7 Quick Takes Friday: Vol. 4

1. We survived Catholic Schools Week. And yes, it was nice to not cook for two of the nights when we went to Pizza Night fundraisers instead. And our school raised over $2,300 for Haitian relief, with kids buying raffle tickets to win all kinds of things including a grand prize of a full week of free dress. I am inspired by how much we raised at $1 per ticket. Imagine if every school in the country did that: we could do so much good.

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2. I took Little T and Lady E to the doctor today. The younger has been sick (turns out she has her first ever ear infection) and the older needed two vaccines. The drive to my pediatrician's office takes me by a hillside that contains a single cross for every American casualty of the Iran/Afghanistan wars. I've posted about this before. Today's total is 5,302, up from 4,012 when I first wrote about this hillside in April of 2008. I am against the war. But I am grateful for and awe-struck by the sacrifice of those who have died and I wonder about their families, how they cope with such a loss. I do not know anyone personally who has died in the war, but I wonder how much longer I will be able to say that.

I also think about that number, 5,302. That represents ONLY American troops, no soldiers from any other country, no civilians, no American contractors: just U. S. military deaths. I don't think the hillside is big enough to include any other group.

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3. It's Friday night. It's the weekend. Remember when weekends used to be relaxing? What the hell happened to that? These days, I get to Monday morning and experience relief akin to nirvana. Friday night used to be the time to let off steam; now it's the time to batten down the hatches.

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4. I am looking for good book suggestions. I need a few more books to pretend to read and to leave in a pile next to my bed for weeks on end. Eventually, I'll pick one up and re-read 25 pages I've already read at least 3 other times. Feel free to send me some titles. Especially if the first 50 pages are really good, since chances are slim I'll ever get past page 51.

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5. We got a webcam for Christmas and it's sitting in a box on my desk staring at me and challenging me to figure out how to use it. Am I up to the challenge?

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6. I took the girls to a bookstore today to get four birthday present for various parties this weekend, and was humbled to discover that I have become that parent who lets their children run wild in public. I will admit defeat. Little T sees any store as an opportunity to practice the art of escape and today, I just didn't have it in me to chase her. Might she get lost? Some nice person will find her and probably bring her back waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too soon. Might she get kidnapped? So very unlikely, and then if she were, pity the unsuspecting napper who gets stuck with that little terror. I could probably get money from HIM to take her back. So I let her be impossible. It wasn't pretty, I wasn't proud of it, but I didn't pour on the Mama Nazi routine until I was trying to get her in her carseat, and I'm sporting a scratch on my chin for my troubles. I refuse to play that particular scene inside of a store, on display for other patrons.

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7. And yes, four birthday presents. Which leads me to my next great insight: birthday parties should be outlawed. (Except Cait's, of course!)

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Go visit Conversion Diary for the original 7 Quick Takes, and links to others.

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Seriously???

This week is Catholic Schools Week, the annual celebration of Catholic education that involves lots of activities and events and whatnot. The whatnot is going to kill me.

Tomorrow? Here's what I need to coordinate. This is AFTER attending the K-4th grade pizza night fundraiser tonight and BEFORE attending the 5th-8th grade pizza night fundraiser tomorrow night. In between:

My 2nd grader has an Ancestor project due tomorrow. We started it way ahead of time. And then left it alone, so she must finish it tonight. I am her subject, so I'm pretty involved.

Tomorrow is Stuffed Animal Day. I don't even want to get started on my real opinion of Stuffed Animal Day. I'll just say it drives me bonkers.

Tomorrow is the Multicultural Pot Luck. This means FOUR dishes, for FOUR class potlucks. And I can't convince the kids to let me throw four heads of cabbage in their back packs and call it a day.

Tomorrow is the 100th day of school, which Kindergarten celebrates by having each child bring in 100 somethings to share, which of course the Kindergartner is supposed to be in charge of counting, what with her new-found counting skills and all. This will be painstaking. She can do it. I will go grey in the process.

My 5th grader is carting around the "pretend baby" he is supposed to be caring for 24/7, along with the "baby's" shoe box house. It's anyone's guess if he'll actually be able to find his "baby" when we need to leave for school; if yesterday morning is any indication, we'll turn the house upside down in great angst and upheaval because we think we put the baby through the laundry.

