Different Points of View

Yesterday was the first day of classes for me. My husband stayed home with the kids since they don't go back to school until tommorrow. He also watched two other kids in the neighborhood as there are no camps this week for working parents to send their kids to before school starts. My 13 year old son greeted me when I got home. As I was walking up the driveway with him, I looked all around the yard and the front patio – and saw baseball bats, baseball gloves, baseballs, footballs, bikes laying on their sides, bike helmets, lacrosse rackets, scooters, etc. I turned to my son, sighed, and asked, “What do you suppose the neighbors think when they see this mess in front of our house?” He looked at me and said, without pause, “They think healthy active kids live here.”

He won that one.

Teamwork

Two weeks ago my husband and I took the two youngest kids white water rafting on a 5 mile Class 1 (the easiest) stretch of the Genesee River. This was designed for beginners – and there were families there with children much younger – and smaller – then ours! It was the first time for all of us – and we had a blast. In reflecting back on the experience, there was something about the excursion that I enjoyed just as much as the thrill of doing it. It was the teamwork needed to navigate the river.

Everyone who had signed up for this (about 40 people) had the choice of navigating their boat with or without a guide. I leaned over and whispered in my husband's ear that maybe we should opt for a guide in our boat. You know, since it was our first time and we had two kids with us and all. My husband gently whispers back "NO (insert swearword here) WAY!" So – if you opt out of having a guide in your boat then you need to appoint one person as the leader. This person sits in the back of the boat and tells everyone else what to do. My husband thought I’d be good in this role.

However, at my insistence, my husband was appointed the leader of our boat. I grew up in central New Jersey. I have no experience with boats in water. He grew up in the Finger Lakes region of New York. He has lots of experience with boats in water. It turns out I made the right call.

Everyone needed to work together to get through the spots where the water ran faster and rougher. Everyone also needed to listen to the boat leader – who had the more global perspective of maneuvering through the water from the back of the boat. It was these two factors – listening and working together - that made this event such a great learning experience for each of us.

My youngest daughter is a natural leader – only at age 10 she hasn’t yet refined this skill enough to add diplomacy to it. She had to learn not to be on the lookout for what her older brother might be doing wrong, that it wasn’t her role to correct him if she thought he was doing something wrong, and not to contradict the boat leader’s instructions if she disagreed with him. Simply put, she had to learn she couldn’t be the boss (or bossy – whatever fits).

My youngest son does not like to be told what to do. Nor does he like to be wrong in any way. He is 13. He had to learn to not be defensive when being told what to do. He also had to learn that just because he was being told to do one thing and then – quick – do something else instead (as in “paddle FORWARD – now BACK, HOLD!) didn’t mean he was doing something wrong - just do it.

This was an eye opening experience for me. I loved how we had to work as a team to negotiate the river – and had to depend on each other to do his or her part. I loved watching how my two youngest had to get over their desire to constantly annoy each other and instead work together. There was no time for arguing, no time for blame, no time to monitor who did more or what wasn’t fair. No arguing at all – just learning to work together.

I’ve always tried to work on teaching my children how to work as a team – but being kids and all – they are more interested in monitoring what the other one is doing. And reporting loudly about the unfairness of what each one got stuck doing. You can’t do that when your raft is stuck on a rock and you’ve all got to work together to get off the rock.

I saw my role as a parent in a whole different light. I also saw what I was missing. It isn't just about teaching your children how to navigate rivers on their own. It's also learning/knowing what baggage you need to get rid of in order to work together to accomplish a goal. I'm struggling to put this in words - but I do know that I need to provide more of these type of real life experiences to help them.

~Swingset

Caramel Apples

My kids love to go to the grocery store with me. Why? Because they know that by distracting me they can get me to say yes to all kinds of goodies. They are masters at this. They also offer to help by going off on search missions for items on the list. They bring back the desired item and slip in extras. They know what snacks are my weakness and will also bring these back to the cart. I am defenseless against this type of tactic.

So tonight we had to go get something for dinner. I was determined to be strong. I said no to everything. I didn’t let anything slip past my eagle eye. Then they tried a new tactic. They asked permission. They actually asked me if we could make caramel apples. They actually asked! How could I resist!

So my daughter and I just took two caramel apples out of the oven and are waiting for them to cool. This is such a great snack! I might actually save those Pringles I stashed under my bed for another time.

~Swingset

Note To Self

I will not acquire any more effin' pets that require aquariums, large amounts of water, filters, pumps, heating elements, UV lights, warming rocks, bedding of any kind, or water bottles.

