Camping

Drew went on the new scout camp out last weekend. He isn't new to scouting, but he and the rest of his patrol are recent Cub Scout graduates and new to Boy Scouts. Camping is for Boy Scouts.

The trip was originally scheduled for the weekend after Easter. The forecast 4 days out was for 40 degrees and rain. The unaltered prediction led them to a change of plans on Thursday night. They would scrap Friday and leave Saturday morning and stay only one night. By Friday, they had postponed the event to the following weekend. Wise. Our Saturday morning soccer game was miserable.

Last weekend was perfect. Drew had never been camping. We were bathed in warm sun all weekend. My prepared scout chose not to apply the sunscreen in his pack. I don't think that will happen again. They saw a shooting star over the fire bowl Saturday night. And they worked on their fishing merit badge. There was a prize for the longest fish, which Drew didn't earn. But, with nine catches, he reeled in more than twice as many as the next guy. Who knew? He's only been fishing a handful of times. He filleted one of them, a requirement that he didn't enjoy, and then they cooked the fish for lunch. I don't know what Drew ate, but I'm 100% positive that it wasn't anything the boys caught.

He had a great time. I missed having him around, though. I woke up in the middle of the night wondering if he was warm enough. Then I wondered if I would hear the phone if he needed us. Then I remembered that he sometimes gets car sick. And we don't even know the guys who drove him. And he is a ridiculously picky eater. He was fine. He can't wait to go rappelling in May.

For Your Viewing Pleasure

The girls have a "new" favorite show. Where were you Monday nights at 8:00 in 1980?

Earth Day

Increasing our trees by 50%.

Like etching on our fishbowl.












Plus, a little shade.

Very little.

Creating a garden.

We'll move the play house.

Maybe to the basement?

And I'll find a place for the leftovers when they dry a bit.

Unpacking

We've been in our house for almost two years. I've been stripping chairs for a week. Yesterday I splattered some of the stripping agent dangerously close to my eye. So I went in search of safety goggles. I wonder where one finds that box?

Today at the store I stumbled upon some clearance items. They had these cute and colorful buckets marked 90% off. I figured that I could use them for all the workbench stuff that is still packed. As I'm making my selections, some nice man told me that there is an additional 40% off coupon for clearance items and if I mention it to the checker, they will honor it. Cool. I choose 9. Then the man comes back with a coupon for me. I don't know where he found it. My grand total came to $3.69 plus tax.

I consolidated some poorly stored items in the garage onto one shelf and moved the empty one to the basement. Then I unpacked. I now know where to find things. I still don't know why we have 23 dull drill bits, 9 enormous files, and 37 Allen wrenches that are all 75 years old, but I know where to find them should I ever figure out a use for them. Does anyone else have 6 paint can openers? I'm thinking of letting Megan and Tim make wind chimes with them. And, I know where we keep the safety goggles. Anyone who uses an item and doesn't return it risks death.

A Mantra in Jeopardy

Remember the ideal of keeping life simple? I'm contemplating altering that rule by adding more commitments. Here's what happened...

Last summer Ellen became very interested in swimming. Near the beginning of the school year she tried out for the YMCA swim team. She didn't make it, but enrolled in the lessons that were recommended. By Christmas, she had advanced a level and was not satisfied with her hours in the pool. Hours translating to 45 minutes per week. We let her add pre-team, which offers instructional practice once a week for 45 minutes. She never once complained about going, always looked forward to the water, and she never failed to analyze what the instructor had presented and tried to work it into her strokes. She has come a LONG way since September!

This fact was not lost in the Head Coach, who invited her, along with 3 others from pre-team (meaning half of the kids), to join the introductory level of the real team. The team comes in 4 levels and gets progressively more demanding of time, stroke perfection, endurance and money. This lowest level practices 4 times per week, but for the same cost as the two sessions that she has been attending. There are meets almost every weekend, for the entire weekend, and some of them are far - think Chicago and Indianapolis, 3-4 hours away. Then remember that Ellen is 8. And still, we'll probably allow her to participate. Here's why:

1. She wants to be an Olympic swimmer and is willing to sacrifice all other activities, except violin, in order to accomplish this.
2. We choose the meets and events that she races, meaning that we can create our own acceptable travel radius.
3. Practice is not mandatory, so if we miss a few it's OK.
4. The Spring / Summer season is a good time to determine if this is a feasible school year commitment.
5. She can swim 8 and under in most meets this summer, even though she will be 9 for half of them, giving her a great advantage and boosting her confidence.
6. More swimming, same money.
7. Amazingly, the 4 practices do not conflict with any of our other activities.

