This past weekend there were two stress creating activities going on. One was the DuNord Lottery. I was the one to take the call for our team this year, and let me tell you, I got a little sweaty when the phone had not rung and 11am had come and gone. But in the end, I was able to squeeze all four families into one week, which was the goal.
As soon as I showered off my lottery stress, I headed out to the St. Paul School district Lego League competition. This is not just about building things out of Legos. They do, but what they build is a robot, that then they program and send on missions. And it's timed and scored and there's loud music and cheering. It's crazy. It's like the conference championship for nerdom. And Eli and Theo drink it up. Eli did not have the most successful day- his team finished 6th in their division. Behind his little brother's team. But I think they learned some important things and the judges voted them first in programming, which was Eli's forte. He is taking the blame for his team's loss, and really quite glum about it, but he'll rebound. Theo's team had everything go right. They completed their missions, worked well together during the secret team challenge, and presented their research professionally. They were rewarded with a second place finish and a trip to the state meet in February. He is in heaven. Not only did his team to well, but the first place team was also from Expo and full of his friends. And he beat his brother. He has tried not to be too obnoxious about this, and has really done a lovely job. But dang, the younger brother needs to gloat whenever he can!
Friday, December 14, 2012
Tree stump battle
About two years ago, Jon and I decided it was time to have our crumbling front steps redone. The new steps were larger and we thought it would be a good time to cut down the gigantic overgrown shaggy Arborvitae that were dominating the front of our house. So we chopped them down. And left the gigantic stumps in place for another day. Much to the chagrin of our neighbor across the street, that other day didn't come for over a year. Our 'landscaping' out front included two giant stumps and empty spots where the trees used to be. The trouble was, those stumps proved a problem for removal. One day Jon wrestled the north stump free, but ran out of time for the other. So it sat for at least another half year.
Then there was a day this summer where both boys became occupied so I headed out for some gardening. I started by releasing the garden from its cloak of weeds which had developed while we were out of town and then had grown unchecked for weeks. I was surprised to find live veggies still producing under the cover of vines and nettles. It inspired me enough to grab some tools and head to the stump. I swear the humidity that day was 101%. After weeding, I was soaked, so there was nothing to lose when I started whacking away at the stump. I dug, I whacked, I pulled, I prodded. I got minimal movement for my efforts. But there was movement. The only trouble is that I was hemmed in by the new steps. There was no way to get any good leverage. After over an hour I considered throwing in the sweat drenched towel. I was going to let Jon take over when he had a free moment. But my pride wouldn't let me. I needed to finish this job. And let me tell you about the finishing move- it was grand. I got my shovel under the stump and shoved with all my strength. With a surprising snap, the last roots broke free, the root ball was released, and I was thrown off my feet. But what a glorious moment. I lay back on the cement of the sidewalk completely content.
Then there was a day this summer where both boys became occupied so I headed out for some gardening. I started by releasing the garden from its cloak of weeds which had developed while we were out of town and then had grown unchecked for weeks. I was surprised to find live veggies still producing under the cover of vines and nettles. It inspired me enough to grab some tools and head to the stump. I swear the humidity that day was 101%. After weeding, I was soaked, so there was nothing to lose when I started whacking away at the stump. I dug, I whacked, I pulled, I prodded. I got minimal movement for my efforts. But there was movement. The only trouble is that I was hemmed in by the new steps. There was no way to get any good leverage. After over an hour I considered throwing in the sweat drenched towel. I was going to let Jon take over when he had a free moment. But my pride wouldn't let me. I needed to finish this job. And let me tell you about the finishing move- it was grand. I got my shovel under the stump and shoved with all my strength. With a surprising snap, the last roots broke free, the root ball was released, and I was thrown off my feet. But what a glorious moment. I lay back on the cement of the sidewalk completely content.
Unplugged
In 2012 we have made our way up to Camp DuNord a record 4 times. We went for a board retreat, two work weekends, and a glorious (but buggy) summer week. Every trip was a delight. It has clearly become a second home to the boys. As soon as the car is parked, the boys tumble out, their electronic devices forgotten on the seats. They spill into the woods and down to the beach while we unpack. We have never made the rule that DuNord is going to be 'device free', the boys just do it naturally. It's beautiful. Over the 10 years we have been going up to DuNord, phones have become more powerful, and coverage has crept ever closer to this northwoods hideaway. I happen to know that now, if you stand in just the right spot in many of the cabins, you can connect yourself to that other world. But why? It's so nice to take a few days off, jump off the data treadmill and just be in the moment. I know that within the year, perhaps even by the time we venture back up there in February, there could be a cell tower giving us complete connectivity. I hope we have the power to deny it. It's lovely to have one corner of the world where you simply can not be bothered.
Moving into the stern
This summer, Eli did a fair bit of canoeing. Not only did we get out and about on rivers several times, but he took a three day Namakagon trip with Camp St. Croix, and a seven day BWCAW trip with Camp Widjiwagan. During both of these trips he volunteered to stern a canoe. This is a great responsibility and honor during a Y trip. Sterning is most often done by the counselors. But Eli was up for the task, and after some initial circling and weaving, got his canoe on the straight and narrow. He is now a regular in the back seat. Pushing me to the bow. I have seen this coming over the past few years, but I didn't expect the change would come quite so soon, and quite so permanently. The kid has decided he wants some control over where his canoe is headed, and we're not just talking about on a river. So far he's shown quite good instincts and has kept everything running smoothly downriver. But full on adolescence approaches and we know there are hidden obstacles in those waters- rapids ahead! Here's hoping he continues to have a steady hand as he paddles through this stretch, and that he stays open to advice from those around him.
Friday, November 30, 2012
Last three East Coast Roadtripping memories
Here are three more tales from our summer trip that I think bear repeating.
AT Thru Hiker
On our way to Boston, we listned to a CD of Bill Bryson's "A Walk in the Woods" about his experiences on the Appalacian Trail. Mostly it was entertaining for the whole family, although next time we will try to time it so that the part about the bears in campgrounds will not be playing as we pull into a campground in the dark, in the rain, and are greeted by the sign "WARNING: Bear activity last night!". Or atleast we will hit pause before Bill gets into a history of bear maulings in the Eastern United States. None of us slept overly well that evening.
Other than that, the book was quite entertaining, and on the day (after the sleepless bear-fearing night) that we were going to hike a little on the AT, we were all kind of hoping that we'd run into a thru hiker. Bryson had made his encounters with this unique breed of hiker seem so colorful and exciting, we wanted a piece of that action.
We got our wish. After hiking up a lovely river for about an hour, we were just about to turn around when a man called to us from the river's other bank. Wanted to know if we were on the AT. We weren't quite there, but we knew where the paths connected. He dashed across the stream to have a look at our map with Jon. The boys and I stayed around a bend, chatting. I admit, I was a little nervous when neither Jon nor the man appeared for a while. But then Jon joined us, and so did the stranger. Even though the AT was further up the trail, he had decided to walk down the way were going in hopes of finding a ride to town for some breakfast. A ha! We had heard about this from Bryson. Here it was, happening to us. Only we weren't going to the town he was aiming for, which brought us all much relief, as he had not showered for awhile.
The hike down was entertaining indeed. Despite his large pack, he was more than able to keep up with us and had enough breath to spare to tell us some tales. This man had been in the woods for months and was not entirely 'politically correct'. When he told us that he knew he was getting close to a trailhead parking lot when he found 'fat people' on the path, the boys looked at me with startled eyes. Were we the fat people he spoke of? I mean, we had been sitting in a car for days, eating not well, but fat? Not yet. Then we got closer to the trail head and came amongst larger groups of people out for short hikes. Larger in numbers and size. Our new pal appraised the 'hikers' around us, chortled and said loudly, "Now we are getting really really close!!". Theo had to turn away and giggle to himself. Once at the parking lot, our friend kept talking, and talking and talking. Stories about staying in people's houses, getting rides, and about the general friendliness of strangers. Clearly he was hinting. Kept saying "I haven't gotten killed yet!" as he looked longingly at the car keys in Jon's hands. We made it a point of talking loudly about how we were going to go squeeze into our little sedan and drive off in the opposite direction that he had said he wanted to go. Then another story would start. Eventually we made our get away.
Once in the car, one of the boys said, "Do you suppose that he hasn't been killed yet because maybe he's been doing the killing?" I don't think so, but I'm glad we didn't find out, one way or the other.
TIPI!
One night we camped at a lovely state park in Vermont. After setting up our tent, Eli went off to the bathroom. When he came back, his eyes were large, and he stage whispered, "There's a man setting up a tipi next door." Hmmm. Shortly I had to go to the bathroom. Sure enough, in the spot next door, there was a man setting up a tipi. Looks like he had brought his lodge poles on a rack on top of their pickup. He was utilizing a large ladder to put on the finishing touches. I always go camping with a ladder, myself. On my way back from the bathroom I had to chuckle. The tipi was up, the man, who earlier had looked like he had stepped out of LL Bean had ducked into the tipi and changed into a loin cloth. That's right. Took off his shirt too. Had some leather strap tied around a bicep and some sort of leather pouch around his next. Then he walked over, started up his GENERATOR and pumped up his deluxe queen sized air mattress.
I returned to our site to give an update. A little later Eli started stage whispering again. "RIGHT THERE. Look! He's coming....coming- look over behind you mom!" All of this was plenty loud for both me and the coming attraction to here. But I think he liked it. He was out for an evening stroll. He seemed to have family with him, a wife and maybe two grown children. But they were hanging back, and dressed in street clothes. He was strutting out ahead in the loin cloth. He took several laps around the campground, surely giving everyone a chance to see him.
Walden Pond
One day during our Boston stay we decided to head out to Lexington and Concord. We stopped at several different historical sites and all of us found all of them quite interesting. But strangely sapping of all energy. Museum fatique to an expotential power. So we decided to try to find Walden Pond on our way back to town, as we heard you could swim there. Now, I've read the book by Thoreau and I always pictured it as a small pond. Filled with reeds and brackish water, like the pond behind the house I grew up in. Color us surprised when we pulled into a large parking lot across from a lake. We stopped in the replica of his small cabin and read some historical data, but I was already fatiqued, and this lake had me chagining my opinion of the whole deal. Thoreau was basically vacationing next to a lovely lake. Now, his cabin was small, and he built it himself, but seriously, this was not what I had expected. I was much more eager to swim now that pond had been redefined as lake.
So we passed a hot afternoon doing some water ballet and then trying to dunk each other in Walden Pond. I'm not sure that's how Thoreau passed his days there, but I'd recommend it!
One last note
Niagara falls did not dissapoint. Either in the shlock factor of the surrounding town, or in the majesty of the falls themselves.
AT Thru Hiker
On our way to Boston, we listned to a CD of Bill Bryson's "A Walk in the Woods" about his experiences on the Appalacian Trail. Mostly it was entertaining for the whole family, although next time we will try to time it so that the part about the bears in campgrounds will not be playing as we pull into a campground in the dark, in the rain, and are greeted by the sign "WARNING: Bear activity last night!". Or atleast we will hit pause before Bill gets into a history of bear maulings in the Eastern United States. None of us slept overly well that evening.
Other than that, the book was quite entertaining, and on the day (after the sleepless bear-fearing night) that we were going to hike a little on the AT, we were all kind of hoping that we'd run into a thru hiker. Bryson had made his encounters with this unique breed of hiker seem so colorful and exciting, we wanted a piece of that action.
We got our wish. After hiking up a lovely river for about an hour, we were just about to turn around when a man called to us from the river's other bank. Wanted to know if we were on the AT. We weren't quite there, but we knew where the paths connected. He dashed across the stream to have a look at our map with Jon. The boys and I stayed around a bend, chatting. I admit, I was a little nervous when neither Jon nor the man appeared for a while. But then Jon joined us, and so did the stranger. Even though the AT was further up the trail, he had decided to walk down the way were going in hopes of finding a ride to town for some breakfast. A ha! We had heard about this from Bryson. Here it was, happening to us. Only we weren't going to the town he was aiming for, which brought us all much relief, as he had not showered for awhile.
Once in the car, one of the boys said, "Do you suppose that he hasn't been killed yet because maybe he's been doing the killing?" I don't think so, but I'm glad we didn't find out, one way or the other.
TIPI!
One night we camped at a lovely state park in Vermont. After setting up our tent, Eli went off to the bathroom. When he came back, his eyes were large, and he stage whispered, "There's a man setting up a tipi next door." Hmmm. Shortly I had to go to the bathroom. Sure enough, in the spot next door, there was a man setting up a tipi. Looks like he had brought his lodge poles on a rack on top of their pickup. He was utilizing a large ladder to put on the finishing touches. I always go camping with a ladder, myself. On my way back from the bathroom I had to chuckle. The tipi was up, the man, who earlier had looked like he had stepped out of LL Bean had ducked into the tipi and changed into a loin cloth. That's right. Took off his shirt too. Had some leather strap tied around a bicep and some sort of leather pouch around his next. Then he walked over, started up his GENERATOR and pumped up his deluxe queen sized air mattress.
I returned to our site to give an update. A little later Eli started stage whispering again. "RIGHT THERE. Look! He's coming....coming- look over behind you mom!" All of this was plenty loud for both me and the coming attraction to here. But I think he liked it. He was out for an evening stroll. He seemed to have family with him, a wife and maybe two grown children. But they were hanging back, and dressed in street clothes. He was strutting out ahead in the loin cloth. He took several laps around the campground, surely giving everyone a chance to see him.
Walden Pond
One day during our Boston stay we decided to head out to Lexington and Concord. We stopped at several different historical sites and all of us found all of them quite interesting. But strangely sapping of all energy. Museum fatique to an expotential power. So we decided to try to find Walden Pond on our way back to town, as we heard you could swim there. Now, I've read the book by Thoreau and I always pictured it as a small pond. Filled with reeds and brackish water, like the pond behind the house I grew up in. Color us surprised when we pulled into a large parking lot across from a lake. We stopped in the replica of his small cabin and read some historical data, but I was already fatiqued, and this lake had me chagining my opinion of the whole deal. Thoreau was basically vacationing next to a lovely lake. Now, his cabin was small, and he built it himself, but seriously, this was not what I had expected. I was much more eager to swim now that pond had been redefined as lake. So we passed a hot afternoon doing some water ballet and then trying to dunk each other in Walden Pond. I'm not sure that's how Thoreau passed his days there, but I'd recommend it!
