Music To My Ears

Is there any sweeter a sound than listening to your Third Grader on the phone with a newly-made school chum as they plan a big kid play date? You listen as they discuss times and places and who will drop off and who will pick up. Just as they are finalizing details and wrapping things up (boys, even 8 year old ones, do not linger on the phone)  you hear your Third Grader say, "...and bring your violin!"

What? Don't all 8 year old boys have string jam sessions after school?

The Third Grader is playing the violin this year. Where playing, in week 2, means plucking the A and D notes repeatedly. But he is excited!  He is reading music! Where reading, in week 2, means recognizing the A and D notes. And then plucking them. But still, he is excited! When he oh so carefully takes the instrument out of its case he says things to me like, "it's hand carved, mom!" and "maybe someday I can be in an orchestra!".   Keith Lockhart, take note!

I wouldn't go so far as to say the nerf gun mania has passed, but the energy around here over a hand carved string instrument in the house is overwhelming.  

This kid never ceases to surprise me.



music education is a wonderful, magical part of the school curriculum for children. it opens up doors and sparks creativity and new found energy.   keep it in our schools, powers that be. 

Damn You, HGTV

Well, I didn't win HGTV's $75,000 Fall Fix Up Sweepstakes this month. 

Which means I'm stuck with my 1970s pine cabinets for awhile longer.  Woe is me.

I have nothing against the 70s.  I was born in the 70s.  I had a pet rock and watched The Gong Show and learned The Hustle in gym class.   My mother made me terry cloth rompers and we broke out the fancy fondue set for birthdays. 

It was a fine decade.

And I'm sure, if I were an apron-wearing housewife in 1975, I would love these cabinets of mine.  Dark pine was all the rage, I hear. But, alas, the decade of knotty pine has passed.
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It's 2010, and I covet this:

Not this:

The right thing to do here would be to post a picture of my whole kitchen, but I'm not.  You can use our your imagination.  Think PINE and LINOLEUM.


What's a girl to do?


I could...

1. Renovate.  This would require Substantial Funds.  I, at this time, have no viable investors for said project.

2. Paint.  This would require painstaking effort on my part, which, very likely would result in tears.  And sweat.  Neither of which I like very much.

3. Enter sweepstakes.  This has proved to be ineffective.  And I'm shocked.  Shocked.

4. Blog about it and hope that someone will take pity on me and offer a kitchen reno because, just like polio, eradicating the 70s would be the right thing to do.

 Hello?  Is there anyone out there?  This Old House? HGTV? Kitchens Without Borders?

Anyone?

Coping Mechanisms

It's started, friends...the downward spiral to winter.  Yes, I realize it is only September, but September in New England is a lot different than, say, September in Virginia (I know, I used to live there).

This morning, at a dismal 42 degrees, marked the First Day of Fleece.  A momentous day because once the fleece has been  released from the closet, there's no turning back.  Boots, mittens, down comforters, they're all coming to get me. 

We have lived here for eleven (!) years, and each winter, I pick up a few more coping mechanisms to get through the 8 months of cold weather.  I've said it before, and I'll say it again, winter is not my best time.  I tend to get all moody and introspective and I spend my evenings curled up in my Snuggie reading identity-crisis memoirs by 40-something year old women. It's not pretty.

So, here, in no particular order, are Things That Help Me Get By:

Artificial Light (and negative ion therapy):  sounds more complicated than it is.  All that is required is 10 minutes a day in front of a happy box.  The actual effects may be questionable, but at least your house will be brighter. And you can pull out your bejeweled sunglasses you bought at Kohl's last year and pretend it's July.

Chocolate in Your Coffee:  there is no better excuse than a snowed-in kind of day to add a little something-something to your morning cup of dark roast.  Sure, a shot of whiskey is an option, but I prefer a scoop or two of good quality (starts with a Ghirar and ends with a Delli) ground chocolate. 

Hot Yoga: there are people out there who consider sitting in a 100 degree room with other sweaty people in tank tops and short shorts to be a form of torture, but even if you don't feel like exercising, what's not to like about a hot room in January?  Plus, yoga clothes are cute.
   
The Right Bedding: I recommend a thin down blanket between your sheet and comforter.  Layering is key!  I can't stress this enough.

SmartWool Socks - whoever invented SmartWool is a genius.  'nuff said.

Make a Boat Load of Gnocchi:  because what else is there to do?

A Warm Weather Getaway:  when all else fails, scoot yourself down to the happiest place on earth.  Mickey may represent the big evil empire of all that is wrong in America, but never underestimate the healing powers of vitamin D.


What do YOU do to get through dark days and sub-zero temps?

The Price of Fame

Look where I was yesterday:

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Can't see it?

Here's a close up of my name in lights on the Boston.com homepage:

I KNOW!

