After a long winter break (from approximately the time of my surgery in October which removed a mass roughly the size of a small child from my abdomen) until this week in which we've accomplished little "book larnin' ", we are back at our daily routine and it feels fine.
Today, we got back into our Biology text from the Real Science 4 Kids series, which I believe is the best out there for kids anywhere. Rebecca Keller is a genius!
In our chapter today, we read about cells. It was hilarious to try to make my kids say "golgi apparatus" and "deoxyribononucleaic acid". But they were still, with rapt attention!
It got me thinking about DNA and why we are the way we are. For instance, do I have a messy gene that makes it nearly impossible to keep an orderly home without extreme effort, while others just click? Is it really my fault that I suffer from verbal diarrhea?
I recently had a lively debate via facebook messaging about inner circles of gal pals, and what makes an inner circle, how one qualifies, etc. I think it's all in the DNA. I am not an inner circle girl. I seem to be wired to attract very interesting, but not mainstream, people. I do not drive the "right" car and I do not care. My clothes are from Kohl's, and I only get my hair cut twice a year when I can work up the nerve to spend $40 (plus products) on myself.
The inner circle girls are the ones with the "it" factor. They are lovely, secure, fashionable people who do have the "right" car and the "right" address. Their husbands adore them (another check in the "not" column for me), they are put together. Not one of them would ever think to invite me anywhere, except maybe to be the fat, not cute girl who deflects potential suitors. Is it in our DNA to be inner circle types or not?
My friend asked why people complain to her (she is an inner circle type) about being left out. Are our egos still so fragile, even in middle age, that we are not happy with our social station in life? Are we not happy with our own friends?
For me the answer is decidedly no. From childhood, I have had a yearning to be in the "in" group; on the "A" list. I have accepted the fact that I am too quirky and opinionated, not to mention too short and with ungainly features, to be in the group. I am also afflicted with the people pleasing gene, and will go to great lengths to be part of "it" even if just for a moment. In fact, my BFF Amy and I referred to our desperation for acceptance as the "never-ending quest for popularity."
Most importantly, am I homeschooling because I don't want my own social failings in horrid school to happen to my sweet babies?
I do fear that somewhere in the nuclei of my children this gene is being replicated. My daughter is universally loved, so I think it may have skipped her. The boys are still too young to see, only time will tell.
The whole of who we are is endlessly fascinating to me, and I consider it a privilege to be teaching and re-learning with my children.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Monday, February 23, 2009
Miscellaneous Monday Musings (and a bad joke)
It's Monday again, and after a night of howling winds and snow I awoke to yet another dreary, wintry morning. Gotta love Mass, where it's winter for 10 months and too expensive to live in!
Anyway, I watched the Oscars for about 10 insufferable minutes. Why, in the name of all that is holy, was Hugh Jackman picked as the host? Though I love celebs, read People.com voraciously, and covet Jennifer Aniston's hair, I cannot stand award shows. I didn't even see any of the films represented this year, as they were all maudlin, obvious and self-important. How come "Twilight" wasn't recognized by the Academy? Robert Pattison in a tux would have made the show worth watching!
As promised, here is the bad joke of the day:
With all the sadness and trauma going on in the world at the moment, it is worth reflecting on the death of a very important person, which almost went unnoticed last week.
Larry LaPrise, the man who wrote 'The Hokey Pokey' died peacefully at the age of 93. The most traumatic part for his family was getting him into the coffin. They put his left leg in. And then the trouble started.
Shut up. You know it's funny.
Anyway, I watched the Oscars for about 10 insufferable minutes. Why, in the name of all that is holy, was Hugh Jackman picked as the host? Though I love celebs, read People.com voraciously, and covet Jennifer Aniston's hair, I cannot stand award shows. I didn't even see any of the films represented this year, as they were all maudlin, obvious and self-important. How come "Twilight" wasn't recognized by the Academy? Robert Pattison in a tux would have made the show worth watching!
