Where have you been all my life?

Catching My Breath

2011-03-23T07:28:00.000-07:00

It's almost the end of March and it feels like I've missed a month of time. Here's a list of things I did in March -

learned the new route to the office
learned what simultaneous interpretation means and how it works
didn't acknowledge weekends,or even hours in a day
organized a dinner for 471 people
learned that votives and mirrors will throw off just enough light to see food and dining companions
looked on as the dinner guests dined under the great blue whale at the American Museum of Natural History
was soundly defeated by a copier/printer programmed to print double-sided only
met Walter Dean Myers and Ross Workman
was inspired by Leymah Gbowee
listened as Cory Booker and Brian Williams rocked the house
offered thanks to my colleagues for all they did - and continue to do
missed my family
got reaquainted with my family
hand wrote 18 thank you cards and am still going
missed two weeks at weight watchers and still managed to lose weight
jumped the car battery
cleaned the kitchen
found out the lights at the office go out at 8 pm and that security really rocks after the 11 pm shift
learned where the switch is to over-ride the light timer
went back to work

Ice Storm Coffee

2011-02-02T08:40:00.000-08:00

Two hour school delay. Two hours to salt, shovel, salt, and shovel. Another two hours of waiting for a train. And now the power is flickering. Not a bad way to spend a day at home - but I had counted on getting in to work.

The perfect solution? Some of my hoarded flavored coffee. Yes, I admit that I am the flavored coffee queen. And my favorite comes out only once a year - New England Coffee's Cinnamon Sticky Bun. It makes my kitchen smell like Cinnabon - without the calories, stickiness, or cost.

And yes, the checkout clerk looked surprised at my post-holiday buying binge - but hey - it was on a ridiculous sale - and that's why I can keep this up until spring. Because we all know that once spring arrives I'm back to the regular stuff.

Some people scent with potpouri - not me. I just go with the coffee that says "spicy cinnamon and sweet creamy vailla icing just like your favorite bakery treat". It's time to put the pot on again.

Starting Again

2011-01-30T13:06:00.000-08:00

According to my astrological sign, follow-through and completion are difficult. Hmmm. The last post was September. Really? Really.

Since then we've been busy - but we're never too busy for Snow Day Sprinkle Cookies. Created by an accomplished baker (and high school classmate) these cookies never disappoint. Baked most recently as a thank you to wonderful neighbors who used their snowblower to help us clear our sidewalks I'm thinking we may be needing to make another batch - this time for a storm that's supposed to hit tomorrow night and hang around in some form til Wednesday. Not for the storm, but to have on hand in case we need help with the snowblower - or flooding - and the fire fighters show up. Flooding? Well that tends to happen when 20+ inches of snow meet sleet, rain and clogged storm drains. Gotta be prepared, right?

It's really September

2010-09-05T15:33:00.001-07:00

Yup. It's really September - and the steamy summer has given way to a temperate Labor Day weekend. The first day of school is Tuesday - and it's hard to believe I'll have to pass 4th grade math all over again.

August was kind to us; a quick work trip to Dallas - where it wasn't only the hot sauce that was hot! And then on to Amelia Island - with some on the water adventures to Beach Creek and Cumberland Island - the best kept secrets in northern Florida. One turtle nest excavation, 3 manatees and many dolphins later we're back. And ready, sort of, for school.

Workwear

2009-11-14T13:59:00.000-08:00

Yes, I am one of the fortunate (well, I guess it's how you look at it) folks that wears jeans to work. But I never forget that I am dressing for city-work. Which means pairing it with a black top. And until this morning I thought it was a pretty good look.

Today I wore a lovely tailored pant (can you tell I've been watching this year's sad season of Project Runway?) and paired it with a seasonally teal sweater. Nice, professional, and perfect for my workshop/training on Saturday morning. The participants in this workshop will wear jeans and be comfortable, so I fall back on the "slightly more professional-yet-exudes-warmth-and-confidence" look of the master trainer.

I thought I had it all going on until I got home and my child asked me if I had ever noticed that I wear a lot of black --- and blue. In fact, in the enthusiastic way only kids have - he mentioned "it's cool you dress like a bruise". And then he took his one sock, brown-shirt and khaki pants- wearing self back to the computer to play wizards101.

VOTE '09

2009-11-04T03:59:00.000-08:00

As a resident of one of two states with governor's races... yes ... the democratic incumbant was defeated. But it's not the result of Obama failure... it's the fact that our incumbant hasn't done much except watch taxes spiral out of control... and make a public service announcement about wearing seatbelts - after his huge car accident.

Even though the major news outlets are reporting this is a defeat for Obama - don't believe it. Believe the outrage in NJ voters over taxes (climbing to $14k on a house with 1.5 bathrooms and no backyard...), old school politics, and a governor who promised much, but in the end, couldn't get much done. Especially when his romantic scandels created so much distraction and distrust. And that's after lessons learned from McGreevy!

Took the boy to vote with us last night. He lost interest when he saw the line, but did think it was interesting that we were in the same municipal building that he visited on Sunday for his pigflu vaccine. Yup. Right up the nose. The kids were snorting and oinking, and the nurses were dutifully saying "it's proper name is H1N1." Just like there are proper names for all the body parts. But give a kid an opportunity to sound like a pig, and they will.

I digress. I was voter number 299 in my district, and I saw almost everyone. Not like the lines to vote for president, but line-enough to discuss neighborhood gossip, the school play, and dog walking schedules. Which means basically everyone was out to vote. I didn't reveal who I voted for - but surprisingly, the democrat whose blood runs blue in every election, voted for an independent candidate, and then a straight republican line! Which just tells you how tired he is of hearing about school overcrowding, property taxes, and corruption on every level of the state political scene. Wow.

And then again, as we were watching the news this am, he was furious that his votes were being interpreted as against Obama. In fact the discussion in the voting line last night was still about how people supported Obama, but that Obama would do well to distance himself from the useless incumbant here. As the blue-blood said, the only person to really get it right was the Time Magazine reporter.

Sunday School Volunteer

2009-11-01T16:57:00.000-08:00

November 1. The day after Halloween. It marks my start as the rotational Sunday School teacher for the 3rd and 4th graders. Yes, I know I won't be able to answer all the questions. Yes, there's a curriculum. Yes, I previewed the video. Yes, I was ready with my animal partners cards. Why? Because this month is about Noah - possibly the kids' favorite bible story. Usually there are 15 kids.

Today three boys showed up - one of whom is my own. Was it me? Was I starting too early? Um, no. It's the day after Halloween - and the kids that did show up informed me that most of their friends had too much chocolate or sugar or just plain stayed up too late because it was a holiday on a Saturday night. All reasonable excuses.

The first activity, according to the guide, is basically an animal charades game - and more than 4 participants are needed. Which I guess explains why one of the other classroom teachers (who was checking in on me) looked horrified as one child slid on his belly and became a snake, while another began clucking and pecking around the classroom, acting the part of a chicken. Hey - whatever works, I say. The boys thought about how hard it must have been to keep all the animals organized - and alive.

Bible story time... each child takes turns reading aloud, and I discover, pleasantly, that my child is really good - I mean really really good - at reading aloud. (For regular homework I usually get a muffled version with appropriate pauses...today, clear with tone differentiation and even emotion!) Essentially a terrifying story - God destroys the earth - but ends with a promise that God will never again destroy the world. Which unnerves them a bit until we talk about God's promise - and second chances.

That moves us on to the next activity - writing thank you notes. The assignment - just like Noah thanked God with burnt offerings at the newly built alter - you pretend you are Noah or a member of his family, and write a thank you note to God.

Here are two of the notes:

Dear God: Thank U for letting me servive and for letting me not get sick from the smell. I love you and I love my wife. Your friend, Noah.

Dear God, Thank you fer leting me and the animals live. The storm was a little strong. Thanks again. Love, Noah

A few more bits of conversation led to the questions I couldn't answer - but I'm sure have been answered somewhere.