I almost choked on my full fat Trader Joe's cheese doodles when I saw my stat counter reach the 1000 pageviews mark by mid-afternoon.

And I KNOW I've made it big because I received comments calling me names like 'moron' and 'idiot'. I guess there are some Boston readers out there who don't appreciate my dry humor and wit.  Huh.

Here are a few of my favorites: 

if you are dazzled by the friendly people in Hawaiian shirts and blame them for making you fat, you need to see a pyschiatrist [sic] - anonymous*

if you eat a tub of ice cream in one sitting because you think it is low fat, you are an idiot - anonymous*

Watch out Kate Gosselin. My hate mail could exceed yours. Then? Who knows. Maybe Dancing with the Stars is in my future.



* psst, if you are going to leave a nasty comment, at least have the balls to make it your own

How Trader Joe's is Making Me Fat

Do you have a Trader Joe's near you?  You know, that friendly neighborhood store where the employees wear cutesy Hawaiian shirts and act all helpful and friendly?

Their no-frills marketing ads lure you in with promises of their products being All Natural! with No Preservatives! and No Artificial Ingredients!

Don't let them fool you, my friends.

Just because the shelves are stocked with good-for-you kinds of food, doesn't mean that eating these foods will make your jeans fit any better.

Just because their Cheese Crunchies don't contain orange #8, doesn't mean that they are any less fattening than the cheese doodles coated with colorful neon-orange dyes.  And it doesn't mean you should consume the whole bag in one sitting. 

Just because the TJ's ice cream is made from Organic Milk! and comes in pretty packages, doesn't mean it contains less calories than the kind that comes from cows jacked up on steroids.   The chocolate chip ice cream sandwiches should also not be eaten in one sitting.  FYI.

And just because their Biscuits-In-A-Tube may have ingredients that you can pronounce without the help of a scientific dictionary, doesn't mean that they don't contain the same number of carbs and cholesterol as the kind with the cute dough boy on it.  Butter is not always your friend.

So, go ahead Trader Joe's.  Be all healthy and natural.  But I'm on to you.

Summer Summarized

Remember The List?

That long piece of paper filled with To-Do items for the summer?  You know, the one that masqueraded as a creative lesson in brainstorming and goal setting, but was really just the result of the panic I felt at the thought of two whole months of unstructured time with my kids?

Yeah, that one.

Well, here's how how we did on The Great Summer List of 2010:

Try Archery:  The Third Grader tried his hand, er, bow, at archery and in the end decided the sport is best left to the experts. Like Robin Hood. Or his merry men.

Go Under Water: Not only did the Kindergartner face his fear and put his entire head in the water, but he also mastered the doggy paddle.  He can successfully paddle exactly two feet before he flails his arms in the air and howls that he is Going Down!, at which point he remembers he can touch the bottom of the shallow end and stands up.  Next year we will work on the Butterfly.

Climb a Mountain:  If one mile and 1,821 feet above sea level counts as a mountain, then, yes, we did.

Go on a Big Ship:  It took a road trip to NYC, but we did, indeed, board a ginormously large vessel. There's nothing like spending five hours on an Old Navy Ship to make summer in Boy Town complete.  *yawn*

Go Berry Picking:  We laboriously picked a few quarts of sour blueberries sometime in August.  I don't know when exactly; the summer was starting to blur into one long scorching experiment in dehydration at that point.  The company was good.  I do know that.
 
Go to a Red Sox Game:  Game?  What game?  I was too busy listening to the guys sitting behind us.

Make Home Made Whipped Cream:  We checked this one off early in the summer.  Turns out, though, the boys like the stuff from the can better.

Sleep in a Tent: We snuck this in just under the wire, as in two days ago. After an exhilerating game of flashlight tag (when is the last time you played?), the boys and my husband had a backyard camp out while I drank wine and watched old episodes of Thirtysomething  (*spoiler alert* Gary dies!).

Things Not On The List, But That We Did Anyway Because We're Spontaneous Like That:

Read, read and read some more:  I'm a big fan of reading books out loud, even to the Third Grader who is a pretty avid reader on his own.  One worth mentioning is Gregor the Overlander.  I was just as wrapped up in the story as they were because what's not to like about a secret underworld in New York City filled with giant cockroaches and talking bats?  No one even paid me to say that.  It's just a really good book.

Pretend to be a Lobsterman:  We climbed aboard a lobster boat on a sweltering 100 degree afternoon and had to wear big, heavy, non-breathable fishing gear and caught 2 lobsters in 3 hours.  Fun!  Actually, it was.

Visit Lady Liberty:  This may have been the highlight of the summer for the Third Grader, who spouted off facts about the statue and Liberty Island as if he had studied them in school.  Oh wait, he did.

