What a wildly awesome day. When my eyelids fluttered open this morning, I was very aware that it could be the best of times -or- worst of times type of day. I knew what was on the calendar and knew it could run me over like a squirrel on a six lane freeway.
First choice: I had to choose between doing a Mega Large task on my own or hiring help. I couldn't decide. With my superwoman cap on a bit too tight, I wanted to do it by myself. I also wanted to hire it out so I could have the much-needed practice managing helpers. Here was the pivotal factor:
If I do it myself, by the end of the day, I will be drained and the house will still be a disaster. I might get 1/2 of the work done.
If I hire a few girlfriends to help, I'll spend my morning cleaning the house (because heaven forbid someone should see it a wreck) but at the end of the day, I'll have: 1. a clean house! 2. most of the work done, and 3. some more experience under my belt in hiring help.
I chose to seek help and I'm so glad I did. The benefits were immense. Yes, I was nervous; yes, I didn't explain things as good as I could have; and yes, I wish I didn't babble on, but I got by. With the safety of working with girls I know & love, I was able to practice being a not-too-terribly-bad director. They were *awesome* and it helped me built to the next step.
This evening was another case-in-point. Hubby had surgery today and since his car had been stolen earlier this week, he had to bike to the hospital and bike most of the way home. (I was able to drive him part way before I had to go get the kids for karate.) Poor guy x10. He didn't have time to pick up his prescription pain killer which he most definitely needs to make it through the night.
In hindsight it's funny -- first pharmacy has a computer glitch and can't fill any RXs, second pharmacy is so packed, there isn't a parking spot for miles, third pharmacy is great! Only, I don't have the right card to prove medical coverage. I spend the next hour in the car (traffic) wishing I was home cooking dinner and caring for my children (I get to hear all the good stories of the day during dinner, argh!) I zoom home at a breakneck 5 mph, get the blasted insurance card, go back to the right pharmacy, submit the card only to find out that the meds were only a couple bucks more than the co-pay. I wanted to drop my head on the counter and wail, "Why? Why? Why didn't you tell me? I would have just bought it and gone home!" but instead I smiled politely and said thank you. It was going to be a best of days no matter what.
Now my kids are asleep, husband is wiped out, and I'm going to go revel in the beauty of a clean house. Or at least I'm going to pretend it's clean because we all know that a house doesn't stay clean when you leave four kids in it unattended for the entire evening.
Ack.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Decision Overload
A dear friend asked me why I slowed down on blogging.
Easy answer: "There's simply Too Much to blog about."
It's funny how we can easily and quickly pick a choice when there are limited options, but when given a wide range, we can't make a choice at all. (See "The E-myth Revisted" or "Made to Stick" for back-up on that point.)
So, with one eye closed, I tell you that I'm not blogging today since it is by-the-numbers the most busy day I have ever had and/or will ever have on the job, my husband is having surgery and has no car to get to and from the hospital, but my body can't be driving him and doing what it needs to do to keep work and children going, also, he can't have the car. I need the car. I got someone else to cover my carpool and half a dozen other obligations, but...
So, no blogging, just a recognition of the decision overload.
Easy answer: "There's simply Too Much to blog about."
It's funny how we can easily and quickly pick a choice when there are limited options, but when given a wide range, we can't make a choice at all. (See "The E-myth Revisted" or "Made to Stick" for back-up on that point.)
So, with one eye closed, I tell you that I'm not blogging today since it is by-the-numbers the most busy day I have ever had and/or will ever have on the job, my husband is having surgery and has no car to get to and from the hospital, but my body can't be driving him and doing what it needs to do to keep work and children going, also, he can't have the car. I need the car. I got someone else to cover my carpool and half a dozen other obligations, but...
So, no blogging, just a recognition of the decision overload.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Tennis. Finally.
Perhaps the most blog-appropriate note for me this last week was that I can now play tennis. Well.
See, when I was a kid / teen my brother tried to teach me how to play tennis. It was an exercise in futility. Every concept he taught me didn't stick. I made the same mistakes again and again. He never gave up on me, but he never made progress either.
As an adult, I can look back and see with crystal clarity that at that point in my life I had not a clue how to learn certain tasks. My mind was shut to skills that might indicate ability outside a certain scope.