Here are the questions I couldn't answer with authority.

Did any of the animals have babies while on the Ark?
Did any of the grown up animals eat the babies? (This came up when discussing rabbits and chickens and gerbils.)
If there were two animals of every kind, what was Noah's burnt offering? Remember, it smelled good and God knew it.
If there was only one window how did they clean up all the poop?
Did Noah forget any animals? (answered by a classmate - we'll never know, because it's dead.)
Did the Ark smell bad, or really super bad? Because of all the poop, you know? (I did offer that if cleaning up after one dog was any indication, it was probably very very stinky)
Why don't people live to be 601 years old any more?

I can't wait to see what next Sunday brings.

Flashlight Club - membership renewal

2009-09-23T07:57:00.001-07:00

To be an official member of this club you must use all your powers for good, and be wiley enough to defeat the evil-doers who believe in sleep and lights out. Your superpowers must be evolved enough to hear footsteps from a floor away. You must be clever enough to act quickly, with stealth, and with confidence. And you must manage various bits of lighting technology, all while balancing the most important piece - the book you just can't put down.

Tools of the Club:

clip-on booklight
touch on/touch off headlamp
flashlight
extra batteries
small phillips head screwdriver
extemely exhausted parents
most excellent book(s)

Yes, we've been throught his before. He has already stayed up most of the night reading another great one - Knucklehead. And I know I am supposed to be encouraging reading, and I do. In fact, we all do. There are things to read everywhere, and we have been known to fill our suitcases with more books than clothes...yet, the alarm for school calls early - and that has to be the priority. (drat says the mom who would also stay up all night reading, except for that nasty habit no boss appriciates -- napping during a meeting).

He's eight and he's almost there. A new book arrived - The Lightening Thief - about a boy who is half human and half god. He checked the mail everyday, waiting for it's arrival. And even after listening to two chapters last night, he attempted to renew his membership in the Flashlight Club.

Caught with the big light on at 9:30, he went all out 10 minutes later with the headlamp. Now, if the headlamp hadn't left an indentation on his forehead, he might have gotten away with it. That piece of equipment was removed from the clubhouse. Next came the request for water. And somewhere from the bathroom came a clatter, an uh oh, and a don't come in. Upon checking, because, really, bathrooms are not areas for safe play, it was discovered that said club member was throwing a towel down on the floor. When he knew the game was over, he lifted the towel to reveal batteries. Which led to the march back to the clubhouse, sans water.

The evildoer swept the room for other lighting instruments and found one thing - the flashlight that cackles like a witch (for halloween). The evildoer left it because its noise makes stealth impossible. "Of course you can keep this flashlight in case the power goes out. I wouldn't want you to not have any light. cackle. cackle. cackle.)"

The evildoer was summarily dismissed with a hmph and the covers being pulled all the way up and over the head of the club member.

Membership is not yet quite renewed, but it's coming - I feel it. Friday's only a few more days away...

How was school today?

2009-09-17T18:05:00.000-07:00

Yes. I know you are not supposed to say to your kid "how was school today?" - and in true form, I often say something along the lines of "what made you laugh at school" or "what were the school announcements?" - or something that doesn't get a basic "fine."

Wednesday during dinner.

Me: So how was school today?

Him: Great! No injuries today.

Hmmm.

The First Binder

2009-09-03T09:35:00.001-07:00

Most kids greet their teacher by saying hello. Ours couldn't get his questions out fast enough. I am so glad I'm not his classroom teacher.

Standing in line the first day: Hi. Do we get chameleons in your room? Are there other animals? Do they eat crickets - live ones?...pause for breathing...Do they..."

Teacher: It's so nice to meet you. Tell me who you are.

Ours: "Um, you don't know me?!?"

On to the next kid and parents.

All the stuff is carefully labeled and stuffed into his backpack. And it's the year of his first binder - the good old inch and a half one filled with lined composition paper. It's the only day of the year it will be neat. I took a picture.

Our fab sitter managed to find one that zips closed - so at least he can get stuff home... it may not be in the rings, but the zipper might help. The two of them tag-teamed the local stores scouting for supplies in early August - so we could locate everything on the new and improved school supplies list. At the end of the month it's hard to find plastic two pocket folders in colors other than pink. He firmly announced that this year we needed to do a better job of stocking up on supplies. Check. Done.

Til again. Orange is still our family color.

12 Noon

2009-01-20T07:22:00.000-08:00

Today I wish I was spending the noon hour with my kid. Because he'll be watching the inauguration in class - and I'll be watching with colleagues. And I'd really like to see him at noon. Because really, a 7 year old may not be totally into watching the oath being delivered - but he'll totally be into the fact that Abraham Lincoln's hands touched the bible Obama will be using.

He wore red, white and blue today to school. And he is planning on visiting DC to see three things:

The Lincoln Memorial (because after you look at a penny under a magnifying glass it seems cooler)

The Spy Museum (he has his night vision goggles ready)

The First Puppy - (I did explain that would be hard - but he said he's up for it)

Enjoy the day. It's a new one.

Fresh Starts

2009-01-11T17:06:00.000-08:00

Fresh starts are for everyone, right? Well, our little family is undergoing a bit of a change, as one of us will be traveling to the west coast with enough frequency to just about claim status in another zip code.

I was sitting in church today and thought about all the new beginnings and fresh starts. In this economic time it's a rare, brave, and possibly foolish soul that says "no, boss, I'm not going to do that" - unless of course, it's illegal and then I expect the old "do the right thing" motion. And so we find ourselves at the beginning of a new adventure, a fresh start. For a week a month, on a regular basis, one of us will be based on the west coast. A new beat, a great company, and probably the expectation that we'll all be west coast based in a bit more than a year.

So sitting in church I began to place my thoughts into two categories - the denial and the adventure. Because otherwise this will seem too much like the slowly-pull-off-the-bandaid approach. I prefer the rip and the clean break.

Maybe this will just be more traveling - and heck, people travel tons more than this. And maybe this will mean traveling to a great west coast city for vacations and part of the summer holiday. And maybe this means not taking each other for granted so much, simply because the luxury of rolling over in bed and saying "no, you let the dog out" just won't be there.

I am trying to adjust slowly - since for years it's been me on the travel train. And now it's not. And since I know his appointment on Thursday is with a realtor I am also certain that only huge prices and icy cold weather could dampen his enthusiasm for sunshine, fog and great views. He may not realize it yet, but he's falling in love with another girl - the west coast girl. And she's going to tempt him with fabulous restaurants, new construction, sunshine and attitude.

I'm only certain that home is where my family is - and for now, it's in the east. I'm not cheering for either team - just hoping for the opportunity to make our own choice, and fall in love together.

It's the most scary time of the year.

2008-12-17T17:50:00.000-08:00

The week started with a bang. A Monday morning meeting in which we heard from the CEO saying...no layoffs or restructuring... through December. Then yesterday the state budget came out - with an $8 million dollar cut aimed squarely at my heart. And then I remembered I needed to bring in 4 dozen un-iced and un-decorated sugar cookies.

For the scariest time of the year -- the holiday party. I should mention that for the past several years it's been a potluck affair - that our department slogs in on mass transit. This year we only need to supply dessert. Our group offering - a cookie decorating party. Don't groan. Our party also includes caffeine, a bluegrass band that plays in the subway and some poetry, along with audience participation. The cookie decorating part is tame. It also provides some directed conversation for several hours - hours in which no one complains about work - but instead gets a major sugar rush from the baked goods. So what if the crash hits hard in a few hours. They won't be sitting next to me!

The prepared employee that I am - I carefully shopped for the dough ingredients, budgeted time on Sunday to make the dough, and then chill for 24 hours. Monday night was designated as baking night. Which was all well and good until I knocked one tray of cookies to the floor, and then managed to crush the cookies that were carefully put into the air tight containers.

