Month: May 2008

First there was breakfast where I had to stand guard over three children to make sure that they ate all of their eggs. This was necessary since Gleek has been wild and sugar-shocked ever since field day. It seems that the last week of school was an unending stream of exciting things, most of which were coated in sugar. Today begins the detox where I feed the kids no treats and instead insist that they eat foods containing protein and vitamins. They didn’t like the switch. Poor lambs. But they did eat all of their eggs.

Next came the declaration of chores to be done. The influx of sugar over the past week was accompanied by an influx of candy wrappers which the children cheerfully strewed throughout the entire house. Also Gleek expressed her love of nature by bringing some of it in the house. I like plants. They are pretty. But I don’t like them so much when they’ve lain on my floor drying out and then been stomped into confetti. For variety the kids decided to pull out piles of toys and throw them about at random. They were a bit dismayed to discover that I expected them to clean up the mess.

At first I had hopes that I could motivate them with the promise of extra stars on their “we are working together to earn a cool thing” chart. No dice. In the end I had to stand over each child in turn saying “Now pick up the cars and put them in the bucket.” “Now put all the laundry in the basket.” “Now wipe the sink.” Etc. Link had the hardest time of it. He had to vacuum. I’m the meanest mom ever. Even worse, his dad came along and showed him how to vacuum efficiently rather than just wandering the vacuum around the room at random.

By the time we finished the work, we were overdue for lunch. Again I had to stand over Gleek and Patch to make sure that they ate appropriate amounts of their burritos. Link and Kiki both love burritos and had two each. I told the kids that they were going to have to take turns hating the foods because there are so few foods that everyone likes.

At lunch I announced that the hour after lunch would be a quiet time. This siesta is something that is going to be increasingly necessary as the weather heats up. Mid-summer the best time to be outside is between 7-9 pm. That means that bedtime will be late. But we still need to be up early because the best business get-stuff-done hours are in the morning. Hence the necessity of a quiet space in the middle of the day when both Gleek and Patch are required to stay quietly in their beds. I don’t know how often they will nap, but by creating the habitual space for it I’m improving the chances. If nothing else we’ll all be more cheerful for having a quiet alone time midday. That’s the theory. The reality today is that I’m siting here typing on my laptop while guarding to make sure that everyone stays put and stays quiet.

Hopefully when quiet time is done there will be a lot less enforcement required of me. Maybe I’ll even get to start on the list of things that I’d assigned to myself for today.

It amazes me that I can have a child come up to me asking for a drink of water and one look at the child tells me that what the child really needs is a pot to vomit in even though the child has been fine all day. I gave Patch both the water and the pot. Within ten minutes my instinct was proved correct. I’ve learned to listen to that inner voice which tells me these things. I can know that Gleek needs a quiet time, that Link needs to go to bed early, that Kiki’s emotional upset will be greatly alleviated by eating, that the neighbor’s child really needs to go potty now. This instinct is slowly gained over years of experience with children and my kids in particular. I know I did not start this parenting adventure with that instinctive voice. I was constantly stressed and mystified about whether something was a normal stage or cause for panic. Unfortunately for new-mom Sandra, the mother’s instinct can’t be learned from reading books. Instead I had to rely on the instinct of friends with more (or at lease different) experience than me. Today I am glad for knowledge born of accumulated experience, because I only had a pot to wash instead of a floor to mop.

Today was field day at my kid’s school. This is the day that all the students are herded by harried teachers through a series of outdoor games and activities until they are sunburned, sweaty, and tired. Then they pause for lunch where the PTA obligingly sells various forms of colored and flavored sugar, which the children then ingest or apply in a sticky layer all over themselves. I did not send any money with my kids, but somehow they acquired piles of sugar anyway. I suspect charitable friends with too much money to spend. Thus the kids come home wired and tired, but having had a marvelous time. Many years I’ve been present at the school for most of the events. This year I had work to do, so Patch and I stayed home. This had the advantage that Patch was not cranky and tired the way that Gleek was. This afternoon Gleek had the attention span of a fruit fly, the stubbornness of a goat, and the cooperativeness of a cat.

