Best Laid Plans

I can't imagine I'm the only one who would view two weeks off work as an opportunity to accomplish big things.  Granted, I knew the two weeks would be punctuated by a good deal of time spent celebrating the holidays.  But still, I had plenty of time to clean house, organize closets and go through old boxes.  In general, the plan was to start the New Year O-R-G-A-N-I-Z-E-D. 

Now I have 4 days left with very little to show for the time passed. 

Oh I have definitely enjoyed myself.  I have had a number of lazy days in addition to days of celebration with family and friends.

But here I am, behind on the laundry (AS USUAL, anyone in my house would say), rooms and closets only minimally tidied and old boxes as packed up and disorganized as ever.

Well, 4 days is 4 days.  There is still hope.  I can still conquer this house and start the New Year organized.  If I'm nothing else, I'm optimistic!

Birthday Recap

Wow - what a day!  First, I am officially no longer 40, I am "in my 40's".  Um, gulp.  My mantra is "it beats the alternative".

I stayed up far too late the night before, sucked into Law & Order SVU.  I was definitely exhausted from many days strung together of Christmas, post-Christmas and 8 year old birthday mayhem.  This created an inertia so severe that extended TV watching seemed easier and wiser than the exertion it would take to get into PJ's, remove makeup and get into bed.

Therefore, waking at 9am, which would normally be sleeping in, meant only 6 hours of sleep.  I still had a lovely couple of hours of solitude, catching up online and drinking a pot of tea, before my kids woke up.  Unfortunately, the crazy roller coaster schedule I have had my kids on meant, even though they slept in, they woke up cranky and difficult.

Happily, I was leaving cranky behind!  Three of my favorite people in the world - my best friend, my sister and my mom organized an impromptu lunch outing to Good Girls Go to Paris - an amazing place that I have been dying to visit.  I left my kids in their PJ's with a simple request that "for my birthday" they tidy up their toys so I would be able to vaccum when I returned.

The lunch was both delightful and delicious!  I cannot recommend the restaurant highly enough.  I will certainly go back.  Since it is on the fringe of WSU's campus, probably more than I should!  As a matter of fact, I issue an open invitation to my WSU friends to accompany me as I sample my way through the menu. (or anyone else who wants to meet me there!)  And the company could not have been more perfect.  A slice of the day I would like to freeze in time.

Then we arrived home.  The simple request that they tidy?  Hmmmm.....  Not only was nothing tidied, the scene had digressed.  The children were still in PJ's and in much the same position as I had left them.

I blame the lack of sleep.  I lost it.  Full on drama queen tantrum.  "I rarely ask for anything....  Can't believe nothing was done.....  It's my birthday...."  Slamming doors included, tears plentiful, and embarrassingly all in front of my sister.  Not that I mind her seeing the warts, but hated to put a cramp in her visit.  Especially so near the end.

Soooooooo......  yelling, tears, door slam, lots of pouting.

Miraculously (and probably due in part to Eileen removing Natalie from the scene), my older two pulled it together and cleaned the living room and dining room (something I probably wouldn't have accomplished in the same amount of time).  While this occurred I pouted and took a very cleansing nap.  I woke up to my poor over-criticized husband having used his break to pick up a birthday cake and arrange take out chinese food (since he had to work until 9pm) for dinner.  Oh, and he also organized an impromptu small party with my family.  This all in the wake of a separate tantrum all for him.

So the evening ended with great Chinese, delicious ice cream cake,  watching Up with my parents, my kids, my sister, and eventually my husband and brother in law.  It also included a little wine and even champagne.

Although it may not have been a day that I am fully proud of, it seems a day that most accurately represents my daily life.  Therefore, perhaps it can be considered an excellent 41st birthday!

Systematic torture of a marshmallow mommy

I present to you the scene of the crime - the Mort Harris Recreation and Fitness Center on the campus of Wayne State University.  Looks harmless, doesn't it?  It even looks rather pleasant.  Ah, how easily we are fooled!

Folks - this is a torture chamber - trust me on this one!  Don't believe me?  Let me explain....

So I returned from San Antonio thinking perhaps it would be a good idea to get back into a workout routine.  I spent 4 days literally eating my way through San Antonio.  Guacamole made fresh at our table, mouth watering barbeque, prickly pear margarita.....mmmmm.....  But I digress.  You know how they say things are bigger in Texas?  Well, 5000 calories per day later, my rear end is most certainly bigger, thanks to Texas!  

So, inspired by extra junk in my trunk, I made an appointment to meet with a personal trainer.  I have never worked with a personal trainer before.  I work out at the gym, so that doesn't intimidate me, but have not dipped my toes in the personal training waters.

I meet with the PT - he seems harmless.  Obviously fit, but not in a bulky, muscle-popping way.  Poor guy has a horrible head cold, but he is persevering.  How hard can he be on me, right?

He asks what my goal is for our session.  Since I know he will tell me it is impossible to shrink my ass 2 sizes in one sitting, I opt for asking him to show me exercises I can do at home for the days I don't work out on my lunch hour.  Also known as lately - every day.