My brain raced - what could I do? Aha! I called the bakery when I woke up - because, well, that's one place that answers the phone at 6 am.

Do you sell plain sugar cookies - the kind I could use for a cookie decorating party?
Yes.
Can you make custom shapes?
That depends.
I have two cookie cutters, both copper.
Bring them in and we'll take a look. If they won't work you can go through our supply to see what will work.
Okay. I'm coming in.
(grab kid, school lunch, school backpack, office gear and head out. Arrive at bakery with promise of buttered seeded italian roll and a mini-bottle of milk for said kid, and coffee for me.)

May I help you?
Yes. I need to see if the baker can use these cutters to make me some cookies for a holiday party.
I hand over the cutters.
Greeted by silence.
When do you need these for?
Friday at this same time.
Pause.
These are for a holiday party?!
Yes.
The baker comes out.
We can make these, but I've never heard of Christmas Poodles or Winter Retrievers.

Now, I know it was weird. But still, I just needed to pay and get out of there. Because as I've said, the late bell always rings at the same time. So, today, my time was worth more than reshopping and baking, and I got coffee out of it.

My philosophy --- there can only be so many stars, trees, candy canes and bells to decorate. Why not a few poodles. At least people will have something to talk about...

What 'cha reading?

2008-12-04T17:06:00.000-08:00

Recently I've had occasion to speak with several children's book authors. And today, of all days, one of my very favorite writers for young and young at heart readers was meeting with my big-cheese boss. And I seriously considered stalking him on the way to the meeting --- which by the way took place in a very big library - before it was open to the public. My schedule prevented me from actually going with the big-cheese boss, but that's another story.

I have a particular soft spot for this author because his writing makes me laugh til my belly hurts - and well, I actually think that's a good thing. The boy loves his books too - and we both agree this writer's take on the three little pigs is spot on.

And now this author has written a memoir. I tested a chapter or two on the boy - and it's a good thing that's all NPR made available because we would have stayed up all night to read. I read an excerpt to the boy. And it had us both laughing til we ached.

Where else could you get questions from your kid about Stuckey's pecan log rolls, barf, heaven, hell - and life-forks - all in the span of a little bedtime reading? I can't wait to hear how the boy recommends this book to his cousins - because he will. I'm just wondering if he'll start with the joke, or the guy-barf. Either way it will be a hit.

Phone call from far away...

2008-11-26T12:29:00.000-08:00

I was doing some major puttering around the house today - all those things that should be done, but aren't - like organizing outgrown boots for other moms whose kids can now wear them...that kind of thing. Perfectly normal, albeit far down the list of important must do things.

My phone rang and it was my wonderful friend from Baltimore. She sounded happy and excited - and then she posed a question. Guess who I'm standing with? Now, the possibilities are almost endless, as you might imagine. And given that we had worked together at not one, but two jobs in different parts of the Baltimore area, the number was growing. She couldn't keep it inside - and she said - I'm with *really wonderful young woman that we met when she was 14* and in one of our pregnancy prevention/intervention programs.

I was so excited - and then I got the best thanksgiving treat -- I got to talk to that young woman. She's a mom now, married, with two little babies. She finished college and is a social worker, and she is also in ministry. For years I've wondered about the young lives we touched in some of Baltimore's darkest hours, on some of the darkest streets. And today, I got my happy ending. She's doing well, and she told me that each time it got tough she thought of the three mentors she had - S, D and me. We all worked together on a program - and she was one of the ones we loved - we loved her for her energy, and her smarts and her joy in life - and we were also scared that those very things we loved about her would make her extra appealing to the characters on the street - the ones involved in drugs, drug running, guns and gangs.

And the worst didn't happen. She told me it was hard, and at times it tested her belief in herself and her belief in God. And she told me that when it was hardest she reminded herself to look for friends like S, D and me. This wonderful young woman said that what made her think about the future was meeting the three of us - and seeing that we all came from different backgrounds, different communities and different cultures - but that we were tight - and made it work because of our differences - not in spite of them.

Over the years I've come to learn that not all endings are like this - in fact, memorably, I was watching the news on one very hot Sunday night in August - and a young man - again - smart, funny and right on the edge of the cliff... was "perp walked" into the Northeast Division in Baltimore City - on a murder charge. I cried all night long, and in the fifteen years that have passed since that night I still think about him.

I don't care if the turkey's dry, or if the corn bread is overbaked. Because I got my thanksgiving today - in a phone call - from a young woman who is making a difference - because, as she said "You, Miss D. and Miss S. - you helped me believe in myself - because the three of you believed in me and I like to think you never stopped". We didn't.

Enjoy the turkey, the fixings and the friendships. XO

2008-11-14T14:01:00.003-08:00

One of the highlights of trying to be organized is remembering to cut to the chase.

Why waste time microwaving precooked bacon when you can just pop the precooked refrigerated bacon on top of the frozen waffles, and toast it. A one toaster meal - sort of. A hot breakfast in the morning. And food police, if you are reading this, it's totally cooked.

So the day presented itself and I needed a photo of the kid and the dog. In a particular pose, with particular props. On any other day I would lovingly set the stage, get the kid and the dog together, and have fun. In the 7 minute morning, I had to make every second count.

I went upstairs to the bookshelf and found a bright and sturdy picture book. I went to the kitchen and got the cold cuts - ham - and then went to my wallet, where I got out two bucks. I now had all the important props, and two participants following me to see what was going to happen. The element of surprise was totally on my side.

No time to waste - the late bell always rings at the same time. I told the boy if he wanted to work for the cash he had to sit on the floor. I told the dog the same thing, except she worked for ham. Once the boy mastered the trick of hiding the ham (see I am smart - it's closer to flesh color than the turkey pepperoni) the dog willingly looked over his shoulder. And once the dog was in position the boy made it his business to earn the cash.

Minutes later the photo was good, the dog was fed and the kid was adding up his pay and plotting his next purchase. Mission accomplished in record time.

The week was off to a good start.

Today we will only sharpen pencils...

2008-09-05T19:52:00.000-07:00

Did you know there are 2 kinds of rules in school? Encouraging classroom rules like "everyone has a chance to be successful" and the other rules - the ones that teachers gently guide the kids towards.

Yes - they are the "no hitting", "raise your hand to talk" variety. But every once in a while a teacher allows one that , while not questionable, walks that fine line between sanity and unpleasantness.

Rule #4, 2nd Grade, Room G15: No fingers in electric pencil sharpeners.

It's the night before school...

2008-09-03T17:44:00.000-07:00

Our local district has decided that the Thursday after Labor Day is a perfectly acceptable time to start school. My place of employment would disagree. Trying to work remotely for the past day and a half has shown me again why gymnasts no longer get perfect scores on the balance beam --- because it's hard.

The backpack is packed and the teacher supply bag is full. This year's supplies include a large box of tissues, one cannister of clorox wipes, a large box of a semi-healthy snack, a pack of index cards and a gallon size box of plastic bags. These supplies do not count the supplies in the backpack - the pre-sharpened pencils, the pre-sharpened colored pencils, crayons, markers, glue sticks and the like.

And so another grade begins, along with a new class, and new parents (mostly moms) to get to know so as one of the few out-of-house-working moms, I can find out what happens before and after school - in the all important information chain that is called "walking and talking with coffee in the schoolyard." I am never at these things because, as I said, they are informal and attending will cause me to miss the train for the "slightly less-ambitious". That's transit speak for gets you to the office by 10 am, if it's on time.

More street scenes...

2008-08-21T13:36:00.000-07:00

Filming on the block began on Tuesday. Would you like to join a film crew? Here's how:
Where t-shirt and jeans, or short shorts and shirt that shows some skin. Find piece of white tape, or long label and write - in black felt tip: CREW. Slap on shirt over left breast. Walk to craft tents and say "Jack was looking for me. Have you seen Jack?". Grab donut and walk away. You're in. Optional - walkie talkie and headset. Because some of you might just have those laying about. Oh- and let's be serious - the walkie talkie can't be red and blue from fisher price, and it definitely can't look like a baby monitor. We're talking the big leagues here - felt tip markers and black walkies, please, people.