Now as an adult I am on hyperdrive trying to learn from my mistakes. All my mistakes. Since I am making a heap o' mistakes, the learning is occurring at a breakneck pace. Ha.
I didn't put this all into perspective until last week when the kids and I went out to play tennis, the first time in years.
I hit the ball and it went where it was supposed to.
I lobbed it back again and again. I could play! Well!
All the lessons my brother taught flooded back. Apparently they had been catalogued in some dusty corner of my brain and they were there for the asking. It was so liberating to finally be free to play.
Jee and Aee were wondering why their mom was so psyched about it all. I was delighted to see that Jee has natural talent and can hit it hard and fast like his pappa. Aee learned how to serve. It was awesome.
See, when I was a kid / teen my brother tried to teach me how to play tennis. It was an exercise in futility. Every concept he taught me didn't stick. I made the same mistakes again and again. He never gave up on me, but he never made progress either.
As an adult, I can look back and see with crystal clarity that at that point in my life I had not a clue how to learn certain tasks. My mind was shut to skills that might indicate ability outside a certain scope.
Now as an adult I am on hyperdrive trying to learn from my mistakes. All my mistakes. Since I am making a heap o' mistakes, the learning is occurring at a breakneck pace. Ha.
I didn't put this all into perspective until last week when the kids and I went out to play tennis, the first time in years.
I hit the ball and it went where it was supposed to.
I lobbed it back again and again. I could play! Well!
All the lessons my brother taught flooded back. Apparently they had been catalogued in some dusty corner of my brain and they were there for the asking. It was so liberating to finally be free to play.
Jee and Aee were wondering why their mom was so psyched about it all. I was delighted to see that Jee has natural talent and can hit it hard and fast like his pappa. Aee learned how to serve. It was awesome.
The first meeting
Jee and Aee are now on their first baseball team. One of Jee's old friends (the one who "lives in the castle on the corner") invited him to join the team as soon as registration first opened.
I had "Sign up for Baseball" on my To Do list for a few months and, of course, never got to it. This afternoon, mere hours before the orientation meeting, I got an email from one of the baseball commissioners, a friend of the family, saying that one kid had a request to have Jee ___ on his team and was it the same Jee ___ that I call my son?
Uh, yes.
I should have signed up by now, huh?
So, I do the online registration for both kiddos, getting them into the same team and several friends. The coach is also a friend of the family. Everything looks great, better than great.
Then why did we leave the orientation meeting with Aee in tears? I haven't seen such a desperately sad little face in a long time. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were puddles. She had on her new team baseball hat and looked like a batter ready to hit a home run. Why the tears?
Because she misunderstood that the orientation meeting was just a meeting where a bunch of old people talk and the kids say "hi" to each other. No ball hitting. No running. Not yet.
She was so sad! All I could think was how wonderful it was that she wanted to play.
I had "Sign up for Baseball" on my To Do list for a few months and, of course, never got to it. This afternoon, mere hours before the orientation meeting, I got an email from one of the baseball commissioners, a friend of the family, saying that one kid had a request to have Jee ___ on his team and was it the same Jee ___ that I call my son?
Uh, yes.
I should have signed up by now, huh?
So, I do the online registration for both kiddos, getting them into the same team and several friends. The coach is also a friend of the family. Everything looks great, better than great.
Then why did we leave the orientation meeting with Aee in tears? I haven't seen such a desperately sad little face in a long time. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were puddles. She had on her new team baseball hat and looked like a batter ready to hit a home run. Why the tears?
Because she misunderstood that the orientation meeting was just a meeting where a bunch of old people talk and the kids say "hi" to each other. No ball hitting. No running. Not yet.
She was so sad! All I could think was how wonderful it was that she wanted to play.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Bizarre truths
Do you ever wonder if your kids are telling the truth simply because their story is so bizarre?
Vee and Kee: "We went to Ultimate practice today and there was one really short kid who tried to do a throw when a really big kid blocked it with his knee. The short kid might have a broken arm. One of the guys called his mom. His mom called the paramedics. The paramedics couldn't get in because the gates to the field were locked."
Me: "Well, then, how did you get in if the gates were locked?"