What possesses minimally fit people like me to try to appear like we are fit to people who actually are, in fact, fit?  As Mr. PT lead me through a series of seemingly low-level exercises and stretches, I focused on following them to the letter.  Or rather, to the muscle.  Burning thighs?  Screaming deltoids?  No problem.  Wouldn't want to look bad in front of the guy who is holding my accurate weight and measurements in his hands (so he clearly knows better!)

Suffice it to say that I left the Rec Center barely able to walk, my thighs threatening to collapse with every step.  And then it got bad....

Fast forward 16 hours.  I woke up Thursday barely able to get out of bed.  Shaving my legs was out of the question.  Hmmm....pants it is!  Descending my back stairs (precarious in the best of times, but that is another BLOG topic) was fairly thrill seeking.  It was pretty much 50/50 whether or not I was going to just fall right down.

Did you know that sitting down in an office chair is a squat?  That there are other daily activities that are also squats and I am now seeking out rails to keep me from "falling in"?  Or were you aware that descending stairs is actually a lunge?

So, if you see me in the next few days and I am waddling along like a penguin, you will know I have my Master, I mean Trainer, to thank.  And please don't, as my husband did, ask me to demonstrate the lunges he taught me.  Or at least please wait until November.  I might be able to walk by then.

Cross Promotion

Check out my husband and his "appearance" on one of my favorite blogs - oldwahoo.blogspot.com. 

And yes, I will post.....

soon......

probably tomorrow......

Middle School Registration as Social Litmus

This past (early!) Tuesday morning, I pulled out the reams of paperwork to fill out for my daughter's middle school registration.  Registration was Tuesday afternoon at 1:00pm, so true to form I was working under pressure.  Before I get too far into it, I should confess that I'm not new to middle school registration.  My daughter will be in her final year this year, so I've had two tries already before this!

Perhaps it was the knowledge that this is probably the final registration I will be welcome to attend.  Or possibly it's the sense I get that, although she clearly still enjoys my company, she probably won't be advertising that to her school friends anytime in the next few years. 

Whatever the reason, that manila folder of forms became a virtual minefield for me this year!

First came the Clinic Volunteer Form.  I paused over this.  I have never volunteered for Clinic before.  Having no useful health care background and no innate ability to comfort children other than my own, I've never been drawn to this.  It held my eye this year.  Maybe it would be a good idea to spend a few hours every other month on the inside of the school, during the regular school day. 

Then I thought about how my daughter might feel.  Anytime during elementary, and possibly her first year in middle school, she would have enjoyed the idea of me being around.  It occurred to me the 13 year old version may not feel the same.

Next came the PTO Volunteer Sheet.  I'm on the PTO Board and I think that is just fine in her eyes.  Field Day volunteer?  Probably not so fine.  Fun Night Chaperone?  Um....no, I think not.

I was still chuckling to myself about he idiosyncrasies of 13 and how we "dance" around them when I picked up the Photo order sheet. 

My recollection of school picture day includes a marbled blue or grey background and a small black plastic comb.  By middle school we had smeared gobs of Lip Smackers on our lips and probably snuck some unwise shade of eyeshadow in our backpack.  But that was as good as it got!

The options today are endless.  Six different shades of background.  Five different pose choices.  The opportunity to emboss their name on their wallet photos.  Whoa!  When did we start offering "Senior Pictures" to 8th graders????

But the option that completely rocked me was the Retouching Options.  Yes, you read that correctly and that wasn't a typo....optionS.  With an S.

The ability to soften a picture and hide blemishes for a mere extra $6 came out a few years ago.  I was actually pretty pleased with it.  Those photo packages cost a bundle, it was great to clean up the obvious stuff.  This year, however, for just ANOTHER $6 (total of 12), I could choose Premium Retouching.  My daughter's teeth would be whitened, skin tone evened, blemishes erased and stray hairs would be rubbed out.

This is AIR BRUSHING people!!!  They are AIR BRUSHING our children!!!

And that's not the worst part.  The worst part was that I actually had to think about this decision.  While completely morally opposed to the idea in theory, was I going to sacrifice my daughter in the name of my principles?  Her picture will be stacked up in the yearbook next to perfectly finished photos of her classmates.  They are ALL supposed to look dorky and awkward.  Now they'll all look like Disney produced the yearbook.

Since I'm sure you're wondering, I took the middle road.  I'm a "middle road" kind of girl.  Regular retouching so there are no zits blazing out of her face, but no air brushing.  Hopefully she'll thank me some day. 

I'm guessing that day will not be the one when the yearbook comes out.

Confessions of a sloppy homemaker

I am a slob. For years I have tried to pretend I am not.

It's not that I enjoy squalor. Truly, I love a clean house - it makes me very happy. Cluttered spaces cloud my mind - clean spaces open it up. Even more than that, it pains me that my house is almost never "spontaneous visit ready". One of my favorite things about my mom is that she always made her home the hub of activity and friends were always welcome. I feel the same, but my house is often so in a shambles that I hesitate to throw the doors open.