OK, so let's recap. I worked all day long. We've got one art class this afternoon and one basketball practice. We've got the pizza night fundraiser. I somehow must shop for whatever half-assed excuse of a contribution I come up with for the Multicultural potluck. I must throw together said half-assed excuse. We have to finish the 2nd grade project. Have everyone else do their homework. Get the Kindergartner to count out 100 goodies.

And then, tomorrow morning, I must leave the house with:

4 stuffed animals.
4 potluck dishes.
100 goodies.
One completed ancestor project
One late assignment that was due today, but our printer futzed out, which reminds me, throw a trip to Staples for new printer cartridges into this evening.
One box and "baby" for the 5th grader.
The usual four backpacks and lunch boxes.
AND the five kids.

Let's hope that, unlike this morning, we have access to our garage. This morning, after our three-year old completely jammed our locked garage door, rendering it un-openable, we were separated from our clean school uniform laundry for about 20 panicked minutes, way too close to departure time for comfort. We only gained access to said unforms by going through the garden gate, REMOVING a window from our back garage door and essentially breaking in. And then gathering the clean laundry and walking back through the garden gate, around the house, and back in the front door. It was nutty. And dramatic. And supremely annoying.

For those of you who might see me at pizza night, you'll find no need to question why I am weeping into my beer.

My minivan isn't big enough for the next 24 hours and all of the sudden I have an overwhelming desire to homeschool my kids. And now, to accomplish before Pizza Night: bank, staples, grocery store, art class pick-up.

Oh yeah, Kelly, I need that hermitage.

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The Reason I May Be Boring You to Tears

It's February 1, 2010.

Let the games begin.

In this case, by "games," what I actually mean is "the insane amount of work I do between January 15 and March 15 of each year."

I am a freelance editor/writer and graphic designer, in addition to helping my husband run his -- our -- garden design company. Every year, we participate in a tour of local native plant gardens; the tour takes place the first Sunday in May. We are extraordinarily busy during February, March, and April, preparing 3-5 gardens for the tour, ours included.

With my graphic design hat on, each year I produce the booklet that every registrant of the tour receives. It's usually around 100 pages, contains tons of useful native plant information, and features a garden description page for each of the 50 or so gardens on the tour. I love this project: it is both my biggest and my most enjoyable paying gig of the year. It's also the most work, and right now is crunch time. It's due at the printer sometime around March 10th or so...so by March 15th, I will have put this baby to bed.

These two Herculean efforts -- the tour booklet as well as the garden prepartions -- join the juggling act already in progress that constitutes my life as a wife, mom, freelancer, small-business owner, and last, but God help me not least, person.

Guess what is suffering the most? My beloved writing outlet: this blog. I have few brain cells left to respond to my favorite NPR stories, relate hilarious kid-anecdotes, muse on parenting, or try my hand at something resembling real writing.

I hope you stick with me for the next month and a half.

A blog I read and enjoy has a link on the left hand side that reads: "Regular writing; occasional brilliance." I like this. I need to work on the regular part. This may not be the month to devote myself to that effort, but it's where I hope to be when the dust settles and I just have the usual too much to do instead of the certifiably insane too much to do.

So for the next month and change, I will try to keep up, with both reading blogs I like (and commenting) and writing for my own. But if I seem to have disappeard, or if I'm here but boring, remember that I will try to return when the games come to a close.

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Fingers Crossed

I got in a disagreement with my sons today on the way to school; perhaps you all can help us determine who is right.

Son #1 was saying something and had the fingers on both of his hands crossed, as a way of not meaning what he was saying. (You know, like "Wow, mom, I LOVE these brussels sprouts. Not.)

So I told him that he was only supposed to have ONE set of fingers crossed if he, in effect, wanted to say a big ole NOT; two sets of fingers crossed is a double negative, and therefore, a confirmation that he does in fact love brussels sprouts. Or whatever it was, because the actual content escapes me.