As promised, here is the bad joke of the day:
With all the sadness and trauma going on in the world at the moment, it is worth reflecting on the death of a very important person, which almost went unnoticed last week.
Larry LaPrise, the man who wrote 'The Hokey Pokey' died peacefully at the age of 93. The most traumatic part for his family was getting him into the coffin. They put his left leg in. And then the trouble started.
Shut up. You know it's funny.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
I am a Hypocrite, Aren't I?
OK, so the winter has closed in around me and the thought of getting out of bed, let alone taking care of and teaching three children, is quite overwhelming. So on a whim I have sent (gasp) school choice applications (public school, no less. I KNOW!) to a local school, because they have a great program for gifted children (yes, my daughter and probably my sons are gifted. It's not PC to say so, but it is what it is.). I am just tired. I have lost the will to do all the work involved in homeschooling. I selfishly want time to 1) exercise 2) eat an entire lunch sitting down 3)clean my house 4) have coffee with a friend.
I am fighting my inner voice that reminds me that I homeschool because there are so many things I cannot abide about public school such as 1) making kids sit still so much 2) the long hours 3) the bad influences 4) the one-size-fits all teaching methods.
I cannot see myself as a shiny PTA mom. I can definitely see myself as a huge pain in the ass, pushing for what my kids need and simultaneously hating myself for not keeping them home.
I chose this particular school because they still have a half-day K program and for their differentiated instruction and shameless "label" of gifted for children who need it. My daughter, 7, is reading on a 10th grade level and learning to solve for x in algebraic equations. She understands molecular combination. She plays Bach effortlessly on her violin. She needs challenge to be happy. My sons, 4, add and subtract to 12s, are starting to read early readers and also need extra. So what's a mom who has lost the will to do it herownself to do?
I am looking into private schools, but will only be able to afford it if they hire me. So I have cobbled together a workable resume and sent it out all over the North Shore. I am leaving it to fate what will happen.
Am I a hypocrite, for all my ranting about the evils of public school? Or just a worn out mom who wants to give something else a try for her own sanity, and so she can enjoy the fun stuff with her kids and leave the nagging to someone else. These are the questions troubling me these days...
I am fighting my inner voice that reminds me that I homeschool because there are so many things I cannot abide about public school such as 1) making kids sit still so much 2) the long hours 3) the bad influences 4) the one-size-fits all teaching methods.
I cannot see myself as a shiny PTA mom. I can definitely see myself as a huge pain in the ass, pushing for what my kids need and simultaneously hating myself for not keeping them home.
I chose this particular school because they still have a half-day K program and for their differentiated instruction and shameless "label" of gifted for children who need it. My daughter, 7, is reading on a 10th grade level and learning to solve for x in algebraic equations. She understands molecular combination. She plays Bach effortlessly on her violin. She needs challenge to be happy. My sons, 4, add and subtract to 12s, are starting to read early readers and also need extra. So what's a mom who has lost the will to do it herownself to do?
I am looking into private schools, but will only be able to afford it if they hire me. So I have cobbled together a workable resume and sent it out all over the North Shore. I am leaving it to fate what will happen.
Am I a hypocrite, for all my ranting about the evils of public school? Or just a worn out mom who wants to give something else a try for her own sanity, and so she can enjoy the fun stuff with her kids and leave the nagging to someone else. These are the questions troubling me these days...
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Break-ups are Hard On You
Lately, I have had much pressure, stress and anxiety, the likes of which I've never had converge all at once. I spent most of the weekend huddled on my bed watching reruns of America's Next Top Model, emerging only to feed my children and feeling grateful that they entertain themselves. One recent event weighs on my mind most days, and I'm sure we've all been there.
It starts off so well, usually. You meet someone and it clicks. The conversation is exciting as you interrupt each other, telling stories that link experiences. Daily phone calls start. The thrill of it all makes you overlook potential problems that down the road will ultimately doom the relationship. Then it becomes necessary to break up.