And I'm not just bad at clutter. I am delinquent in the cleaning aspect too. My home is a haven for dust bunnies, my bathroom always goes at least a day or two (or more!) longer than it should before I clean it, and when I say you could eat off my floors - it is not because they are sanitary.

I'm told I come by this honestly. My mother was never an excellent housekeeper. My grandmother used to push the dirty dishes back on the table to do her weekly baking. This is a little comforting. Not much, but a little.

So, if I like clean spaces why don't I make more of an effort to keep my house better? I'm ridiculously anal about my schedules, why can't I just "pencil it in" to my weeks? Heck - I could even give house cleaning it's own color on my calendar!

Because it is low, low, LOW on my priority list. There are so many other things that are either more pressing or, frankly, more fun. Dishes get done routinely, laundry can never be fully ignored, so it's not like I'm not doing ANYTHING in the house. But given the choice between washing floors or tidying the always cluttered dining room table - and an afternoon at the pool with my kids or an evening out with my friends? Hmmmmm...... Sorry, I'm not disciplined enough to Just Say No.

Also, I have 4 other bodies in the house helping to clutter and dirty. 3 of those other bodies are even less inclined to notice a dirty house than I am. I am slowly, finally trying to get them into a routine of chores that will lessen my load a little. It is an uphill battle

I live by a motto that I would rather have time with my kids than a clean house right now and that someday my house can always be clean because those 3 dirt-ignorant bodies will no longer be in residence. I know there are flaws with this logic. First, I have many friends who spend loads of times with their kids and still find time to keep a clean house. Second, I know myself well enough to know I will probably find more things to do when the kids grow up and the only difference may be the lack of Legos underfoot.

But a girl can dream!

Anyhooooo..... That's my confession. Now you know. If you stop by unannounced (and I hope you do!), you are forewarned. Now off to laundry, gardening, dust bunny control, etc!

Channeling my inner beach

On the eve of what promises to be the worst Walk-In Tuesday in some time (crap - I really should be sleeping right now!), I am trying to "channel my inner beach".

What the hell are you talking about Kim?

I am trying to reconnect with the utter serenity that was my world just 240 short hours ago. I returned home from Bear Lake this year so completely relaxed, I was practically comatose. The heat that kicked in the day after returning home made me a bit cranky and irritable - but it was a relaxed irritable!

Hmmm....what exactly was so soothing and soul nourishing? The nightly cards games were great - Oh Darn the first week and BS the second (please let my kids not share the real source of that acronym when they return to school soon). The night beach fires were festive, with s'mores and glow sticks. Drinks were aplenty - keg beer and slushy "girlie" drinks during the day and red wine or "Bear Lake Stingers" at night. (Now getting "stung"? Not so relaxing)

I'd have to say, as much as I enjoyed all of that, it was the reading that really brought me to that peaceful, laid back place. I read 4 1/2 books over the two weeks, including a re-read of one favorite, a "fun" read that brought me back to middle school, and two excellent books that came highly recommended, and rightly so.

I kicked off the first week with The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. At 487 pages, translated from spanish, it wasn't what I would normally consider a "beach read". It garnered high praise from Kate & Ron Bernas - two whose opinions I trust, so I dove in. Rich in description, containing every element I could hope for from a novel - fascinating history, intrigue, tragedy, love story, great metaphor and even seemingly mystical elements - I was hooked. This book is a must read, particularly for people who love books and all they offer. My one and only problem with it? It has intimidated me. I don't think I could ever live up to that level of writing.

After that spellbinder, I definitely needed some levity. John, ever the thoughtful husband, overheard me talking about The Official Preppy Handbook by Lisa Birnbach with some friends. He managed to find a copy for me and presented it to me just before our trip. It was delightful and somewhat hilarious to re-read the "bible" from my middle school days. The most hilarious part about it? I don't think we actually ever got the satire when we were 13. Yikes!

Back to something more "meaty", I took a tip from my sister-in-law, Holly, who has also suggested several fantastic title to me. One of her favorites (and now one of mine) - People of the Book by Geraldine Brooks. At this point, I believe books about books was officially my Bear Lake reading theme. This tale, however, centers on a very special and particular book and weaves tragic and poignant historic tales through the fabric of a significant modern story. Again, I cannot recommend this book highly enough.

Next, in anticipation of the movie debut I re-read The Time Travelers Wife by Audrey Niffeneger. One of my absolute, top, favorite stories of all time, I truly lose myself in this story. I read the book 3 years ago at Bear Lake and distinctly remember the feeling of discombobulation every time I was forced to close the book and refocus on real life. The re-read was equally satisfying and I'm glad I took the time to do it, although I don't anticipate much from the movie. At least I like Eric Bana and Rachel McAdams. That will just have to do.

I finished out the second week with Craig Ferguson's Between the Bridge and the River. For anyone who follows late night television, Craig Ferguson hosts the "later" show after David Letterman on CBS. He's scottish and I find him very funny. John actually stumbled on his show and DVR's it all the time. It is a little odd watching it in the middle of the day, what with all the psedo child-porn 900 number commercial breaks, but never fails to make me laugh out loud at some point. I have read half of the book so far and I am enjoying it. He entertains as well on paper, if not better. Were I beachside, the book would be long finished, but sadly life interrupts.