No pets that poop in a cage.

No cute little bunnies, cool turtles, nifty tadpoles that morph to fantastic frogs, caterpillars that become butterflies, entertaining hermit crabs, bearded dragons, lizards, salamanders, fish, baby ducks, geese or chickens. No birds. Even if they sing.

Note to those who live with me: Intervention may be required.

First Triathlon of the year: Aftermath

I'm home in time for Sunday Breakfast! The rest of my family went out for breakfast while I did the biking portion of the triathlon. But I hate to miss my bacon and egg Sunday breakfast - so I cooked it for myself when I got home from the race.

This year's YMCA triathlon was much more difficult for me than last year's race. I was much better prepared - and in much better shape - last year.

This year I got really sick about two months before the race. I came down with a sinus infection with a fever that lasted 5 days. Then I developed bronchitis. I was unable to train for about 4 weeks - and then I was so winded as I tried to swim or run.

I almost didn't do the race. My husband encouraged me to try anyway - that it didn't matter how long it took me - that finishing in itself is an accomplishment - not how quickly you do it.

So I did it. And I finished. I might have come in last again this year - but I finished. And it was really tough.

The swim was good - it was a short 9 laps. (I can't believe I just wrote that! Last year this time I was just able to do the 9 laps and had just learned to breath properly.)

The biking was tough at first - my thighs would scream at me up each hill. However, I got in a rhythm about 3 miles in (15 miles total) and my legs just kept pumpin' away.

The run was really tough! It was 4.7 miles of sheer determination to finish. My legs were like rubber at first, then they turned to lead.

The credit for finishing really goes to those I love.

J - my husband - for encouraging and supporting me every step of the way. I kept hearing him say to me - what are your goals?

DJ - my oldest son who taught me to keep going no matter what you are faced with. He never let his disabilities get in the way of his joy for life.

E - my oldest daughter whose recent trek to New Zealand inspired me to keep taking one more step. I can always do one more step.

A - my youngest son who has true athletic ability. I had to have something to do with that, didn't I? Say yes!

M - my youngest daughter who has sheer determination and true grit. This little girl has an amazing ability to pick herself back up after a fall and keep going.

Okay - I know I'm getting all sentimental and gushy. I am allowed to do that today.

~Swingset

Addendum

I’ve been thinking about my last posting and it occurred to me that there is a strong correlation between what I have described about each of my children as toddlers and what they seem to most need from me as their mother. This may have been obvious to someone else – but I really didn’t see it until I went and re-read what I had written – and then mulled it over for a week or two.

Starting with my youngest – M – it is strength I can give her. My little tiger. She has great inner strength.

Then my youngest son A. For him it is comfort. He is affectionate, loving, and supportive.

E, my oldest daughter. I will always be here for her when she needs me. I will do my best to be the calm port in a stormy sea for her.

I didn’t write about my oldest son, DJ, in my last post. I will write about him, but right now it is too painful. He was born with a rare seizure disorder that doctors were never able to get under control. He was mentally retarded, had mild cerebral palsy, neurological impairments that prevented him from speaking clearly, and poor fine motor skills.

For DJ it is different. He taught me. He taught me about unconditional love, about my own inner strength, and about compassion for others. He made me aware of these things and more – and his presence in my life made me a better person, and a better parent.

Tattoos, Tiger Stripes, Band-aids, and Little White Boots

I love tattoos. I have none. I want one. I am afraid.

My oldest daughter, E, recently got a tattoo to commemorate the life of her oldest brother.

My son was buried in a beautiful old cemetery surrounded by gates of wrought iron and walls made of a stone native to this area and quarried locally. There are paths throughout the cemetery that wind around small hills and gnarled trees. DJ is buried in a beautiful place underneath a Linden tree with a row of tall pines as a backdrop. On the day he was buried E took some of the leaves from the Linden tree to design her tattoo from. I love the design so much that I thought I’d post a picture of it here.

This isn’t E’s first tattoo. I’m not sure how many she has now – but I can recall two others. Her first tattoo is one of Tinkerbelle on her hip. She refers to it as her “I’m eighteen and I can do whatever I want now” tattoo. She asked a friend “What should I get for a tattoo?” and friend said “Oh! How about Tinkerbelle?” and so E said “OK.” The other tattoo that I recall is one she designed herself to represent me and her. This one is on the back of her neck. I love this daughter of mine fiercely.

