonably warm March temperatures, the 10-year old Natives are bursting with Spring-fever-induced enthusiasm...in short: Running Amok. Teacher patiently reminded them to make good choices, think about their behavior (i.e: cease acting like Wild Playground Savages), and that was that.
But then, there was Issue #2: Teacher smoothly changed the subject, mentioning that as the temperatures continue (hopefully!) to rise, and the students spend more time running around and playing, it is important to: shower every night. (At this point, I guiltily did a surreptitious-armpit-sniff, since I had come to her classroom straight from Hip-Hop Dance. But wait! I cleaned up and changed clothes at the studio, so I promise I was not responsible for any odor!) She went on to explain that while they still "smelled like kids" right now, soon they would "smell more like pre-teens". "What do kids smell like?" one voice piped up. "Dirt," she answered decisively. "What about pre-teens?" She wrinkled her nose, "Sweat!" She matter-of-factly went on to explain that if anyone wanted to talk to their parents about deodorant, the could certainly do so when they got home. (I'll just BET dinner conversation was a show-stopper in many houses tonight!)
So there I sat, choking back snorts of laughter, trying desperately to avoid meeting her eyes so that I could maintain at least a semi-adult-professional demeanor in front of the impressionable children. Fortunately for me, at that point the natural smart-aleckness of 4th-graders took over, and one boy (Derek's best friend, incidentally) proclaimed that he had "3 kinds of Axe Body Spray at home!" There were appreciative titters among his classmates--however, I was thinking, "I'm pretty sure he's making that up, but please don't let him decide to wear that stuff to school, especially all at the same time!" Another boy (Derek's OTHER best friend) declared that he would spray his feet...since they were so hairy...And that clearly signaled the end of any rational discussion. It was time to somehow rally for a Social Studies lesson.
And what did I learn today? You just never know what you're in for when you sign up for that innocent-sounding Classroom Volunteer position. Sometimes it's Native American reports, sometimes it's "Our Bodies, Ourselves" (the Introductory Version, at least). So when Teacher apologetically asked me to go cut paper and draw timelines, rather than working with kids today, I gratefully seized the chance. It meant I got to escape to the safety of the peaceful Teachers' Lounge instead of remaining in the Hormonal Pit of 4th Grade. And later, I'll have to see how Derek feels about deodorant...
Issue #1: It seems that after a winter chock-full of epic snowstorms, weeks and weeks and WEEKS of indoor recess, and unseasonably warm March temperatures, the 10-year old Natives are bursting with Spring-fever-induced enthusiasm...in short: Running Amok. Teacher patiently reminded them to make good choices, think about their behavior (i.e: cease acting like Wild Playground Savages), and that was that.
But then, there was Issue #2: Teacher smoothly changed the subject, mentioning that as the temperatures continue (hopefully!) to rise, and the students spend more time running around and playing, it is important to: shower every night. (At this point, I guiltily did a surreptitious-armpit-sniff, since I had come to her classroom straight from Hip-Hop Dance. But wait! I cleaned up and changed clothes at the studio, so I promise I was not responsible for any odor!) She went on to explain that while they still "smelled like kids" right now, soon they would "smell more like pre-teens". "What do kids smell like?" one voice piped up. "Dirt," she answered decisively. "What about pre-teens?" She wrinkled her nose, "Sweat!" She matter-of-factly went on to explain that if anyone wanted to talk to their parents about deodorant, the could certainly do so when they got home. (I'll just BET dinner conversation was a show-stopper in many houses tonight!)
So there I sat, choking back snorts of laughter, trying desperately to avoid meeting her eyes so that I could maintain at least a semi-adult-professional demeanor in front of the impressionable children. Fortunately for me, at that point the natural smart-aleckness of 4th-graders took over, and one boy (Derek's best friend, incidentally) proclaimed that he had "3 kinds of Axe Body Spray at home!" There were appreciative titters among his classmates--however, I was thinking, "I'm pretty sure he's making that up, but please don't let him decide to wear that stuff to school, especially all at the same time!" Another boy (Derek's OTHER best friend) declared that he would spray his feet...since they were so hairy...And that clearly signaled the end of any rational discussion. It was time to somehow rally for a Social Studies lesson.
And what did I learn today? You just never know what you're in for when you sign up for that innocent-sounding Classroom Volunteer position. Sometimes it's Native American reports, sometimes it's "Our Bodies, Ourselves" (the Introductory Version, at least). So when Teacher apologetically asked me to go cut paper and draw timelines, rather than working with kids today, I gratefully seized the chance. It meant I got to escape to the safety of the peaceful Teachers' Lounge instead of remaining in the Hormonal Pit of 4th Grade. And later, I'll have to see how Derek feels about deodorant...