Usually I just let the kids crash and have a slow afternoon on field day. This year that wasn’t an option, since this evening featured both Patch’s preschool graduation and Link’s cub scout boat race. Gleek was marvelously well behaved for the graduation. This is probably because the graduation was mostly a musical program performed by the kids. Gleek loves music. Also the graduation was outdoors and she found a pile of seed pods to carefully pick apart. The program went well. The little kids all sang loud and did motions to a variety of cutesy kid songs such as “In the good old summer time,” “You are my sunshine,” and “Daisy.” Well, most of the kids sang loud. Patch did not sing at all. I was prepared for this since weeks ago he was complaining to me about singing practice and how he didn’t sing the words, but just did all the motions. I suspect he would have been more enthusiastic about the whole idea of singing if there had been a cool pirate or space ship song in there. Ah well. It was still adorable and I took the requisite number of pictures. Then there were treats.

We dashed straight from the graduation to see Link’s boat race. His boat did well, winning about half of its races. Link had a great time, Patch got to watch a movie, and Gleek ran in laps around the building. I had hopes that she was burning off the last of the sugar, but then they handed out Popsicles as a post-race treat. Is it any wonder that Americans tend to be over weight, when even our healthy events feature a large sprinkling of sugar?

The last event was a quick drive down to dragon’s keep to deliver Howard’s asthma inhaler to him. He’d had an allergy attack. Gleek and Patch went on that trip. Amazingly it did not feature any extra treat food. We returned home and it was late. We still have school tomorrow. I gave them each a single cookie as a bedtime snack. This is probably awful of me considering the amount of treat food they’d eaten today. At least these cookies had some flour, butter, and egg in them along with the sugar. It was probably one of the healthier things they’d eaten during the day. Then I tumbled them all into pajamas and into bed. I’m too tired to bathe them tonight. Tomorrow we’ll see what we can do to remove the caked-on layers of sunscreen, sweaty, sticky, dirty, and tangled. For now I look at my grubby children in their beds and know that for them today was the Best! Day! Ever!

Right at this moment Link is working to paint his model boat. This boat will be used tomorrow for the cub scout “rain gutter regatta.” These are races where the boys propel their little sailboats by blowing on them. At first Link was not excited to make a boat. “I always lose!” He wailed. This is true. Both his rocket ship and his pinewood derby car performed poorly against the work of other boys. This is because I did not have the knowledge to help him make a good model and Howard did not have the time. Link has warmed up to this boat project. He did extra sanding in hopes of making his boat go faster. Now he his happily applying layers of paint. In a few minutes I need to go down and have a conversation with him in which I emphasize how much fun he is having making his boat. Hopefully I can help him focus on the process rather than the results. Tomorrow is the race. I’d love for him to do well, but I’m prepared for the opposite.

After the boat is all painted, Link will be heading to bed. Tonight painting supplants his normal reading time. Usually he reads in bed for 30 minutes or more. This reading is a recent development which delights me. After years of arguing with him about reading, we’ve finally found books where he pleads to read just a little bit more. Unfortunately these books are manga titles, which are not readily available from our local libraries. The junior high school has a small selection, but Kiki has already brought all of those home. I wish there was a Netflix for manga titles. As it is, we just need to buy books as the books and the funds become available through either amazon.com or the local comic book store. Link loves these books. Looking at a page full of nothing but text is daunting for him. The manga offer complex vocabulary and storylines that are visually tempered by images. So far he’s collected the first of a Pokemon series and the first two Full Metal Alchemist books. Kiki has focused her attention on Fruits Basket. I’m eyeing the Naruto series, but the kids have seen all the TV episodes already, so I’m not sure I’ll invest in those. Any other suggestions for Manga appropriate to kids would be appreciated. (The kids prefer manga that reads backward. It makes the books cooler.) I can tell I’m going to need to clear some shelf space to house this particular enthusiasm.

In movies, particularly kid’s movies, there is a triumphant scene in which the good guys win, the bad guys lose, and everything is set right. Sometimes there is a little bit more movie to tie off all the loose ends, and then the credits role. The story is satisfying and complete. Life is not like that. Oh, there are definitely triumphant moments. The moment when we win the race and hold the trophy high. That feels good. But life does not stop and roll credits. Instead there is the next morning when we roll out of bed with sore muscles, eye that trophy which represents a pinnacle of achievement, and wonder what comes next. Sometimes the next goal is obvious, sometimes it is not. But off we go to chase the next prize.