My maternal great-great grandmother came to America when she was a young bride. She came from Scotland with her brothers, her husband, and her baby. Her brothers were carpenters and fine wood-workers. I have all of the hand planes and wood working tools they brought with them from Scotland.

The tools have the name MacRae stamped on each one – although sometimes the name is spelled McCrae.

Here is the MacRae Crest:

My brother, T, and my youngest sister, W, wanted everyone in our family to get a tattoo of the MacRae crest. My mom would never get one. My sister C (she who eats leaves) wouldn’t either. Although I’m game – as I mentioned earlier I’m also afraid. W went and got one first three years ago – she was 41. It was supposed to be a butt crack tattoo but the artist who did it was having so much fun with the design that it just unfolded across her back.

My brother T got one next. His is on the outside of one of his calves. It’s much simpler – more like the crest pictured first.

I want to get one. I really do. Once I bought E a Henna tattoo kit and she drew a spray of forget-me-nots (my favorite flower) across the top of my foot! I loved looking at it every single day – and loved that she did it. I was very sad when it faded away.

My youngest daughter, M, has also shown a strong interest in body art. Ever since she was old enough to hold a pen – and know what to do with it – she has drawn all over her body. She would sneak my red marker grading pens into bed with her at night. When I’d wake her in the morning she would be covered in red stripes. “I’m a tiger, Mama!” she would say. This was not a onetime occurrence. She routinely covered her arms, legs, tummy, neck, and even her cheeks, forehead and nose with red stripes. When she became a more sophisticated artist (as in able to draw circles too) she moved away from stripes (I was sad to see the tiger go) to all kinds of designs all over her body. Then there were the shoes. M started wearing her shoes on the opposite feet as soon as she was old enough to put them on herself. So from the time she was a wee tot until she was about 5 she wore her shoes this way. I figured, since she was so persistent about this, she must know something I don’t. I let her do it. What really amused me about this was the number of people who would say to me “do you realize that she is wearing her shoes on the opposite feet?”

Day Care, however, never even batted an eye at M’s antics. They were used to this stuff from my kids by now. Her brother (my youngest son), A, had already prepped the Day Care center well. Only his body art took the form of multi-media. His favorite media was band-aids. It started one morning when he was 3 and he told me he had a stomach ache as we were leaving for Day Care. In trying to deduce whether the complaint was real or not I asked him if a band-aid would make it better. He said “yes Mama, I think it would,” so we put a blue band-aid on his stomach. Over the next few weeks this grew into needing several band-aids on his stomach to one day showing up at Day Care with a band-aid on his forehead, one on each cheek, and one on his chin. He needed band-aids for about 6 months. I figured if it gave him comfort and got us all out the door in the morning then it was worth it. He also developed a love for thin knitted gloves. He would wear them to Day Care every day. Some days he really liked to mix it up – he would wear two different gloves. Then we went through a whole year of various costumes. I did have to draw the line at wearing the underpants on the outside of his pants though. So I made a deal with him. He could do this as long as he only did it at home.

It will be interesting to see how each of my two youngest children’s early form of body art will be expressed when they are adults. Even though E has tattoos as an adult, she didn’t draw all over herself as a child. When she was small she would become very attached to things she wore. She loved to wear the same ::fill in the blank:: every single day. Her first article of obsession was her little white snow boots. Every single day the winter she was two she wore her white snow boots. When the summer came she started wearing her tiger bathing suit – and the little white snow boots. Every single day she put on her tiger bathing suit. Every single day I let her. When the bathing suit became too small for her she slept with it.

I was also very much like this as a child. When I was in sixth grade I took a shirt of my mother’s – a faded blue cotton oxford shirt that was very soft from many washings – and paired it with a dark blue jumper. I wore this outfit every day for weeks. When I was finally made aware of this fashion faux pas by my peers I cut back to wearing it every other day. Then I started wearing the shirt to bed every night. Another time it was a pair of black leotards. I wore them every day and slept in them every night. I actually don’t remember when I stopped wearing them – I think my mother must have stripped them off me some night while I was sleeping and burned them. To this day I wear something until I wear it out. I use the same purse until it falls apart. I wear clothes, coats, etc. until they are thread bare. Not because I’m frugal or anything. Just because when I get something I love – it just makes me happy to wear it. I will buy the same style of shoe again when the first wears out simply because I love it so much. I do not get tired of things I love.

The permanence of tattoos does not bother me. When I finally build up the courage to get one, I will get three. A Linden leaf like E’s, a spray of forget-me-nots, and the MacRae crest. Maybe I’ll even throw in a band-aid and a couple of tiger stripes.