One last note
Niagara falls did not dissapoint. Either in the shlock factor of the surrounding town, or in the majesty of the falls themselves.
School dance
A couple of weeks ago, Eli had his first school dance. I like that they eased the kids into it by having it during the day, and offering a movie down the hall, in case the dance proved too overwhelming. Eli's 'crew' (homeroom on steroids) practiced for the dance by learning the electric slide. The crew is a very safe space, I can tell because Eli learned the electric slide. Kind of. There's work to be done, but I can tell he was on his feet and trying, in front of others, which is lovely.
The day of the dance came and Eli showed uncharacteristic care in choosing his clothes that morning at 6am. It was a 'Sadie Hawkins' theme and Eli could not remember if he was supposed to wear plaid or flannel. I suggested a plaid flannel and he was grateful. I thought his cute plaid shirt was a better idea, as the plaid flannel we had was Theo's and a touch short, but he wanted to cover his bases, if not his forearms.
I asked him if he was going to ask anyone to dance, and he said he could not. It was Sadie Hawkins, and the girls were in charge. Of course they were. Smart girls.
The dance was the last two hours of the school day. I admit I was very curious to hear how it had gone. He came in the door from the bus, put down his bag, and said, "Well, I got asked to the dance." A quick shy smile was flashed my way before he started rummaging for snacks. Then: "I am exhausted!". No doubt. I asked him to show me how he danced, but he wasn't game for that. I was just doing some anthropological research. Wanted to know if they still did the shoulder shuffle like we did in junior high- reaching out and touching our partners lightly on the shoulders, while keeping arms unbent so as to maximize the distance between you and your 'date'. I demonstrated, but he gave me nothing.
For the record, I asked him how a student would feel if he or she wanted to ask someone of the same gender, given the Sadie Hawkins theme. Seemed a to lean heavily hetero to me. He said, "It'd be fine mom. No one would get teased. Open school is not like that." Phew.
The day of the dance came and Eli showed uncharacteristic care in choosing his clothes that morning at 6am. It was a 'Sadie Hawkins' theme and Eli could not remember if he was supposed to wear plaid or flannel. I suggested a plaid flannel and he was grateful. I thought his cute plaid shirt was a better idea, as the plaid flannel we had was Theo's and a touch short, but he wanted to cover his bases, if not his forearms.
I asked him if he was going to ask anyone to dance, and he said he could not. It was Sadie Hawkins, and the girls were in charge. Of course they were. Smart girls.
The dance was the last two hours of the school day. I admit I was very curious to hear how it had gone. He came in the door from the bus, put down his bag, and said, "Well, I got asked to the dance." A quick shy smile was flashed my way before he started rummaging for snacks. Then: "I am exhausted!". No doubt. I asked him to show me how he danced, but he wasn't game for that. I was just doing some anthropological research. Wanted to know if they still did the shoulder shuffle like we did in junior high- reaching out and touching our partners lightly on the shoulders, while keeping arms unbent so as to maximize the distance between you and your 'date'. I demonstrated, but he gave me nothing.
For the record, I asked him how a student would feel if he or she wanted to ask someone of the same gender, given the Sadie Hawkins theme. Seemed a to lean heavily hetero to me. He said, "It'd be fine mom. No one would get teased. Open school is not like that." Phew.
We are the survivors
After driving for many many hours through this country's midwest, we pulled into Waterloo, Iowa last Sunday afternoon to try to find some lunch. We got of the freeway and drove into the downtown area. When the car stopped, the boys looked up from their devices, dazed. But we herded them out the door and up to the Subway. Which was locked. Closed. We tried another restaurant nearby. Also closed. Theo then looked up and down the deserted street and then said, "It appears as if we may be the only survivors of the apocolypse." Then he got back in the car and plugged back into his ipod, unconcerned.
Monday, November 26, 2012
Paddle boarding with manta rays
One of the highlights of our recent trip to Florida was of course spending time with my parents. And a lovely Thanksgiving dinner that was many many many steps up from the last Thanksgiving I shared with them in Florida, which featured Ramen noodles and a frozen pizza.
I also enjoyed the day we rented paddle boards. I was worried that my raw skin from the recent bike accident would keep me grounded for the day, but we wrapped me up in some very expensive bandages that looked and worked much like saran wrap. And I was able to keep upright on the board, so never had to test the waterproof nature of the goods. Jean and I headed out on the boards and made it all the way down to the jetty. On the way there we saw a fish or two, but nothing much. At the jetty we took a seat on the boards to rest (our feet were sore from working so hard to keep us balanced- who knew there were so many feet muscles and that they could get so fatigued!) and were entertained by small schools of beautiful fish. On the way back I cruised right over a mini jelly fish, which got me quite excited- they are oddly beautiful- and nervous that I would fall on it and get all stung up. But I stayed upright. We paddled back without incident.
Jon and Theo headed out next. While they were down the beach looking the other way, some dolphins happened by. Jean ran down to make sure they saw them and ended up paddling Theo out to get a closer view. Theo lying on the front of the board while my mom paddled him toward dolphins was quite a lovely site- the two of them so engaged in their quest. They got quite close. I got jealous. I love watching dolphins and squealed loudly and touristically every time they went by my parents' condo.
Once the dophins swam off, Theo and Jon turned the boards over to Eli and my dad. I won't say much about how it went for my dad. I think he was nervous about see-sickness, so he threw in the towel pretty quickly. This gave me the opportunity to head out and accompany Eli. We didn't encounter dolphins, but we did paddle right above a small herd of manta rays. I'm sure it's herds they travel in. There were four, and they seemed quite intrigued by us. They did not dart away, but came closer, went under us, circled. The whole time I was nervous about falling on them, and was hoping my mom's assertion that these were not the stinging kind was true. Never can tell with her as she doesn't believe in citing sources. Ever. But we didn't fall- we just watched from above as these graceful creatures glided around below us. Quite lovely.
I also enjoyed the day we rented paddle boards. I was worried that my raw skin from the recent bike accident would keep me grounded for the day, but we wrapped me up in some very expensive bandages that looked and worked much like saran wrap. And I was able to keep upright on the board, so never had to test the waterproof nature of the goods. Jean and I headed out on the boards and made it all the way down to the jetty. On the way there we saw a fish or two, but nothing much. At the jetty we took a seat on the boards to rest (our feet were sore from working so hard to keep us balanced- who knew there were so many feet muscles and that they could get so fatigued!) and were entertained by small schools of beautiful fish. On the way back I cruised right over a mini jelly fish, which got me quite excited- they are oddly beautiful- and nervous that I would fall on it and get all stung up. But I stayed upright. We paddled back without incident.
Jon and Theo headed out next. While they were down the beach looking the other way, some dolphins happened by. Jean ran down to make sure they saw them and ended up paddling Theo out to get a closer view. Theo lying on the front of the board while my mom paddled him toward dolphins was quite a lovely site- the two of them so engaged in their quest. They got quite close. I got jealous. I love watching dolphins and squealed loudly and touristically every time they went by my parents' condo.
Once the dophins swam off, Theo and Jon turned the boards over to Eli and my dad. I won't say much about how it went for my dad. I think he was nervous about see-sickness, so he threw in the towel pretty quickly. This gave me the opportunity to head out and accompany Eli. We didn't encounter dolphins, but we did paddle right above a small herd of manta rays. I'm sure it's herds they travel in. There were four, and they seemed quite intrigued by us. They did not dart away, but came closer, went under us, circled. The whole time I was nervous about falling on them, and was hoping my mom's assertion that these were not the stinging kind was true. Never can tell with her as she doesn't believe in citing sources. Ever. But we didn't fall- we just watched from above as these graceful creatures glided around below us. Quite lovely.
Bragging Rights
I just got back from the dentist where I was given a temporary cap for my missing tooth. This makes going back into my classroom tomorrow a bit easier. I will still have to deal with the heckling about my greenish yellowish cheek and my bruised chin that looks like I am trying to grow a small, off-centered, goatee. These kids tease nicely however. I know that because they recently found out about my treadmill wipeout and have been amused, but not mean.
But at the dentist, we shared a laugh- the dentist, the hygenist, and I. He had recently re-capped my husband's tooth. The hygenist asked how Jon had broken his. Eating a baguette. Hello lame story! Mine involves a bike crash. If I want to get dramatic I could tell you about the oncoming semi and how I was braking to avoid a collision.
If I wanted to be less dramatic I could tell you that I was biking back from Walmart with my mom. Where we had journeyed because I wanted some chips with dinner. And some wine. Both survived the crash, by the way. And that semi was not very close, although in truth I was braking to avoid hitting it, just that the only reason I would have hit it was if I would have randomly crossed the street.
And, I suppose, truth be told, Jon's baguette break was of his already fake tooth. That tooth had originally been broken doing something else. The details of which I am choosing to forget.
But at the dentist, we shared a laugh- the dentist, the hygenist, and I. He had recently re-capped my husband's tooth. The hygenist asked how Jon had broken his. Eating a baguette. Hello lame story! Mine involves a bike crash. If I want to get dramatic I could tell you about the oncoming semi and how I was braking to avoid a collision.
If I wanted to be less dramatic I could tell you that I was biking back from Walmart with my mom. Where we had journeyed because I wanted some chips with dinner. And some wine. Both survived the crash, by the way. And that semi was not very close, although in truth I was braking to avoid hitting it, just that the only reason I would have hit it was if I would have randomly crossed the street.
And, I suppose, truth be told, Jon's baguette break was of his already fake tooth. That tooth had originally been broken doing something else. The details of which I am choosing to forget.
Lesson learned
I'm going to start right out with the lesson learned in case no one wants to read to the end of this tale.
When biking, if a bug flies into your mouth, just accept it. Swallow gracefully and continue on with your ride.
No one had taught me this, so when it happened last week while I was visiting my parents in Florida, I fought it. I grabbed a water bottle, I drank, I coughed, I pounded on my chest. All while biking. On my dad's bike. That has finely tuned brakes. Unlike my own. So when my mom slowed down to take a left, I reached with my left hand and tapped the brakes. Stopped dead. Or the bike did. I continued on at much the same speed as I had been previously travelling and flew for a second. Then I landed. Hard. On my face. I remember my head bouncing a few times and feeling how nicely my skull was protected by my dad's helmet. But that helmet didn't cover my face, or my arms, or hands, or any other part that came in contact with the asphalt.
In the end I lost a large strip of skin on one arm (which my boys have taken to calling 'the bacon strip' and I do agree it looks a lot like that savory breakfast treat), knuckles, elbows, and knees were scraped, my chin and cheek on the right side of my face were nicely bruised, and I lost a tooth. All over trying to expel on damn little bug. Which I ended up eating anyway. Or at least I think I did. It may have flown back out upon impact, right alongside my tooth, but I'll never now.
Here's what I do know:
When biking, if a bug flies into your mouth, just accept it. Swallow gracefully and continue on with your ride.
No one had taught me this, so when it happened last week while I was visiting my parents in Florida, I fought it. I grabbed a water bottle, I drank, I coughed, I pounded on my chest. All while biking. On my dad's bike. That has finely tuned brakes. Unlike my own. So when my mom slowed down to take a left, I reached with my left hand and tapped the brakes. Stopped dead. Or the bike did. I continued on at much the same speed as I had been previously travelling and flew for a second. Then I landed. Hard. On my face. I remember my head bouncing a few times and feeling how nicely my skull was protected by my dad's helmet. But that helmet didn't cover my face, or my arms, or hands, or any other part that came in contact with the asphalt.
In the end I lost a large strip of skin on one arm (which my boys have taken to calling 'the bacon strip' and I do agree it looks a lot like that savory breakfast treat), knuckles, elbows, and knees were scraped, my chin and cheek on the right side of my face were nicely bruised, and I lost a tooth. All over trying to expel on damn little bug. Which I ended up eating anyway. Or at least I think I did. It may have flown back out upon impact, right alongside my tooth, but I'll never now.
Here's what I do know:
- I will now definitely never pursue that career in Mixed Martial Arts I was thinking about. My face still hurts, one week later- and I was only 'punched' once. Can't imagine doing something like that for a living.
- It's nice to have a mom who always travels with a mini-pharmacy. She set me up real nicely with some pain killers to help me through the next few days.
- It's a good idea to put out the money for the serious bandages. Now that I have that on my arm, I hardly think about the bacon strip.
- I think less about the bacon strip now that I'm back in MN and wearing long sleeves.
- Knocking out teeth is a serious business.
- If you are pulled over by a cop in Alabama for speeding, turn your face to show your bruises and missing tooth. He may show you sympathy and only give you a warning, despite your excessive speed.
- If the face doesn't melt his heart, tell him your child just threw up. Have a sickly child next to you in this case.
Friday, November 16, 2012
Playing house
Late in the summer I needed to find a moment to meet with a co-worker/friend. Only she had 9 month old twins as well as a 4 year old in the house all summer, so finding a quiet moment was nearly impossible. We decided to meet at a park. We figured if I brought Theo along (Eli was off at camp) he and her four year old daughter could play and we could each wrangle a twin. The plan worked excellently. Theo, although much older than my friend's daughter, was a charming pal to her on the playground. While chatting with Nora and holding a twin I watched them climb up and over everything there. Then they retired to quieter play in some of the play structures for younger kids.
At some point, their play took them into our sphere for a moment. Theo caught my eye as he darted by. Gave me a bit of a frantic look. Not long thereafter, the twins started demanding that naps needed to be prepared for so we packed up to leave. Nora's daughter was bereft to be leaving Theo. He got a long hug and made promises to play again soon. As they drove off and we walked to our car, Theo let out a long sigh. Then this: "Whew. That whole time we were playing house. I don't think Emilia noticed, but sheesh, I had NO idea what I was doing. I am exhausted." Love him.
