A woman who chairs a committee upon which I sit as a volunteer, called me today to ask me not to knit during meetings of the committee. She said that she feels concerned about the impression that I give others because they may believe that I am not paying attention. She said she could tell that I was indeed paying attention. But she thought that others might not be able to tell that I am paying attention.
She is older than I am, and in a socially conservative profession. She is also obviously not a knitter, because I was crocheting. So, I can understand that maybe she doesn’t understand my perspective.
My response to her was to thank her for bringing up an issue that concerned her. I also explained that I find sitting still and listening to be difficult, and that I am a more active and engaged listener when I am doing something with my hands. I advised her that most people around the room are surfing the internet or checking their emails during the meeting, and that I have no such temptation to actually be ignoring the meeting because my hands are too busy to trying to act sly by using the internet instead of listening at the meeting. I told her that knitting is more respectful, it seemed to me, than getting up and moving around the room, or than checking my email.
I did not tell her (and maybe I should have) that I have actually been thanked for bringing knitting along with me to seminars from astute seminar providers, who realize that I am listening and not checking email if my hands are otherwise engaged. The last seminar I attended had a room full of people with laptops. The speaker called out people who appeared to be following along with the course materials on their screens. He asked them to read an excerpt. Each time, it was clear they were not following along. They all declined to read. They were surfing the net. Every single time. Really. He thanked me for bringing along my knitting. Said he knew I was listening.
So, back to my conversation with this woman. She insisted that regardless of my true situation, I gave others the impression that I was not paying attention. I said, well, given my need to keep myself busy to actively listen, what do you suggest?
She said, “Sit still.” She went on to say, well I understand that you feel like this helps you listen, but it just doesn’t look good. Ah, the appearance of things is more important than the reality.
So, I thanked her for letting me know about her concern. I was not overly enthusiastic, and I probably could have been warmer about it. I really do appreciate her telling me how she feels. But I am feeling so annoyed.
I get that she felt concerned. And I don’t want to upset her. But it seems that she is fine upsetting me. And that annoys me. I find myself more and more wanting to find solutions to problems that include understanding and compromise. I would much rather agree to disagree than be told that I need to sit still. For goodness sakes.
Unfortunately, my desire for understanding and compromise, where we all speak our minds and still find solutions that can work for everyone, tends to get me into trouble. I have had a few conflicts that I think come from this desire of mine (perhaps not artfully executed, I will admit) lately and they are all piling up and becoming a little more painful.
Let's also be clear. This profession that this woman is in does not necessarily value understanding and compromise. So, it's fair to say that it's probably not something she gets to do as often as I do in my role homeschooling three children.
I think that when I was willing to just not speak my mind, it was easier. When I did what I was told without feeling annoyed, it was easier. Wait a minute. When was that? Did I ever do that? Well, a lot more than I do lately.
I also think that if it was a man doing what I was doing, she would not have said anything. But that is perhaps my own issues speaking to the situation. Finally, I wonder why she thinks that only she can tell that I am paying attention. Does she think she can see that I am paying attention and assume that the rest of the room is full of dolts who don't know better? Okay, that's not very generous. But, I still wonder why if she can see that I am paying attention, she worries that others won't.
So, now, what to do about this situation? Not bring any yarn to meetings because I know it will offend this woman? Bring the yarn and see what the consequences will be? Quit the committee (because I am having other issues with it anyway) even though it would be before the end of my commitment, and it is a professional committee that could someday be meaningful if I ever need to go back to work and earn some real money? Bring it up on the agenda, and explain so everyone can understand that I am using yarn as a listening tool and agree to put the yarn down when guests are in the room? I really like the latter idea, but I suspect it will irk said Chair. What to do? What to do?
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
Snow Days
Recently, I went snowboarding with my good friend, Ginny, and her kids. The kids take weekly ski lessons and their parents get to do some skiing while the kids are in ski school. I tagged along with them since Ginny could use an adult companion and I could use a friend to hang with on the mountain.
My husband and I used to snowboard pretty much every weekend and sometimes more often. We took lovely snowy vacations. We laughed in the face of big bumps, loved the black diamond runs, hopped over obstacles, dropped over ledges into big snowy bowls, and could get off the lift without falling (which is a significant skill on a snowboard!). He even asked me to marry him at the top of Stevens Pass, and our friends bought us season passes as a wedding gift. Our snow days were full of romance and fun. We haven’t snowboarded together in eight years. It often feels like that era has ended for us.
Yet, here I was with Ginny, 8 years from my last time at Stevens Pass. While it was not a day I would have chosen when I used to be able to choose – hard pack, overcast, and blech – it was fun to be back. It hasn’t been a full 8 years away from my board, but nearly so. I had one half day almost three years ago. And that is it. I’ll admit I was a little nervous.
I can now attest to the fact that my muscles have memory. But it’s also true that they need reminding. After an awkward start, it felt almost normal again (I only wiped out getting off the lift once). And it felt sort of awesome.
I did notice some differences from my wicked snowboarding experiences of yesteryear (aside from the fact that I used to say “wicked” and now I do not, unless I am reading a fairy tale). Yet it’s hard to know what caused the differences. For example, did the fact that I had to adjust my leash to a bigger size mean that my calf muscle is stronger from carrying a toddler in my backpack every day? No, I don’t think so, either.
After several runs, I got off the lift gracefully on the outside (and quaking on the inside). And I found myself on steeps on the back side of Stevens, nostalgically finding a path down the ungroomed concrete-like bumps.