Life? Like Walk-In Tuesdays? Good god - what am I still doing up at near midnight? That's all for now..... Night!

.....And we're back!

I realize I have been remiss in posting. For once I have a legitimate reason instead of convenient justifications.

For the past two weeks we have been enjoying my Eden. Each year we rent the simplest of cottages on a small lake in the Northern Lower Peninsula of Michigan.

The cottages are extremely basic - cinder block walls, cement or linoleum floors, flea market furniture. And don't even get me started on the mattresses. Sounds awful, right?

Well, the lack of luxury means I don't have to run after my kids and clean constantly. A simple sweep daily, a few dishes and I'm done.

But that's not even what makes it heavenly to me. To step out our door is to step directly onto the beach. The beach borders waters that have exactly the right amount of "swimmable" lake for my kids. No tricky extended sand bars for me to have to fret over how deep the kids are. Gradual slope and then 20 foot drop off clearly marked with midnight blue water.

For 14 glorious days I recline in festively painted Adirondack chairs, moving the sand between my toes, reading voraciously, pausing to forage through the shameful amount of food we bring or drag an icy beer from the keg my husband set up in our fridge (brilliant!).

My kids are finally of the age where they can (mostly) fend for themselves - there is plenty for them to do, they are good swimmers, they are old enough to get their own food and drinks. That doesn't mean I ignore them - but our interactions are, for the most part, by choice and full of fun.

Paradise gets old for John and Owen quickly but my girls take after me in maximizing every beach moment possible. When the boys get fidgety, we raise our heads lazily off our raft/chair/beach blanket and wish them the best on their daily adventure.

But we're back now. Back to messy house and meal planning. Back to calendars and schedules. Back to work and traffic.

I definitely have more to say about Bear Lake and our two weeks. Beyond being delightful they were also inspirational and have given me some writing ideas. For now, however, it is a small miracle that I am still awake and I need to head to bed so I can spend the next 6 1/2 hours confused about whether I am home or still at the cottage when I wake briefly from time to time.

And the Winner is.....

......the Hyudai Entourage!!

As usual my husband came through at the bitter end against all hope. Not only found a great car but also an amazing deal. Really, when will I ever learn that my badgering, bullying and doubting him completely is generally all for naught?

Automobile Purchase

The car buying experience - this conjures up an image for nearly everyone I know beyond the age of 22 or so, some even younger. The image ranges from positive to intimidating to downright terrifying.

Hilarious? Not generally associated with the experience to my knowledge.

But that would be for the rest of you AMATEURS who DON'T have to purchase a vehicle in conjunction with my husband.

Here is the rundown:

First, we must spend a day claiming that we don't actually need a car. Well, duh. For the man who walks across the street to work and only has to drive a child to an event when he is told to and provided with a car, this is obvious. Of course!

Check.

Second, we must research every ridiculous car that exists. 1984 conversion van with electric blue interior, 1995 cargo van with 187,000 miles, amazing car with low mileage and price located in Oklahoma.

Check.

Next we must embark on the auto visits. The first stop must be friendly but panic inducing. It will require 30 minutes of follow up driving with mild bickering before another stop can be made.

Check.

This is followed up with a visit to a second dealership. If you are truly lucky, it could possibly be within the same day. Models will be admired, an interior may even be looked at. Perhaps a conversation with a salesperson will take place without foot pursuit. Nothing will come of it.

Check.

Much driving should follow, accompanied by yelling and screaming, induced by frustration - but inappropriate and unfruitful nonetheless. If you are really "in character", of course the kids will be along for this ride.

Check.

The final stop of the evening may be more promising, but will not yield more success. The yelling and screaming will yield more conversation , but it may not be more useful. You will assume your partner is more motivated and is liking some of the models you are looking at, sitting in, test driving (for God's sake). But the result will be the same. You will smile, shake the salesperson's hand and promise to seriously consider/mull over/chew on/etc the figures discussed about the car.

Check.

Ultimately, you may end up three days from the time you turn in your previous lease vehicle with a lot of internet searching but no real options. Yep, that's us! Our lease is due Monday, July 2oth and we have nothing to show but an awesome Credit Union preapproval and some ideas (which, of course, differ sligtly)

If you know of any newer, lower mileaged cars out there - I would be thrilled to consider them. Minivan pretty necessary - I do have 3 kids with very distinct and differerent interests and obligations.

Ah well, it is already Saturday and I am CONVINCED this is the day! We will find a car. Check back and see what it is!

Looking back at Breast Cancer

For many of you this will be review, but I was looking through my writing and it occurred to me that I have never posted anything about my breast cancer battle. It is significant to me and I felt compelled to post what I have written about it. Sorry for the length – hard to condense without losing important stuff!