At some point, their play took them into our sphere for a moment. Theo caught my eye as he darted by. Gave me a bit of a frantic look. Not long thereafter, the twins started demanding that naps needed to be prepared for so we packed up to leave. Nora's daughter was bereft to be leaving Theo. He got a long hug and made promises to play again soon. As they drove off and we walked to our car, Theo let out a long sigh. Then this: "Whew. That whole time we were playing house. I don't think Emilia noticed, but sheesh, I had NO idea what I was doing. I am exhausted." Love him.
Car trip redux
Soon we are going to load up our car and head out to Florida to visit my parents. My mom just called and was trying to tell me which towns to stop in to get the best gas prices. Between Minnesota and Florida. She's got it all mapped out. I fear I did not listen.
I just got enough books on tape from the local library to get us to the southern tip of Mexico, so if we get nervous about spending a week with my parents, we can just veer a little west and keep on driving.
Our impending departure reminds me of a line from Eli on our drive home from Boston this summer. We made the error of buying him a new watch for his birthday in Boston, on our way out of town. It had many functions, including 3 alarms and a stop watch with a 100 lap memory. Eli busied himself for the first several hours setting his alarms for various points in the very near future and then delighting in silencing them. After awhile he turned his attention to his new 'multi-tool'. I was a little nervous about what would happen if we had to make a sudden stop as he was flashing quite a few blades in the back seat.
Anyway, at one point, Jon and I had been talking and I wanted to share something with the boys. They were in the back seat, trying to get the best angle on their ipod screens by hooking up improvised sun shades. When I looked back, I noticed that Eli had his head and arms inside a pillow case to get the best view of his screen. I said, "Guys, did you hear what Dad just said," at which point Eli interrupted from inside his pillow case and said, "DID I HEAR WHAT DAD JUST SAID????? Of course I did. I'm right here. Right behind you! I've been sitting behind you in this car for (quick consult of the new watch) 10 hours, 13 minutes and 53 seconds! I've heard everything everyone in this car has said for the past 10 hours, 13 minutes, and 53 seconds! Of course I heard what Dad just said!!!". Oh. Ok then.
Can't wait for this new road trip to get under way!
I just got enough books on tape from the local library to get us to the southern tip of Mexico, so if we get nervous about spending a week with my parents, we can just veer a little west and keep on driving.
Our impending departure reminds me of a line from Eli on our drive home from Boston this summer. We made the error of buying him a new watch for his birthday in Boston, on our way out of town. It had many functions, including 3 alarms and a stop watch with a 100 lap memory. Eli busied himself for the first several hours setting his alarms for various points in the very near future and then delighting in silencing them. After awhile he turned his attention to his new 'multi-tool'. I was a little nervous about what would happen if we had to make a sudden stop as he was flashing quite a few blades in the back seat.
Anyway, at one point, Jon and I had been talking and I wanted to share something with the boys. They were in the back seat, trying to get the best angle on their ipod screens by hooking up improvised sun shades. When I looked back, I noticed that Eli had his head and arms inside a pillow case to get the best view of his screen. I said, "Guys, did you hear what Dad just said," at which point Eli interrupted from inside his pillow case and said, "DID I HEAR WHAT DAD JUST SAID????? Of course I did. I'm right here. Right behind you! I've been sitting behind you in this car for (quick consult of the new watch) 10 hours, 13 minutes and 53 seconds! I've heard everything everyone in this car has said for the past 10 hours, 13 minutes, and 53 seconds! Of course I heard what Dad just said!!!". Oh. Ok then.
Can't wait for this new road trip to get under way!
Winter Squash Wild Rice Bake
That is what I made for dinner the other night. It was quite nice, despite Eli's warning that "anytime the word 'bake' is used as a noun, do not have high hopes for dinner".
Monday, November 12, 2012
From NYC to the BWCA with hardly a breath between them
As we gear up to head to Florida to visit my parents, it has me thinking of our other vacations this past year. Last spring we did a crazy thing. We packed up our boys and flew them to NYC for 5 days over spring break. And then even crazier, upon return, we quickly unpacked and within a few days were heading up to DuNord, on the edge of the BWCA. Talk about transitions.
Our trip to NYC was lovely. Nice weather, nice apartment, great boys. They were eager to see the sites so we typically left our apartment by 8am and spent the next 10-12 hours wandering the city. We became expert subway users and logged many hours on foot as well. We did try to do to much, but we had fun doing it. And there's oh so much more to do when we return. Not if, but when. Highlights for me were the times we all laughed heartily together- peering through dense fog at the top of the Empire State building, getting slap happy in the Metropolitan Museum of Art with Theo, and of course the bus fiasco when I panicked and caused us to really stick out as tourists, although surely we had been busted early and often already. Really a fabulous trip.
And then we came home, re-inserted ourselves into hectic life in St. Paul, only to dart out of town again within days so I could attent a board retreat up at DuNord. It felt crazy to be packing up again, but once we took a deep breath of the north woods air and settled into our rustic cabin by the lake, it all made sense. This is what we needed in order to recalibrate from our hectic urban adventure. We hiked along misty trails, found evidence of wolf activity, follwed moose prints by the front door of our cabin, and watched the ice begin to break up on the lake. By the first evening, there was a 2-3 foot perimeter of ice-free water just on the edge of the lake, enough for us to plunge into following a hot hot sauna. As the steam rose of our bodies in the cold night air, we marveled at our good fortune to be able to experience so many of the great places this old world has to offer us.
Our trip to NYC was lovely. Nice weather, nice apartment, great boys. They were eager to see the sites so we typically left our apartment by 8am and spent the next 10-12 hours wandering the city. We became expert subway users and logged many hours on foot as well. We did try to do to much, but we had fun doing it. And there's oh so much more to do when we return. Not if, but when. Highlights for me were the times we all laughed heartily together- peering through dense fog at the top of the Empire State building, getting slap happy in the Metropolitan Museum of Art with Theo, and of course the bus fiasco when I panicked and caused us to really stick out as tourists, although surely we had been busted early and often already. Really a fabulous trip.
And then we came home, re-inserted ourselves into hectic life in St. Paul, only to dart out of town again within days so I could attent a board retreat up at DuNord. It felt crazy to be packing up again, but once we took a deep breath of the north woods air and settled into our rustic cabin by the lake, it all made sense. This is what we needed in order to recalibrate from our hectic urban adventure. We hiked along misty trails, found evidence of wolf activity, follwed moose prints by the front door of our cabin, and watched the ice begin to break up on the lake. By the first evening, there was a 2-3 foot perimeter of ice-free water just on the edge of the lake, enough for us to plunge into following a hot hot sauna. As the steam rose of our bodies in the cold night air, we marveled at our good fortune to be able to experience so many of the great places this old world has to offer us.
First Snowfall
Theo has been waiting for it. Eagerly anticipating. So it was easy to rouse him up out of bed this morning with the promise of an exciting sight out his window. After a hot shower (oh no! wrinkles be in Theo's future!) he joined me for breakfast. The flakes coming down outside were huge and lovely. Theo was so moved he had to go outside and yell for joy. And then he came in and said, "You know Mom, those flakes are so big, they kind of remind me of big flakes of skin." Nice Theo. Ever the poet.
Wrinkle remedy
This past weekend we were walking in a local park when we ran into Larissa, a Russian woman who Jon tutored in English 20 years ago while we were preparing to leave for the Peace Corps. We have run into Larissa now and again over the years, always outside and always while she is doing something active. About 7 years ago, it was up at Camp DuNord over New Year's. Jon was helping a ski group push a car out of a snow pile when he looked at the pusher to his right and realized it was Larissa! Then 2-3 years ago I caught up to her on a bike path down by the river. So it was not a huge suprise to find her out hiking through the woods on a beautifully sunny and warm November afternoon.
What did suprise me is that Jon asked her how old she was. Which I admit, I was wondering. But to ask outright shocked her a little, I think. I tried to smooth it over by saying, "Forty, not a day over forty." She gave me a little pat and said, "You're close. I just turned 80." 80! This caused me to take a closer look- trim, fit, active, and virtually wrinkle free! I mean her forhead is smooth as a baby's. Maybe some laugh and worry lines around the mouth and eyes. But seriously. She was born in 1932. Things have happened since then that would cause a person some wrinkles.
We chatted, introduced our kids, and then it was clear she had miles yet to hike and so she was off. As we walked on Jon and I both proclaimed to our kids how much we liked that little woman (she is shorter than Theo). I remarked on the lack of wrinkles. Jon then recalled that her secret to health, 20 years ago, had been to take a cold shower every morning. I do remember her trying to talk us into this habbit, and we did end up doing it for a while, but that was only because we were living in the Carribean and we had no hot water, and really no need for it as daily highs were 85. I remember being committed to cold showering upon our return to the states, but by the time we hit October here in Minnesota, I had the hot water on and seriously so.
But now that I see her at 80 and so incredibly wrinkle free, I get to wondering. In my 43 years, I spent about 2 cold showering. But not really 2 because often during those Peace Corps years we had no water so I didn't shower at all. But I would take 'sea baths', the Antiguan remedy for everything. Those had to count for something, right? So, if I spent the next 40 years taking TWO cold showers a day, could I reverse current trends and end up in my 80s looking like Larissa? Please? But me thinks the trend that has started will carry on its intended course.
I told my mom of this theory of cold showering, and she said, "I'd take wrinkles any day over the prosepect of a cold shower." I think I agree.
What did suprise me is that Jon asked her how old she was. Which I admit, I was wondering. But to ask outright shocked her a little, I think. I tried to smooth it over by saying, "Forty, not a day over forty." She gave me a little pat and said, "You're close. I just turned 80." 80! This caused me to take a closer look- trim, fit, active, and virtually wrinkle free! I mean her forhead is smooth as a baby's. Maybe some laugh and worry lines around the mouth and eyes. But seriously. She was born in 1932. Things have happened since then that would cause a person some wrinkles.
We chatted, introduced our kids, and then it was clear she had miles yet to hike and so she was off. As we walked on Jon and I both proclaimed to our kids how much we liked that little woman (she is shorter than Theo). I remarked on the lack of wrinkles. Jon then recalled that her secret to health, 20 years ago, had been to take a cold shower every morning. I do remember her trying to talk us into this habbit, and we did end up doing it for a while, but that was only because we were living in the Carribean and we had no hot water, and really no need for it as daily highs were 85. I remember being committed to cold showering upon our return to the states, but by the time we hit October here in Minnesota, I had the hot water on and seriously so.
But now that I see her at 80 and so incredibly wrinkle free, I get to wondering. In my 43 years, I spent about 2 cold showering. But not really 2 because often during those Peace Corps years we had no water so I didn't shower at all. But I would take 'sea baths', the Antiguan remedy for everything. Those had to count for something, right? So, if I spent the next 40 years taking TWO cold showers a day, could I reverse current trends and end up in my 80s looking like Larissa? Please? But me thinks the trend that has started will carry on its intended course.
I told my mom of this theory of cold showering, and she said, "I'd take wrinkles any day over the prosepect of a cold shower." I think I agree.
Friday, November 9, 2012
Don't worry Mom, I learned my lesson
This is what my son said to me when I asked him what happened to his eye.
The Widji Way
This past summer was the first summer my older guy met the age requirements to head off to Camp Widjiwagan. He's been watching a family friend go for years. Add to that stories from Wally, Amy, and myself of our adventures from summers long ago, and the kid was curious. But he was also skinny as a rail, uninterested in having anything wet in contact with his body ever, and pale. I admit I wandered if we were sending him too early. He had definitely been on and enjoyed short canoe trips down the Namakagon over the years. And canoe trip earlier the summer with Camp St. Croix was a success despite awe-inspiring heat, bugs, and storms. But that was only 3 days down a river. Widji's shortest trip is 7 days out in the BWCA. With a wet-boot policy firmly enforced.
But he showed interest so we signed him up. And sent him. I spent the week mostly calm, really mostly worried that a bad experience this early would taint it and he'd not want to return. He had tried to carry a canoe before, but really, he weighed less than their lightest canoes! And he had nothing on the traditional Woody that was sent with each group. Ok, I was also a little worried about the temperatures- his earlier St. Croix trip had been scorching, while BWCA forecasts had temperatures dipping into the 20s (in August!).
At the end of his session, we were invited up for a banquet. The invite included careful instructions about where and when parents were welcome, and where we were not. We got to hug him before dinner, and he gave us a quick thumb's up and a lovely smile before heading off to eat with his cabin group. After dinner this group showed the parents their cabin, their route on the big bwca maps, and, most importantly, their woody canoe. They spilled out tales of adventure, hijinks, and a sprinkling of woe as we ambled around camp together. At the banquet, parents sat at the back as each group got up to share a few words about their trip. Every single kid found something great to say- about what they did, what they learned, how they grew. It produced tears in this mom. After the banquet they were gone, off to the final sauna and then to bed.
Our 5 hour ride home was not consumed by screen time, but rather Eli regailed us with tales of his trip. Stories that ranged from wicked headwinds to farting jokes to camp cooking. He talked of how he hated wearing the wet boots all day, but the joy he felt every evening in stripping them off after one last swim and putting on dry, warm socks. And best of all, he asked us to sign him up again next summer.
I'm really surprised at how much my guy could grow in the space of 10 days. He came back from this Widji adventure standing taller, more confident, and yet, still as dang lovable as ever. I'm a believer.
But he showed interest so we signed him up. And sent him. I spent the week mostly calm, really mostly worried that a bad experience this early would taint it and he'd not want to return. He had tried to carry a canoe before, but really, he weighed less than their lightest canoes! And he had nothing on the traditional Woody that was sent with each group. Ok, I was also a little worried about the temperatures- his earlier St. Croix trip had been scorching, while BWCA forecasts had temperatures dipping into the 20s (in August!).