Thus started the argument. The boys say no, two hands with crossed-fingers means you are basically lying, but you don't get in trouble for lying. One hand with crossed-fingers means you are telling the truth.

I tried to reason with them: What is the point of telling the truth and crossing one set of fingers? Isn't that the same as not crossing any fingers at all?

I was holding firm, until Son #2 said: "Mom, you need to get out in the world more!"

What a smart aleck. Wonder where he gets it.

OK, fair enough. So I'm reaching out into the world via my blog. Which is it people? Which gesture means the speaker is lying, one hand crossed or two?

I don't care who is right about this, I just want to know. (Guess how many fingers I'm crossing right now?)

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7 Quick Takes: Vol. 3

1. I read a beautiful post this week from Kelly at Student of the Year, a nice reflection on winter. Give yourself a treat and read it. You'll probably find yourself hoping for a little more cold weather so you can snuggle up with blankets, pillows, and people.

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2. This is sort of reverse book review. As in, I'm looking for people who have read NurtureShock: New Thinking About Children, by Po Bronson and Ashley Merryman, since I have not...yet. I admit that all I know of it so far is the blurb I read that goes like this: "[The] central premise is that many of modern society’s strategies for nurturing children, from toddlers to teens, are backfiring – because key twists in the science have been overlooked." I hope to get the book soon and give it a read. Just that blurb alone seems to match many of my recent thoughts about raising kids. I've become increasingly convinced that much of what we do in the name of our kids is a load of crap. My new insight is that we need to treat our children like people we love instead of like people we need to raise every minute of every day. If you are familiar with this book, please let me know what you think.

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3. We watched Inglourious Basterds the other night. Wow. It was quite different than I expected. What did you think of it?

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4. This week, we say goodbye to J. D. Salinger. When I was growing up, possibly the most dog-eared book in the house, beside The Red Pony, was The Catcher in the Rye. Hats off to The Onion (America's Finest News Source), for the best tribute to Salinger I've seen in the past two days. I am looking forward to re-reading the Salinger canon, and I've done my share of speculating: maybe we'll get some more treasures published posthumously? Wouldn't that be something?

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5. My 3-year old demanded The Beatles this morning in the car. Further proof that I may, in fact, be doing something right with these kids. If she grows up to read The Catcher in the Rye and The Red Pony, I can call my work with her a success. One out of five ain't bad.

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6. I still haven't sent out my Holiday cards. I purchased them, addressed them, and sealed them. I have yet to put stamps on them. If you're in my address book, look for a great picture of the kids sometime between now and July 4th. I'll do my best.

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7. On the way to school this morning, my kids were loud. This is absolutely nothing new, of course, but I was trying to be more accepting of it this time. They were having a great time, being goofy and fighting and telling me fascinating things like "Mom, did you know what the Vanderveer Collection is? A collection of DIAMONDS!" and elbowing each other and generally being both hilarious and exasperating. Lots of times, I yell at them in the morning because the noise is hard to take. This morning, I tried really, really hard to think about what my car is going to be like in another few years when I have teenagers. Silent and sullen, I'm guessing. I am sure I will miss this mayhem then. So I just tried to ride the wave.

I had also driven them to school in my PJ's, so I didn't get out of the car this time, just pulled over and let them tumble out in a big pile before they disentangled their arms and legs and backpacks and lunchboxes, blew them kisses, told them I loved them, told them to have a good day, and then sped away with my last remaining tot. The sudden silence made me laugh...which prompted my 3-year old to look at my strangely. And now, I am spending the morning still in PJ's, in a warm house, watching Flipper with Tallulah. And blogging. Noise and quiet: both are beautiful.

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Go visit Conversion Diary for the original 7 Quick Takes, and links to others.

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Hallelujah, She's Learning

My 3 year old has taken awhile to get used to the whole "Mass behavior" thing. By this, I mean that we go to Mass every most Sundays, and while I would hope she would be used to the routine by now, she seems to be stuck with the idea that the pews are her personal jungle gym and the high ceilings are her personal echo chamber. The climbing is one thing, a nuisance to believers in our immediate vicinity. The loudness, however, well, she shares that with everyone from the slackers in the back to the cantor to the altar servers.