People spotted - John Hurt as Quintin Crisp. Cynthia Nixon as Penny Arcade. Swoosie Kurtz - as Swoosie. Okay - not really, but she's there too.

Loved the angry people trying to get to the Lincoln tunnel yesterday - slowed by metal tracks in the street for a scene - and a bunch of the crew moving said tracks to the left, a hair, and to the left, again.

All this excitement and what I was really hoping was that Hydrox (yes, remember them?) would be handing out samples at the train station - in celebration of their comeback. Start checking your grocery shelves now.

One more week of camp...

2008-08-15T09:58:00.001-07:00

Remember the days when going to camp meant being supervised by the high school students working for the "summer recreation" program? That's the one where you played crab soccer, S.P.U.D. and still got to use rubber cement in the art room?

None of the camps the boy tried this year fit the above description. After 7 long weeks of camp at a local family friendly establishment with a pool, a gym and a weight room - everyone in the house was ready for something different. Mostly because the boy cried every morning on the way to camp, and then I cried every day after I dropped him off. He just plain hated it.

This year his choices included the grownup talk about friends --- as in --- if you go to a new camp each week you will need to meet new people and make new friends - every week. Are you okay with that?

In one breath he answers. Yes. Do not send me back to that other camp. I will run away into the woods and even the bear won't find me. Hmmm.

So he had the greatest summer of his life and mine was dictated by directions, car drop off lines, car drop off garages, commuting into not one, but two cities, and remembering to fix lunch, and then get it and the kid to the right location every day.

Two weeks at local middle school with friends (develops love for karate, check. develops love of fencing, check. develops love of good books and writing (brilliant!), check. creates another mosiac sculpture - this time a stool. learns about computers and keyboarding, also comes home saying - Mom, there's this thing called youtube.com and you should really know about it)

Two weeks at zoo camp (weighed with entire class on the elephant scale at animal care center, check. pet the rhino, check. hold a chicken, check. ride the arial tram a week after people were trapped and dangling, check. desire own metro card, check. promise to go back next year, check.) Comes home using zoo words like enclosure, conservation, feeding schedule and hospitalization.

One week at art camp - harnessing the power of the wind. (tell family - we moved a big hanging thing today. Later clarification brings on new meaning - he stood underneath a Calder mobile with foam core, and with 2 7-year olds and 1 8-year old, was able to create enough wind to watch the sculpture make more than one complete movement.) Crafts brought home - one kite, 3 airplane models, 2 paper airplanes, one mobile with coat hanger wire that looks surprisingly like a Calder attempt, and one short-lived puppet.) Comes home wanting to go another week.

Two weeks at Sports Camp - held at an area university. (tells sitter on first day about eating in cafeterias, check. develops love of dodge ball and remains confused as to why he can't play it in school., develops love of S.P.U.D. and the Olympics. adores watching the university sports team players leave the gym, check. Is assigned to team Japan and comes home on Thursday and says "Me and my Japan team are not in medal contention." When showed the real Japanese team wasn't winning as many medals as some other teams he was reassured - "I really am on the Japan team Mom!"

One more week to go...Fencing Camp

Happy remaining summer

The Streets of the Big City

2008-07-10T08:27:00.001-07:00

While this happened last Tuesday - I thought I'd share.

Again, just simply walking to work when a very forceful and bulletproof motorcade passes by me and then stops in front of my building. Heavily armed guards get out and point big guns at the sky, the surrounding buildings and above our heads. But some are held in the ready position to the hoi polloi as well.

Of interest to me were the men in suits that travel with the windows open, facing outward, scanning the crowd. No seatbelts, but still at the ready with earpieces, weaponry, and the ability to call anyone into action. Then, out of the big black car comes the foreign minister of iran. Here to be interviewed by AP - and he travels well protected.

Summer Camp produces Cheers, not Tears

2008-07-09T18:41:00.000-07:00

Newsflash.... the boy likes summer camp. Well, summer day camp run by the fab adult school in the town we live in. His schedule, which he helped select, consists of fencing, good books/good times, computers, mosaics and karate. He is loving karate and fencing - and happily models fencing and karate moves each night. He is also all about a good book - and happily told me about a polar bear who eats ice cream, and disclosed that they all got dixie cups of ice cream in class. What's not to love?

The end of camp. That's what not to love. This doesn't mean that camps are over for the summer. It means the patchwork activities have begun. He'll travel out of state with his cousin to visit grandparents. Said grandparents are sending the kids to zoo camp. That's right - the zoo hosts a day camp from 9 - mid afternoon. Said kids go together, play in the zoo and then get picked up. By 5 they'll be in the pool. By 6:30, eating dinner, and by 8:30 back to bed for another round of meaningful dream preparation for the next day.

Oh - and the next week he's off to museum camp. I don't think it's going to go so well - but we'll see. It's called harness the wind - and it's all about kites, mobiles, wind chimes and art work. They will get to actually turn on the fan that moves the calder sculpture - which might be interesting. I fear the week won't go so well...but we'll see. Anything can look better with air conditioning.

After that week, a repeat of last summer's favorite activity - the Bronx Zoo day camp. A terrible commute - but he's so happy he doesn't even complain when we are on an unairconditioned subway for 50 minutes - and that's just to get to midtown. Wow.

Summer's here. Camp is fun. And the beer is cold. Sweet.

And the Rains Came...

2008-07-06T19:23:00.000-07:00

So, the Friday before Memorial Day was a "give back day". The states that have no snow in the winter, but plan excessively for it, have give backs. This means school was closed in order to adjust the very special you-must-attend-every-day calendar, but half days count for attendance as well... So we all scrambled for childcare - because of course, 9 days notice is enough for any reasonable person.

And then Tuesday, June 10th came to be. And as June 10th was ending, possibly the weirdest weather this little town has seen struck - and struck hard. We ended up in the basement, with no power, cell phones lit, and waited for the worst to pass.

Our beloved tree - the big one in front of the house - fell apart. It didn't hit the house - but most of the branches fell onto the wires onto the street...and we took out 10 houses worth of power. That's okay - the rest of the neighborhood was out as well. We could see between lightening flashes that big branches were down and that wires were arcing. And then foolish people went out into the dark, into the streets, with downed wires all over the place.

We also discovered that the boy actually knew where something was... in the midst of T and I trying to find our way around the house guided by cell phone light, the boy piped up and said he knew where his headlamp was. Really? Because he can't seem to find the underwear that's in his top drawer - every day. Except - in this case - he was right. He knew - because he's been using the headlamp (as he later revealed) to read after lights out.

Armed with one flashlight, one head lamp and two cell phones we eventually slept downstairs - in case the rest of the tree fell into our bedrooms. Just a bough resting on the roof - nothing like what another neighborhood faced... The best part - it was 90 degrees for 3 days, and the power finally came back on late Thursday evening - with a breakdown on Friday - and then returned for good on Friday afternoon.

I will post a picture of the mess once I get the computer and the camera to talk to each other. It sounds so simple, yet, there is one tiny little link missing and until I can find it - you'll have to use your imagination. And get this - I looked forward to going to work each morning because I could count on power, air conditioning, and a place to recharge my phone. Sad, but true.

Wednesday morning school was cancelled via the reverse 911 system - for those people with power, working phone lines and the like. Our neighborhood had none of those things - so the police drove in as far as they could, and then walked with bullhorns announcing the state of emergency and school closings. Don't you really want to be home with a neighborhood that has more than 9 first graders... and none of them can find a safe outdoor place to play because of wires, widow-makers (big broken branches resting in the trees, just waiting for a breeze so they can drop), and hot, humid air? Oh yes - it's pretty. But shortlived -and really, considering the rest of the country was dealing with other, worse natural disasters, this was just annoying.

