Friday, December 30, 2011

Confessions of an Idiot Savant


I enjoyed seeing all my “big kids” over Christmas – as did the little guys.  Austin and Trevor are missing having human jungle gyms over whom to clamber, and Fred and I just don’t fill the bill. Elyse took off for Europe the day after Christmas, and we’re previewing what the family will be like without her as she leaves in late January for a job in Dubai.
As excited as I am for her big adventure, I am melancholy over another child moving to far off places. Dustin is pretty well settled in LA, and even when he thinks about another job, he doesn’t seem to think about this coast. Joe is not so far, in Philly. However, while he’s technically in my time zone, in reality, I’m getting ready to wake up as he’s getting ready to call it a night, so we don’t connect too often. Another way in which I don’t connect with my kids is in our preferred life paths. The biggies are about to turn 23, 25, and 27. When I was those ages, I was getting married, and giving birth to my first and second children, respectively.
My kids show no inclination to settle down, seeing that as something to consider in their 30s if at all. Although I celebrate their ability to see the life choices they want and to make them (and I would never, ever, ever suggest anyone have children unless they were absolutely certain they wanted them), the fact remains, that on a visceral level, I just can’t wrap my head around the idea that none of my kids seem to have the same desires for family that I had at their ages. It may be that a close-up look at child rearing via Austin and Trevor has made them more self-aware than I ever was. Certainly, my own desire for having children in my life has been guided more by a genetic pull to procreate than by a rational consideration for the ideal family size.  Every time I hear Fred, Austin, and Trevor yelling at one another – apparently the preferred mode of communication among people of their particular branch of the Y chromosome – I wonder if I ever made any rational decisions whatsoever. It’s funny how one can both academically bright and fundamentally idiotic, but I seem to have perfected that mix.

Saturday, December 3, 2011

Reach for the Stars...and the Vacuum


I’m training my younger boys to clean up. While raising my older three kids, I did most of the cleaning. I ran a home daycare business, and cleaning up kind of seemed like part of the job description. When I started teaching mid-way through Elyse’s fourth grade year, I did not immediately conscript the kids into service (the boys were in 6th and 8th grade at the time, and I guess it was one of those deals where I thought it would be easier just to do it myself). Eventually, they all learned to do their own laundry, mostly because I refused to corral it off the floors in order to get it in the washer.
Now, older and wiser, I try to have Trevor and Austin help out every week, even if it means I spend more time insisting than they actually spend cleaning. Their job is to dust so I can vacuum. They aren’t the most thorough cleaners one could “hire,” but at least they’re getting the idea that maintaining the house is not 100% my territory, and they’ll make better husbands for it someday. 
When I was growing up, the assumption that cleaning was women’s work was definitely part of the atmosphere, and even though my husband is a “stay-at-home” dad right now, he’s quick to inform me that that doesn’t make him “a housewife,” so apparently he grew up breathing the same poisonous, pre-feminist fumes.
 I was very careful to name all my kids names that would be comfortable on an executive desk-plate. When I read them books with stereotyped roles, I changed the words. But somewhere along the line, I missed the boat. I should've taught them to value keeping a house clean while I was teaching them to reach for the stars.

Friday, November 25, 2011

Staying out of the tall grass


I am 51. More than half a century. Today, after scrubbing wallpaper glue off the living room walls with Fred, I went to yoga and was intrigued by all the crazy little tiny muscle aches I could experience. It was really more interesting than bothersome – before they developed twinges, I was singularly unaware of the many muscles I use each day to twist and bend. Now, I’m truly grateful they keep holding me up.
At Thanksgiving dinner, our pal Katherine was enumerating people she knew who’d retired in their early 50s. Won’t be me, that I know, but it reminded me of my venerable status. I’m a relic, but can still run (slowly) with the medium-sized dogs. I’ll leave the tall grass to the big ones.

Thursday, November 24, 2011

The Thanksgiving Turkey


Trevor’s nursery school teachers asked, “What are you thankful for?” He replied, “Dad,” which they dutifully recorded on his Thanksgiving wreath. When his Sunday school teachers asked the same questions, he replied, “My brothers and sisters,” which they recorded on his Thanksgiving card. Hmmm. Who’s missing from this picture? I guess when by working  long hours so that he can spend time enjoying a relationship with Dad and those sibs who are in town, I’ve become…the Thanksgiving turkey.