I am, of course, talking about the mom friendship. After having a baby, life changes so radically you become fast friends with anyone else who understands. Most of the time, this is great. Your children play together, you bond over talk of sleepless nights, preschool choices and the subtle nuances of The Wonderpets and High School Musical.
Sometimes, lives just diverge and the friendships come to a natural stall, and you connect mostly on Facebook or through Christmas cards. No hard feelings – you are happy to bump into each other and laugh over trivial events of the past. Sort of like a nice boy you went on a few dates with but there was no lasting chemistry.
But we all have a mom friend who drives us nuts. The sound of her voice makes your fingernails tingle and eyebrows twitch. Her phone number on caller ID causes heart palpitations not unlike seeing your mother-in-law’s number.
I had such a friend until recently. Even though she clearly could not tolerate anything about me and was constantly trying to change my religious views (Christian), political leanings (conservative) and parenting style (according to her, draconian and rigid), I gamely stuck by with a fake smile on my face because our daughters were friends.
This worked for awhile, until I realized that the poor behavior of this wild child, who has very little self-control or sense of other people, was rubbing off on my own. After a playdate, I had to deprogram my daughter who would come home wondering why she had to have a bedtime and talking back, two things acceptable in a home where the parents believe adults have no business putting limits on children – but clearly not acceptable in my home, where I strive to teach my children how the world works and believe children thrive on a schedule.
I tried to remember the great things this mom did, like helping out in a pinch when I needed someone to watch my kids and her way of being so laid back and untroubled by many things.
Over about two years, incidents added up to the breaking point and it became necessary to make a clean break. Being a nonconfrontational doormat type who wants everyone to like me, it was very difficult to make the split. I tried to just turn down playdate invitations and cut conversations short, but my passive agression didn’t work.
So in the end, I turned to e-mail. I agonized over the best way to do it, and carefully worded my reasons for why I thought we didn’t need to see each other any more. I should have known it wouldn’t be so easy – much to my surprise and dismay, just like in seventh grade, my e-mail and a brutal rebuttal made the rounds to some friends, many of whom did not know the whole history of our stormy relationship. All it took was two weeks of deep breathing exercises, a trip to Florida and some damage control to finally get over the anxiety of it all.
It’s painful to end things, even more painful to explain to a child why a loved friend is not healthy to be around. But it’s part of helping them make good choices about the people they allow to influence them, and how to stand up for themselves. Breaking up is hard to do, but is certainly necessary sometimes.
Perhaps I can be bolstered enough to end another troublesome relationship...we'll see.
It starts off so well, usually. You meet someone and it clicks. The conversation is exciting as you interrupt each other, telling stories that link experiences. Daily phone calls start. The thrill of it all makes you overlook potential problems that down the road will ultimately doom the relationship. Then it becomes necessary to break up.
I am, of course, talking about the mom friendship. After having a baby, life changes so radically you become fast friends with anyone else who understands. Most of the time, this is great. Your children play together, you bond over talk of sleepless nights, preschool choices and the subtle nuances of The Wonderpets and High School Musical.
Sometimes, lives just diverge and the friendships come to a natural stall, and you connect mostly on Facebook or through Christmas cards. No hard feelings – you are happy to bump into each other and laugh over trivial events of the past. Sort of like a nice boy you went on a few dates with but there was no lasting chemistry.
But we all have a mom friend who drives us nuts. The sound of her voice makes your fingernails tingle and eyebrows twitch. Her phone number on caller ID causes heart palpitations not unlike seeing your mother-in-law’s number.
I had such a friend until recently. Even though she clearly could not tolerate anything about me and was constantly trying to change my religious views (Christian), political leanings (conservative) and parenting style (according to her, draconian and rigid), I gamely stuck by with a fake smile on my face because our daughters were friends.