3 days without power is enough for me. It's not like we were trying to live off the grid. Or had planned a weekend of camping. We just happened to be the last ten houses in the 'hood that were turned back on - and if our neighbor hadn't literally flagged down a tiny utility company truck and started crying, we might not have gotten power until Saturday. They actually told her they had moved on so they could restore bigger sections and reduce "overall total power outages". Our ten houses meant nothing...until the worker actually stopped.

The upside - a lovely, clean fridge. The downside - school was extended an extra day...that's right - after the give back vacation day - the kids were in school until the 25th. And I'm not sure anyone was happy about that. First grade's over - and summer has begun.

We all made it to Seven!

2008-05-26T14:11:00.000-07:00

The boy was so excited. I finally caved and allowed him to have a birthday party outside of our home. My theory on birthday parties is that they should be fun - and sometimes home is the best place. So we've seen a pizza party where we took small pizza boxes from the local pizza place and walked the invitations inside the boxes to neighborhood friends. We've also done science experiments - mentos and diet coke - complete with safety goggles and a take home science pack. And then there was last year. The year of no party. The birthday that I've been reminded of by the boy - or by my guilt. Yes - I was too busy with work travel to figure it out. So we had a few small things at home - but no party with 6 friends.

This year, when the topic of birthdays came up in February - he asked for some kind of inflatable party. The location is 30 minutes from here and I couldn't do that to the other parents - and I was not about to rent a shuttle bus for 1st graders. We compromised on bowling.

For some it's the stuff of nightmares, and for some, it's the stuff of dreams. I fall somewhere in between. The boy broke 100 and managed to win "high scorer". One of his friends turns out to be a party master extraordinaire - and can dance the chicken dance like no other - and another friend took pictures with her camera. (She's the only one that took pictures - another thing he's reminded me about.)

Picture a bowling alley with 7 parties running at the same time. I did too. So I gave the kids all tye-dyed t-shirts to put on when they got there - so I could track who belonged to our party. The kids loved them and I think it was enough home craftiness for me for a while. Between the strobe lights and the long-playing Stairway to Heaven music I knew the two hours would be really long. Fortunately, pizza, bowling, and the mystical Sprite soda - it was a good time for the kids.

It was only the next day, after the party, that I realized how tired I really was. I'd landed from a long flight back from the west coast early on Friday morning, and had tried to wrangle the house and its contents into some state of not-so-messy and then started on the party stuff in time for Saturday. Did you know just how long it takes to dye t-shirts? I did not. I do now. And I take full credit for the totally groovy patterns on the t-shirts. (Thanks online instructions.)

He's seven, he's happy and he's writing his thank you notes. (I should really have borrowed my sister-in-laws trick/suggestion/cool thing - before her kids can really play with the gifts - they need to write the thank you notes. So that's how it gets done so fast. 5 notes down, 5 to go. Sweet.

Big Boy Bikes and Birthdays

2008-05-04T17:57:00.000-07:00

Well, the boy is almost 7 - or will be in a few days. In the impromptu doctor's office visit yesterday - where we discovered he had strep - we also found out he weighs close to 60 pounds. No wonder I can't carry him up the stairs any more.

Threes doses of medicine later and we went in search of his birthday present. A brand new bike in blue, with a helmet color best described as poison dart frog red-green-yellow, and a bell, came home in the back of the car.

Some people cry at graduation and some people cry at weddings. Me, I teared up looking at my husband - who was tearing up looking at the boy. Tearing because this was exactly the scene we have talked about over the past three years - the one where a shiny new seven year old learns how to ride a shiny new bike.

All the more relevant because in my weakest, darkest moments - the ones where I didn't think T would live, I was saddest for the two of them -- that the boy wouldn't have his dad to teach him how to ride a bike. Which, given what was at stake, should have been the least of my worries. But it's odd how at 3 am, when the only other people up are the nurses and first year residents, how clearly your mind can create a movie. It's a movie with a perfect picture - filmed so beautifully you can feel the temperature of the day, the breeze in the air and you know almost to the minute what time it is because the sunlight tells you. My movie had two endings. The first, with T and the boy happily succeeding. The second ending was the one I couldn't get out of my head. It was the one where I was trying to teach him. And the breeze was cold, and I couldn't help him. No thumbs up for that ending.

And it's not that I couldn't have, or can't teach him - but the one thing T is much, much better at than I am - is to give the little guy enough - to let him go.

So in the end of the real movie, T followed while the boy increased his speed with the training wheels - and both of them came home predicting that in the next two weeks the training wheels will be off and the race will be on.

Happy Easter

2008-03-23T15:17:00.000-07:00

It's Easter! And if you haven't heard already - it won't be this early again for another two hundren and twenty years. Which means not in our lifetime. And while I've been a little grumpy about it coming so early - after today's service - I was reminded again that it doesn't matter where Easter falls on the calendar.

And then I went to church and heard some of the most amazing music, along with the most amazing story. You know the story - but for the boy, it was the first time he'd thought about the passage in John that tells what happened when the women venture to the cave. He hasn't said much, but I know he was thinking because he asked if anyone else could rise from the dead.

We have a new pastor - well, a pastor that is new to our church. She's been here since September, and it's been nice to listen to her as we all become aquainted with the way she guides the church.

Today we walked into the Sanctuary and it was filled with light and tulips, hyacinths, and lilies. There were also banners streaming from the cross and lifted 30 feet into the air with the help of a few wires. The purple, blue, orange, yellow, green, pink and white cloths streamed out from the cross and along the edges of the aisles - attached high on the columns. I later learned that a high school student was responsible for climbing the ladder and getting the banners up there. Our church has amazing stained glass windows and when the sun finally ventured out the sanctuary was filled with color. It may sound corny - but it was really beautiful.

The music in the church has always been great - partially due to our proximity to NYC, and partially due to the actors, actresses, musicians and artists that worship in the church. Drums, bells, brass, the choir, the organ, - somehow when you walk in you think it might be too much - but when you leave - it's almost always just right.

After our family's winter, it did feel right and good to give thanks.

Happy Easter.

Twist it a little bit...

2008-03-20T17:04:00.000-07:00

My favorite time of day with the boy is just after he's been tucked in by his dad. I get a request to come in. It's the sweet time - I lay my head on his pillow and we talk or daydream, or as in last night's episode, we discuss loose teeth.

One tooth in particular. The first of the upper fronts. It's hanging by a bit more than a thread, and his father has already declined the very polite "would you pull it out for me?" plea. I tried the "sleep on it and we'll see what breakfast does to the tooth". In my mind I am praying that he doesn't choke on it overnight and that a waffle will do the trick.

Then, we get one of those sweet moments.

Him: (softly) will you forget me?
Me: Never.
Him: In a day?
Me: Nope.
Him: In a week?
Me: Nope.
Him: will you forget me in a year?
Me: Not even in the year after. (And now I'm all gooey)
Him: (takes a breath)
Me: (takes a breath)
Him: Knock Knock
Me: (puzzled over the transition) Who's there?
Him: (fake shock) You forgot me already!

Set up by a six-year old. But he really did make me laugh!

Faster mornings coming to a store near you...

2008-03-18T04:10:00.000-07:00

How fast can we get out of the house in the morning? Not fast enough. I have recently re-upped my pledge to not say "hurry up or I'm going to miss my train". For two months I held strong, bit my tongue and kept my panic to myself. I also incurred numerous parking tickets for running late and parking where commuters aren't supposed to park.

And for all of you that say "get up 15 minutes earlier" - well, it's been done. The young one in the family can take 30 minutes to eat a piece of toast. Why? I don't know. This is usually after he's cut it in triangles and turned it into a weapon to point at "something that is not living". Most often the dining room mirror experiences toast gunshots. This is better than pointing at the dog. She knows no fear and figures a piece of toast pointing at her mouth must mean it's okay to take it. When the complaining starts I say make a new piece of toast or finish your milk.