This morning I had a patch of weedy clay which is supposed to be a vegetable garden. I took a shovel and turned over all the earth. I then dumped fertilizer on and shoveled it in. This evening I led a parade of children, so that they could each help me put a plant into the ground. Each child carefully dug a hole in the now soft soil, placed a plant, and tucked it in with a layer of dirt. They stepped back, satisfied with their work. I stepped back too. It was a beautiful brown patch of dirt with little green sprouts of life sticking up in neat rows. I was tired, but it was done, a triumph. Only, it is not done. If I walk away from that garden calling it complete, it will die. Those weeds that I dug out are going to try to come back. Those plants that I put in are going to be thirsty. Life does that. Offers us little triumphs saying “Congratulations. Now get back to work.”

From this perspective, the triumphs can seem futile. Why should we strive, if the reward for a job well done is another job? The secret to happiness lies in loving the work. Sometimes we can choose to do the work that we love. Other times we must simply find things to love about the work that we must do. I did not love all the shoveling, but it was satisfying. There was measurable progress toward something that I do love, the planting. It was also good exercise, something I need more often. I am frequently grouchy about putting my kids to bed, but when I slow myself down, I can find pieces of it to love. I do not like doing dishes, but I love having a clean kitchen.

This evening I wiped the kitchen table in preparation for dinner. In the midst of wiping, I had a triumphant moment. I realized that for once I’d accomplished all the tasks of the day. The garden was ready, the laundry was running, dinner was cooked, the kids were playing. I had a momentary thought that I’ve gotten pretty good at this. I have learned to juggle all the tasks necessary to run a household, a family, and a home business simultaneously. I do not always succeed perfectly, but I am capable of far more today than I was five years ago. It was an invisible moment of triumph. No one noticed it but me. I have a lot of those. I take them where I can because I have just as many or more failures, some of which are very visible indeed. Either way life tells me the same thing. “Congratulations, (or condolences) Now get back to work.” And I do, because the work is good.

Romantic comedy movies are like chocolate. They aren’t very filling, a little bit makes me happy, a lot makes me feel sick. Romantic comedies rarely have much depth and they frequently depend upon the characters being stupid to maintain the tension of the plot. It really irritates mewhen the character I’m supposed to identify with consistently makes illogical or outright idiotic choices. But despite this common flaw, I still enjoy watching them every so often.

Last night I watched 27 Dresses starring Katherine Heigl. I found myself completely drawn in and immersed. Usually when a movie makes me cry I feel tricked or angry because I did not want to feel that. I shed tears during this movie, but I did not mind. After the movie was over, I tried to figure out why I was so drawn in to this particular comedy. In part it is because the viewpoint character, Jane, does not make illogical decisions. She does not lie or pretend to be something other than she is. She does not try to undermine other people. She does not try elaborate shenanigans to win the object of her affection. Some of those things are done by other people and they actually get rewarded appropriately for their ridiculousness.

But the reason for my immersion in the film goes deeper than a lack of annoying romantic comedy tropes. I know this because plenty of the tropes were there in full force. The key for why this movie kept me involved and keeps me thinking, is the main character. Jane is a woman who finds joy in helping others. She loves beauty, particularly in the form of weddings. She has dreams of what she wants for the future, (mostly to fall in love and have a beautiful wedding, not deep or ambitious, but what do you expect from a romantic comedy?) but she constantly and consistently puts her desires aside to answer the perceived needs of others. This resonates strongly with me because I do it all the time. I always balance my own needs against the needs I see around me. The lesson Jane learns in the movie is that sometimes always putting others first does everyone a disservice. She learns to step up and take charge of her own life rather than always just waiting for her dreams to happen to her. I cried for Jane as I watched other characters steal her dreams from her piece by piece while Jane stood and let them because she loved them too much to stop them. I was so glad when Jane finally started standing up for herself and telling people what she wanted, when she finally gave everyone else the chance to assist in her dreams.