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Welcome to the Bank of Mom
When I was 15 years old, I told my parents I wanted a "good camera". Back then, what that meant was: 35 mm FILM, with adjustable f-stop settings and manual focus...rather than a point-and-shoot Polaroid where the picture popped out the front. As I remember it, my Mom said something along the lines of "that's nice, dear, you'd better start saving up." So, that's exactly what I did. I hoarded my babysitting money (probably in my sock drawer) until I had a big enough wad 'o cash. (I believe it was around $200, an exorbitant amount of dough to me, at that tender age!) And I bought myself my first Ricoh camera. (I also continued to use that thing--stubbornly resisting "the digital age"--until about 5 years ago, when I dropped it on a concrete path while shooting Fall foliage. R.I.P Ricoh.) My point is, although these days I fully embrace the beauty of shopping-with-credit-cards, and I have been known to succumb to impulse-buying (cute purse, anyone?), deep down I still harbor an ingrained Saving Mentality that I absorbed from my frugal parents in my formative consumer years.
With my own kids, operating on the belief that it's never too early to begin Money Management Training, Husband and I agreed to start giving Derek an allowance at age 5. Of course at first he spent every penny on inexpensive little toys (which were lost or forgotten or broken very quickly). Over time, we talked about things like: making sure you REALLY want something before you spend your money; saving for higher-quality items; recognizing why "cheaper" is not necessarily better; avoiding the peril of buying stuff "made in China", etc. After almost 5 years of such discussions, it seems my budding Capitalist has blossomed into quite the Tycoon. By carefully stashing his monthly allowance in his little red wallet, he has amassed $160. He has been waiting patiently, deciding what to buy with it, wanting to be absolutely solid about his purchase choice before he parts with his nest egg.
Finally, this week he informed me that he was ready. His decision? A Nintendo DS (since we had long ago established that Mom and Dad would NOT be giving him one, he bided his time until he could get his own). By searching together on Amazon, we established that he had enough money for the system itself, and a game, with some left over to start saving again. (I also seized the opportunity to discuss how he was saving not only the $5 Amazon took off for its "sale price", but also the sales tax they don't charge. And free shipping, let's not forget! I may be creating an Internet Shopping Monster...). So after our transaction, Derek seems to feels proud and confident, for doing this "on his own". And I feel like he's gained some Valuable Life Skills in the process. Not bad for a hundred and fifty bucks!
With my own kids, operating on the belief that it's never too early to begin Money Management Training, Husband and I agreed to start giving Derek an allowance at age 5. Of course at first he spent every penny on inexpensive little toys (which were lost or forgotten or broken very quickly). Over time, we talked about things like: making sure you REALLY want something before you spend your money; saving for higher-quality items; recognizing why "cheaper" is not necessarily better; avoiding the peril of buying stuff "made in China", etc. After almost 5 years of such discussions, it seems my budding Capitalist has blossomed into quite the Tycoon. By carefully stashing his monthly allowance in his little red wallet, he has amassed $160. He has been waiting patiently, deciding what to buy with it, wanting to be absolutely solid about his purchase choice before he parts with his nest egg.
Finally, this week he informed me that he was ready. His decision? A Nintendo DS (since we had long ago established that Mom and Dad would NOT be giving him one, he bided his time until he could get his own). By searching together on Amazon, we established that he had enough money for the system itself, and a game, with some left over to start saving again. (I also seized the opportunity to discuss how he was saving not only the $5 Amazon took off for its "sale price", but also the sales tax they don't charge. And free shipping, let's not forget! I may be creating an Internet Shopping Monster...). So after our transaction, Derek seems to feels proud and confident, for doing this "on his own". And I feel like he's gained some Valuable Life Skills in the process. Not bad for a hundred and fifty bucks!
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Theme for the Week: Good News/Bad News
It has been one weird week around here. (I shudder to think it's only Wednesday--can I just hide out until the weekend? I'll be hiding under the covers...wake me on Saturday...)
We'll start with last Saturday (I know, technically not this week, but it fits the theme, you'll see). Royce took his car in for routine service, and we already knew it was going to be an expensive one (105K miles, timing belt due to be replaced, on top of the other scheduled under-the-hood stuff). Expected cost: around $700-800. Foreshadowing of doom: Royce brightly mentioned as he headed out the door to go drop it off, "Hey, while they're poking around in there, I'll have them check out that unexplained clunking noise I've been hearing for about a year!" Of course that little knocking sound turned out to be "very dangerous, must be fixed right away!", to the tune of: $2,400. (I'd tell you exactly what was wrong, but I'd never heard of the particular parts the mechanic mentioned, so he could have been making them up for all I know.) Obviously, that's the bad news. The garage manager did quickly point out (probably in response to my hyperventilating in his ear, trying not to faint at the total) that "these Hondas are usually good for 270,000 miles!" Well, that's VERY good to know, as Royce will now be driving this car until its wheels fall off.