On to something that could make it more fun! Since getting up earlier doesn't work, and I'm beginning to feel the strain of cracking an egg and making french toast... let's all have some fun with the newest organic product on the block.

The Batter Blaster. It looks like good, clean, wholesome fun - and clean up is a snap too. Please watch the video. If I was better at this I'd know how to show you the fancy link. But I don't. And if I mess with this too much longer I'll be late again, and it's only Tuesday.

http://www.batterblaster.com/tv.html

Make me an astronaut...

2008-03-14T11:15:00.000-07:00

This is better than ordering people in the lifeboat - that old '70s game they made us play in high school. You know the one - where we bonded because we saved the smart old man over the young man who couldn't have children, and played music. All in the name of values clarification.

More fun to be an astronaut...http://www.justsayhi.com/bb/moon

And easily more fun to kill time on a Friday.

When an astronaut has a conversation with you...

2008-03-10T09:57:00.000-07:00

I love the odd things that happen in my life. Let's take last Thursday's conversation with a well known woman astronaut. She is having a discussion of isolated thunderstorms and the conversation goes something like this...

Let me tell you a bit about my time in space. We don't have lots of time to look out the windows, so when we do we are really lucky... We had been noticing lots of isolated thunderstorms over the Medaterranian, and over Africa. It was getting dark as we approached the east coast of Africa and it was all lit up - yes - it's true - everyone likes to live on the water - and we could still see the isolated thunderstorms. Suddenly, one of the isolated thunderstorms filled with lightening, illuminated, and then set off many other isolated thunderstorms - one by one. It was then she realized there are no such things as isolated thunderstorms.

First, how often do you hear someone casually say "as we were flying over the east coast of Africa" and realize she's talking from space - not from British Airways. And then she wove the whole thing around to teaching - you never know which mind will light up or flash in your presence or because of your presence. Totally cool woman who was honored that we had invited her to this mega conference. And second - that she actually spent time talking to me when she realized inviting her to this conference was my brainchild - and noticed that the invite came while she was in flight last fall. (All because I am a morning show news junkie and was getting my fix when her interview came on...) That was the coolest thing about the weekend.

This event is something many have compared to childbirth - 9 months of planning - a long labor - exhaustion - and then bliss that it's over (helped by a few glasses of wine at the reception). The pain dulls after a few weeks and then it's time to get pregnant again. By that time the pain is fuzzy...and so it continues.

Jane Goodall signed books for 3 hours - until the last person got their book signed, and she looks like a gently older version of her pictures from the 1970s - still beautiful, and still almost too elegant for field work.

I can now say I've met an astronaut, thanked Jane Goodall, and met hundreds of really cool teachers. And in two days when my staff returns to the office, I can thank them for all of their hard work - and figure out a way to more formally recognize their efforts - because I am not going through labor again without them.

Notes you don't really want to see come home...

2008-03-05T17:10:00.001-08:00

From: School District
To: Family

One case of lice has been detected in your child's class. The child has been checked by the nurse and is no longer a carrier. Blah Blah lice Blah Blah nits Blah Blah Blah lice Blah Blah Blah.

As for timing, the NY Times article published that day describes a lovely salon, NitPixies - where for hundreds of dollars they will solve your problem. I was set to call until I realized - we don't have them - and the salon is on the West Coast.

So far the red head has remained safe. Each time I read the word lice I want to itch. And each time I itch I try harder not to -- and we all know how well that strategy works... not.

The backpack brings many things home. Many things to praise, file, ooh and ahh over, and toss. I didn't realize it might come with the potential to bring living creatures home.

Not the sweet frog-like kind, but the nasty kind. In my short career as mom I have washed and dried a worm-in-a-pocket (the worm didn't live, the boy cried), rescued crickets from jars without holes, and put a stop to bathtime with the dog - boy and dog, bubbles and water, all at once.

No lice so far. And no more notes. But I bought the RidX just in case - and am hoping that having it in the cabinet is just one more thing to clutter up the house.

When work turns into madness...

2008-02-12T15:38:00.000-08:00

Well, it's time for the biggest project of my work year. And things were so bad today I decided to see just how much money I needed to save so we could pay our bills and I didn't have to commute on a regular basis. My search lead me to this....and the thing costs $7.99

The text on the bank reads "Touchdowns are for losers. The only thing I want to score is some good drugs." Of course it's sold out.

When the kids stay up too late...

2008-02-04T07:20:00.000-08:00

The national holiday that is Super Bowl Sunday snuck up on our child. He remained blissfully unaware that the reason the bagel store in town was selling blue bagels was for local Giants support. He thought they were practicing for the green bagels for St. Pat's day. (Another scary story)

That was fine until we announced we were going to a neighbor's for a Super Bowl Party. That's right. Whatever Costco sold on Friday night - it was there. The traditional mini franks, wings, 6 layer dip (what happened to #7?), chips, beer, wine... our friends throw great parties - and walk that perfect mix of company and food that makes everyone feel happy.

Here's a bit of role reversal. In my day the kids were sent to the basement to play with "toys" and told to stay away from things like pool cues, saws and anything you could plug in that wasn't a television.

Now the adults head to the basement for the huge tv, great sound and some fun. The kids (ages 3 - 8) ran the joint up stairs. They watched Wallace & Gromit, Batman, Scoobey Doo, and discussed the Hannah Montana 3-D movie that some of them had seen earlier in the day. Until the last 2 minutes, when, well, we all know how the game turned out. Cheering, screaming kids were suddenly on overdrive - and that's when we all realized it was 10 pm and we did know where our kids were - not in bed and seriously hyped up on brownies.

As a parting gift to all, I asked the kids what they should say to any question at school - for Monday only. They looked puzzled - and then figured it out. Go Giants! Go Giants!

That's right - after a few practice questions, they've figured it out. Have you brushed your teeth? Go Giants! Who's your teacher? Go Giants?

So this morning, our child is in line at the office for a late pass - (totally my issue) - and when the office secretary of all office secretaries says "Who's your teacher?", my little kid shouldered up and said (in a really soft voice) Go Giants!

He ended up with the late pass - but a story to tell his friends.

Real Sports for Real Kids

2008-01-31T16:48:00.001-08:00

The day started out innocently enough --- it was my first day back in the office after the new year. I rode up the escalator in Penn Station with some cowboys and beefy security guards. I should have know something was up but I was in a need-my-coffee haze.

Two things I noticed. How big the security guards were, and how compact the cowboys were. And then I walked out onto the corner of 33rd and 8th - to find bulls, cowboys, an arena and dirt. Oh, and t-shirts being tossed. Ones that said "Real Men Last 8 Seconds".

That's right. The bulls invaded New York City. Later that day I made at least 7 of my colleagues take the walk back to the corner to see the bull riding happen on one of the busiest corners in New York. And it was on the coldest day of the year as well - one in which scarves, mittens, gloves and coats didn't help at all. But we did it - braved the cold to watch a little bull riding and take a break from the office - really do something different for lunch.

Caught up in the excitement I bought two tickets to the finals - having found out from one of the PBR tour staffers that the best place to sit is close to the chutes. The boy and I took the train in and got ready for the day. What 6-year old doesn't like noise, danger, dirt, $8 cotton candy and $20 t-shirts? Mine was first in line.

Vince Northrup broke 3 ribs (right 2,3,4), partially collapsed his right lung, broke a tooth, and lacerated his chin when he was stepped on after being thrown off by his Championship Round bull, Party Time. He was transported to Albany Medical Center where he was evaluated, treated, and released. He is out for 4-8 weeks.Bull: Party Time -- example of injury report, showing there is real danger in this sport

His favorite bull? Cheeseburger with an Attitude (really known as Smiley) and Super Duty - the Ford Tough bull (the PBR might be the most masterfully branded event ever). Stop grimacing. He doesn't get the irony of the bull named Cheeseburger - he thinks the reason the crowd laughed is because cheeseburgers don't have attitudes.