After the movie was over, I found myself wondering: am I like Jane? I’m very good at taking charge. I always have plans that I’m working toward. But I constantly worry about the balance between meeting the needs of others and reaching for the things that I want. I know there have been times where I have given up something I wanted because I’d rather cause pain to myself than to someone I love. Parents do this all the time. It is necessary and noble. It is also frequently taken too far. There comes a time when a parent must stand up and say: this time my wants come first. That has to be done for the benefit of the child as well as the parent. And this applies to all loving relationships, not just parent/child. The trick is knowing when it is time to stop sacrificing. I’m not sure I always do. I know there are times where I do too much. I fold clothes for a child who should fold their own. I pick up homework left laying on the counter and put it into backpacks. I pick up a beloved toy rather than let it get stepped on and broken. These are small services that I do out of love, but they also prevent the recipient from feeling the consequences of not doing these things. If I prevent all these small consequences, how will my children ever learn to be responsible for themselves? Not only that, but the services are so small that the recipient will never even notice that they were done. I make it too easy for people to take me for granted. Being busier has solved much of this. I’ve had to learn to say: no I can’t. Do it for yourself.

I think I need to watch this movie again. I want to figure out how much of what I’ve been thinking about is really in the film and how much I read into it.

I became a gardener the Spring and Summer of 1999 while I was recovering from radiation therapy. The slow pace of gardening was perfect for me at that time. For the past nine years, gardening has been solely my pursuit. Howard likes the idea of growing food, but he’s too busy to make time for it. The kids have also liked having food and flowers growing, but they weren’t interested in doing any of the work. For whatever reason, this year is different. This past week as I’ve gone to do my outside hour, a child or two will show up at my side. They want to know what I’m doing and if they can help. So we sit together and talk a little. Whatever task I am doing it seems like I can find some way for a child to be helpful. I think perhaps the kids have recognized that unlike when I’m working in my office, when I am gardening, I am available. I’ll put down my weeds and push them on a swing. I’ll listen to what they have to say and give detailed answers to questions. I like being available to them this way. My hour of outside time is being good for us all. It creates a not-busy space in my day where my kids do not have to fight for my full attention. I’m not just growing plants, I’m growing relationships and minds.

It is the end of May and I still have not planted any vegetables. I have no intention of doing a big or elaborate vegetable garden this year. I haven’t the time to maintain it. Nor do I have the time to can or preserve a big harvest. I do like to pick fresh tomatoes from the garden, so I want to plant at least a few. Around 4 pm today I discovered myself in a mood to venture to the garden center. The kids were scattered and playing happily, so I pictured myself meandering through the plants solo. Upon informing Howard of my plan, both of my sons perked up, dropped what they were doing, and pleaded to be able to go along with me. Who am I to say no to two pairs of big blue puppy-dog eyes?

The boys loved the garden center and so did I. Hundreds of flowers were in full bloom, water features abounded, and there were lots of little walkways promising a hint of adventure to a young boy. The boys went adventuring while I browsed. It was quite relaxing because the boys always checked back in with me every few minutes. I never had the chance to wonder where they’d gone. As an extra bonus I bought a bag full of ladybugs for us to release in our yard. A bag of bugs in the fridge is always great fun.

The garden center is financially dangerous for me. I want to buy everything, even if I have no idea where I will plant it. In theory I was just buying tomatoes, but I came home with chives, basil, petunias, pansies, a columbine, and 7 packets of seeds. This demonstrates restraint on my part. I wanted so much more. But I reminded myself that I need to spend this summer clearing out beds and making them ready. This Fall I’ll plant them all so that they are really beautiful next year.

On the way home we stopped at the grocery store. This was the stop that the boys had really wanted to make. They each wanted a treat. Patch already had his picked out, Doritos in a blue bag. Link latched onto a jug of green punch. Both boys were really focused on being helpful. I would tell Link what to get. He would grab it and carefully arrange it in the cart. Patch wanted to push the cart. I did not trust him to steer, so I grabbed the front end of the cart. It was rather like managing an unruly horse. Patch pushed with all his might and if I needed the cart to stop, I had to use some real muscle power to make it happen. The helpfulness evaporated when we arrived back home. Both boys did a little unloading, but for the most part they were too focused on getting to eat their treats. Ah well. It was nice while it lasted.