Vee and Kee: "We all jumped the fence..."
Me: "The whole team?"
Vee and Kee: "Well, yeah."
Me: "Where was the coach?"
Vee and Kee: "Stuck in a meeting at work. So, the paramedics got there and couldn't get in so they called the fire department so they could bring their ladder. You know, they couldn't get the kid out since he couldn't climb the fence with the broken arm... then the mom showed up and the coach showed up with the key to the gate and he let everybody in. And THEN the fire truck showed up with the ladder."
Me: shaking head, "Are you serious?"
Of course.
Vee and Kee: "We went to Ultimate practice today and there was one really short kid who tried to do a throw when a really big kid blocked it with his knee. The short kid might have a broken arm. One of the guys called his mom. His mom called the paramedics. The paramedics couldn't get in because the gates to the field were locked."
Me: "Well, then, how did you get in if the gates were locked?"
Vee and Kee: "We all jumped the fence..."
Me: "The whole team?"
Vee and Kee: "Well, yeah."
Me: "Where was the coach?"
Vee and Kee: "Stuck in a meeting at work. So, the paramedics got there and couldn't get in so they called the fire department so they could bring their ladder. You know, they couldn't get the kid out since he couldn't climb the fence with the broken arm... then the mom showed up and the coach showed up with the key to the gate and he let everybody in. And THEN the fire truck showed up with the ladder."
Me: shaking head, "Are you serious?"
Of course.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Time
This has been an exceptionally busy week, thus no blogging, resting, or playing. Now it's Sunday so I'm re-evaluating it all. I am looking at the big picture as well as the details, trying to determine if I am on the right path.
When my oldest was only two, I wrote a very specific list of New Year's Resolutions. It listed big, life-changing goals alongside the minutiae: "Own a house with four sky-lights, one garden window, and a three car garage." The list was tucked away in a box for three years (that's only 36 months folks) and when I pulled it back out, I read it over seeing that nearly every item on the list had been fulfilled. Wild.
Somehow those specifics were tucked away in my memory and all little decisions I made over those three years led to the big picture I had envisioned. I had forgotten about the list, yet...
I haven't written New Year's Resolutions yet this year and I have been feeling floaty, like no one is in the driver's seat (a fairly scary proposition when you think about it). I'm pulling out a pad of paper now. "New Yea...."
Resolutions get a bad wrap, but honest-to-goodness, I seriously want to know where I'll be three years from now, could be a lot of different places and I have to at least try to effect that outcome.
When my oldest was only two, I wrote a very specific list of New Year's Resolutions. It listed big, life-changing goals alongside the minutiae: "Own a house with four sky-lights, one garden window, and a three car garage." The list was tucked away in a box for three years (that's only 36 months folks) and when I pulled it back out, I read it over seeing that nearly every item on the list had been fulfilled. Wild.
Somehow those specifics were tucked away in my memory and all little decisions I made over those three years led to the big picture I had envisioned. I had forgotten about the list, yet...
I haven't written New Year's Resolutions yet this year and I have been feeling floaty, like no one is in the driver's seat (a fairly scary proposition when you think about it). I'm pulling out a pad of paper now. "New Yea...."
Resolutions get a bad wrap, but honest-to-goodness, I seriously want to know where I'll be three years from now, could be a lot of different places and I have to at least try to effect that outcome.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Interesting reasoning
I was at a conference last weekend & let the teenagers have a weekend worth of practicing their independent living skills.
They did *great* except for one thing -- there were an awful lot of dishes in the sink despite the fact that they have been well-trained in the finer points of doing dishes.
Upon questioning the 15 yo: "Why didn't you do the dishes?"
Kee: "We didn't run out."
Doh.
They did *great* except for one thing -- there were an awful lot of dishes in the sink despite the fact that they have been well-trained in the finer points of doing dishes.
Upon questioning the 15 yo: "Why didn't you do the dishes?"
Kee: "We didn't run out."
Doh.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
The Big "Duh"
Yesterday during the kid's karate class, I got to talk with a mom who is a scientist (biologist) at Cal. She has a little girl a bit younger than Aee, so I asked her my current Burning Question: "Where do you find decent literature for her that isn't fluffy, but is still modern?" which led to the inevitable, "What did your parents do to encourage your love for science?"