This worked for awhile, until I realized that the poor behavior of this wild child, who has very little self-control or sense of other people, was rubbing off on my own. After a playdate, I had to deprogram my daughter who would come home wondering why she had to have a bedtime and talking back, two things acceptable in a home where the parents believe adults have no business putting limits on children – but clearly not acceptable in my home, where I strive to teach my children how the world works and believe children thrive on a schedule.
I tried to remember the great things this mom did, like helping out in a pinch when I needed someone to watch my kids and her way of being so laid back and untroubled by many things.
Over about two years, incidents added up to the breaking point and it became necessary to make a clean break. Being a nonconfrontational doormat type who wants everyone to like me, it was very difficult to make the split. I tried to just turn down playdate invitations and cut conversations short, but my passive agression didn’t work.
So in the end, I turned to e-mail. I agonized over the best way to do it, and carefully worded my reasons for why I thought we didn’t need to see each other any more. I should have known it wouldn’t be so easy – much to my surprise and dismay, just like in seventh grade, my e-mail and a brutal rebuttal made the rounds to some friends, many of whom did not know the whole history of our stormy relationship. All it took was two weeks of deep breathing exercises, a trip to Florida and some damage control to finally get over the anxiety of it all.
It’s painful to end things, even more painful to explain to a child why a loved friend is not healthy to be around. But it’s part of helping them make good choices about the people they allow to influence them, and how to stand up for themselves. Breaking up is hard to do, but is certainly necessary sometimes.
Perhaps I can be bolstered enough to end another troublesome relationship...we'll see.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Things I Ponder Late At Night
I often have insomnia, and end up taking Advil PM to get some zzzzz's. On occasion, though, I amuse myself by wondering about things. If anyone knows the answer to these burning questions, please let me know.
1. After 7 years, a couple shacking up is considered to have a common-law marriage and they get to avoid all the legal rigamorale. If I don't sleep with my husband for 7 years, can I have a common law divorce?
2. Is it true that boys really don't mature past age 6, they just get bigger?
3. Why do people drive on parkways and park on driveways?
4. Why do I always think of the perfect comeback or pithy comment hours or days after the opportunity to say it has passed, and I can't take back the stupid, rambling thing I said instead?
5. Am I frittering away my prime years?
6. What if one of my kids, in adulthood, does something really, really horrible? Or something really, really wonderful? How will I handle it?
7. Is all the stuff in the Freakonomics book true?
8. I often wonder what people are doing, and if it's way more fun than what I am doing. In my mind, no one else has any problems.
9. What would I do if I suddenly had unlimited money? That's a fun one....
10. What does God think of everything?
11. Why don't some certain people "friend" me on Facebook?
OK, so I have just proved that I am indeed crazy. Please tell me that I am not the only one....
1. After 7 years, a couple shacking up is considered to have a common-law marriage and they get to avoid all the legal rigamorale. If I don't sleep with my husband for 7 years, can I have a common law divorce?
2. Is it true that boys really don't mature past age 6, they just get bigger?
3. Why do people drive on parkways and park on driveways?
4. Why do I always think of the perfect comeback or pithy comment hours or days after the opportunity to say it has passed, and I can't take back the stupid, rambling thing I said instead?
5. Am I frittering away my prime years?
6. What if one of my kids, in adulthood, does something really, really horrible? Or something really, really wonderful? How will I handle it?
7. Is all the stuff in the Freakonomics book true?
8. I often wonder what people are doing, and if it's way more fun than what I am doing. In my mind, no one else has any problems.
9. What would I do if I suddenly had unlimited money? That's a fun one....
10. What does God think of everything?
11. Why don't some certain people "friend" me on Facebook?
OK, so I have just proved that I am indeed crazy. Please tell me that I am not the only one....