But this week, I finally saw some progress. She still tried to climb, although maybe not quite so much. But the beauty part? As she sat in my lap, squirming away and trying to charm the folks behind us, she kept coming in close to my face, taking my face in both of her hands, and then leaning up to my ear to whisper, mercifully, "Yo-wuh breath smells so gwoss." Approximately 8 or 9 times.

It's true: I ran out of the house without brushing. She was right. I am so glad she didn't feel the need to make the rafters ring with her proclamation. I said a few heartfelt prayers of thanksgiving for her hushed tone.

She is, ever so slowly, becoming civilized. I, on the other hand, am backsliding. Ewww.

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7 Quick Takes: Vol. 2

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1. I had a rather nice idea last night, as my daughter was having difficulty going to sleep. I thought it would be nice to give her some ways to help herself to get to sleep, instead of falling back on my usual "GO TO SLEEP NOW!" refrain. I, in my most encouraging voice, said "Why don't you make up stories in your head? Or think about things you want to do? Or think about people you love?" Nice, right? Well, she picked the story idea, and then came out of her room every few minutes to tell me another story she had made up. All of them involved a princess and her dog. Sometimes the dog was named "Ruff." Sometimes the dog was named "Ruff Ruff." It sort of backfired on me, and kept her up for more than two hours past her bedtime. It ended with me losing my patience. It was not pretty. Note to self: Do not encourage creativity past bedtime.

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2. My son went on a two day trip with his 5th grade class to the Marin Headlands, for a little outdoor education. There were many highlights of the trip, but for me, the best is that he came home and announced that being outside in a place like that is way more fun than playing video games. Right on.

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3. My youngest is almost totally potty-trained. This is mind-boggling. I've been trying for over 6 months to accomplish this. As it turns out, it's hers to accomplish, not mine, and this latest attempt has been awesome. I am -- she is -- so close. What am I going to do with all that money I'll save not buying diapers? I guess that means I can increase the amount I put aside each month for the kids' therapy fund. College? They're on their own. But I'll pay for the damage I've done over the years with that fund.

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4. My five year old wants to be a cheerleader when she grows up. See? I must be doing something wrong, which necessitates the fund mentioned above.

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5. I find myself completely overwhelmed by freelance projects at the moment. It's going to be a wild ride between now and mid-March. If you are the praying kind, please pray for my kids for the next 6-7 weeks, as their mother will be even more crazed and scattered than usual. I am hoping I at least remember to feed them more frequently than my 9 year old remembers to feed Beans and Bella, his fire-bellied toads. Those things are practically on a starvation diet, and he doesn't even DO freelance work. I'll report back in mid-March on how many of the five kids have survived.

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6. Dinner tonight: Mushroom Barley Soup. Good for the soul. Having a spouse and two kids that love it as much as I do? Even better for the soul. The other three will exist on toast and bananas tonight, as far as I can tell.

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7. Tonight we were sitting in front of a fire with our brood. It was total chaos. It was nice, but it was chaos. One kid was cuddling up to dad, one was jumping up and down on the couch singing for Simon Cowell, one was talking jibberish on purpose LOUDLY, one was yelling from the next room for someone to rescue her from the bunk bed (she can climb up, but not down), one was jumping up and down on dad, and one was playing a computer game with the volume up too loud. Wait, that's six kids. Well, I swear all those things did happen, maybe not at the same time. Rick remarked: "This is the stuff we can't explain to anyone, isn't it?" Yup, that's the stuff. The level of crazy love and activity. This family is not for the weak or squeamish or lazy. Except that we're kind of lazy sometimes, hence the state of the house. But otherwise? This is hard work. And it was still nice to sit there together, and let the loudness wash over us, and look at each other like "What the hell is going on here," and hear stories about the trip to the Marin Headlands and kissing a banana slug, and let this family moment happen. Soon enough, the kids were arguing over the wii, and mom and dad were off in different parts of the house trying to ignore the fighting. For a few minutes, while the mushroom barley soup was simmering, we savored the chaos.

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Go visit Conversion Diary for the original 7 Quick Takes, and links to others.

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