Our 5 hour ride home was not consumed by screen time, but rather Eli regailed us with tales of his trip. Stories that ranged from wicked headwinds to farting jokes to camp cooking. He talked of how he hated wearing the wet boots all day, but the joy he felt every evening in stripping them off after one last swim and putting on dry, warm socks. And best of all, he asked us to sign him up again next summer.
I'm really surprised at how much my guy could grow in the space of 10 days. He came back from this Widji adventure standing taller, more confident, and yet, still as dang lovable as ever. I'm a believer.
If you give a kid a pickaxe...
Actually, the tool in question was apparently a cousin of the pickaxe with some more romantic name, but I can't remember what it was. Anyway, a few weekends back we pointed our car north on a Thursday evening in order to head up to Camp DuNord and partake in a work weekend. Work weekends are our latest greatest discovery. You get lodging for free, and pay a nominal fee to be fed all of your meals. In exchange, you spend a day or two roaming the north woods. Of course, in theory, we were working, but you couldn't convince Theo of that. He was having the time of his life.
What kid would not love the chance to roam the woods with implements of destruction (or, in more steady hands, forest management tools)?
Our work weekend started out by waking up in a camper cabin at Bear Head State Park outside of Ely, MN. The temp outside was 20 degrees- stunning for our early October bones. The kids (we were with the adventure-prone Neskemoens) quickly found that the water had frozen at the base of the water pump. They spent quite a bit of time slipping around on this precious square foot of ice. Then we took a lovely hike under a brilliant blue sky. By mid-morning we headed toward Ely, where we found about 3 inches of snow on the ground. Even I got terribly excited while waiting outside a coffee shop to pelt Amy and Jeff when they emerged with their morning drinks. As we drove the last half hour to DuNord, the northwoods were heart-stoppingly beautiful. The blue sky and evergreens familiar from our summer trips were coupled with golden tamaracks and a blanket of fresh snow.
When we arrived at DuNord the boys disappeared. The lure of camp plus snow drew them out of our sphere of influence immediately. That left the adults time to take a quick cabin tour, as everything was unoccupied. Well, almost everything. Sorry nappers in Thor's! It was interesting for us, cabin-tent dwellers, to see how the other half of dunordians lived. Defnitely appealing.
Friday afternoon we were outfitted with nippers and saws and told to beat back the woods from the main path down to the cabin tents. An aged dog joined us and kept the boys occupied when their nipping muscles started aching. It was lovely to work up a sweat under the bright sun as the snow melted all around us.
But Saturday was really the highlight. After a delicious breakfast we were sent off into the woods. This time with nippers, saws, AND pickaxes. My crew consisted of all the younger boys (5 of them!) and we had a lovely time nipping away branches and tackling the challenge of removing downed trees from the path. About halfway through our shift Theo found himself in possesion of the pickaxe-type thing. He was free to wander off the path, find old downed logs, and just wail away at them. With no purpose but to tire his muscles and bring a smile to his face. The logs didn't need pickaxing, but the boy needed to pickaxe, so the log was happy to oblige. While we were wandering the woods, Eli was given the chance to drive the 6 wheeler down a crazy rollercoaster of a path and help unload gravel on to a low spot. He thrived as well. I think we had more fun with our work than we would have had if we were just told to use the day as we pleased. The sense of purpose, plus the opportunity to challenge ourselves and our muscles was a winning combination.
The day of outside heavy work was followed by a warm dinner, a night of 'Contra Dancing' and then a 250 degree sauna and a plunge into the near-freezing lake (I mean, it had freshly melted snow in it!). We slept hard that night. We will return! But I'm not sure I'm going to get Theo a pickaxe for Christmas, as he requested on the ride home. Our little city lot just does not offer the same pickaxing opportunities as up north.
Monday, October 29, 2012
Waivers needed!
Generally I get a bit sad at the over abundance of liability waivers we sign in this society. I don't think we should be as lax as life was in Antigua when we would take a field trip to the beach with busloads of non-swimmers and then provide minimal supervision and have no clue as to how many students we came with and how many are getting back on the bus. Although no one died on any trip to my knowledge... I would like for us to find some middle ground between these extremes. So generally I scoff at the waiver.
But the other day Jon and I got a tough assignment as volunteers at the annual Fall Fun Fest at Theo's school. They call it a 'fun raiser' but I am sure there would be both more fun and more funds raised if the school could agree with my proposal to have a wine bar upstairs for parents. The energy and sound levels at this thing drive me right into the nearest sensory deprivation chamber. If I could stay upstairs in a lowly lit room quietly conversing with parents and sipping wine I would gladly ply my children with more money to spend downstairs. But my vision is not shared by the district. So I hit my sensory limit early and then clear my kids out of there before any real dough can be spent.
Anyway- because I was not needed to pour wine upstairs, Jon and I got assigned to the sledge hammer bell ringer game. From hell. Not only do we willingly put a sledge hammer, a heavy sledge hammer, into the hands of anyone who will give us a ticket, but then we have to try to keep everyone away as the kids take several swings at the target. Which is very near their own feet. Toes have suffered greatly under our watch. But it's an absolute miracle that no child standing by, or running through, or across the room, has been brained by the sledge hammer. The gym is so crowded that anytime we were able to get the sledge hammer-er enough space to swing, others would glimpse this free space and use it as a route to wherever they needed to be. Kids were constantly jumping into the 'circle of death' as I shall call it. And those were the ones moving with a sense of direction. Add to that wondering toddlers and overwrought parents and the situation gets out of hand.
During our 1.5 hour shift I think Jon and I were able to keep the damage to a few bruised toes and probably some lost toenails in the near future. But this took both of us flailing around, shouting, having heart attacks. We passed our shift off on to one quiet woman how had no idea what she was in for. We tried to give some advice, but then we just walked away and didn't look back. I walked straight home and into our smallest closet, darkest closet, where it took me some time to restore some sense of equilibrium.
But the other day Jon and I got a tough assignment as volunteers at the annual Fall Fun Fest at Theo's school. They call it a 'fun raiser' but I am sure there would be both more fun and more funds raised if the school could agree with my proposal to have a wine bar upstairs for parents. The energy and sound levels at this thing drive me right into the nearest sensory deprivation chamber. If I could stay upstairs in a lowly lit room quietly conversing with parents and sipping wine I would gladly ply my children with more money to spend downstairs. But my vision is not shared by the district. So I hit my sensory limit early and then clear my kids out of there before any real dough can be spent.
Anyway- because I was not needed to pour wine upstairs, Jon and I got assigned to the sledge hammer bell ringer game. From hell. Not only do we willingly put a sledge hammer, a heavy sledge hammer, into the hands of anyone who will give us a ticket, but then we have to try to keep everyone away as the kids take several swings at the target. Which is very near their own feet. Toes have suffered greatly under our watch. But it's an absolute miracle that no child standing by, or running through, or across the room, has been brained by the sledge hammer. The gym is so crowded that anytime we were able to get the sledge hammer-er enough space to swing, others would glimpse this free space and use it as a route to wherever they needed to be. Kids were constantly jumping into the 'circle of death' as I shall call it. And those were the ones moving with a sense of direction. Add to that wondering toddlers and overwrought parents and the situation gets out of hand.
During our 1.5 hour shift I think Jon and I were able to keep the damage to a few bruised toes and probably some lost toenails in the near future. But this took both of us flailing around, shouting, having heart attacks. We passed our shift off on to one quiet woman how had no idea what she was in for. We tried to give some advice, but then we just walked away and didn't look back. I walked straight home and into our smallest closet, darkest closet, where it took me some time to restore some sense of equilibrium.
Sex education in Paul Revere's house
This summer we took a wonderful trip out east. Here's one of my highlights:
We were taking a self-guided tour of Paul Revere's house. It was small and cramped and dark as houses were back in the day. As I came into the upstairs bedroom of Mrs. and Mr. Revere there was a large group of 10-13 year old kids getting a guided tour. The tour guide was standing behind a rope by the canopied bed. Around her were sewing projects, half-made dolls, a slate and some chalk, but behind her was a large bed. As I tried to make my way through the children to the next room the guide said, "Now, back in the 1700's bedrooms were not used JUST for sleeping." Then she asked, she asked 10-13 year old boys, she asked them, "Can anyone name one other thing they might have done in this bedroom besides sleeping?"
Oh lordy. The looks on the faces of the boys. They were postively BURSTING with the desire to answer this woman with what they were thinking. SEX!!! Someone had asked them a question where a legitimate answer was sex. I mean the Reveres had something like 13 kids after all. They had just learned this. Eyeballs were strained to their very limit as the boys tried to judge their leaders' response if they were to actually answer the question posed. I had to cover my mouth and practically run from the room. It is interesting to note that several girls put their hands up immediatly and said things like, "sewing? playing games? reading?".
For the rest of the day I kept getting the giggles as I pictured those boys trying to contain thier laughter. I didn't do as well as they did. Finally I had to explain to my own 10 and 13 year old boys what had happened. I didn't know if they would get why the boys were so bound up with joy. But of course they did. As soon as I posed the tour guide's question my boys died. I did too. It was lovely.
We were taking a self-guided tour of Paul Revere's house. It was small and cramped and dark as houses were back in the day. As I came into the upstairs bedroom of Mrs. and Mr. Revere there was a large group of 10-13 year old kids getting a guided tour. The tour guide was standing behind a rope by the canopied bed. Around her were sewing projects, half-made dolls, a slate and some chalk, but behind her was a large bed. As I tried to make my way through the children to the next room the guide said, "Now, back in the 1700's bedrooms were not used JUST for sleeping." Then she asked, she asked 10-13 year old boys, she asked them, "Can anyone name one other thing they might have done in this bedroom besides sleeping?"
Oh lordy. The looks on the faces of the boys. They were postively BURSTING with the desire to answer this woman with what they were thinking. SEX!!! Someone had asked them a question where a legitimate answer was sex. I mean the Reveres had something like 13 kids after all. They had just learned this. Eyeballs were strained to their very limit as the boys tried to judge their leaders' response if they were to actually answer the question posed. I had to cover my mouth and practically run from the room. It is interesting to note that several girls put their hands up immediatly and said things like, "sewing? playing games? reading?".
For the rest of the day I kept getting the giggles as I pictured those boys trying to contain thier laughter. I didn't do as well as they did. Finally I had to explain to my own 10 and 13 year old boys what had happened. I didn't know if they would get why the boys were so bound up with joy. But of course they did. As soon as I posed the tour guide's question my boys died. I did too. It was lovely.
Keeping me in line
Eli has a friend who has real clear boundaries when it comes to 'cheating'. We will call him Bill. I found this out when I was in charge of several boys for an afternoon and decided to take them to the local community pool.
Now, when we signed up for a family pass, the pool worker said that our family of four was not maxing out the benefits of the pass, and was their anyone else we wanted to add for the summer? We were not prepared for this question and the line was long behind us. It was hot. We wanted to swim. We couldn't come up with a single name. So we ended up with four passes. This background is important. I don't want you to consider me totally amoral.
Because when I had five boys, and two of them did not have passes. I gladly used Theo's (who was not with us) for one boy, and asked Bill's mom if she could send both of her sons' passes so I could get the last boy in for free. She readily agreed. Gave the passes to Bill with her blessing. But then she wasn't there when the passes had to be presented. I asked Bill to give them all to me and I would usher everyone through. He did, but looked a little pale. At this point I had no idea he was in a moral dilema of epic proportions. Just thought he was a little carsick. Turns out he was wondering how 10 year old african american T'dabi was going to get in on his little white 8 year old brother's pass. Here's the thing- the pool workers didn't care! They had already asked us, practically begged us, to list an extra on our family pass. We failed. I interpreted this as an open invitation to use our passes for anyone we brought with us, as long as we had enough passes for the size of our group. Bill disagreed. Loudly. At the front of the line. Right as I was about to hand the passes to the attendant Bill grabbed them from my hand and said, "I can't do this!" Then he looked at the attendant and said, "T'dabi is NOT my brother. But my brother is not here. Can I use his pass for T'Dabi?" I groaned. Couldn't he see this was putting the attendant in an awkward position? I had been willing to be the morally culpable person. But here we were. The attendant smiled awkwardly, hemmed, hawed, then passed us through. Bill beamed. He could now enjoy the pool without a guilty conscience.
We had a lovely time.
Then we got in the car to come home. I turned on the radio. To the Current, a Minnesota Public Radio station that happened to be in the middle of a pledge drive. Bill immediately asked, "Gretchen. Are you MPR members?" Yes Bill, we are. "Well, are you sustaining members?" Yes. "Good." And he sat back with a smile and began humming along. I am sure if I had answered differently he would have reached up and clicked it off. If I didn't snap his fingers in half beforehand. There's only so much moral judging I can take from 11 year olds.
Now, when we signed up for a family pass, the pool worker said that our family of four was not maxing out the benefits of the pass, and was their anyone else we wanted to add for the summer? We were not prepared for this question and the line was long behind us. It was hot. We wanted to swim. We couldn't come up with a single name. So we ended up with four passes. This background is important. I don't want you to consider me totally amoral.
Because when I had five boys, and two of them did not have passes. I gladly used Theo's (who was not with us) for one boy, and asked Bill's mom if she could send both of her sons' passes so I could get the last boy in for free. She readily agreed. Gave the passes to Bill with her blessing. But then she wasn't there when the passes had to be presented. I asked Bill to give them all to me and I would usher everyone through. He did, but looked a little pale. At this point I had no idea he was in a moral dilema of epic proportions. Just thought he was a little carsick. Turns out he was wondering how 10 year old african american T'dabi was going to get in on his little white 8 year old brother's pass. Here's the thing- the pool workers didn't care! They had already asked us, practically begged us, to list an extra on our family pass. We failed. I interpreted this as an open invitation to use our passes for anyone we brought with us, as long as we had enough passes for the size of our group. Bill disagreed. Loudly. At the front of the line. Right as I was about to hand the passes to the attendant Bill grabbed them from my hand and said, "I can't do this!" Then he looked at the attendant and said, "T'dabi is NOT my brother. But my brother is not here. Can I use his pass for T'Dabi?" I groaned. Couldn't he see this was putting the attendant in an awkward position? I had been willing to be the morally culpable person. But here we were. The attendant smiled awkwardly, hemmed, hawed, then passed us through. Bill beamed. He could now enjoy the pool without a guilty conscience.