Ellen is ecstatic that she was invited. If you could have seen her beam! She will understand our family limitations before we sign on the dotted line. And she also knows that school is the priority.

Priorities

Another Buddhist Reminder...

Children are given to us for a short while- to treat with care and respect. Children love respect- for their needs and fears. I offer the greatest respect by being fully present in the moment with children, deeply listening. If I listen and speak mindfully, the children will learn to do the same.

OK, nothing new or astounding here. But I've been trying harder. This means less computer time and and less blogging. It means less TV for everyone.

It means more helpers. We made muffins this morning. Tim likes to stir and I set Megan loose with our sharpest knife to slice strawberries. It takes a really long time to fold laundry when you are teaching them how to fold towels. It means more Candyland. And I didn't even complain! Thankfully Tim quit after 25 minutes. I had already won 15 minutes earlier but we needed to play for second place. It means sitting through what must have been the director's cut of King Kong for 3 hours even though the floors still have traces of Easter grass scattered about.

I want to paint many rooms in the house but I've decided that I need to finish an open project first. We have a 30 year old table and chair set. The paint on the chairs is in bad shape. So I began to strip them last fall. Then it got cold and I didn't really like the project anymore so I left it in the garage. Since I started the first two chairs, two additional chairs have lost their bottom rungs. We're running out of seating! Now it's warm enough to work in the garage again. Yesterday Megan helped with the sanding. Today she and Tim played basketball in the garage while I sanded. I put on music when I begin and limit myself to one CD per daily session. This way I don't experience burnout. There are 6 chairs and they are almost completely detail work. I'd rather be painting so I hope that keeps the chairs on pace. I like this work but it takes forever. Plus, I've now made myself accountable to you readers.

Easter was nice. Cold and quiet. It felt just like Queensbury weather. The big hit was a Nerf dart gun. Tim really likes chocolate for breakfast. The kids caught a second wind around 10AM and became much more civil. They sleep like it's Christmas Eve in anticipation, leaving grouches after the sugar crash.

Designer Jeans

This is the week that I will actually transfer the funds to my IRA for 2006. It only seems fair since we've had our tax refund for more than a month. I've been looking for the right company with which to invest this money. I recalled from the Amazing Girls story that some friends chipped in to purchase a pair of jeans as a birthday gift. Since they came from an upper class neighborhood and were sharing the cost, it pretty much guaranteed that they were expensive. It made me wonder if they are the next big thing in teen fashion - a VERY lucrative business. Who has more disposable income than a teenage girl? She lives at home, earns a paycheck, and has a boyfriend who pays for everything.


Before I continue you must know three things.
1) I've always been fashion indifferent.
2) My first stop when shopping is at Goodwill.
3) I'm a LONG way from being a teenager.


Can you say sticker shock!? $262.00 for a pair of ripped jeans? Are you kidding me? I don't like to spend more than $20, but I've been known to pay $30. At Goodwill jeans are $5.00. $262.00? Wouldn't you rather take a family vacation this year?


I've decided against this type of investment. Sure, you can make a killing, but aside from having tons of disposable income, teenage girls are fickle. When that new movie comes out next month starring the pop star du jour, they will only wear what she has on. And where does that leave the investor?


I am happy to report that my children are as fashion clueless as I. I asked them what the kids at school wear and what stores they frequent. Apparently they don't even realize that those words scrawled across every T-shirt and hoodie are corporate names. I did learn that my 8 year old daughter dislikes most of the clothes worn by her classmates. Good thing, because she's not leaving the house in them anyway.

To Bring You Back to Center

This is a great book for when you need a little reinforcement to get through your normal day. It covers things like housework, relationships, and nature. The situations are extremely normal and mundane, including brushing your teeth.

Here's an excerpt from page 187:

frustration

Instead of being frustrated, I must accept such instances either with humor, calmness, or constructive efforts to improve the situation. And when awareness is present, it displaces the kind of grasping that breeds frustration.

This particular quote is rather reminiscent of the prayer that Sister Lee Ann always began our history class with in high school:

Lord, grant me

The serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

The Courage to change the things I can,

And the wisdom to know the difference.

Headbanger's Ball

You all remember the Headbanger's Ball, right? If I remember correctly, it was MTV's answer to Friday Night Videos. (Yes, I'm old.) It's probably still on but I can't stay up that late. But we forgot to tell this sweet boy that mom needs her sleep or everyone suffers.

Timothy has always been a self soother. His weapon of choose is rhythmic rocking. From the time he was about 3 months old, he always banged his head against his mattress a few time before going to sleep. Now, he kicks his left foot until he dozes off.