My breast cancer was found by chance. I had noticed some blood tinged discharge from my left nipple but thought it was probably leftover from breast feeding. I mentioned it casually at my annual check-up in September 2002. My doctor felt it was probably nothing but decided to send me for my first mammogram anyway. I was only 33 years old. I had my mammogram in October 2002 and was sent directly in for an ultrasound. Believe it or not, there was NOTHING going on in my left breast (the one with the discharge). But the mammogram and then the ultrasound spotted a suspicious mass in my right breast!

I called my OB/GYN's office for my results from the ultrasound and was told that I had a mass that was probably just a cyst but that was large enough to require needle drainage. At the end of that phone call, I asked the OB/GYN nurse, "So, bottom line, this is not cancer?" She answered, "No, this is not cancer."

I had to get a referral for a surgeon from my primary care physician, so that was my next appointment in early November. My first question for him was, "Can you tell me what you see in the ultrasound that would rule out cancer in my case?" Looking very shocked he said, "Are we ruling out cancer?" and went on to explain why, although I had all kinds of factors in my favor leading to benign, the image he was seeing could not be definitively considered non-cancerous without a biopsy.

I had a surgical biopsy on November 20, 2002 and received my diagnosis on November 21st. Unfortunately, I was still so naive about the process and had gone to a general surgeon for my biopsy so I could get it done quicker. He was a good surgeon and a very nice man, but not very experienced with breast cancer. He laid out every single bit of information for me and my husband and tried very hard to be reassuring, even confiding to me that he had only one testicle and had never had any repercussions from that. Um….wow…..can you say TMI???? And also, by the way, not exactly reassuring, but thanks!

So, there I was, 33...married...with three children ages 5, 3 and nearly 1. My diagnosis was infiltrating ductal carcinoma. I also had some ductal carcinoma in situ.

First, I did some "shopping" and found a surgeon and oncologist who specialized in breast cancer and worked out of a nationally recognized cancer center. I was extremely fortunate to do this “shopping” with an excellent team: my husband and my aunt, who is a nurse. Besides the tremendous support, it was such a relief to have others who would write everything down so I could process in my own time and to ask the questions that I was often too overwhelmed to even consider. And, of course, there was the comedic angle to factor in – they were witnesses to some of the bizarre and ridiculous.

In January 2003 I had a modified radical mastectomy on my right side. In February I had a port inserted into my left arm (which was a drama in and of itself) and began a 4 month chemotherapy regimen. I lost all my hair, had bouts of nausea that made morning sickness seem like nothing, and battled with overwhelming fatigue. I took the summer off and had a TRAM flap reconstruction in September 2003. While I am delighted that I chose to do that, it proved to be more complicated than first imagined. The recovery was long and painful.

I don’t share all of this for pity. All in all, it was an amazing experience. While I wouldn’t have chosen it, I think I am a better person for it. It reinforced for me how amazing my family and circle of friends is. It humbled me as to the generosity of acquaintances and even strangers. It helped clarify my life priorities. And, of course, it gave me some pretty hilarious stories.

Tennis Lessons

My youngest's new "life plan" (and yes, I AM quoting) has expanded to include tennis lessons.

For two weeks she asked me multiple times per day if/when I had registered her for the one hour lessons offered by our park on a weekly basis in the summer. In typical fashion, I put it off until the last paycheck possible. But finally I officially enrolled her for a week of tennis lessons, which started this past Monday.

Sunday morning she says to me, "I have outfits planned for Monday and Tuesday, but I will probably need some new tennis outfits for later in the week." She is 7.

Sunday afternoon she assures me, "Poppy says he has a racquet I can use for now, but if I really like it, we'll need to get me my own."

Sunday night she cried for a half hour about how nervous she was. Remember now, she badgered me for two weeks for this lesson.

This morning she asked me to sign her up for the other two weeks ahead before our vacation. "I love it, mom. I think by tomorrow I might be the best in my class. Yesterday I hit 2 over the net, but today I hit 10!"

7!!!! I'm just sayin.....

Marking Time with Tradition

Happy 4th of July!

The 4th of July is one of our family's favorite holidays. Not because we are especially patriotic, but because of the tradition my parents started. Every July 4th, my parents host a Block Party.

The street is blocked off so the kids can bike, scooter, skateboard, etc to their hearts' content. Sometimes there is bike decorating and kids' games. Sometimes we just let them all loose with their vehicles, squirt guns and water balloons.

The adults sit in groups, the largest group under a tree in my parents' yard. We nosh on snacks and sip on margaritas or beer out of the keg. Dinner is hot dogs and chips for the kids and pot luck for the adults. At some point sparklers make an appearance. Fireworks used to be part of the evening, but were discontinued when more people on the block were uncomfortable with them than were asking for them. We usually have plenty to enjoy from the blocks around us, with none of the risk.

My kids, in particular, have enjoyed and counted on this event for years.

I may have mentioned this before, but my rapidly passing birthdays have not really succeeded in making me feel old. I know 40 is supposed to officially put my youth to rest. But my chronological age is just not doing it.

Oh, I'm NOT saying I'm not feeling old. It's just not MY age doing it.