My little Aee has a strong passion for anything science-oriented and I am seeing that slowly die as she reads various fluff books and generally absorbs these invisible little undercurrents that still exist.
Bio Lady: "Well, my mom worked as a biologist and I saw her passion for her work."
Me: (after a long pause) "But... usually when people come home from work, they are tired, having given their best to the job. Wasn't your mom tired when she came home? I worry that my kids will only see the fatigued side of me and grow up wanting to avoid my mistakes."
Bio Lady: "Sure, yeah, I'm struggling with that now too, but it was different back then. My mom got home at 4 or 5 every day without fail and she had a full-time maid so dinner was on the table when she walked in the door."
Me: (jaw dropped)
Bio Lady: "I got to hear about the cool stuff she was doing."
Me: (picking up jaw) "Full-time maid?"
Bio Lady: "Uh, yeah, full-time."
Me: "Full-time?"
Bio Lady: "Full-time."
In my mind I see the To Do list:
* Laundry
* Dishes
* Ironing
* Vacuuming
* Grocery shopping
* Fixing the faucet
---
Literally about 300 To Do items all clearly and prominently scrolling through my mind's eye. Holy cannolli. It IS a full-time job!
If you sat me down with pencil and paper, I could list them all out in a heated timed-test fashion, grouped in whichever way your request.
Later that night, Vee and I went on a run. I talked to him about it and his reply:
Vee: "Well, yeah, Mom. Think about it. Caring for a family and a home is about 8 hours a day. Think of all the shopping, cleaning, cooking, and all that needs to be done. Work is 8 hours if you're lucky. We like to see you for about 4 or 5 hours after school and somewhere in there you need some time to yourself. And then, maybe some sleep."
Me: (running in somber silence)
Vee: "Do the math."
We talked about how the work is scalable, about how housework can take the time of several full-time people if you make it and it can also take nearly no work (but there are consequences). I rehashed all my old beliefs that having a smaller home, streamlined work processes, and having the whole family help were valuable work arounds.
But, the bottomline is that I'm trying to squeeze a Too Big job into too small a space.
Duh.
My little Aee has a strong passion for anything science-oriented and I am seeing that slowly die as she reads various fluff books and generally absorbs these invisible little undercurrents that still exist.
Bio Lady: "Well, my mom worked as a biologist and I saw her passion for her work."
Me: (after a long pause) "But... usually when people come home from work, they are tired, having given their best to the job. Wasn't your mom tired when she came home? I worry that my kids will only see the fatigued side of me and grow up wanting to avoid my mistakes."
Bio Lady: "Sure, yeah, I'm struggling with that now too, but it was different back then. My mom got home at 4 or 5 every day without fail and she had a full-time maid so dinner was on the table when she walked in the door."
Me: (jaw dropped)
Bio Lady: "I got to hear about the cool stuff she was doing."
Me: (picking up jaw) "Full-time maid?"
Bio Lady: "Uh, yeah, full-time."
Me: "Full-time?"
Bio Lady: "Full-time."
In my mind I see the To Do list:
* Laundry
* Dishes
* Ironing
* Vacuuming
* Grocery shopping
* Fixing the faucet
---
Literally about 300 To Do items all clearly and prominently scrolling through my mind's eye. Holy cannolli. It IS a full-time job!
If you sat me down with pencil and paper, I could list them all out in a heated timed-test fashion, grouped in whichever way your request.
- Tasks by frequency? List: Daily, Weekly, Monthly, Yearly
- Tasks by type? Cleaning, Maintenance, Food supply, Scheduling, Exterior (yard + vehicle), etc.
- Tasks by duration? Quick 30 second tasks, Five minuters, Half-hour tasks, Half-day tasks, Full weekend tasks.
Later that night, Vee and I went on a run. I talked to him about it and his reply:
Vee: "Well, yeah, Mom. Think about it. Caring for a family and a home is about 8 hours a day. Think of all the shopping, cleaning, cooking, and all that needs to be done. Work is 8 hours if you're lucky. We like to see you for about 4 or 5 hours after school and somewhere in there you need some time to yourself. And then, maybe some sleep."