Eat an Unbelievable Amount of Ice Cream:  As in, holy crap, I gained some serious summer ice-cream weight.

So, there you have it.  The highlights of our summer.

If I could freeze these boys at the ages they are now, I would.  If I could bottle up their spirit and their willingness to Try Anything* and Go Anywhere, I would.  

I'm not ready for it to be over.  I've still got some summer in me.  





*except food; the third grader does have his limits

Big Problems, Little Problems

The Kindergartner got the teacher I didn't want him to get.  She is a good teacher, but not the right teacher for The Kindergartner.   She runs a tight ship.  I'll leave it at that.

There have been a few complaints from The Kindergartner this week.  It will take some time to adjust to a new routine, I know this.  But hearing my optimistic, go-lucky five year old's voice waver as he recounts part of his day breaks my maternal heart.  Every morning when he gets on that school bus, a little piece of me goes with him.  Every time he falls, I feel it.   

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Back when I was working full time in my windowless office and staring at spreadsheets all day, I had a pretty amazing boss.  He had four kids ranging in age from pre-school to high school.  He coached his sons' baseball teams, he participated in school drop-offs and pick ups.  He somehow achieved that buzz-phrase of the decade called work-life balance; not an easy accomplishment as a VP at a high tech company. 

With four kids at home, he had experienced his share of child-rearing issues.  He liked to say (a lot), 'little kids, little problems; big kids, big problems'.  So when I would walk into the office, bleary eyed from lack of sleep, and complain about my six month old teething all night, he would laugh under his breath, as if to say, yeah, you ain't seen nothing yet, kid.   And then he would tell me about his sixteen year old daughter whose boyfriend had just gotten his license and how he had waited up until midnight for her to get home.  Touché.

Little kids, little problems; big kids, big problems.

I am repeating his mantra to myself this week.  I say it when I go to bed.  I say it when I wake up.  I say it when I call my friend on the phone and pour my troubles into her ears (thank you, friend).   

When my five year old got off the school bus yesterday complaining about the injustice of the Kindergarten sticker chart system, I tried to imagine all of the bigger problems that will arise when he is in the throes of his turbulent teenage years.  Years from now, when he asks me for the car keys and I am waiting up for him in the middle of the night hoping he is safe, I will wish for the simplicity of the sticker chart issue. 
 
But right now, just as a sleepless night with a teething baby did, the sticker chart problem feels Big.

Slowing It Down

The Second Grader is now the Third Grader.  The Five Year Old is now the Kindergartner.

Let's just say, it has been a definite week of transitions.  For everyone.

I find the first few weeks of the school year exhausting.  The kids, after the adrenaline high has faded and the new shoes have been scuffed, are cranky.  There are new teachers to get to know, new kids to sit next to, a new lunch table to scout out.  The bus numbers have changed, the sports teams have been shuffled, the completely unnecessary homework has begun.

There were tears last night.  They were tears of a weary boy not yet ready to leave behind the light and breezy days of summer.   The bus comes earlier, the soccer practices are longer, and daylight is shorter. I don't blame him.  I almost cried right along with him.   Instead, I climbed up onto the top bunk and rubbed his back the way I did when he was a teething toddler.   Some things don't change.

There were even complaints from the happy-go-lucky Kindergartner.  There's too many rules, he told us, we didn't get to play.   He came home with his snack opened, but barely touched.  I didn't have time, he said.

I'm doing my best to usher everyone into this new school year as smoothly as possible, but I can't help wonder why things seem so serious, so soon, with these kids.   At the risk of sounding like a nostalgic almost 40-something mother, what's the rush? Why does their world seem more intense than mine ever did at that age?

When I was five, my Kindergarten classroom had TOYS and MATS and NAP TIME.  We went outside for recess EVERY DAY.   We FINGER PAINTED.  Homework didn't truly begin until the end of elementary school.  Daily planners were something we used in high school.  Not third grade. Sports were for FUN and EVERY ONE could play them. 

I am probably one of those moms who teachers hate.  If my kids are too tired at the end of the day to complete a busy-work page of math homework, I tell them not to do it.  Last year, on one of the first warm and sunny days of spring, I wrote a note to my son's second grade teacher that said, we didn't get to homework tonight.  we were outside enjoying the beautiful day.

When our lives are so constantly overloaded with stuff, I want my kids to know how to slow down.  How to simply BE; a skill more important than a high standardized test score.

I wonder what all of the rush rush rush will do to our kids in the long run.  Will they crash and burn before they take their SATs? Or will they work hard until they are 35, find themselves with a good job, a spouse and 2.5 children, only to realize that they've never had a chance to slow down?

Because do you know what happens when we don't give our children a chance to slow down?  They don't get the opportunity to find out who they really are.  And isn't that the whole point?  Of life?  To discover who we are?