This little outing has led to him becoming a fan of Versus - the cable network formerly known as something like the Outdoor Living Network. Now - it's all person vs. nature. So while he may cry at the sport fishing, and was upset at the salmon gasping, he is cheering madly for his favorite bulls. Not that we let him stay up till they broadcast at 9:30 - but isn't that what that dvr thing is for?

He's enjoying himself and can't wait till next year - when he replays the opening of the event - complete with fake echo. Welcome to the P (ppppp, flash bang fireworks,) B (bbbbb, flash bang fireworks), R (rrrrr flash bang fireworks). Built Ford Tough. I should mention that the letters are spelled out on the dirt in the arena floor, and as the announcer says P - the P flashes and lights up in flames until...finally, blessedly, ending the lights portion of the show when the last letter burns out.

He is sleeping in the t-shirt I caught during the event - one that has a picture of Super Duty on it. And an http://invasionofthebulls.com/ address. It's bookmarked in his favorites, right along with pbskidsgo.org and panwapa.com.

In which we learn it's still January

2008-01-27T07:05:00.000-08:00

Greetings. All is finally getting back to normal here in Orangeland. Many things have happened since November, so I'll just hit the highlights.

A local pharmacy dispensed the incorrect medications needed for surgery, and as a result, the patient ended up in the emergency room, passed out and drooling, from a mega dose of an anti-psychotic drug. That's right. It's been a while, but antibiotics, last I checked with the doctor, were actually the proper medications needed.

That caused a one-week delay in surgery. That does seem far in the past now that the patient's return to work is approaching. Still, I wonder how he will do on the commute to the office. It is one thing to be up at home and stir crazy. It's another to be upright early in the am with many crazy people stirring about. Keep your fingers crossed.

I've just returned from at trip to Columbus, Ohio because conferences are cheap there in the winter. I saw a total of 10 people on the street in downtown Columbus, and found out there is NOT ONE chinese restaurant that delivers in the downtown area. (And I have experience with limited delivery - early in our Baltimore years we lived in a neighborhood so sketchy the pizza place would only stop the car if they could see us waiting in the vestibule. They wouldn't get out of the car unless we were already there...)

Sometimes hotel food is just not what you want after a day of being ill on a business trip, in a strange bed, away from family and familiar...all I wanted was the $1.75 pint of wonton soup (and just the broth, mind you - no wontons). It was not to be. The "At your service" person suggested taking a $20 cab ride, round trip. Not for a pint of soup. No thank you.

On the upside, before my untimely illness, I did have time to walk to Grant Street, where the very lovely Columbus Metropolitan Library exists. The stone benches in the front say it all "Our Treasures Are Within". What a beautiful building - and so user friendly it's almost scary. I'm still out on my favorite part - self-serve checkout with a receipt like you get at costco, or the fabulous exhibit on the creation of the library - complete with a western union note from andrew carnegie authorizing the building of the library. Oh, and the tile work when you walk is is pretty spiffy as well. Every hotel in downtown would do well to acquaint themselves with this attraction instead of (or in addition to)sending people to the regular places like Short North and the german district.

Back on the home front everyone seemed to survive. The kid remembered to write his VIP note to the designated child, and they managed to eat more than frozen pizza. I don't ask for more detail when I return because unless there is a note from a teacher, the police or church, everyone has survived another day.

The next chapter, wherein something really scary happens...

2007-11-16T09:28:00.000-08:00

It's been about a month since we've known something was wrong with T. Three years ago he battled stomach cancer with surgery, chemo and radiation - and so far - so good.

A completely routine screening test has turned up some other news. T is now looking at surgery again - this time for another part of his digestive tract. And remember - there's not much stomach left...so no one really knows what will happen next. He is meeting with yet another surgeon right now - while I sit across the river, working and waiting. I would be sitting next to him but for a huge presentation involving potential dollars and senior vice presidents.

There are no guarantees that the surgery will remedy everything. I think it will, and I hope it will, but until they get in there and biopsy everything - we won't know. I have known this man for more than half my life, and loved him for at least 20 years. I am not willing to take no for an answer on this one.

I thought I was handling it well until I lost all control on Wednesday and almost started world war 3 with a neighborhood mom. I am apologizing to her for my tone. Because my tone was way out of line and out of proporation to the situtation into which she inserted herself. But she inserted herself into something, yet again, and really pushed my very-sensitive-about-working-fulltime-and-not-being-aroundenoughtobeginwith buttons - and aside from phrases like "why are you talking to me about something that happened between my son and another child - not yours?", "you are the grown up", "wildly inappropriate for you to call me", "what were you expecting me to do at 1 pm at least an hour from home, when all the kids are fine?", "I haven't heard from the school about this..." and it just went on from there. T wants me to apologize for everything. I'm only feeling the apology on the tone, - because screwing with the mom code of conduct is just not acceptable. And yes - the quotation marks are too much - but blazing red anger doesn't show up well in text.

And then I had to go to the dentist. On that point alone it pretty much sums up the week.

Bumbles and Stumbles

2007-11-15T10:50:00.001-08:00

It is the middle of November and I am back from Chicago. Yes - I went to my favorite conference - one fueled by early childcare professionals on steriods (the mad combination of free mini-meals at the Residence Inn, juice boxes and freedom from children and parents (not their own, but the ones they take care of). And yes, shooting the potato launcher was not only fun, but frighteningly addictive.

20,000 people in early childhood took over Chicago. There is something so very wrong about people wearing deely boppers in public - and especially on Michigan Avenue. This conference is also known as the suitcase spectacular.

Fly three hours with one bag crammed with clothing and personal items, and check the big old empty bag on wheels. Why? Because you will actually have to wheel it onto the exhibit hall floor to collect: in no particular order: juice box, pencils (unsharpened), pens, a caterpillar in a jewel box necklace, a calendar featuring babies, a crest kid doll, garbage bags with peach scent, pencils (sharpened), paper, more paper, more paper, montessori building block, tooth brush, sample playdough, make your own book, fruit cup and spoon, yarn, finger puppet, fiskars scissors with kid sized handles, baby wipes, toddler wipes, calendar featuring research and quotes about the importance of preK, deely boppers, connectx toy, finger cymbal (yes - the other one got lost in the frenzy), ocean sampler, toy school bus (with phone number in case the need arises to buy a real one), sing-along dvd, bag with smiling family on it, fleece hat with logo, fleece ear warmers with no logo, toothpaste sample, lysol wipes sample, more miniture candy than Halloween on a really good year.... you get the picture.

Important safety tips:

Do not pick up more than you can comfortably carry home. The hotel housekeepers do not want the stray pencils, scented garbage/diaper bags, and information on how to purchase child sized equipment from catalogs that are thicker than most city phone books.

Do not purchase the seasonal clothing in bulk. You know this type of clothing. It's the turkeys on the sweaters, wreaths on the socks, pumpkins on the turtleneck kind of thing. Discretion. Discretion. Discretion. I'm not one to turn down socks - but more than 3 types of seasonal clothing on one person at one time is wrong. And to be kind, I think the sweater was just stretched out from carrying and dragging too much stuff...the resulting placement of the turkeys was just unfortunate.

And finally --- above all - do not get suckered into buying the wheelie crates. Those things are dangerous in the hands of crazed attendees.

I did manage to purchase some things for home, work and school. If you are ever needing a really cool science toy or tool - check out stevespanglerscience.com. It is one of best online catalogs around - and really, when you need 32 pipettes, moon sand, fizz color tablets and one lizard in an egg - go for it.

18 Pumpkins and a String o' Lights

2007-10-23T09:57:00.000-07:00

The snake is lit. The party's over and the squirrels are not yet attacking. It's been a bit warm where we are - and the pumpkins are suffering. Forget squirrels - it's warm weather rot we're talking about. And now that our pumpkins are carved and assembled into the snake, we are hoping it lasts until Halloween.