While he has pretty good speech for a 2 year old, banging is his preferred method of communication. When he wakes up, he doesn't call us. Instead, he sits in front of his closed door and bangs his head against it until someone shows up to help. Just this week he figured out how to turn the knob and open the door, but he seems attached to the banging upon waking.

I'm OK with this since he doesn't seem to hurt himself. Except, last week he stopped sleeping through the night. He's been sleeping through for two whole years, so why now? And do you know how he alerts us to the fact the he is awake? He gets up and sits in front of his door and bangs his head until someone responds.

So, I dutifully stumble down the hall, open the door and put him back to bed. I am careful to avoid speaking, soothing, or even eye contact for fear of feeding some ploy for attention. It's the old trick of stop him after 5 minutes, then after 10 more, then 15. You get the idea. Wouldn't you give up after 30 minutes of this? Well, Tim doesn't. He can keep it up for an hour.

I think that if I stick with this approach that he will stop. But, he wakes everyone else up! How long to I have to wait before this lesson is beaten into his head? Tonight I'm going to try stuffing a towel under his door so at least it won't rattle within the frame and perhaps it will dampen some of the hollow knocking. We've tried leaving the door open and putting a gate up but he just closes the door.

I'd like to know what this is about. My theory is allergies since he has a slight history. He's had a problem with milk pretty much since it was offered. He woke up stuffy all winter but was fine most of the time. This waking began about the same time that everyone else started responding to pollen. And now Tim's nose is a mess in the morning and the congestion never really clears up. I'll actually be surprised if he doesn't have an ear infection by the end of the week. I don't want to put him on meds but I did try Motrin last night, which didn't work. Maybe Benadryl? At least it is cold outside now, so the windows are closed. I'm seriously thinking of turning on the air conditioning when the temperature rises again just to test the theory.

My other clue pointing me toward allergies is that his behavior changed recently. It could just be the age and the stage but he's gotten much more aggressive lately. Remember the playground last week?

If any of this seems familiar, please chime in! Otherwise, just send you restful vibes this way before bed.

Amazing Girls

Have you heard of the Amazing Girls? They are basically uberachieving upper class suburbanites who are groomed for the Ivy League from birth. While they seem to be gazed upon dreamily as ideal teenagers, does anyone wonder if there is something missing?

Are they happy? Would they know it if they weren't?

Is Kindermusic better than Barney? Is yoga for 3 year olds better than the playground? Is art class better than a mud puddle? Is travel soccer for 6 year olds better than the recreation league? Are SAT prep classes better than a library card? Is the Ivy League really better than State?

I want well rounded successful children as much as anyone. But at what price? Should we forgo family dinner once they reach age 5 so that we can cart them to the next activity? Should your 8 year old be sick to her stomach over success or failure on one test? Should retirement be sacrificed for college?

Perhaps our children are best served when we allow them to experience life then pursue their passions. I've learned that boredom is a great way to unmask interests. But here is where some difficulty lies. There are tons of great programs for kids that are marketed to parents. Neighbors frequently cite the allure of these outstanding programs. It is extremely easy to allow just one more thing to creep into the schedule. But are they seriously going pro in that activity? One must be strong to withstand such peer pressure.

Once they uncover what they truly love, you don't need to bribe them to practice their instrument. There is no need to peel them away from the screen because it's time for the game. Free of overscheduling, they are pleasant human beings most of the time. And everyone is happy.

What about academics? For some, that is their passion. For them, 5 AP classes may be a good thing. And if it isn't, maybe they shouldn't be setting their sites on the Ivy League.

I'm sure that some of these Amazing Girls are happy and well adjusted. I'm also reasonably certain that many are so competitive that they wouldn't recognize the misery that is their daily life.

Taking on the Azalea

With nothing on the calendar yesterday, it was time to clean the house. I drafted all the children and let them choose their jobs, which went surprisingly well. Note: midstream pancake break rejuvenates children. With the house in pretty good shape (the health department would probably only condemn under Megan's bed and the basement) we were left with a free afternoon.

The weather being about 70, albeit extremely windy, we headed outside. Andy got the kids seeding and spraying the weeds. (Don't worry about the kids with the poison, we trusted only the oldest. Plus, we have lots of kids.) Then they attacked the LONG neglected garage, which now is walkable.

Meanwhile, I was out back on weed removal detail around the pool. I hesitated when I got to one corner but decided to push on. Why, oh why, did I think that this was a good idea? The azalea got me again. This happened ever time that I went near the darned plant last year. I guess that I thought that it looked half dead and I would be OK. I was careful to not touch it much. But before I could progress to the next section, there it was - itchy red hives covering my forearms. I'm back to a non-swollen itchless state now. The upside is that I don't think that a dead plant could cause that type of reaction.