What IS marking the years for me is watching my kids "age up" and the changes in the way they enjoy the various traditions our family has.

In many, many ways, they are so much easier. The amount of gear we have to bring is enormously reduced. They can pitch in and help out rather than be a distraction. They spend much of the day finding their own fun, rather than constantly relying on our presence.

But in some ways they are more difficult. The older two are starting to be a little less fascinated by the day's activities. That tween/teen ennui is creeping in. I'm fairly certain the day will be punctuated with at least a few "I'm bored" and dramatically rolled eyes at something that is just "too stupid".

It's bittersweet. And, of course, aging. But I take comfort in knowing that my siblings and I went through it too. And we all came back around to loving this event again. Plus I know that all three of my kids count on the celebration no matter what they say or do to the contrary.

So I will raise a sparkler and ooh and ah (and that will guarantee an eye roll)!

Summer Weekend to Savor

Ahhhhh..... the perfect bliss of this late June weekend. Yes, it was hectic. Yes, as usual, we had too many places to be and things to do. However, somehow, it managed to encompass all the best elements of summer. (Ok, all the best elements short of "cottage life" at Bear Lake - come back in August to read about that.)

Friday evening we stayed home and watched my cousin's kids while they went to a wedding. Everyone was in fine form and drawn to outside play. A few extra neighbor kids joined in and we achieved that perfect level of total chaos. While six children aged seven and under ran around shrieking, playing tag and hide-n-go-seek, we sat on the porch with neighbors and solved the problems of the world. Or perhaps just Lakepointe.

Saturday dawned --- and yes, pretty much we all practically saw dawn, or so it felt --- with both a swim meet and a softball tournament on the horizon. John took my oldest to her tournament, complete with coffee, a book, folding chair, and a mini cooler fool of string cheese to share. The younger two and I hopped on bikes and headed down to the swim meet at our park. While they agonized over which strokes to swim, I chatted with some of my favorite fellow parents and cheered them along. My youngest daughter swam competent (if not super speedy) 25 Free and 25 Breast. My son inched his way nearer to a dive to replace his signature belly flop start.

I spent time in the garden, weeding Saturday and a little planting Sunday. I sorely neglected my garden the past two years, so I can only face a patch at a time in my quest to take it back. Ok, I'm exaggerating, I can really only face about 6 feet of garden at a time. By Fall, I should have it right where I want it. And then it will all die.

I "slept in" Sunday until 8:30am. Am I the only one who finds that annoying when people tell me they "slept in" until anything before 10am. I know many of you are super overachievers, amazing early birds who save the world before 7:30am (or at least manage a work out, healthy breakfast, load of laundry and possibly dinner prep - same thing as world saving in my book) But, people, SLEEPING IN is only legit if it's 10am or later. Anything earlier is just being human like the rest of us.

But I digress....

While I indulged in an extra hour and a half of sleep Sunday morning, John and my son snuck out to fish for a couple of hours. They returned just in time for all of us to pack into the minivan and head back to the softball fields for single-eliminination tournament play. I won't bore you with the play by play, but the day was packed with all kinds of play - great hits, pitiful strikeouts, amazing catches, poorly executed plays, everything under the sun. Our team showed fantastic perseverence. We won our first game and went on to a second (unexpected by me). We threatened making it to the Championship game (which would have meant 10 hours on the field for the day, 21 hours for the weekend) Sadly we lost. Not in any sort of spectacular way, just in a hard fought but outplayed kind of way.

The truly delicious part of the weekend was in the finale of it, however. As we debated heading to a local fireworks show with our enormously tired and cranky kids in tow, we received a call from friends of ours to join them at their parents lakeside home for a bonfire and our own personal fireworks show. We eagerly accepted.

The company was enormously fun. The fireworks were enormously illegal. The chaos was enormously --- well ---- chaotic. In the roots of that chaos my favorite moments were born and they were absolutely the essence of Summer.

My youngest begged us to let her jump into the lake in her clothes with the other kids (and a life jacket) of course. Seems pretty mundane for most of you, I'm sure. But my older two are (over)cautious in nature and I love to encourage they youngest's edginess and bravado in a positive way. As predicted she balked at the seaweed at first. And then we had to force her out of the water eventually because everyone else was done.

My son lit his first firework. Again, probably something that seems run of the mill (or possibly horrifying, depending on your perspective). But he is one of the aforementioned (over)cautious ones. It was an exciting big step and made him "one of the boys".

And seriously, just to hear the carefree joyful laughter at the fun and fesitivities from my oldest when she had been brooding just an hour earlier about her hitting slump, made the evening more than worth the price of admission (a bottle of wine and two lawn chairs, if you're curious).

As if that were not all enough, I am thrilled to be heading to bed (too late, of course) with my hair smelling of the heady bonfire scent and the heat of a little too much sun on my skin. Monday doesn't look quite as daunting as usual.

Pondering the Dangers of Assumptions

If I have learned nothing in this past week, I have learned that I should never assume I really know other people or their circumstances.