The little guy hosted some neighborhood families Sunday afternoon - for worms on a bun (shriveled hot dogs) and mummy pizzas. Yes - when stressed I tend to overdo it. And the adults made do with bratwurst and oktoberfest brews. There was even chocolate cake and the kids sang happy birthday to the witch decoration.

Just after dark it was time to light the snake. No candles for this effort. Make those white lights year round and break them out for summer nights and fall pumpkins too.

Everyone was home by 8 pm - which explains why we overslept on Monday and had exactly 27 minutes to wake up, dress, eat, pack lunch and get to the school line. I gave up on make the train - which as it turns out - I did sort of make.

Because it's right that when my regular train breaks down...my holy-crap-I'm-not-going-to-walk-into-my-office-until-11am-train stops to help out the passengers from the broken regular train.

Duct tape, balloons and fusible webbing

2007-10-07T18:44:00.000-07:00

Halloween is fast approaching. The first years - cute animal costumes from a large box store - because - well - I don't sew - and I was strapped for time. He looked great - a sleeping elephant, a pumpkin, a duck. All washable, and wearable for many occasions. Like grocery shopping and leaf raking.

You'll just have to turn your head sideways to catch the picture. It's enough that I actually had a picture...

And then he asked to be a volcano. That's right. A big, exploding volcano. With a little help from the fabric department at Wal-mart and some stiffy stuff - I created a volcano. 2 semi-circles, fusible webbing and one very large bucket later the label on the stiffy stuff said - let dry until stiff. (I should mention this stiffy stuff had it's heyday back when Martha Stewart was making the lecture rounds at area Junior Leagues. Way back in the eighties.) After applying a little heat courtesy of an underused appliance - the hairdryer - the costume was sort of volcano shaped - and even included holes for arms and head. Throw on a red sweat suit and voila - volcano.

Oh - but you ask - the hissing and spitting rocks. Yes, I admit, my no sew costume got carried away here. Lots of fabric strips and some sparkling foam balls attached to a fabric headband. He vetoed the headgear and instead wore it around the neck. With the exception of the papermache ravens in the nest at our town's parade - he was an original. And it came in handy last year when the the kindergarten class was studying volcanos. He took it to school where all the kids tried it on...and most of the mothers wondered if they would have to make one over the weekend...

Then, one year there was the "I want to be a hot air balloon". The costume looked great but he came down with a 102 fever - and the costume never made it any farther than our living room. And finally, last year - he asked to be a power ranger. And I caved. No more duct tape and fusible webbing. No more balloons. No more glitter and pvc piping (the balloon costume). Only the best ebay can buy.

And so we come to this year - and he's asked to be Harry Potter. Complete with glasses and the nice Hogwarts robe - "not the one from the the weird store". In our neighborhood the weird store is the seasonal real estate that transforms for large holidays with retail dreams - you know - like Christmas City - or Halloween House.

The sweet part? He request a working wand as well. Not a fake one - but a real magic wand. I asked him if he'd been practicing spells and he said no - kind of shyly. But I think maybe he's been thinking about it. Twice now I've walked into the kitchen to see him waving a spatula like a wand at the dog and saying words that sound faintly like Hermione Granger's incantations.

The dog's still here. And so is he. And that costume will be arriving like all good costumes do - from the underground of ebay.

Remember those Book Club Days?

2007-10-04T15:33:00.000-07:00

Yes, it happened. The first Scholastic book club catalog came home in the backpack about two weeks ago. It's still old fashioned enough to be a paper order form and check list...but the kid is as excited as I was when I was six. He carefully selected his item - looking at the pictures of the covers - and recognizing words like POKEMON and EXCITING. No classics were selected this time around, just some short easy readers and the coveted Pokemon series...

The main event - delivery of the books happened at the end of school yesterday. He had his story time while he was in the bathtub and even hair washing went well. He fell asleep with most of them still on his bed. He's happy and trying to read. What's better than that?

Back To School Night

2007-09-27T19:44:00.000-07:00

The auditorium is as I remember from my childhood. It's cramped, hot, and the really big old fans don't get turned on until the principal says it's okay.

Which she did. Which was a good thing because there were lots of pregnant women roasting in their seats. I was not one of them - but I was suffering from the effects of the odd 90 degree days we'd been experiencing.

Our son's teacher is a pro. We walk into room 124 and it's neat, orderly, and organized. We sit down at his desk. She begins to talk and adds that she hasn't asked the children to clean up their desks. She wants us instead to see exactly how the desks are kept.

This signals doom in our household. I put my hand in and several crayons and a white sock tumble out. She continues talking and says there should only be one or two pencils and their folders for poetry and weather, along with math and language arts journals. All other materials should be in the pencil boxes. Uh oh. I catch a crayon or two and the others hit the floor. The other parents in his cluster don't seem to be having the same problem.

The mother across the way pulls out a pencil box filled to capacity. Our boy's is filled with an unopened glue stick. Points for the boy - he kept the cap on! I move some things around without putting them away. And my hand hits an object I don't recognize. And then I do -- contraband. It's a red crayola crayon sharpener - and not on the school supply list. I recall at least two conversations about not bringing it to school.

It seems that all those pockets in his backpack have been used for something. The transportation and distribution of kid contraband. I leave it tucked in the back of the desk, where I found it.

The teacher goes over the curriculum, homework and thanks us for helping to start off every day on a high note. It's time to put the chairs back on top of the desks.

Back To School Night ends and I find myself hoping that our boy remembers this teacher the way I remember my first grade teacher. Room 10, Miss Geneva Hayes. Because she taught me to read, and I haven't stopped since.

First Days of First Grade

2007-09-27T18:53:00.000-07:00

Last Thursday marked our boy's official entrance into public school. Here's what we all learned.

While Mrs. Betty Murphy signed all correspondence with Mrs. Betty Murphy, she only wants to be called Mrs. Murphy. For a child who refers to his friends using all three names (First, Middle, Last)and is himself referred to by his friends as Firstname-Middleinitial-Lastname - this can be confusing.

Next - the class is divided into three supply lines. Rather like the military, I believe. Supply line two is responsible for Heavy Duty Tissues. Our supply line number two reported for duty with a jumbo box of 3-ply soft tissues. Supply lines one and three brought goldfish, cheerios or wheat crackers, and paper towels. Mrs. Murphy is grateful.

Finally - the end of the day and aftercare at the local Y. Right away - this is a disaster. Suzanne, our trusty sitter, makes the initial run with me so she knows where to go and the child care workers can see we all belong together. We spot him before he spots us. And Suzanne audibly inhales - the kind of sound that were it in a movie would signal misfortune for a main character.

He hates it and threatens the next day to jump off the bus and run away. I am once again wearing the crown of meanest mommy ever because I suggest that until we have something else worked out, this is the way it has to be.

In an effort to fix things I spoke with the head teacher, Miss Karisma. She told me that our boy had been fresh with her and she had corrected him following their discipline procedure. Hmmm.

She reported that she had told him "... I be doing this right now, you will need to wait." He replied "Miss Karisma, you are doing something right now and I need to wait a minute." She called it fresh and I tried to explain that he responded to her in the same way I did when he says "How much dollars is that?"... , how many dollars is the whatever-is-catching-his-eye-and-short-attention-span. He's 6, he doesn't understand nuance (and I never should have tried that word...) - we are not seeing eye-to-eye and I just want my money back for two months of care he will not be attending.

Oh dear. On the upside, he really liked P.E. and the class is beginning to chart the progress of the pilgrims on a timeline and map. He learned a new word - ballast - and he's class "inspector" for the next two weeks. The inspector checks to make sure the lights are turned out and the window shades are at "mid". Which I'm guessing is midpoint.

He is also intrigued/repelled by a game called Girl Run - which means girls chase boys around the playground. It's a game that hasn't been banned - like dodge ball.