Me: (running in somber silence)
Vee: "Do the math."
We talked about how the work is scalable, about how housework can take the time of several full-time people if you make it and it can also take nearly no work (but there are consequences). I rehashed all my old beliefs that having a smaller home, streamlined work processes, and having the whole family help were valuable work arounds.
But, the bottomline is that I'm trying to squeeze a Too Big job into too small a space.
Duh.
The Maid
When Vee and Kee were little, I loved maintaining the home and I / we were fairly good at it. We did our daily chores and Saturday chores and generally, the house was consistently clean & comfy.
But for the last few years it has held no interest for me. I maxed out any desire to clean. There is a learning curve to caring for a home and then, after you're done with that curve, it's nothing more than repetition.
A few months ago, I pinged a group of friends & got five recommendations for women who work as maids and love it. I didn't want a disgruntled "this is the best I can do" maid; I wanted someone who did the work because they love the look of a clean floor, clean windows, and a tidy environment. It is a beautiful thing.
I have yet to call any of them. I am having a hard time letting go of... ?
Over the last few years I have been paying attention to what happens when you have someone else clean your house for you. The piles in the corners disappear; the furniture and various objects are better designed for easier vacuuming, sweeping, polishing; everything shifts towards that goal of being "cleanable". I have tried to make that shift slowly, with every new repositioning of the home, "Is this cleanable?" and "What would I have to do if the maid was coming tomorrow?"
If only the maid was coming tomorrow!
But for the last few years it has held no interest for me. I maxed out any desire to clean. There is a learning curve to caring for a home and then, after you're done with that curve, it's nothing more than repetition.
A few months ago, I pinged a group of friends & got five recommendations for women who work as maids and love it. I didn't want a disgruntled "this is the best I can do" maid; I wanted someone who did the work because they love the look of a clean floor, clean windows, and a tidy environment. It is a beautiful thing.
I have yet to call any of them. I am having a hard time letting go of... ?
Over the last few years I have been paying attention to what happens when you have someone else clean your house for you. The piles in the corners disappear; the furniture and various objects are better designed for easier vacuuming, sweeping, polishing; everything shifts towards that goal of being "cleanable". I have tried to make that shift slowly, with every new repositioning of the home, "Is this cleanable?" and "What would I have to do if the maid was coming tomorrow?"
If only the maid was coming tomorrow!
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
That moment when you reconnect
Having worked in the schools, I have always been entranced with that moment that occurs when a parent picks a child up from school -- there is such a range of emotion or lack thereof.
Some kids run to mom or dad with arms wide up and smooches at-the-ready. Some wander over, dragging their feet, silently switching to the custody of the next big person.
I love that moment. It speaks volumes about the general health of the relationship, tinged by the events of that particular day.
What were today's pick-up reactions?
Aee (this reaction was my favorite for today): "MOM! (actually screaming) MY FEET CAN TOUCH MY BUM!!"
She takes off running across the playground, all her belongings flying. Her coat flies off to the right, backpack flies off to the left, miscellaneous papers in all directions. Wow, she really can touch her bum with her feet when she kicks her legs back hard.
Jee's approach: Puts his belongings in his backpack fast. Papers, books, coat, all crammed in the backpack. He turns his sweet little face up to me and I see a bandaid on his cheek. I can also see that his eyes carry a bit too much sadness in them so I don't ask what happened. When we get home, I'll ask and he'll cry and let me know what happened. (A mean kid was throwing sticks and one hit him as he was walking out of a room. Jee understands the luck factor in the near miss and to him it is not just a little scratch. He tells me how much he loves his eyes. I love his eyes too.)
Vee's end of the school day contact: Phone message, "Hey, mom, hope you had a good day. Do you need us for anything after school? My test went well. I think I did good on it... (more details). Love you mom." Holy cow, did he just say that in front of his friends?? Yup, I listen to the message again and hear his friends voices in the background. From what I have seen of Vee's friends, they're all self-confident enough to not be threatened by a friend making such a comment (if by chance they happened to overhear it).
Kee's end of the school day contact: Calling after he & his bro get home (I had the others at karate). "Hey mom, we're home. Should I get some water boiling?" He knows that all good dinners are on the other end of a boiling pot of water.