We had a lovely time.
Then we got in the car to come home. I turned on the radio. To the Current, a Minnesota Public Radio station that happened to be in the middle of a pledge drive. Bill immediately asked, "Gretchen. Are you MPR members?" Yes Bill, we are. "Well, are you sustaining members?" Yes. "Good." And he sat back with a smile and began humming along. I am sure if I had answered differently he would have reached up and clicked it off. If I didn't snap his fingers in half beforehand. There's only so much moral judging I can take from 11 year olds.
Fall Pleasures
I find that there is nothing better to do with a beautiful fall day than to spend it running through a prairie trying to kill or not be killed. For the second year in a row I've taken my boys out to Camp St. Croix for a wonderful game of Predator/Prey. This year there were over 200 people who paid $5 to be assigned to an animal group and then try to survive the afternoon. The game is a bit complicated but takes minimum set up beyond rule sharing. All you need are some woods and hopefully a lovely prairie that is turning golden and red in the autumn sun.
This year the crew I arrived with ranged in age from 7 to 45. We became gnus. We didn't know much about gnus- only that we were on the bottom of the food chain for the day. There was no one for us to prey upon, but plenty of groups who wanted to prey on us. After the game was explained top predator groups were given bandanas to where as headbands, and middle level predators tied bandanas around their arms. This helped us identify who to avoid when we were let loose in the prairie. And then we were let loose in the prairie. Part of our job as gnus was to find one tablet marked food, one shelter, and one water. They were hidden on camp's property. But the bigger, the harder part of our afternoon would be to stick together and to stay alive. We always had to be within 15 feet of each other, meaning we only moved as fast as our slowest member. And anytime predators spotted us, a whistle was blown and we had to run for our lives for 20 seconds. Then another whistle would blow, the predators would 'carry off' their spoils (our friends!) and we would regroup and count our losses. We started with about 15 and to survive as a group needed to end the afternoon with our tablets found and at least 6 gnus still alive.
Even before that first whistle blew the adrenalin was flowing through our whole group. It is stunning how an afternoon changes once you know you are being hunted. We stayed low, kept in the shadows, and tried to slow the beating of our crazy hearts. When that first whistle blew, it wasn't only the youngest members of our group who found tears leaping to their eyes as we tore through the prairie, hoping to outrun the predators for 20 seconds. It was intense. Hearts leapt out of chests, cries were uttered, and we paid no mind to brambles and thorns tearing our skin as we ran for our lives. For over two hours we snuck around, hunting for food, water, and shelter while trying to avoid ambushes. Our numbers dwindled, but with 20 minutes to go before the final bell was to ring we had found everything we needed. We then hustled to the deepest prairie grasses and settled in for a heart-wringing wait. We heard the tigers amble by, within feet of our hiding place. Our eyes were our only way to communicate and they were shouting PANIC! but we kept it calm and made it to the bell. As we were walking back to the debrief I mentioned how intense it had been to be hunted. One of my fellow 8 year old gnus admonished me, saying, "But Gretchen- you only had to do this for 2 hours. Imagine rabbits who live like this 24/7, 365 days a year!" Frankly, I couldn't. I'd be spent by the end of day one for sure. We also ran into one of our gnus who had become part of the lion pack. She was amazed at how different it felt to strut around as a lion after spending time as a lowly gnu.
The whole afternoon was an intense learning experience. Not only was the setting visually stunning, but to be put in the shoes of an animal of prey was an eye-popping adventure. We will sign up again next year!
Friday, October 26, 2012
One person's trash, another person's....trash
Since joining the Camp DuNord board I have been sucked into volunteering at the annual huge garage sale that raises money to send families to DuNord and kids to Widji. Totally believe in the mission of this event- just can't believe the size of it, and the work, and the items some people donate. Definitely some great finds out there in the Merchandise Mart at the State Fair grounds. But you have to dig through a lot of pretty scrubby goods to find them.
This year part of my volunteer stint included dispersing loads of dropped off goods into the appropriate sections of the sale. I had grocery carts labeled Women's clothes, Shoes, Kitchen, Home Decor, ect. People would drive up, unload their goods into a shopping cart and I would then divide them up into the proper categories. Mostly this was easy, but at some point I came across a cart of donations that included several puzzlers. I made some executive decisions, putting the small, odd sized wooden dowels in with 'hardware' and occasionally throwing items that looked too worn for resale.
Then I came to an old, slim box with graphics that looked like they were from the 60's. From the pictures it sure looked like what we had here was....an enema bag. I opened the box, and sure enough, there was the piping and the 'valve', everything pictured on the box, except the bag.
Who finds a used enema kit, an incomplete used enema kit, in the back of a closet and thinks, "I know, I'll bring this to the Y garage sale!" I sorted that one right into the dumpster out back. I realize I might have cheated the Y out of at least 33 cents in profits there, and for that, I apologize.
This year part of my volunteer stint included dispersing loads of dropped off goods into the appropriate sections of the sale. I had grocery carts labeled Women's clothes, Shoes, Kitchen, Home Decor, ect. People would drive up, unload their goods into a shopping cart and I would then divide them up into the proper categories. Mostly this was easy, but at some point I came across a cart of donations that included several puzzlers. I made some executive decisions, putting the small, odd sized wooden dowels in with 'hardware' and occasionally throwing items that looked too worn for resale.
Then I came to an old, slim box with graphics that looked like they were from the 60's. From the pictures it sure looked like what we had here was....an enema bag. I opened the box, and sure enough, there was the piping and the 'valve', everything pictured on the box, except the bag.
Who finds a used enema kit, an incomplete used enema kit, in the back of a closet and thinks, "I know, I'll bring this to the Y garage sale!" I sorted that one right into the dumpster out back. I realize I might have cheated the Y out of at least 33 cents in profits there, and for that, I apologize.
Summer laughs
Toward the end of summer the boys and I were hanging out in the evening when Theo got suddenly desirous of a swim. The Highland pool was within days of closing for the season, and within less than an hour of closing for the evening, but we decided to hightail it down there for one last swim anyway. When we arrived at the pool storm clouds were gathering to the west and it was nearly deserted. But the boys quickly dropped their towels, shoes, and in Eli's case, glasses, and hurried off toward the slide. Before they got there they were stopped by a young male guard. He asked them some question and I saw them nod yes and then change directions. They walked hesitantly toward a different guard tower and then detoured over toward me.
Eli sidled up to me and said, "Mom, that guard told us to go tell some other guard that she looked like a buffoon, but I don't have my glasses on and I can't tell who we were supposed to find." Theo, for his part, was keeping a distance from this business, despite his 20/20 vision. He looked at me and shrugged his shoulders. Just then the original guard came up and pointed the boys towards a tower by the main pool. The boys marched over and I watched a quick exchange. The accosted guard was laughing heartily as my boys darted away.
While the boys were happily sloshing down the slide, I was approached by a lovely young woman life guard who was still chuckling. She was just a peach- adorable and sun tanned and giggling. About 5 years older than Eli. She asked if the boy in the orange swim trunks was mine. Indeed. She said that after Eli told her that another guard had said to tell her she looked like a buffoon she had countered with, "Oh, but you don't think that I look like a buffoon, do you?" To which my suave son replied, "I have NO idea, I don't have my glasses on." And then waddled away in his particularly awkward wet swimsuit walk. Smooth Eli, smooth!
Eli sidled up to me and said, "Mom, that guard told us to go tell some other guard that she looked like a buffoon, but I don't have my glasses on and I can't tell who we were supposed to find." Theo, for his part, was keeping a distance from this business, despite his 20/20 vision. He looked at me and shrugged his shoulders. Just then the original guard came up and pointed the boys towards a tower by the main pool. The boys marched over and I watched a quick exchange. The accosted guard was laughing heartily as my boys darted away.
While the boys were happily sloshing down the slide, I was approached by a lovely young woman life guard who was still chuckling. She was just a peach- adorable and sun tanned and giggling. About 5 years older than Eli. She asked if the boy in the orange swim trunks was mine. Indeed. She said that after Eli told her that another guard had said to tell her she looked like a buffoon she had countered with, "Oh, but you don't think that I look like a buffoon, do you?" To which my suave son replied, "I have NO idea, I don't have my glasses on." And then waddled away in his particularly awkward wet swimsuit walk. Smooth Eli, smooth!
Friday, August 17, 2012
Road Tripping Whale Tales
Here's one story that keeps me chuckling as I think back to our latest family escapade:
We were on a boat, about 1.5 hours off the coast of Boston. The boat was jampacked with other whale watchers and we had not been disappointed. Humpbacks had spouted, shown their mighty tails, and even swam right at our boat before diving underneath it and coming up on the other side. But there were all of these moments when they would disappear from view and you just wouldn't know where they would pop up again. Everyone was peering anxiously all around, I think all of us secretly hoping to be the spotter- to gasp and point before getting the directions from the 'pro' with a microphone up on the top deck.
So at one point the whales we had been following had been underwater for quite a while. Tension was mounting. They were sure to pop up any moment. And then, close, so close, I heard an extrodinarily loud blow hole clearing. Wow! Must be right behind me! I mean right there! I turned quickly, spastically, to look leeward. To see (and hear) the middle-aged guy behind me clear his STOMA for a second time. Seriously sounds akin to a whale's blowhole. But it wasn't.
We were on a boat, about 1.5 hours off the coast of Boston. The boat was jampacked with other whale watchers and we had not been disappointed. Humpbacks had spouted, shown their mighty tails, and even swam right at our boat before diving underneath it and coming up on the other side. But there were all of these moments when they would disappear from view and you just wouldn't know where they would pop up again. Everyone was peering anxiously all around, I think all of us secretly hoping to be the spotter- to gasp and point before getting the directions from the 'pro' with a microphone up on the top deck.
So at one point the whales we had been following had been underwater for quite a while. Tension was mounting. They were sure to pop up any moment. And then, close, so close, I heard an extrodinarily loud blow hole clearing. Wow! Must be right behind me! I mean right there! I turned quickly, spastically, to look leeward. To see (and hear) the middle-aged guy behind me clear his STOMA for a second time. Seriously sounds akin to a whale's blowhole. But it wasn't.
Metamorphosis
It's been a long time since I've put any effort into this blog. Partly due to a bum computer, partly due to a busy summer, but also caused by some general discomfort with my usual subjects. My youngest guy has probably always seemed a bit uncomfortable in his skin. This past winter it all kind of came to a head and we tried to find our way into the mental health system in order to find him some help. Nothing was drastic, but it was hard to watch the little guy go about his business while all kind of tied up both emotionally and in terms of his sensory system. After hitting many brick walls we found our way to a lovely OT who seemed like a great fit right away. And she started putting him through his paces. Hard paces. Which sometimes caused even more 'feedback' than what he had originally been dealing with.
This summer we've had to back off the OT a bit due to lots of excellent opportunities to be out and about. There was a week at camp, then visitors from abroad, family camp, road trips. All good, but the whole time I watched my son closely. He was always so tense. His mouth, the vortex of his disquiet, has been torqued and tight and stressed all summer. Really since birth, but it's been building steadily since this winter. He holds his lips so tight, kind of pulling them over his teeth. Not all the time, but a lot. They are my canary in the mine when it comes to figuring out how close he might be feeling to equilibrium. Tighter the lips, the further he is out toward a deep end.
On our last road trip, he had a great attitude and had lots of fun. But his body was a mess. Shoulders up to his ears, lips drawn back tight, his somewhat limited coordination even more off. He dropped his fork about 14 times per meal. I watched all this and wondered when and where a steam vent might blow. And I hoped it wouldn't be while he was on a trip with my parents. I could see that something was coming. Right before we sent him off with my parents, I took my dad aside and gave him a little info about what might help should my guy 'lose it'. I didn't say too much. And didn't say anything to my mom. Didn't want to up their stress level, as I figured my guy was carrying enough for everyone.
I then left for a meeting out of town the day before my parents were to pick up my son. That made me nervous, and for good cause, as I recieved a panicky phone call about an hour before he was to make his way to my parents. He was freaking out. I talked him off the cliff, which is so much harder to do via phone, and felt pretty good about his reaction. And then he left. He was out of communication for a long weekend as they kayaked, canoed, and hiked up on the south shore of Lake Superior. We talked to them once they made their way to Duluth, 5 days into their week long trip. Theo sounded great. Grounded. Happy. Relaxed. And sure enough, he came home 2 days later and just looked totally different to me. There was a stillness to him I hadn't seen before. Maybe ever. And his face was relaxed- no lip tightness whatsover.
This morning he went back to his OT for the first time in several weeks. I didn't say anything about the changes I had noticed, but within minutes of working with him, she backed up, gave a double take and said, "WHOA! Who are you? You seem like an entirely different kid." I then told her what he had been like about a week ago, and the differences I had noted. She called it a 'Neuro Pop'. And that of course, what precedes such a pop is neuro chaos. Things regress as his body and mind kind of coil up and prepare to leap forward. Makes so much sense. In the car after his appointment we were talking about this and I said that to me, it seemed like he had been in this 'chaotic' state for atleast 3 weeks. He disagreed and thought it had been most of the summer. He noted how hungry he was these days, how hard he was sleeping, and he's right- not only have things changed on some neuro level, but this kid is about to pop in different ways as well.