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Yes, of course I LOATHE Valentine's Day
It is the one day of the year I dread, the most evil and contrived day of them all. What kind of person can handle the pressure? It is always a disappointment, especially when you can't stand your significant other, but still must, for show, purchase a card. Do you lie and purchase the cheesy, romantic one with the couple in silhouette on the beach? The "dirty" card? The joke card, the receipt of which is clearly the death knell of any relationship?
Years ago, I did like VD (which is my pet name for it, since I am sure many unwanted "transmissions" will happen that night). When I was dating my favorite boyfriend Steve in college, we would celebrate VD by drinking a bottle of Boone's Farm and changing the letters on the entrance sign of the student union to say things like "Welcome Fascists" instead of something more dignified. He really got me in a way no one else ever had or has yet to date! One year, he broke into the art building and made me a picnic on the roof; another he surprised me with breakfast cooked by hisveryownself and brought to my dorm room in the freezing cold. No horrid flowers, overpriced dinners or dicey cards - just fun surprises only the two of us understood.
I do, of course, have VD fantasies (or just fantasies in general). My most recent one involves an unknown crush showing up after my Zumba class to whisk me off for libations and great conversation, and not on VD itself. I know it won't happen, but hey, a girl never stops dreaming.
I keep hoping that VD will become passe. I think the worst thing that can happen is getting engaged or married on VD - how cliche and boring! Anyway, feel free to comment and prove me wrong. Perhaps I really am just a jaded, silly girl....
Years ago, I did like VD (which is my pet name for it, since I am sure many unwanted "transmissions" will happen that night). When I was dating my favorite boyfriend Steve in college, we would celebrate VD by drinking a bottle of Boone's Farm and changing the letters on the entrance sign of the student union to say things like "Welcome Fascists" instead of something more dignified. He really got me in a way no one else ever had or has yet to date! One year, he broke into the art building and made me a picnic on the roof; another he surprised me with breakfast cooked by hisveryownself and brought to my dorm room in the freezing cold. No horrid flowers, overpriced dinners or dicey cards - just fun surprises only the two of us understood.
I do, of course, have VD fantasies (or just fantasies in general). My most recent one involves an unknown crush showing up after my Zumba class to whisk me off for libations and great conversation, and not on VD itself. I know it won't happen, but hey, a girl never stops dreaming.
I keep hoping that VD will become passe. I think the worst thing that can happen is getting engaged or married on VD - how cliche and boring! Anyway, feel free to comment and prove me wrong. Perhaps I really am just a jaded, silly girl....
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Sanibel
Well, I did force myself onto the plane in high dudgeon over the fact that the one week we were there was the coldest in 40 years. Still, it was a far cry better than the horritrocious winter here in the frozen tundra of Massachusetts. I want to live on Sanibel someday, and spend my days in denial walking the beach and lolling about in the sun. The kids loved it, too. I am indoctrinating them young to love the warm and eschew the cold so they will support me in my old age in a sunny place. It's just fabulous. The pic above is my fantastic kids, playing on the fishing pier. Aren't they just freakin' precious?
Batman Cooks My Dinner!
In an effort to teach my children usable life skills, I have started allowing them to help cook dinner. The other night, Batman made us tacos! Who knew superheroes were so versatile? Am I a lucky girl, or what?
I think he's looking to the sky for the Bat Signal from Commissioner Gordon or something...
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Staple Head
It's not a vacation for us without a trip to the ER. Two summers ago, it was Anna's broken arm in North Carolina. This time, it was poor Ryan who is now sporting a stylish, shiny staple on the top of his head.
While I was dutifully folding laundry and washing dishes (is there ever REALLY a vacation for a mom?), I heard a thud, beat of silence, then the wail of a boy with a head wound. Once I got over the sight of the dear child crumpled on the floor wearing his goggles, I noticed blood gushing forth from the top of his head not unlike Old Faithful.
I nearly fainted as I carried him to the kitchen and used Bounty to staunch the flow. It really is absorbent! It became clear that it was going to bleed for awhile, so I found out the location of the nearest hospital and rushed him over. While we waited for 3 hours, I got the story out of my little genius.