Sigh. I love that: "MY FEET CAN TOUCH MY BUM!" If you haven't run so fast & furious that your feet touch your bum, I highly recommend it. Vee and I went out for a run tonight and felt like we were five again, running in all sorts of spastic Gumby-like ways. Thankfully, it was fully dark out and no one saw us (I hope).
Some kids run to mom or dad with arms wide up and smooches at-the-ready. Some wander over, dragging their feet, silently switching to the custody of the next big person.
I love that moment. It speaks volumes about the general health of the relationship, tinged by the events of that particular day.
What were today's pick-up reactions?
Aee (this reaction was my favorite for today): "MOM! (actually screaming) MY FEET CAN TOUCH MY BUM!!"
She takes off running across the playground, all her belongings flying. Her coat flies off to the right, backpack flies off to the left, miscellaneous papers in all directions. Wow, she really can touch her bum with her feet when she kicks her legs back hard.
Jee's approach: Puts his belongings in his backpack fast. Papers, books, coat, all crammed in the backpack. He turns his sweet little face up to me and I see a bandaid on his cheek. I can also see that his eyes carry a bit too much sadness in them so I don't ask what happened. When we get home, I'll ask and he'll cry and let me know what happened. (A mean kid was throwing sticks and one hit him as he was walking out of a room. Jee understands the luck factor in the near miss and to him it is not just a little scratch. He tells me how much he loves his eyes. I love his eyes too.)
Vee's end of the school day contact: Phone message, "Hey, mom, hope you had a good day. Do you need us for anything after school? My test went well. I think I did good on it... (more details). Love you mom." Holy cow, did he just say that in front of his friends?? Yup, I listen to the message again and hear his friends voices in the background. From what I have seen of Vee's friends, they're all self-confident enough to not be threatened by a friend making such a comment (if by chance they happened to overhear it).
Kee's end of the school day contact: Calling after he & his bro get home (I had the others at karate). "Hey mom, we're home. Should I get some water boiling?" He knows that all good dinners are on the other end of a boiling pot of water.
Sigh. I love that: "MY FEET CAN TOUCH MY BUM!" If you haven't run so fast & furious that your feet touch your bum, I highly recommend it. Vee and I went out for a run tonight and felt like we were five again, running in all sorts of spastic Gumby-like ways. Thankfully, it was fully dark out and no one saw us (I hope).
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Bizarre sighting
At 1:12 today, a bizarre sight was seen by anyone driving down Virginia --it was pouring rain, nearly hailing, gusting, windy, cold, and what do you see? A family jogging: suits, ties, pantyhose, and dresses? In the pouring rain? Forget about the bad weather or inappropriate dress, when do you ever see a *family* jogging together in the first place? A few rubberneckers gave us funny looks.
As we were "jogging in the rain", the banter was playful and easy. Eee and I had a good hindsight-in-advance laugh that this would all be funny and memorable soon. There was no worry about mud splashes or stains -- who cares about such things when the heavens are open and the plants are catching their own bits in their cupped leaves?
You may wonder why we were out at 1:12 today? It all started back in October (I think?)...
Several months ago, I got to walk to church with a friend. It was possibly one of the most beautiful, uplifting walks I had experienced in quite a while. We covered a brisk five-ish miles from her house to the church building and the next day I was sore, but happy with my memory of the walk.
Having been sufficiently motivated, a few Sundays later I floated the idea that some of us walk home instead of riding. Kee was up for it and we had a wonderful walk home, thus proving the walk doable. The next Sunday I floated the idea of walking *to* church (a much more difficult feat of timing) with both Vee and Kee. A few weeks later, in an act of faith-in-the-little-guy, Jee joined us. We have had various configurations of walking for the last month plus a bit.
Today, by some bizarre stroke of luck, we were all ready to go by 8:30 and decided to walk most of the way to church. Eee must have thought we were all crazy, loco, fou, etc. but he didn't complain and we made it out the door and on the sidewalk. We actually got to church early. I swear there was a time warp somewhere along the way that made it possible.
The walk home was pleasant for only a few blocks. The clouds came fast and furious. Only a minute or two of droplets then whoosh, the rains came a'tumbling down.