As I thought about this more, I got this image of a caterpillar going into a chrysalis- something I have once had the honor of witnessing. It was not pretty. Watching this caterpillar writhe and spin and flail as it desperately attempted to transform into something new was intense and actually a bit disturbing. Or not disturbing, but awe inspiring in the sense when awed truly means "inspired by a feeling of fearful wonderment'. There was fear present while I watched that. Anyway- back to my son. I kind of think that what he's been doing for the past few months is flailing, writhing, spinning inside. And to make things harder for him (but easier for us) he his stunningly bound and determined to keep as calm on the outside as possible because he likes to 'save face' at almost any cost. We don't see the behavior outbursts that his OT warned us about. But looking back, I now realize that he's been giving off a terribly intense low frequency energy for months. And the only obvious indicator is his mouth. Those twisted lips. And now the lips are calm. My little bug seems to have hit the next stage. My question is, is he right now resting in the chrysalis? Or has he already emerged onto some 'other' side? Or is that still on the next horizon? I know that changes and struggles and challenges aplenty await. And I know that I am not really in charge of what he will finally emerge as. But I am so relieved to see him get this current rest. I can't take my eyes off his newly relaxed face. Just like I kept staring in awe even after our caterpillar had made it to the chrysalis. It just hung there, completely still, but continued to command my rapt interest, as I knew that more changes were to come. I hope that in the case of our caterpillar, most of the real work happened just getting into that damned chrysalis. From here hopefully he can just relax and ride this wave onto the next horizon.
This summer we've had to back off the OT a bit due to lots of excellent opportunities to be out and about. There was a week at camp, then visitors from abroad, family camp, road trips. All good, but the whole time I watched my son closely. He was always so tense. His mouth, the vortex of his disquiet, has been torqued and tight and stressed all summer. Really since birth, but it's been building steadily since this winter. He holds his lips so tight, kind of pulling them over his teeth. Not all the time, but a lot. They are my canary in the mine when it comes to figuring out how close he might be feeling to equilibrium. Tighter the lips, the further he is out toward a deep end.
On our last road trip, he had a great attitude and had lots of fun. But his body was a mess. Shoulders up to his ears, lips drawn back tight, his somewhat limited coordination even more off. He dropped his fork about 14 times per meal. I watched all this and wondered when and where a steam vent might blow. And I hoped it wouldn't be while he was on a trip with my parents. I could see that something was coming. Right before we sent him off with my parents, I took my dad aside and gave him a little info about what might help should my guy 'lose it'. I didn't say too much. And didn't say anything to my mom. Didn't want to up their stress level, as I figured my guy was carrying enough for everyone.
I then left for a meeting out of town the day before my parents were to pick up my son. That made me nervous, and for good cause, as I recieved a panicky phone call about an hour before he was to make his way to my parents. He was freaking out. I talked him off the cliff, which is so much harder to do via phone, and felt pretty good about his reaction. And then he left. He was out of communication for a long weekend as they kayaked, canoed, and hiked up on the south shore of Lake Superior. We talked to them once they made their way to Duluth, 5 days into their week long trip. Theo sounded great. Grounded. Happy. Relaxed. And sure enough, he came home 2 days later and just looked totally different to me. There was a stillness to him I hadn't seen before. Maybe ever. And his face was relaxed- no lip tightness whatsover.
This morning he went back to his OT for the first time in several weeks. I didn't say anything about the changes I had noticed, but within minutes of working with him, she backed up, gave a double take and said, "WHOA! Who are you? You seem like an entirely different kid." I then told her what he had been like about a week ago, and the differences I had noted. She called it a 'Neuro Pop'. And that of course, what precedes such a pop is neuro chaos. Things regress as his body and mind kind of coil up and prepare to leap forward. Makes so much sense. In the car after his appointment we were talking about this and I said that to me, it seemed like he had been in this 'chaotic' state for atleast 3 weeks. He disagreed and thought it had been most of the summer. He noted how hungry he was these days, how hard he was sleeping, and he's right- not only have things changed on some neuro level, but this kid is about to pop in different ways as well.
As I thought about this more, I got this image of a caterpillar going into a chrysalis- something I have once had the honor of witnessing. It was not pretty. Watching this caterpillar writhe and spin and flail as it desperately attempted to transform into something new was intense and actually a bit disturbing. Or not disturbing, but awe inspiring in the sense when awed truly means "inspired by a feeling of fearful wonderment'. There was fear present while I watched that. Anyway- back to my son. I kind of think that what he's been doing for the past few months is flailing, writhing, spinning inside. And to make things harder for him (but easier for us) he his stunningly bound and determined to keep as calm on the outside as possible because he likes to 'save face' at almost any cost. We don't see the behavior outbursts that his OT warned us about. But looking back, I now realize that he's been giving off a terribly intense low frequency energy for months. And the only obvious indicator is his mouth. Those twisted lips. And now the lips are calm. My little bug seems to have hit the next stage. My question is, is he right now resting in the chrysalis? Or has he already emerged onto some 'other' side? Or is that still on the next horizon? I know that changes and struggles and challenges aplenty await. And I know that I am not really in charge of what he will finally emerge as. But I am so relieved to see him get this current rest. I can't take my eyes off his newly relaxed face. Just like I kept staring in awe even after our caterpillar had made it to the chrysalis. It just hung there, completely still, but continued to command my rapt interest, as I knew that more changes were to come. I hope that in the case of our caterpillar, most of the real work happened just getting into that damned chrysalis. From here hopefully he can just relax and ride this wave onto the next horizon.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Free Range Ticks
Jon took Eli backpacking up on the North Shore this past weekend for their annual father/son Superior Hiking Trail outing. They experienced some fine weather, few bugs, and fewer people. Had a delightful time. The one drawback was that the tick population seemed to be at an all time high. I think they said they pulled 36 off of themselves- only a few embedded, the rest free ranging over their clothes and bodies. They came in the house after the drive home chuckling about the tick Eli had found on the way home and had flung in a panic. They warned that it was somewhere in the car. But then we found one on Eli's abdomen and called off the car warning. The next day Jon proved that theory wrong when he plucked tick 37 from the ceiling of the car. Tick 38 turned up (dead) in the dryer after a load of backpacking clothes came out. That's too many for me.
What I find interesting about all this tick experience is that my gentle-souled Eli, who adheres to a strict catch and release policy when it comes to flies or spiders that venture into his domain, takes keen pleasure in taking a match to a tick. Nothing he likes more than knowing that a tick is dead and gone, and fire is his assassination method of choice. Not sure if I should be concerned about his or not....
What I find interesting about all this tick experience is that my gentle-souled Eli, who adheres to a strict catch and release policy when it comes to flies or spiders that venture into his domain, takes keen pleasure in taking a match to a tick. Nothing he likes more than knowing that a tick is dead and gone, and fire is his assassination method of choice. Not sure if I should be concerned about his or not....
Helping me get some perspective
This past Sunday Theo and I enjoyed a lovely visit to the St. Paul Farmer's Market. Peapods, astonishingly beautiful lettuce (I've never thought of lettuce as good-looking before, but this stuff just is), jerky from the jerky lady, a few plants for the garden and some gifts for teachers. But on the way home, when I stopped to by some more mulch, I pulled out $20 only to realize that it was stuck to another one (fresh from the ATM they were) and both myself and the cashier at the store barely realized it. A quick perusal of my billfold found that this was not the first time that 20s had stuck together that morning. I must have paid at least once with $40 and received change for $20. Not that anyone was trying to cheat me, just those were some very sticky bills. I was a bit put out about this until Theo piped up from the back seat with this: "Well Mom, those farmers work so hard and make good stuff and no one ever tips them. They deserve a real nice tip every now and then." True. Just kind of wish I could have been in charge of the size of my tip. But it did make that pill go down a bit easier.
Later in the day Eli and I were standing on the deck looking at the garden when a chipmunk darted into the new corn seedling patch, dug up a plant and dashed away. This brought our attention to the other missing seedlings and the neat little holes left by this chipmunk earlier. I might have cursed, quietly of course. Eli gave me an affectionate pat and said, "Well Mom, take a look at those perfect little holes already dug for whatever you might want to plant next."
Thanks guys. Your bright side perspective is helpful. But I might still invest in a BB gun to keep the chippies at bay. I will not shoot to kill. Just to scare.
Later in the day Eli and I were standing on the deck looking at the garden when a chipmunk darted into the new corn seedling patch, dug up a plant and dashed away. This brought our attention to the other missing seedlings and the neat little holes left by this chipmunk earlier. I might have cursed, quietly of course. Eli gave me an affectionate pat and said, "Well Mom, take a look at those perfect little holes already dug for whatever you might want to plant next."
Thanks guys. Your bright side perspective is helpful. But I might still invest in a BB gun to keep the chippies at bay. I will not shoot to kill. Just to scare.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Lactose intolerance
Even though I just wrote a post about how great Eli has been feeling lately (breaking into song even) it must be said that physically he's had some challenges. He's been suffering some bowel issues. He'll love it when he finds out I've written about this. Anyway- somewhere along the line he did some research (cause that's what he does) on lactose intolerance and then convinced himself that he should cut out dairy. This causes me some distress as I am a lover of cheese. And yogurt. And ice cream. And anything made with any of these products. But I agreed to support a trial lactose free diet to test his hypothesis. Sure enough, a few weeks without lactose and he is feeling better. I have tried to point out that it's also been during a time when we've upped his fiber and fruit intake as I believe his problem may be more about the amount of starch he consumes, not the lactose. But he's firm about it being lactose. At one point I decided to make him re-introduce it. But that was doomed to failure from the start. As he drank the cup of milk he started clutching his belly. And once he starts to think he might be feeling poorly, he feels poorly. Really, who doesn't? So I decided the bring back the lactose campaign had to be more secretive. I've been sticking it into his breakfasts for a while here. Today I made pancakes with half lactose free milk, half lactose filled milk. If there are no complaints this morning, I will double my efforts this weekend. I don't want to poison him, just want to make sure we are avoiding lactose for a reason.
Whatever the lactose case may be, we've redoubled the efforts to feed the child early and often. He's spurting upward but still can't tip the scales at 80 pounds even when his clothes are wet. By law, he should still be in a booster seat, even though he's just a few years from driving. The kid is thin. If he only had my propensity toward snacking, we'd be fine.
Whatever the lactose case may be, we've redoubled the efforts to feed the child early and often. He's spurting upward but still can't tip the scales at 80 pounds even when his clothes are wet. By law, he should still be in a booster seat, even though he's just a few years from driving. The kid is thin. If he only had my propensity toward snacking, we'd be fine.
What a kid
Eli's in a good place these days. Frankly, he's been in a pretty good place for the past 12 years. But lately he's been feeling so good that he's been breaking into song. This morning I asked him to clean up the space around the rabbit cage. He sashayed into the room, grabbed the broom and began dancing and singing a narrative tune as he swept. When he finished I spotted a stray rabbit poop. I pointed out how it was just the size and shape to cause me serious damage if I was to step on it barefoot. On the surface it doesn't look nearly as dangerous as a stray lego, but I am recovering (slowly) from a doctor's vicious attempt to remove my plantars warts. I swear that if we ever experience a nuclear war two things will survive: cockroaches and my warts. I will not survive, but my warts will find a way to graft themselves onto the milling cockroaches. I guarantee it. This may all be too much information, but I think you'll find it worth it. You see, Eli took my (jesting) warning that if he didn't clean up that last piece of poop, it could be the end of me and made it into a song. He left for school this morning belting out these lyrics, "Oh! If I don't clean up the last little poop, my mom may step on it. And lodge it into her wart hole, where it will cause infection. Infection! And she will be poisoned and it will kill her! Woe is me! My mom will die! Of a rabbit poop in a wart hole!" Seriously walked down the block belting this out. All this after he did bother to sweep up the last poop. Love him.
Impressive work!
Every year at Avalon we ask our seniors to undertake a 300 hour project. We ask this at a time in their lives when many of their peers are just settling into a long and entertaining 'senior slide'. This can not happen at Avalon, as the kids are asked to be publicly accountable in the spring when they give 30 minute presentation on the accomplishments of the senior projects.
Each fall, when we bundle our senior class off to a small farm in Western Wisconsin to begin the senior project process on a retreat, we are met with skepticism and anxiety. The thought of identifying a topic on which to spend 300 plus hours is daunting indeed. But we've fine-tuned the process and are able to help most seniors find something that is relevant to their lives.
The winter passes with the seniors tucked into their research. Occasionally they come up for air to pull a prank, plan a prom, or contribute to the yearbook- but lots of time is spent with their heads down, making progress. Then comes spring- where each senior is expected to give a 30 minute public presentation.
Tonight I have several of my advisees presenting. Two of these young women have gone above and beyond in such a manner that it leaves me awed. Holly ended up spending 770 hours researching education reform. Her final 'deliverables' included a 45 page research paper that was built around the reading of 232 different sources. In this paper she lays out the history of the current educational system, the problems with this system, and then a blueprint for change. Along the way she brought tears to my eyes with her impassioned prose about the topic. Seriously. Tears over a research paper on education reform. I'm soft, but that took some talent. On top of that, she led the charge in a lobbying effort with the organization Education Evolving. The results of this effort was the passing of a bill that will increase the scope of PSEO opportunities and individualized learning in the state of Minnesota. Then there's Ruby- a soft spoken brilliant artist. She took on the task of studying folktales from around the world. Then she selected four tales from different corners of the globe, researched the artistic trends in those cultures, and sat down to the task of creating an illustrated retelling of the four stories. Her final product is of professional quality. She is quietly thrilled with the results.
Both of these young women put in double the time and effort required not because they were hoping to grab some low hanging 'extra credit' from me or any other teacher. They were not trying to please us- although please us they did- but they did this work because it was amazingly relevant to goals they have set for their futures, and beyond that, they loved what they were doing! Both girls had enough credit and standards to graduate in the spring. But they undertook the senior project challenge because they saw the worth of it. They saw how they could grow and learn through it. When is the last time an adult has had the glorious opportunity to dedicate 700 hours of intense work on something that enthralls us? What an opportunity!
It has truly been an honor to work with these two young women, and the rest of the Avalon Class of 2012 this past year. They have proven to me once again that our quiet little education revolution we are staging in St. Paul is worth the time and effort we all put in to it.