Turns out he was wearing the goggles because he was pretending to scuba dive, so he was looking down of course to see the imaginary coral reef. He unfortunately walked right into the sharp corner of some decorative crown molding on the TV armoire.
Ryan was a champ during the long wait and the stapling, which closed the laceration with a satisfying kerchunk sound. I still can't bring myself to look at it.
All that's left to do is wonder what strange accident awaits us next!
While I was dutifully folding laundry and washing dishes (is there ever REALLY a vacation for a mom?), I heard a thud, beat of silence, then the wail of a boy with a head wound. Once I got over the sight of the dear child crumpled on the floor wearing his goggles, I noticed blood gushing forth from the top of his head not unlike Old Faithful.
I nearly fainted as I carried him to the kitchen and used Bounty to staunch the flow. It really is absorbent! It became clear that it was going to bleed for awhile, so I found out the location of the nearest hospital and rushed him over. While we waited for 3 hours, I got the story out of my little genius.
Turns out he was wearing the goggles because he was pretending to scuba dive, so he was looking down of course to see the imaginary coral reef. He unfortunately walked right into the sharp corner of some decorative crown molding on the TV armoire.
Ryan was a champ during the long wait and the stapling, which closed the laceration with a satisfying kerchunk sound. I still can't bring myself to look at it.
All that's left to do is wonder what strange accident awaits us next!
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Live From Sanibel
No, I am never coming back. I don't know if I can physically force myself onto the plane! I haven't figured out where we would stay or pay for things, but those are just details to be dealt with.... The sun is shining, and I've spent hours doing nothing but wandering the beach listening to my children chatter and play. We are all content, which is a rarity at home!
I used to come here in the winters with my grandparents, to this very condo. They are gone now, and I have gotten a little choked up more than once remembering their very selves walking the same beach (or riding, in the case of my paraplegic grandmother), sifting through shells and feeling the same warm sun on their faces. They were two of the best people who ever lived, kind and generous and loving. I was lucky to know them, and miss them every day.
There has been way too much drama in my life lately, from having to ask someone to leave my co-op for bad behaviour (both mom and child), antics of my husband and looking for a real job. Sanibel is a great place to forget it all. Sun on one's cheek and a breeze in one's hair do seem to cure everything and put the bad stuff to rest.
The best parts of the trip so far?
1. Jake learned he could swim without a floatie! He is such a superstar swimmer now.
2. Finding a cool crab with a shell that looks like giraffe fur.
3. Teaching the kids to play Monopoly on the rainy day.
4. Not wearing shoes.
5. Reading 2 books so far!
6. Watching Anna dance free on the beach.
7. Watching Ryan swing from tree branches with a look of glee on his little face.
More updates coming - and pics when I return.
I used to come here in the winters with my grandparents, to this very condo. They are gone now, and I have gotten a little choked up more than once remembering their very selves walking the same beach (or riding, in the case of my paraplegic grandmother), sifting through shells and feeling the same warm sun on their faces. They were two of the best people who ever lived, kind and generous and loving. I was lucky to know them, and miss them every day.
There has been way too much drama in my life lately, from having to ask someone to leave my co-op for bad behaviour (both mom and child), antics of my husband and looking for a real job. Sanibel is a great place to forget it all. Sun on one's cheek and a breeze in one's hair do seem to cure everything and put the bad stuff to rest.
The best parts of the trip so far?
1. Jake learned he could swim without a floatie! He is such a superstar swimmer now.
2. Finding a cool crab with a shell that looks like giraffe fur.
3. Teaching the kids to play Monopoly on the rainy day.
4. Not wearing shoes.
5. Reading 2 books so far!
6. Watching Anna dance free on the beach.
7. Watching Ryan swing from tree branches with a look of glee on his little face.
More updates coming - and pics when I return.
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