You know how you get rain drops on your eyelashes and it can give you a light-through-water prism effect to your vision? I love that look. It makes the world look magical. A few glimpses:
* Aee's shiny little shoes running so fast, flick, flick, flick as she ran full-out. I have never seen her run with such vigor. There is something majestic about a runner who uses the full leg to run, such a beautiful stretch, perhaps because it reminds me of the beauty of a horse's full gallop.
* Vee's hair completely soaked, rain dripping all over his eyes, face, glasses, me noticing that no one else has the same splatter pattern on their faces. Why? Because Vee has been looking up into the rain -- it's so beautiful -- whereas most people look down.
* Eee's suit doesn't look that wet. I look around at all three suits and realize that suits are water repellent. I didn't know that.
* Jee is so quiet. I work a little harder to pay attention to where he is so that at every street crossing, he is holding a tall person's hand. Why is he so quiet? For good reason -- he is an absorber. He is soaking up every little detail that is happening in the world around him. As we run down the hill, he is experiencing and calculating the incline. As we pass the flowers, he's taking stats on which ones catch the liquid and which ones don't. I'll hear these details later if I take the time to ask.
Kee stops, picks a big leaf, shows us the puddle of water in it, then... drinks it. Ha.
* Kee seems unphased by the rain. He's absorbing too, soaking it in deep. Do I have children or plants?
I'm enjoying the run, realizing how lucky am I to be surrounded by people who don't blame me for them getting soaked, fully realizing that it could have been an unpleasant experience. For a few minutes, I feel like I'm 15 yo again and back in WA state, stuck in the rain because I cared more about getting out to see the world than I cared about whether or not it might rain (and there was always "a chance of rain" in WA).
I love rain.
As we were "jogging in the rain", the banter was playful and easy. Eee and I had a good hindsight-in-advance laugh that this would all be funny and memorable soon. There was no worry about mud splashes or stains -- who cares about such things when the heavens are open and the plants are catching their own bits in their cupped leaves?
You may wonder why we were out at 1:12 today? It all started back in October (I think?)...
Several months ago, I got to walk to church with a friend. It was possibly one of the most beautiful, uplifting walks I had experienced in quite a while. We covered a brisk five-ish miles from her house to the church building and the next day I was sore, but happy with my memory of the walk.
Having been sufficiently motivated, a few Sundays later I floated the idea that some of us walk home instead of riding. Kee was up for it and we had a wonderful walk home, thus proving the walk doable. The next Sunday I floated the idea of walking *to* church (a much more difficult feat of timing) with both Vee and Kee. A few weeks later, in an act of faith-in-the-little-guy, Jee joined us. We have had various configurations of walking for the last month plus a bit.
Today, by some bizarre stroke of luck, we were all ready to go by 8:30 and decided to walk most of the way to church. Eee must have thought we were all crazy, loco, fou, etc. but he didn't complain and we made it out the door and on the sidewalk. We actually got to church early. I swear there was a time warp somewhere along the way that made it possible.
The walk home was pleasant for only a few blocks. The clouds came fast and furious. Only a minute or two of droplets then whoosh, the rains came a'tumbling down.
You know how you get rain drops on your eyelashes and it can give you a light-through-water prism effect to your vision? I love that look. It makes the world look magical. A few glimpses:
* Aee's shiny little shoes running so fast, flick, flick, flick as she ran full-out. I have never seen her run with such vigor. There is something majestic about a runner who uses the full leg to run, such a beautiful stretch, perhaps because it reminds me of the beauty of a horse's full gallop.
* Vee's hair completely soaked, rain dripping all over his eyes, face, glasses, me noticing that no one else has the same splatter pattern on their faces. Why? Because Vee has been looking up into the rain -- it's so beautiful -- whereas most people look down.
* Eee's suit doesn't look that wet. I look around at all three suits and realize that suits are water repellent. I didn't know that.
* Jee is so quiet. I work a little harder to pay attention to where he is so that at every street crossing, he is holding a tall person's hand. Why is he so quiet? For good reason -- he is an absorber. He is soaking up every little detail that is happening in the world around him. As we run down the hill, he is experiencing and calculating the incline. As we pass the flowers, he's taking stats on which ones catch the liquid and which ones don't. I'll hear these details later if I take the time to ask.