Snow Day

Today was a snow day. We had an ice storm last night that left everything covered with about a half inch of ice – so school was cancelled.

Once the kids go back to school after winter break I start working on my courses and getting ready for the spring semester. I’ve got a great neighbor who works part time and has two children who are close in age to my two youngest. I work full time – but since I teach some on-line courses, I work from home two or three days a week. We try to set up our work schedules so that we stagger the days we each go in to work so we can help each other out with snow days and the other days the kids don’t have school.

As soon as I heard school was cancelled this morning, I called my neighbor and told her to send her two kids down to my house since I’d be home.

Here’s how the day went.

The boys play computer games for 30 minutes while the girls play a board game. Then it’s the girls turn to play 30 minutes of computer games. Instead of playing a board game, the boys GET bored. I send them outside. Our driveway is on an incline – and slants down to the road. The boys are outside in sneakers having a blast sliding down the driveway. They are in a surfing (or snowboard) stance and just sliding right down to the road. We live at the end of a cul-de-sac so there is no traffic – but they also know to look out for cars too. Then they try to run back up the driveway. It’s a riot to watch them slipping and sliding in their sneakers as they try to run up the incline. After about 20 minutes I ask them to try and scrape off the ice for a path up the driveway and the walk. Once they finish ours I send them up the street to do my neighbors walk and driveway too. They were really good sports about it. Then they played outside with a couple of other boys who are home with a babysitter (they are not allowed in anyone’s house without a parent home – babysitters don’t count).

Meanwhile, I remember that I’ve got cookie dough that’s been chilling in the fridge since Christmas! I’ve got sugar cookie and gingerbread cookie dough. I’d like to break from the story here for a moment and point out that it is very much like me to make tons of cookie dough – put it in the fridge to chill – and then something prevents me from actually ever baking the cookies. My life can be very chaotic. The lesson here for my kids is this. It’s okay to bake Christmas cookies after Christmas. It’s okay to bake them after New Year’s. Actually, in my world you can bake Christmas cookies any time of the year. Likewise with Christmas cards.

Anyway, the dough still looks good so the girls and I start rolling out the sugar cookie dough, cutting out shapes – we choose Christmas dinosaurs, and baking them. Then we decided to try and make Christmas figurines with the gingerbread. We have this kit of cookie cutters where you can cut out shapes and fit them together to build a 3-D sculptures - a snowman, a Christmas Tree, Santa’s sleigh, and reindeer to pull the sleigh. We cut out enough shapes to make 4 sets of each – with two reindeer for each sled.

Then the boys came home and I fed everyone lunch.

Then the boys went off to play foosball in the basement. The girls then went outside to slide around the ice. I also ask the girls to try and see if they can scrape off any more of the ice from the side walk and driveway. They end up shoveling two other neighbors’ sidewalks.

Me? I finished baking the 300 cookies we cut out. Well, maybe it wasn’t 300. But it felt like 300 as I baked batch after batch.

Two hours later the girls came back home with another friend in tow. I started making icing. I made three colors – red, green, and blue. I gave each kid their own set of bowls – with each color of icing in a separate bowl - so no one would get anybody else’s cooties from licking icing off of fingers. Wouldn’t you know the gingerbread shapes kept breaking as we tried to put them together! I started using the icing as mortar to hold things together. I repaired crevices, cracks, and severed limbs by building up layers of frosting to try and hold things together. We were all covered in icing and we all had blue or red or green tongues.

Here are a few:

The phone rang at 5:00. 5:00? It was 5:00 already? Time for everyone to go home. I pulled out all kinds of plastic and Tupperware containers and gingerly placed all the reindeer, the snowmen, the trees, and the sleighs inside so they would at least hold together until each kid got home. They were so fragile that they won’t stay together once they are removed from the containers - but at least each kid’s mom and dad can see the finished sculptures!

So at 5:30 everyone has gone home. I look around my kitchen. Well – it was a disaster. Cookie dough, flour, powdered sugar, and frosting - everywhere. Dirty dishes. 28 dirty bowls (remember – each kid had to have his/her own bowls – with three colors of frosting each!).

Then I look at myself. I’m still in my pajamas.

I go and sink into the couch. My legs ache from standing all day. I put my feet up. I open my laptop. My husband walks in the door and there I am - lounging on the davenport in my jammies surfin’ the web. I swear - I say – I just sat down for the first time today.

Okay, I confess. I wrote this because I want credit for today. I’m sure the only thing the kids will remember is that I made them shovel.