The lurid details (and rumors) plastered over the "newswaves" about our local men's hockey coach are all the more disturbing because he was among us. The hindsight I am hearing from people - "I always thought he was odd..." "He gave me the creeps from the first time I met him..." - is only that. Hindsight. However real these feelings may have been, they weren't enough to raise the red flags that it is easy NOW to see were so clearly warranted.

While I was not acquainted with the man, some of my family and friends were. And they are completely stunned. I would never, in a million years, call these people naive. Or suggest that they should have spoken up. By all accounts, everyone closest to him is blown out of the water. No matter how many "smoking guns" FOX 2 drags out (how convenient, NOW), nobody who spent time with him on a regular basis saw even a suggestion of what he been accused. He kept it deeply hidden.

In the midst of reeling over this, we learned of a fellow parent who died suddenly. He was a sweet, funny man who clearly adored his three lovely daughters. He spent loads of time with them, really seemed in touch with them and they obviously doted on him. I enjoyed running into him at school functions and soccer games. He always had a kind word about your kids and asked after you in a manner that showed he was interested in your answer.

His smiling face hid a private struggle as well. Nothing at all like the coach - NOT AT ALL. But he had demons that nobody who met him on the street would guess at. I certainly never would have guessed he was anything but completely happy-go-lucky.

Even before all of this I have been on a mission to help my kids see that everyone they come in contact with has a "back story". Whether it is the circumstances of their life or the conversation they had just prior to seeing you, the background carries over and matters. I stress to them that the only thing they should assume is that everyone has a reason for behaving the way they do - good or bad. That we should all try not to take negative encounters personally, because we never know what preceded them.

Savor the good, forgive the bad as much as possible and always, always listen to your instincts. If I can get that across to them, then my work here is done!

Parenting with "calculated carelessness"

A colleague of mine shared a link on Facebook that was dead on in reflecting the schizophrenia I feel sometimes in raising my kids.

http://www.facebook.com/ext/share.php?sid=93957764194&h=5Wp56&u=3V2Qh&ref=nf

If you view the comments that follow, a reader comments about a friend of hers who parents with "calculated carelessness". To quote ruralduke: "My friend says that he brings up his children with "caculated carelessness." He explains that he cannot stop them from riding bikes on the street, but that he see to it that the brakes are working properly."

I like this notion. It is a refreshing bit of sense in a parenting world that has many of us constantly questioning ourselves from both ends. Am I too lax? Do I overparent? These questions seem to punctuate nearly every one of my days at some point.

The link also refers to the following blog, which I am intrigued by and plan to start following on a more regular basis:

http://freerangekids.wordpress.com/

Any thoughts out there? What end of the spectrum do you tend to fall on? Or are you, like me, hamstrung right there in the middle, swaying to and fro?

Poppy's Work Camp

Cheers to my father, now known as Poppy. For many, many, many reasons. Not the least of which is his willingness to take on my kids three days a week through the summer, saving me untold dollars in babysitting money.

I believe he is actually making out on the deal currently though. Through slave labor. My husband shared with me this morning that the youngest two were lamenting about the "work camp" Poppy is running.

For instance:

"We're not allowed to have breakfast until we do certain jobs"
"Breakfast was just one yogurt"
"He doesn't let us have ANY breaks"

Now I know for a fact that he picks them up from the park (swim practice) and gives them at least a half hour of down time, in which he generally cooks them either scrambled eggs or an omelet. I also know he gives them jobs to do, mostly gardening to date, for a couple hours. Then they generally have a couple more hours of complete vegging - TV, computer, video games, etc. So I find this pretty funny.

My dad keeps announcing his intention to work these kids defensively, like I'm going to protest. Oh, heck no! I'm so on board. As a matter of fact, my goal is to keep Work Camp going on the days they are home.

So, cheers to Poppy! I'm thrilled that they are not on their butts for 6-7 hours a day and I'm delighted that he is getting some help out of the deal. Keep working them!

In Defense of our Color Coded Calendar

For years I have endured ribbing, rolled eyes, raised eyebrows about how hectic the Clexton family schedule is. And that is all just from my husband!


If you have spent any time in my kitchen, you have seen the evidence via the calendar on our fridge - complete with color coding for each family member (and I found an online color codable one I can access anywhere - BLISS - at cozicentral.cozi.com) It is the only way to make sure everyone gets to where they need to be and then returns home, without incident, in my book. I need the visual layout to help me navigate conflicts - and trust me, there are definitely conflicts! Four out of five of us have multiple involvements outside of school and work.


As much as possible I try to handle both figuring out the schedule and doing as much of the transporting as possible (see my earlier BLOG about logistics). If I have to call in help or car pool, I am usually the one to do this. I operate on the theory - the less hassle it is to others, the less hassle I will get! This is why they call it a theory - reality is, of course, completely the opposite.


So I submit to my critics the following Washington Post article - http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/09/27/AR2008092702644.html

Salve for those of us who are so "done" with the snide Super Mommy remarks and the covert guilt that we are piling on too much for our kids!

Mad Mommy? Or Mean Mommy? You Decide....