The next day, Riley woke up with an odd pain in the vicinity of his left hip. No visible bruise, no memory of hurting it, no pain when touching the area...he just hobbled like a little old man when he tried to walk or bend. This was the second time in the last several months that this mysterious ache has shown up overnight, so I was a bit worried. Off we went on Monday to the pediatrician, who palpated and stretched and examined him. Just to be safe, she ordered an x-ray. In the meantime, she also remarked on his gunky nose (which I had dismissed as "stupid pollen, flying around already") and listened to his lungs. So the good news: the x-ray was negative (although that means we don't know WHY it hurts, it should go away with Motrin-the-wonder-drug). But the bad news: she heard a faint "wheeze" and he has...bronchitis. What? Not a proud Mommy Moment, let me tell you, when you don't even notice your child is sick!
Tuesday, nothing (proving once again that time-honored adage: no news is good news!)
But then came Wednesday, a day chock-full of chores and general running-around for me. When I returned from my journey to Target and was bringing the bags inside, I happened to glance at the garage floor where my car is usually parked and saw a small puddle of oil. Now, the only time my car has ever leaked oil was when it had a blown head gasket (for those who don't speak "car", head gasket means: really-stinking-expensive-repair). So you'll pardon me if I freaked out a little bit and started making plans to get rid of the car, tomorrow if possible.
However, I calmed down enough to go back out I went for one last errand, and this time when I came back I noticed my rear passenger tire looked a little low. I made a mental note to check the pressure later, and went inside. Flash forward to about 4:30, when I was preparing to go pick Riley up from basketball (yes, he does recover remarkably quickly). I backed the car out of the garage into the sunlight to better read the tire pressure gauge...and in those few feet, it went completely flat. At this point the neighborhood boys gathered around staring in apparent fascination at a real, live flat tire. Derek very helpfully pointed out, in case I hadn't quite grasped the problem, "Mom, your tire's, um, really flat!" (I refrained from smacking him...just barely.) The situation had become so absurd, there was really only one thing to do: "Well, guys, let's see if we can find the nail!" I suggested. And sure enough, there was a big old shiny screw in the tread. The good news, I guess, is that I made it all the way home on it. The bad news may come when I get the dratted oil leak checked out (grrr!). (Oh, and I got a ride from a neighbor, so Riley is NOT still at school waiting for me.)
If unfortunate events are said to come in bunches, then surely I'm done for the moment! Thursday should be all rainbows and bluebirds and sunshine, right? If not, I'm staying in bed!
We'll start with last Saturday (I know, technically not this week, but it fits the theme, you'll see). Royce took his car in for routine service, and we already knew it was going to be an expensive one (105K miles, timing belt due to be replaced, on top of the other scheduled under-the-hood stuff). Expected cost: around $700-800. Foreshadowing of doom: Royce brightly mentioned as he headed out the door to go drop it off, "Hey, while they're poking around in there, I'll have them check out that unexplained clunking noise I've been hearing for about a year!" Of course that little knocking sound turned out to be "very dangerous, must be fixed right away!", to the tune of: $2,400. (I'd tell you exactly what was wrong, but I'd never heard of the particular parts the mechanic mentioned, so he could have been making them up for all I know.) Obviously, that's the bad news. The garage manager did quickly point out (probably in response to my hyperventilating in his ear, trying not to faint at the total) that "these Hondas are usually good for 270,000 miles!" Well, that's VERY good to know, as Royce will now be driving this car until its wheels fall off.
The next day, Riley woke up with an odd pain in the vicinity of his left hip. No visible bruise, no memory of hurting it, no pain when touching the area...he just hobbled like a little old man when he tried to walk or bend. This was the second time in the last several months that this mysterious ache has shown up overnight, so I was a bit worried. Off we went on Monday to the pediatrician, who palpated and stretched and examined him. Just to be safe, she ordered an x-ray. In the meantime, she also remarked on his gunky nose (which I had dismissed as "stupid pollen, flying around already") and listened to his lungs. So the good news: the x-ray was negative (although that means we don't know WHY it hurts, it should go away with Motrin-the-wonder-drug). But the bad news: she heard a faint "wheeze" and he has...bronchitis. What? Not a proud Mommy Moment, let me tell you, when you don't even notice your child is sick!
Tuesday, nothing (proving once again that time-honored adage: no news is good news!)
But then came Wednesday, a day chock-full of chores and general running-around for me. When I returned from my journey to Target and was bringing the bags inside, I happened to glance at the garage floor where my car is usually parked and saw a small puddle of oil. Now, the only time my car has ever leaked oil was when it had a blown head gasket (for those who don't speak "car", head gasket means: really-stinking-expensive-repair). So you'll pardon me if I freaked out a little bit and started making plans to get rid of the car, tomorrow if possible.