Monday, November 21, 2011

Overly Critical Thinking

I spent seven full hours today getting 34 yearbook pages ready to ship, and really, I was primarily working on about 24 pages, since I'd edited 10 ahead of time. I fixed loads of name spellings (That's Caitlan, not Katelyn), recropped awkward pictures (really, I think Tavon would prefer to have that hand attached), and tried to free trapped white space. And when the yearbook arrives in May...I'll hear:

A) Words of praise
B) Ooohs and Aaahs
C) Kids complaining about errors

If you picked C, you're correct, because while students don't generally enjoy going to the extra effort to dot the i's and cross the t's, they sure are happy to tell me about it when I miss it.

The next deadline falls in December, when I don't have an in-service day to devote to it, so...good luck, kids; it's your turn now.







Saturday, November 5, 2011

Uncle Ben's Whole Grain Advice


My great-great-etc. Uncle Ben Franklin said, “Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise,” and although I’ve been assiduously following that advice for years, I’m certainly not wealthy and as for wisdom – well, not so much.
As a high school teacher whose first period class begins at 7:17 am – an hour when most people might prefer to be fighting with the snooze alarm – I’m used to getting up at 5:15. And forget the snooze alarm for me; Lucius Meowfoy waits outside my door and starts mewling her hunger pangs the minute my alarm rings. Faced with such an early morning, I try to get to bed in a timely manner so I can take on the forces of high school without risk of collapse.
So, Uncle Ben, I’m following your advice. While I do feel reasonably healthy, where’s the wealth and wisdom I was supposed to have gained by this time?
As I thought this over, I realized that back in Uncle Ben’s day, the only potential for dissipation occurred as the sun drifted over the horizon. People who worked at (often) physical jobs were exhausted by that time, ready to blow out the candles and call it a night. The partyers, on the other hand, hung out at the local tavern, squandering their hard earned coins on ale and cards, gaining neither wealth nor wisdom in the process.
Nowadays, we don’t need to wait until the sun sets to start squandering our time, energy, or other resources. The television and computer offer both around-the-clock entertainment and around-the-clock shopping. No matter how early one settles down for the night or rises in the morning, someone’s always ready to trade your earnings for any number of wonderful “must-haves” for modern living.
So, Uncle Ben, what’s the modern-dweller to do? Is there any advice for the likes of me? I await your reply forthwith.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

Toys will be Toys


Okay, parents, it’s time to update those toy wish lists now that Amazon has emailed me the top “must have” toys for 2011. Hey, just in time, Amazonians; I’d hate to ring in 2012 without my very own “Beyblade Metal Masters Triple Battle Set” where kids can customize their brand- new, genuine plastic “battle arena” and pit spinning metal tops against one another in an intense game of last-top-standing.

Now I understand why the Mayan Calendar cycle ends in 2012 –  it’s not that we’ll finally upset the ecological balance enough to power- down the planet, it’s that the Mayans are giving up and allowing the Japanese to take over the world of juvenile imagination. Sure, the Pokemon and Bakugan crazes may be over, but “Beyblade” will reach a whole new generation of kids with card/toy sets that challenge parents to spend hard earned dollars on para-martial drivel.

However, if your child’s tastes don’t run to the ultimate battle scenario, don’t think you’re off the hook. Oh, no. It seems your little darling will be asking for Princess Charm School Barbie. Some of us thought Barbie couldn’t possibly get any pinker, but we were wrong. The latest addition to the Barbie line-up arrives with a school uniform that clips off to reveal a “short, fun party dress.” Way to go, Barbie; didn’t your mom tell you that modesty is always in style? Well, revealing party-wear aside, Barbie knows that if you want to attract a royal, you can’t flaunt street-corner mojo. She was taking notes, apparently, during Will and Kate’s wedding. Therefore, the party dress magically transforms into a long gown when she discovers her heritage as a “long lost princess.”  Amazon doesn’t say anything about providing a larger-than-life hat to complete the ensemble, so you may need to find Barbie a haberdasher on your own.

So, Barbie discovers she’s secretly royal.  Maybe she ends up fighting for her kingdom with a “Beyblade Battle Top.” It’s a little unclear.
In any case, get those credit cards warmed up because these toys are coming soon to a Christmas list near you.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Girls Rock


Tonight was my last night coaching U5 soccer, and as we were getting the kids lined up for a drill, one of the girls pulled on my arm. “Yes, what’s up?”
“I like your earrings,” she replied.  “They’re feathers, like Indians would have, and I like everything Indian.”
I think I could hang my sons’ old Bakugan balls from my ears and the boys would barely notice.
They’re just so different.