Each fall, when we bundle our senior class off to a small farm in Western Wisconsin to begin the senior project process on a retreat, we are met with skepticism and anxiety. The thought of identifying a topic on which to spend 300 plus hours is daunting indeed. But we've fine-tuned the process and are able to help most seniors find something that is relevant to their lives.
The winter passes with the seniors tucked into their research. Occasionally they come up for air to pull a prank, plan a prom, or contribute to the yearbook- but lots of time is spent with their heads down, making progress. Then comes spring- where each senior is expected to give a 30 minute public presentation.
Tonight I have several of my advisees presenting. Two of these young women have gone above and beyond in such a manner that it leaves me awed. Holly ended up spending 770 hours researching education reform. Her final 'deliverables' included a 45 page research paper that was built around the reading of 232 different sources. In this paper she lays out the history of the current educational system, the problems with this system, and then a blueprint for change. Along the way she brought tears to my eyes with her impassioned prose about the topic. Seriously. Tears over a research paper on education reform. I'm soft, but that took some talent. On top of that, she led the charge in a lobbying effort with the organization Education Evolving. The results of this effort was the passing of a bill that will increase the scope of PSEO opportunities and individualized learning in the state of Minnesota. Then there's Ruby- a soft spoken brilliant artist. She took on the task of studying folktales from around the world. Then she selected four tales from different corners of the globe, researched the artistic trends in those cultures, and sat down to the task of creating an illustrated retelling of the four stories. Her final product is of professional quality. She is quietly thrilled with the results.
Both of these young women put in double the time and effort required not because they were hoping to grab some low hanging 'extra credit' from me or any other teacher. They were not trying to please us- although please us they did- but they did this work because it was amazingly relevant to goals they have set for their futures, and beyond that, they loved what they were doing! Both girls had enough credit and standards to graduate in the spring. But they undertook the senior project challenge because they saw the worth of it. They saw how they could grow and learn through it. When is the last time an adult has had the glorious opportunity to dedicate 700 hours of intense work on something that enthralls us? What an opportunity!
It has truly been an honor to work with these two young women, and the rest of the Avalon Class of 2012 this past year. They have proven to me once again that our quiet little education revolution we are staging in St. Paul is worth the time and effort we all put in to it.
Transforming education
My little school has recently won three awards. One of them, the Bronze Award as a Best US High School from US News & World Report, we're not too sure why we got it. It looks to be based on test scores. And while our students tend to do ok on standardized tests, it is not our focus. Still, we'll take an award if they are handing them out. But the other two- the State and National Promising Practice Awards- those two were made for us. They were given by organizations that are looking to promote character education. The other schools who won the state award did so because of one highlighted 'one and done' character building activity. I nominated our school not for one distinct activity, but for our practice of embedding project based learning into a multi-aged advisory based system. Students at Avalon are placed in an advisory for the entirety of their career in either the high or middle schools. These advisories are led by a licensed teacher (or two in the case of lucky people who get to job share) and consist of students in all grades in that program. My 9-12 grade advisory has 21 kids. If they stay at Avalon their entire HS career, I could be their advisor that whole time.
How does this build character? Well, one could argue that hanging out with me for four years is certainly a test of character. But that's not it. Within these advisories we figure out how to work together, how to support each other, how to mediate differences, and how to plan projects that will benefit the greater community. Every day in these advisories kids interact in real and meaningful ways. They are constantly accountable to others for their actions and their words. And they have the opportunity to keep others accountable as well. The multi-age format allows kids to flow through several different, distinct roles within the small community. The freshman boy who seems to be lighthearted comic relief for everyone can really take a leadership turn as he matures and has earned the respect of others. No one is stuck in the role that their 'class' has given him or her, because the group gently morphs throughout anyone's tenure. Seniors move on out into the world, and new students transfer in. It's wonderful to watch these kids grow and stretch within this safe group.
The real highlight of our system, however, is our five day service week experience each spring. The advisories spend the fall and winter planning a weeks of activities that will benefit some outside group/organization. This year we volunteered our time with the St. Paul Parks, undertaking some serious weeding out in gorgeous parks during a beautiful spring week. Students who have trouble sitting still and focusing in the school environment were given the chance to shine in a new, more active role outside. And students who had shouldered the burden of leadership under 'normal' circumstances were given the opportunity to sit back, relax, and just do as told for a change. And we accomplish impressive work at the same time.
I brought four classy students with me to the state Capitol last week in order to claim our prize. They were glad to be out of the confines of school for an afternoon. But all of them looked at this as more than an opportunity to change it up and get out for a bit- they saw it as a chance for Avalon (and themselves) to be honored for the hard work we do in our attempt to start an education revolution.
How does this build character? Well, one could argue that hanging out with me for four years is certainly a test of character. But that's not it. Within these advisories we figure out how to work together, how to support each other, how to mediate differences, and how to plan projects that will benefit the greater community. Every day in these advisories kids interact in real and meaningful ways. They are constantly accountable to others for their actions and their words. And they have the opportunity to keep others accountable as well. The multi-age format allows kids to flow through several different, distinct roles within the small community. The freshman boy who seems to be lighthearted comic relief for everyone can really take a leadership turn as he matures and has earned the respect of others. No one is stuck in the role that their 'class' has given him or her, because the group gently morphs throughout anyone's tenure. Seniors move on out into the world, and new students transfer in. It's wonderful to watch these kids grow and stretch within this safe group.
The real highlight of our system, however, is our five day service week experience each spring. The advisories spend the fall and winter planning a weeks of activities that will benefit some outside group/organization. This year we volunteered our time with the St. Paul Parks, undertaking some serious weeding out in gorgeous parks during a beautiful spring week. Students who have trouble sitting still and focusing in the school environment were given the chance to shine in a new, more active role outside. And students who had shouldered the burden of leadership under 'normal' circumstances were given the opportunity to sit back, relax, and just do as told for a change. And we accomplish impressive work at the same time.
I brought four classy students with me to the state Capitol last week in order to claim our prize. They were glad to be out of the confines of school for an afternoon. But all of them looked at this as more than an opportunity to change it up and get out for a bit- they saw it as a chance for Avalon (and themselves) to be honored for the hard work we do in our attempt to start an education revolution.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Something else I adore
I've been lucky enough to work only 3 days a week for the last decade. Decade. It's truly a gift. I get to share out my time between a job I love and a family I adore. My Tuesdays and Fridays are spent hunting and gathering for the SageMart team at the local grocery stores as well as tending to my garden in season. It also gives me a chance to workout, do the laundry, and sometimes even clean the house off the 'family time' clock. Weekends and evenings can be devoted to hanging with this great posse. I am so grateful to Jon for working 5 (long) days each week so that I can have this time to devote to the running of this family. I like to think that I do work full time. Just .6 of it receives a paycheck and a title. The other .4 might be filed under "Household Captain" and the pay comes in 'comp time' in the evenings and weekends with fewer errands and chores hanging over our heads. And I do like to think that if I were ever to get evaluated as a Household Captain that I would come out looking ok. I'm a master of efficiency and pack a lot into the 6 hours the boys are absent. I also need to give myself a little self-adoration for my management of this household's resources. I can take a look at a fridge full of leftovers and odds and ends and create a fresh new meal that no one knows was whipped up out of oddballs. I mean the kids never even questioned the presence of turnips in their tacos, they were that good!
Another reason I love being home two days a week is the chance to sneak into Expo. My volunteering gigs aren't that important in terms of helping kids make academic strides, but I like to think that one more adult taking time to find out how they are doing does make some kind of difference. My favorite part of being at Expo these days is seeing all the third and fourth graders toting around such huge books. Any time there is a spare moment, kids in Theo's class pop their noses into Harry Potter or The Hunger Games or whatever the latest fad might be. And the fad's lately have been challenging! These kids are not just reading Captain Underpants (although that certainly has its place) but they are making their way through some serious texts. Early and often. I am so glad to have found a school and a classroom where the culture supports some serious dedication to reading!
Another reason I love being home two days a week is the chance to sneak into Expo. My volunteering gigs aren't that important in terms of helping kids make academic strides, but I like to think that one more adult taking time to find out how they are doing does make some kind of difference. My favorite part of being at Expo these days is seeing all the third and fourth graders toting around such huge books. Any time there is a spare moment, kids in Theo's class pop their noses into Harry Potter or The Hunger Games or whatever the latest fad might be. And the fad's lately have been challenging! These kids are not just reading Captain Underpants (although that certainly has its place) but they are making their way through some serious texts. Early and often. I am so glad to have found a school and a classroom where the culture supports some serious dedication to reading!
An Ode to FruitShare
Not really, because poetry is something I don't dabble in. But I need to voice my love for this organization. Every two weeks we get a box of fresh, organic fruit delivered to our door. All the fruit comes from small farms and comes with little stories about life on that particular farm. Last delivery was turned into the most amazing avacado-pineapple-mango salsa I ever did have. I could try to replicate with fruit from the grocery store, but the quality just can not be matched and you taste that. This week it was a mixed box of strawberries, avacados, citrus, kiwis, and apples. So far I've only dug into the strawberries and they were so packed with flavor I have vowed, at least for a while, to never buy a strawberry at a store again. I can't wait til strawberry picking season begins. My freezer is empty and awaits the restocking season to begin! http://www.fruitshare.com/
The Joys of Working with Teens
I love my job. Partly because I work with an incredible team of professionals. We are a co-op, so we are our own bosses, and we treat each other well, have high expectations, and know how to have fun. What more could you ask for in a boss? But the other reason I love my job is I love the teenage mind. With all its weird logic patterns and inconsistencies. Here are two recent situations that made me laugh:
We start every morning at Avalon with an advisory check-in. I share an advisory with Carrie, my job-share partner. We have 21 kids in grades 9 through 12. We will have these kids their entire Avalon high school careers, so we get to know them well. The check-ins range from serious social issues to something such as "What was your best Halloween costume ever?" This week is Service Week, where all 'normal' learning (and normal is extremely relative at Avalon) is suspended and each advisory undertakes a week long service learning project. Our advisory is working with the St. Paul Park system, doing some gardening and other clean-up. So we started the week with a check-in about parks. Here's how the conversation went:
Me: Ok, how about for a check-in...What is your favorite park?
Student: No! How about what's the weirdest thing you have ever found at a park?
Advisory: yes! No! favorite park! Weirdest thing!
A debate breaks out, which actually, I love. They are engaged and energized. But then...
Carrie: No- favorite park. I don't think I want to know what kind of weird things you have found.
A student eagerly raises his hand to start the check-in:
Student A: A baggie full of toe nail clippings!
Carrie: Wait- it was your favorite park! Not weirdest thing!
Me: Wait! Why would anyone put their toe nail clippings in a baggy while they are in a park? But let's get back to favorite park.
Student B: Ok, I have a favorite park. Three bottles of urine!
A chorus breaks out: Ha! What? How did you know they were urine? Smell test? Taste test?
Me: Wait! Why would someone bottle up their urine in a park? Isn't that one place you could probably just let it go...
Student: Hoarders, Gretchen, hoarders.
Eventually the conversation does come back around to favorite parks- and they have some nice ones, from the corner park with a wicked playset to Glacier. All in all, that 20 minutes of advisory check-in time is some precious moments. Seriously. I love the window into the teenage head. And soul.
The second conversation happened after I had busted two of my senior guys coming back late from Open Lunch- a privilege they currently were not supposed to be enjoying, it having been revoked for issues earlier in the week. These two guys are great kids, but seniors, and close to the end, and feeling the need to stretch their legs a bit. But I busted them and I was pretty frustrated with the amount of time I was needing to spend re-directing them that week.
Me: Guys. This is getting really old. I am moving beyond frustrated.
They offered some excuses, which even they knew were lame and we went back and forth for a while. It started getting a little tense. Then:
Senior 1: Wait. Gretchen. If you could do what you would like to do to us right now, would you get fired?
Me: Good question. Yes.
Senior 2: What would you like to do?
Me: Well. You asked, so....
And I told them. But I don't think I want to put that in print. It wasn't outrageous, just honest. And they laughed and realized how close to the end of my rope I actually was. Their attitudes changed, I got something that seemed real close to an honest apology and we all went about our day with smiles.
I think in a different high school setting, that convo with those boys could have escalated into a stupid power struggle which would have gotten us all nowhere. But since I have known these fools for years and I do respect them and trust them and know that they do make good choices 90% of the time, we were able to get to a place where we all understood each other and figured out how to keep working with each other. At least for the time being. Still five weeks to go. Hoping I never have to do what I told them I wanted to do. Cause I would get fired. Which in my case would mean I'd have to help fire myself. And I would.
We start every morning at Avalon with an advisory check-in. I share an advisory with Carrie, my job-share partner. We have 21 kids in grades 9 through 12. We will have these kids their entire Avalon high school careers, so we get to know them well. The check-ins range from serious social issues to something such as "What was your best Halloween costume ever?" This week is Service Week, where all 'normal' learning (and normal is extremely relative at Avalon) is suspended and each advisory undertakes a week long service learning project. Our advisory is working with the St. Paul Park system, doing some gardening and other clean-up. So we started the week with a check-in about parks. Here's how the conversation went:
Me: Ok, how about for a check-in...What is your favorite park?
Student: No! How about what's the weirdest thing you have ever found at a park?
Advisory: yes! No! favorite park! Weirdest thing!
A debate breaks out, which actually, I love. They are engaged and energized. But then...
Carrie: No- favorite park. I don't think I want to know what kind of weird things you have found.
A student eagerly raises his hand to start the check-in:
Student A: A baggie full of toe nail clippings!
Carrie: Wait- it was your favorite park! Not weirdest thing!
Me: Wait! Why would anyone put their toe nail clippings in a baggy while they are in a park? But let's get back to favorite park.
Student B: Ok, I have a favorite park. Three bottles of urine!
A chorus breaks out: Ha! What? How did you know they were urine? Smell test? Taste test?