However, I calmed down enough to go back out I went for one last errand, and this time when I came back I noticed my rear passenger tire looked a little low. I made a mental note to check the pressure later, and went inside. Flash forward to about 4:30, when I was preparing to go pick Riley up from basketball (yes, he does recover remarkably quickly). I backed the car out of the garage into the sunlight to better read the tire pressure gauge...and in those few feet, it went completely flat. At this point the neighborhood boys gathered around staring in apparent fascination at a real, live flat tire. Derek very helpfully pointed out, in case I hadn't quite grasped the problem, "Mom, your tire's, um, really flat!" (I refrained from smacking him...just barely.) The situation had become so absurd, there was really only one thing to do: "Well, guys, let's see if we can find the nail!" I suggested. And sure enough, there was a big old shiny screw in the tread. The good news, I guess, is that I made it all the way home on it. The bad news may come when I get the dratted oil leak checked out (grrr!). (Oh, and I got a ride from a neighbor, so Riley is NOT still at school waiting for me.)
If unfortunate events are said to come in bunches, then surely I'm done for the moment! Thursday should be all rainbows and bluebirds and sunshine, right? If not, I'm staying in bed!
Monday, March 8, 2010
If I had my way...(or a Magic Lamp?)
--A serving of two chocolate chip cookies (like those I surreptitiously ate at 10:30 this morning--shhh!) would contain the majority of your daily vitamins and minerals. Broccoli and green beans, on the other hand, would contain empty calories, making them "treats" to be enjoyed only occasionally, in moderation (and before anyone starts to yammer about the stellar nutritional value of the leafy green stuff, let me clarify: I do like the healthy stuff...but I LOVE dessert : )
--A magical, mysterious occurrence would take place each year, triggered by people everywhere flipping their calendars from February to March. Once our pages were all synchronized (do NOT be late!), it would signal the instant and official end of Winter. The temperature from that point on would never dip below 50 degrees. Any remaining snow would disappear overnight. (Anyone know where I can get me some fairy dust, to make this happen?)
--The human body would really only need to be exercised for a half-hour or so, once or twice a week, to remain in ultra-flexible, toned, cardio-vascularly fit (I think I made that word up, did you notice?) form. Oh, and it almost goes without saying: you wouldn't gain any weight by chowing down and skipping workouts, either! Now I'm not knocking the Great Designer or anything, I'm just saying that if I could get away with minimal exercise, without turning into an out-of-breath, chubby, flabby girl, that would be awesome!
--Finally, as I go downstairs to oversee yet another load of astonishingly dirty clothing shed by my sons (I swear they roll in mud puddles for fun...I just haven't actually caught them at it yet), my ultimate wish would be for my house to be completely surrounded by an invisible "Grime Barrier". All filth would just automatically fall off of clothing, and shoes, and even hands and faces, at the door when anyone entered. (The garage would become a disaster area, but I can live with that--Husband's territory!)
So that's my Dream--but back in Reality: I have to go sweep up the pebbles and sand and soil from the floor by the kitchen door...then put on another sweater since I'm cold...then transfer the (hopefully restored-to-original-color) laundry to the dryer...then (sigh) lift weights. Maybe when I'm done all that, I'll have a few more well-earned, nutritious chocolate chip cookies!
--A magical, mysterious occurrence would take place each year, triggered by people everywhere flipping their calendars from February to March. Once our pages were all synchronized (do NOT be late!), it would signal the instant and official end of Winter. The temperature from that point on would never dip below 50 degrees. Any remaining snow would disappear overnight. (Anyone know where I can get me some fairy dust, to make this happen?)
--The human body would really only need to be exercised for a half-hour or so, once or twice a week, to remain in ultra-flexible, toned, cardio-vascularly fit (I think I made that word up, did you notice?) form. Oh, and it almost goes without saying: you wouldn't gain any weight by chowing down and skipping workouts, either! Now I'm not knocking the Great Designer or anything, I'm just saying that if I could get away with minimal exercise, without turning into an out-of-breath, chubby, flabby girl, that would be awesome!
--Finally, as I go downstairs to oversee yet another load of astonishingly dirty clothing shed by my sons (I swear they roll in mud puddles for fun...I just haven't actually caught them at it yet), my ultimate wish would be for my house to be completely surrounded by an invisible "Grime Barrier". All filth would just automatically fall off of clothing, and shoes, and even hands and faces, at the door when anyone entered. (The garage would become a disaster area, but I can live with that--Husband's territory!)
So that's my Dream--but back in Reality: I have to go sweep up the pebbles and sand and soil from the floor by the kitchen door...then put on another sweater since I'm cold...then transfer the (hopefully restored-to-original-color) laundry to the dryer...then (sigh) lift weights. Maybe when I'm done all that, I'll have a few more well-earned, nutritious chocolate chip cookies!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