School has officially been out for my kids for a little over 5 hours and already I am "Mean Mom". Phew! That must be some kind of record.

Why - you ask? Because I am making them go to swim practice today.

Even though it is pouring rain (you swim in water, right?)..................

Even though they already went twice this week (um, practice is actually all 5 days)...........

And yes, GOD FORBID, even though it is the first day of summer vacation..........

Does "I hate you" and "You are mean" signal that I am officially doing my job?

Honorary Degree in Logistics....

....I'm waiting for mine.

It has been my premise for some time that any parent with two or more children who participate in extracurricular activities (or one child in 3 or more activities), should automatically be awarded an honorary degree in logistics.

For instance, at any given time my oldest might be playing softball (travel, naturally!), volleyball and/or swimming. At one point this past Winter into Spring - she had all three going on. My son is my "easy" one - with only Drama and swimming. The youngest was in gymnastics, jazz, ballet and Daisies this past year. She has a new "life plan" and will "only" be in swimming, Irish Dance and Brownies this upcoming year.

And those of you who know me well are hopefully mentally noting that I am not facing this schedule in a vaccum - OF COURSE I have my own things going on - PTO, Book Club, etc. Not to mention, my "real job".

Now, this is all afterschool and on weekends. Often either simultaneously or, worse, at precariously staggered times in opposite ends of the city. Dinner time? Surely you jest. Does it count as "seated for family dinner" every night if we are all sitting in the same car for 10 minutes noshing?

I've never felt I am particularly talented. I'm not at all artistic, don't have a flair for decorating, not very adept at housecleaning, pretty average cook, smart - but not brilliant or even all that witty.

Family logistics is my one superpower, I think. Keeping all the proverbial balls in the air (read - getting everyone where they need to be) is something I am pretty good at. I can't say I do it alone - I certainly have my "village"! But I count figuring out where I need help as part of my skill. I found a great tool to replace my endless bulky catalogs - cozicentral.cozi.com - through the Parents magazine website. An online color-codable calendar - NIRVANA!!!!

I figure at this point, not only do I deserve the Logistics degree, but it should be summa cum laude and coming from a fairly prestigiuos University.

So, I'll be waiting.... Probably in a minivan similar to the above.... Possibly checking my Blackberry for the next stop.... Perhaps munching on a granola bar to tide me over.....

But waiting nonetheless!

My Little Shopper

Last night I hosted a Butterfly Boutique (jewelry, purses, scarves, etc) at my mom's house for a handful of family and girlfriends. My daughters ended up at the house, along with our friend, Em.

Not surprisingly, we adult "girls" gushed over the products, modeling and taking turns in front of the mirror.

Somewhat surprisingly, my 13 year old glanced about a bit and then headed outside to play. She later came in and looked more carefully at a few things, but wasn't "over the top" enthusiastic.

Very surprisingly (ok, this is a little laughable for those of you who know Natalie.), my 7 year old was DEFINITELY enthusiastic! First she was my shadow - insinuating herself right into the circle of women at my side. Then she abandoned me to shadow the Butterfly rep, chattering relentlessly about all of the things she wanted from the product line. This savvy and kind lady redirected some of her energies with small tasks, but it did not slow down her commentary. She completely rejected the notion of playing outside with the older girls - way too much fun inside!

Her benevolent (sucker?) Nana purchased a trinket for her and for her sister, saving me the agony. But her dedication and persistence have me wondering if she should just start direct sales for them now. She'll need the consultant discount to pay for all the things she wants.

Lord, are we in trouble!

Six more mornings....

....until school is out! And the sixth one doesn't really count because there are no backpacks and no lunches involved. Hallelujah!

I am NOT a morning person. I am pleasant enough. I just resist waking up and getting up with every fiber of my being. Once upright I'm fine. But that resistance thing slows me down so I am always running late, always pushing the clock, always behind.

Of course, that means my children are also. Poor things. Because, while I can be very effective, even in my tardiness....they are less so. They don't deserve the drama that is inevitible.

I should resolve to wake earlier and fix this situation. It hardly seems worth it for six mornings.

Maybe in September?

Finally found my way back....

Even the nagging of my wonderful and encouraging sister somehow did not inspire me to make this BLOG a priority. Yet here I am again - like a bad penny!

I owe this latest motivation to a good friend's husband who writes a great BLOG - definitely worth checking out - Old Wahoo. He is a journalist/dad who shares great personal stories, musings, links, resources, etc. Often regarding parenting but sometimes just random. Always well written and entertaining.

Also generally very simple. Hence the inspiration.

I think I started out trying to hard at this. The point was to exercise regular writing. I quickly pressured myself to strive to be either constantly witty or, failing that, visually entertaining. As hilarious as I find my life at times, it is simply not possible to post consistently and always be dazzling. Therefore, I psyched myself out.

Old Wahoo showed me that posts can be short and simple sometime and still be interesting. So, I'm back to posting, hopefully more often. I will try not to be completely boring but I won't promise "jazz hands" with every post. Hope some of my friends find their way back here!