Me: Wait! Why would someone bottle up their urine in a park? Isn't that one place you could probably just let it go...
Student: Hoarders, Gretchen, hoarders.
Eventually the conversation does come back around to favorite parks- and they have some nice ones, from the corner park with a wicked playset to Glacier. All in all, that 20 minutes of advisory check-in time is some precious moments. Seriously. I love the window into the teenage head. And soul.
The second conversation happened after I had busted two of my senior guys coming back late from Open Lunch- a privilege they currently were not supposed to be enjoying, it having been revoked for issues earlier in the week. These two guys are great kids, but seniors, and close to the end, and feeling the need to stretch their legs a bit. But I busted them and I was pretty frustrated with the amount of time I was needing to spend re-directing them that week.
Me: Guys. This is getting really old. I am moving beyond frustrated.
They offered some excuses, which even they knew were lame and we went back and forth for a while. It started getting a little tense. Then:
Senior 1: Wait. Gretchen. If you could do what you would like to do to us right now, would you get fired?
Me: Good question. Yes.
Senior 2: What would you like to do?
Me: Well. You asked, so....
And I told them. But I don't think I want to put that in print. It wasn't outrageous, just honest. And they laughed and realized how close to the end of my rope I actually was. Their attitudes changed, I got something that seemed real close to an honest apology and we all went about our day with smiles.
I think in a different high school setting, that convo with those boys could have escalated into a stupid power struggle which would have gotten us all nowhere. But since I have known these fools for years and I do respect them and trust them and know that they do make good choices 90% of the time, we were able to get to a place where we all understood each other and figured out how to keep working with each other. At least for the time being. Still five weeks to go. Hoping I never have to do what I told them I wanted to do. Cause I would get fired. Which in my case would mean I'd have to help fire myself. And I would.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Hunger Games Tag
Last year, when we first read The Hunger Games we knew that there would be repercussions. The book was really not appropriate to read with an 8 year old. He was almost 9, but still. The thing was, once we got in far enough to realize that it was not a great idea, we were too far in. We could hardly leave poor Theo there- on the brink before the games. He needed to see what happened to Katniss. So we plowed on. And finished. Book 1. Then books 2 and 3. We had to see that thing through to the end.
And there were repercussions. Some hard questions, some late nights. And some new tag games out in the yard with the neighbor boys. It didn't get violent, really. They just incorporated all the nerf weapons they used anyway into more themed play. They put all the weapons in the center, a la the cornucopia, and started the game with a mad dash to the weapons. Then the melee ensued, as usual. One time, as they were playing, and all the adults were sitting chatting around a fire, one kid did say, "Can we play some other game of tag, instead of the one that hurts?" But he said it as he was running by with a fierce grin on his face, so we didn't intervene. Then kids got busy with summer plans and the games fell off.
Until the release of the movie. I don't know how many of the boys have seen the movie or read the books, but there's such a level of common knowledge, that they're all on board with Hunger Games Tag. I don't know the rules. I don't really want to. I've had some talks with myself about the need to interfere with their play. But so far I haven't. As the screams come through the windows I listen for the ratio of thrill to panic. So far it seems to be running at a ratio of about 70% thrill, 30% fear/panic. And that seems just about right for kids playing outside in the near dark during the golden years of outside game playing. If the panic ratio increases, I'll think about stepping out there. But for now, they are handling it themselves. No tears, no whining, and most importantly, this game seems to be free of any of that "Well, he's breaking the rule! He called a T and he can't call a T because...." I hate that. Maybe the rules are clear enough with this one: Kill or be killed? Not really. They're not killing each other. Just tagging. With nerf swords. And some that are made out of wood. No metal. I should know. We are the ones who own the armory.
Last weekend, they had a daylight game going on. Not as fun as running wild in the dark, but still better than screen time, for sure. I was eating lunch when I glanced out the back window to find Theo clinging to branch of the tree. Quite a ways up. With a rabid pack of boys lunging at him from below. With weapons. Gave me pause, I admit, but mostly because I couldn't figure out how Theo had gotten himself into the tree- the lowest branches had always been way out of his reach. Eventually he came down, and when he went to re-climb, I saw how it all worked. Somewhere he had found a chain. Don't know where. He had also found a belt. He put the belt loosely around his stomach and attached the chain to it. He then threw the chain over the branch and got his friend to hoist him up. All very precarious. And fabulous and great. That's just he kind of fairly safe risk taking that kid needs. I did tell him chains and trees were off limits when no adults were around, we need to be close enough to hear the thud if he falls. He's ok with that.
Last night, during one of the dark tag sessions I overheard this conversation after teams had been chosen:
Boy 1- Man! We have the best team ever!
Boy 2- How can that be? We're the two who are scared of everything!
I loved that. The optimism v. realism of childhood. And the best part is that they looked at each other and grinned, grabbed some weapons, and launched themselves out into the dark.
And there were repercussions. Some hard questions, some late nights. And some new tag games out in the yard with the neighbor boys. It didn't get violent, really. They just incorporated all the nerf weapons they used anyway into more themed play. They put all the weapons in the center, a la the cornucopia, and started the game with a mad dash to the weapons. Then the melee ensued, as usual. One time, as they were playing, and all the adults were sitting chatting around a fire, one kid did say, "Can we play some other game of tag, instead of the one that hurts?" But he said it as he was running by with a fierce grin on his face, so we didn't intervene. Then kids got busy with summer plans and the games fell off.
Until the release of the movie. I don't know how many of the boys have seen the movie or read the books, but there's such a level of common knowledge, that they're all on board with Hunger Games Tag. I don't know the rules. I don't really want to. I've had some talks with myself about the need to interfere with their play. But so far I haven't. As the screams come through the windows I listen for the ratio of thrill to panic. So far it seems to be running at a ratio of about 70% thrill, 30% fear/panic. And that seems just about right for kids playing outside in the near dark during the golden years of outside game playing. If the panic ratio increases, I'll think about stepping out there. But for now, they are handling it themselves. No tears, no whining, and most importantly, this game seems to be free of any of that "Well, he's breaking the rule! He called a T and he can't call a T because...." I hate that. Maybe the rules are clear enough with this one: Kill or be killed? Not really. They're not killing each other. Just tagging. With nerf swords. And some that are made out of wood. No metal. I should know. We are the ones who own the armory.
Last weekend, they had a daylight game going on. Not as fun as running wild in the dark, but still better than screen time, for sure. I was eating lunch when I glanced out the back window to find Theo clinging to branch of the tree. Quite a ways up. With a rabid pack of boys lunging at him from below. With weapons. Gave me pause, I admit, but mostly because I couldn't figure out how Theo had gotten himself into the tree- the lowest branches had always been way out of his reach. Eventually he came down, and when he went to re-climb, I saw how it all worked. Somewhere he had found a chain. Don't know where. He had also found a belt. He put the belt loosely around his stomach and attached the chain to it. He then threw the chain over the branch and got his friend to hoist him up. All very precarious. And fabulous and great. That's just he kind of fairly safe risk taking that kid needs. I did tell him chains and trees were off limits when no adults were around, we need to be close enough to hear the thud if he falls. He's ok with that.
Last night, during one of the dark tag sessions I overheard this conversation after teams had been chosen:
Boy 1- Man! We have the best team ever!
Boy 2- How can that be? We're the two who are scared of everything!
I loved that. The optimism v. realism of childhood. And the best part is that they looked at each other and grinned, grabbed some weapons, and launched themselves out into the dark.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Posing....
The other day a friend posted something pretty funny on facebook. It was supposedly a list of proverbs rewritten by some teacher's first grade class. The teacher had given the kids the first part of a proverb and they completed the sentences. The results were hilarious. Too hilarious- made both Eli and I wonder if these were not the product of first graders, but rather something a bit more contrived. But in the end it didn't matter. Whoever posted it originally was trying for a laugh, and laughter he got. Eli and I could not even read some of them out loud, we were having trouble breathing due to our raucous laughter. We both were wiping away tears and getting stern looks from Jon, who was trying to keep down the noise level so Theo could get to sleep. We apologized and piped down, but the giggles reverberated through us for quite a while longer.
A little mini-debate erupted on FB around the post. Were they real? Contrived? I don't know- and really, I don't care. Their purpose was to entertain and that they did. So why is it that I get so enraged when I read some piece of fabulous non-fiction only to find out it's been fabricated? It's happened twice to my book club in the last few years. First it was Greg Mortenson's Three Cups of Tea. We were moved, motivated, encouraged by what this fellow Minnesotan was doing halfway across the world. Only was he? When Krakauer broke the story that Mortenson fabricated much of his story, AND was working a little free and loose with the contributions to his cause, I was outraged. Outraged. Called my mom right away so that she could share my angst. And she did. On top of that rage was real disappointment for all the people who were swindled by Mortenson's claims- the school kids who sponsored Pennies for Peace and all that. Surely a percentage of that money did end up building schools in Pakistan, but not nearly as much as we were led to believe, it seems.
The second disappointment came with the reading of The Long Walk which inspired the movie The Way Back. I think that the movie originally claimed to be 'based on true events' but now says 'inspired by true events'. Well, I could make that same claim about anything from Winnie the Pooh to Star Wars. There are true events that INSPIRE a fight between good and evil, right? Anway- The Long Walk claims to be the story of a Polish prisoner of war who escapes from a gulag in Siberia with several others and walks to India. India. And for most of the journey, the author had me right along with him. The walk TO the gulag was awe inspiring enough. And that was probably mostly true- the awful method the Russians had of transporting their prisoners was amazing. How any prisoners survived is beyond me. My hands are cold and bothered right now inside my 68 degree house. How did prisoners walk across Russia in the winter holding onto a chain without mittens on? And much of the first part of the escape is believable. Sure, crossing an icy river and then walking on through Siberian winter landscapes in wet clothing was a bit much to contemplate (especially since I was reading this in the winter...) but then he takes the crew across the Gobi, without water, and into the Himalayas. Whey didn't they stop somewhere earlier? And why did he have to include a siting of two yetis? Yep, that's right. Two yetis blocked their path as they tried to go over a pass in the mountains. So they had to sit and observe them. Yetis. Abominable Snowmen. No lie. Well, actually, a lie! But I'm not lying about a guy including yetis in a work of nonfiction and expecting us to believe it. That part is, sadly, true.
That said, I was the only one who came to book club crying Imposter! Fake! Either the rest of my book clubbers (all highly intelligent fabulous women) missed the section about the yeti, or wrote that off as a flight of fancy in an otherwise legit book. To me it threw the whole dang thing into doubt and a little research on the web turned up much evidence that this author was given to many flights of fancy. I shared this with my bookclub and demoralized everyone. I felt a little bad for doing that, but I am going to let the author shoulder most of the blame, even though he has since passed on.
Theo and I just saw the movie "Shackleton: An Antarctic Adventure" at the Omni theater. I was moved to tears. He's my new hero. I'd follow him anywhere. And I stalwartly refuse to do any poking around on the internet about authenticity. Because if that story is fabricated I will not be able to recover my faith in humanity.
A little mini-debate erupted on FB around the post. Were they real? Contrived? I don't know- and really, I don't care. Their purpose was to entertain and that they did. So why is it that I get so enraged when I read some piece of fabulous non-fiction only to find out it's been fabricated? It's happened twice to my book club in the last few years. First it was Greg Mortenson's Three Cups of Tea. We were moved, motivated, encouraged by what this fellow Minnesotan was doing halfway across the world. Only was he? When Krakauer broke the story that Mortenson fabricated much of his story, AND was working a little free and loose with the contributions to his cause, I was outraged. Outraged. Called my mom right away so that she could share my angst. And she did. On top of that rage was real disappointment for all the people who were swindled by Mortenson's claims- the school kids who sponsored Pennies for Peace and all that. Surely a percentage of that money did end up building schools in Pakistan, but not nearly as much as we were led to believe, it seems.
The second disappointment came with the reading of The Long Walk which inspired the movie The Way Back. I think that the movie originally claimed to be 'based on true events' but now says 'inspired by true events'. Well, I could make that same claim about anything from Winnie the Pooh to Star Wars. There are true events that INSPIRE a fight between good and evil, right? Anway- The Long Walk claims to be the story of a Polish prisoner of war who escapes from a gulag in Siberia with several others and walks to India. India. And for most of the journey, the author had me right along with him. The walk TO the gulag was awe inspiring enough. And that was probably mostly true- the awful method the Russians had of transporting their prisoners was amazing. How any prisoners survived is beyond me. My hands are cold and bothered right now inside my 68 degree house. How did prisoners walk across Russia in the winter holding onto a chain without mittens on? And much of the first part of the escape is believable. Sure, crossing an icy river and then walking on through Siberian winter landscapes in wet clothing was a bit much to contemplate (especially since I was reading this in the winter...) but then he takes the crew across the Gobi, without water, and into the Himalayas. Whey didn't they stop somewhere earlier? And why did he have to include a siting of two yetis? Yep, that's right. Two yetis blocked their path as they tried to go over a pass in the mountains. So they had to sit and observe them. Yetis. Abominable Snowmen. No lie. Well, actually, a lie! But I'm not lying about a guy including yetis in a work of nonfiction and expecting us to believe it. That part is, sadly, true.
That said, I was the only one who came to book club crying Imposter! Fake! Either the rest of my book clubbers (all highly intelligent fabulous women) missed the section about the yeti, or wrote that off as a flight of fancy in an otherwise legit book. To me it threw the whole dang thing into doubt and a little research on the web turned up much evidence that this author was given to many flights of fancy. I shared this with my bookclub and demoralized everyone. I felt a little bad for doing that, but I am going to let the author shoulder most of the blame, even though he has since passed on.
Theo and I just saw the movie "Shackleton: An Antarctic Adventure" at the Omni theater. I was moved to tears. He's my new hero. I'd follow him anywhere. And I stalwartly refuse to do any poking around on the internet about authenticity. Because if that story is fabricated I will not be able to recover my faith in humanity.
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