Kee stops, picks a big leaf, shows us the puddle of water in it, then... drinks it. Ha.
* Kee seems unphased by the rain. He's absorbing too, soaking it in deep. Do I have children or plants?
I'm enjoying the run, realizing how lucky am I to be surrounded by people who don't blame me for them getting soaked, fully realizing that it could have been an unpleasant experience. For a few minutes, I feel like I'm 15 yo again and back in WA state, stuck in the rain because I cared more about getting out to see the world than I cared about whether or not it might rain (and there was always "a chance of rain" in WA).
I love rain.
Pre-emptive parenting
When Vee and Kee were still little and we had oodles and oodles of "extra" time, my other half and I would do "parent date nights" as suggested by the Eyres. We would pick our favorite (expensive) restaurant and enjoy a scrumptious dinner while talking about how the kids were developing and what we could do to preempt any difficulties that we might see budding.
We went down the list (and I kept notes) for each child:
* socially
* academically
* spiritually
* physically
* emotionally
And every time I wrote out the list, I would agonize over which area to cover first. Whatever.
Now, with both of us shouldering two jobs each, we haven't had much time for parent date nights. I miss them.
Out of need, tonight we MADE the time because one of our kids was forming a new something that could very easily become a big something if we didn't sit up & pay attention.
We didn't get a dinner out, but we did have a good, long talk in the office after the kids were asleep. After about two hours (two hours!) of discussion, Eee came up with a brilliant solution. Kudos to da man!
Moral of the story: parent date nights work & they work well. I would rather proactive plan in advance the preemptive parent date nights (alliteration on purpose), oh well. The only fallout will be a headache in the morning from lack of sleep. I can handle a little headache tomorrow if it means avoiding future long-term headaches.
We went down the list (and I kept notes) for each child:
* socially
* academically
* spiritually
* physically
* emotionally
And every time I wrote out the list, I would agonize over which area to cover first. Whatever.
Now, with both of us shouldering two jobs each, we haven't had much time for parent date nights. I miss them.
Out of need, tonight we MADE the time because one of our kids was forming a new something that could very easily become a big something if we didn't sit up & pay attention.
We didn't get a dinner out, but we did have a good, long talk in the office after the kids were asleep. After about two hours (two hours!) of discussion, Eee came up with a brilliant solution. Kudos to da man!
Moral of the story: parent date nights work & they work well. I would rather proactive plan in advance the preemptive parent date nights (alliteration on purpose), oh well. The only fallout will be a headache in the morning from lack of sleep. I can handle a little headache tomorrow if it means avoiding future long-term headaches.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Scarcity
I love scarcity.
You know why? Scarcity encourages people to create solutions.
Case in point: This morning, Aee and Jee wanted to print pictures from their favorite website. I said, "No, ink is expensive and those are full color pictures. No."
They balked a bit, tried to convince me it was worth it.
I stuck to "No" since they didn't have any convincing reasons why they needed to press that Print button.
I asked Aee, "Why do you need it? What will you do with it once its printed?"
She thought for a minute, then ran to the kitchen, grabbed a stack of paper from the paper stacker and ran back to the desk, --writing-- each of the words from the screen that she wanted to capture.
By creating a sense of scarcity, the kids were forced to find solutions. Problem solving, continuity in the face of diversity, creating new methods for getting to your end result -- it's all good!
In many ways, scarcity can be a valuable concept.
You know why? Scarcity encourages people to create solutions.
Case in point: This morning, Aee and Jee wanted to print pictures from their favorite website. I said, "No, ink is expensive and those are full color pictures. No."
They balked a bit, tried to convince me it was worth it.
I stuck to "No" since they didn't have any convincing reasons why they needed to press that Print button.
I asked Aee, "Why do you need it? What will you do with it once its printed?"
She thought for a minute, then ran to the kitchen, grabbed a stack of paper from the paper stacker and ran back to the desk, --writing-- each of the words from the screen that she wanted to capture.
By creating a sense of scarcity, the kids were forced to find solutions. Problem solving, continuity in the face of diversity, creating new methods for getting to your end result -- it's all good!
In many ways, scarcity can be a valuable concept.
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