And I quickly had enough of that. Rather than continue to be abused by the bumps, I found the groomed runs more tolerable. This is indeed a difference. There was a time when I would rather ride concrete ridges any day than wide open groomers. Probably that time is over.
After three hours on the slopes, my legs were burning. I self-medicated with a glass of wine and noticed the full bars. I had no idea before how many people spent the afternoon on the ski hill in the bar. I had never seen this before. I was always rushing to eat and get back out for the rest of the day’s runs.
I was also struck by the weird culture of downhill. How did I not notice before all of the fancy jackets and obvious privilege? These people, were, after all, able to afford expensive gear and $63 lift tickets. And expensive food and drinks in the bar. Was I one of those people who did that without a second thought once? I think I was. Before we transitioned to one income and three kids.
Ginny’s kids seemed to be having a wonderful time (despite the two crashes her poor boy had, one of which ended the day with a ride down from ski patrol - not seriously injured, but sore and sad nonetheless). Yet, I noticed a million ways in which my kids would not have had a similarly fun time.
When my kids are old enough to ski, I always told myself, the whole family would start going up together. In the past couple of years, my friends with kids younger than my oldest have been putting their kids in ski schools, and then enjoying full days of downhill fun while the kids learn to ski. They kids like it, they say, and the parents enjoy the weekly snow time. With a two year-old at home, ski lessons would mean either separating the family every week for a long day, or bringing a two year-old to the ski hill and trying to entertain her for a full day. Somehow hanging out with my two year-old, the odor sweaty ski socks, and the squeak-clomp of ski boots all day does not grab me. Thus, I have just not summoned the energy to make it happen.
My older kids also are not super excited about taking ski lessons. They don’t relish the idea of being dropped off with a stranger and a group of other kids to do something that they feel is physically challenging. While I always envisioned enrolling them in ski school, the homeschooler in me realizes that they can learn to ski or snowboard just like I did, with a couple of pointers from friends and a lot of trial and error. Since I snowboard, I may not be the best person to provide ski lessons. Unless….I learn to downhill ski. It’s crazy, so I am not going to go there yet.
Likewise, my kids don’t have the tolerance for crashing and falling that Ginny’s kids do. They were horrified to learn that their little friend had a crash that ended his day on the slopes. They hold on to me for dear life when we get on roller skates on a flat rink. They do not crave speed. They do not welcome danger.
And that’s okay with me. I didn’t feel comfortable with the speed/danger/crashing stuff until I was in high school at the earliest. And I didn’t really embrace it until I was in college. And that still gave me a good ten years of hardcore snowboaring before I took my parenting hiatus.
What I did realize last month, when we tried cross country skiing as a family, is that everyone in my family can manage cross country skiing together. Baby Sister rides in the sled. The rest of us ski. Even I can go as fast as my 5 year-old on skis. And it’s probably good for them to see me tipping over and muddling through as much as they do. They will learn to balance and move on skis. But they will also have a model show what it’s like to struggle and learn a new physical skill.
I also note that there are some distinct advantages to cross country skiing that I never considered before trying it with my kids. For a lot less than the cost of lift tickets, we can enjoy a day of cross country skiing together. Rather than blasting down the hill and getting separated, or having to wait for someone who is slower, we can all ski together, chatting as we go. We never have to stop and sit on a cold lift in the wind. I don’t have to worry about my kids falling off the lift. And did I mention the cost of lift tickets? Yikes!
When Baby Sis is old enough to put planks on her feet, we will revisit our position. Maybe it will be time to consider some vertical. Until then, we will work on the kids’ cross country skills and enjoy family time that way together for a bit longer.
My husband and I used to snowboard pretty much every weekend and sometimes more often. We took lovely snowy vacations. We laughed in the face of big bumps, loved the black diamond runs, hopped over obstacles, dropped over ledges into big snowy bowls, and could get off the lift without falling (which is a significant skill on a snowboard!). He even asked me to marry him at the top of Stevens Pass, and our friends bought us season passes as a wedding gift. Our snow days were full of romance and fun. We haven’t snowboarded together in eight years. It often feels like that era has ended for us.
Yet, here I was with Ginny, 8 years from my last time at Stevens Pass. While it was not a day I would have chosen when I used to be able to choose – hard pack, overcast, and blech – it was fun to be back. It hasn’t been a full 8 years away from my board, but nearly so. I had one half day almost three years ago. And that is it. I’ll admit I was a little nervous.
I can now attest to the fact that my muscles have memory. But it’s also true that they need reminding. After an awkward start, it felt almost normal again (I only wiped out getting off the lift once). And it felt sort of awesome.
I did notice some differences from my wicked snowboarding experiences of yesteryear (aside from the fact that I used to say “wicked” and now I do not, unless I am reading a fairy tale). Yet it’s hard to know what caused the differences. For example, did the fact that I had to adjust my leash to a bigger size mean that my calf muscle is stronger from carrying a toddler in my backpack every day? No, I don’t think so, either.
After several runs, I got off the lift gracefully on the outside (and quaking on the inside). And I found myself on steeps on the back side of Stevens, nostalgically finding a path down the ungroomed concrete-like bumps.
And I quickly had enough of that. Rather than continue to be abused by the bumps, I found the groomed runs more tolerable. This is indeed a difference. There was a time when I would rather ride concrete ridges any day than wide open groomers. Probably that time is over.
After three hours on the slopes, my legs were burning. I self-medicated with a glass of wine and noticed the full bars. I had no idea before how many people spent the afternoon on the ski hill in the bar. I had never seen this before. I was always rushing to eat and get back out for the rest of the day’s runs.
I was also struck by the weird culture of downhill. How did I not notice before all of the fancy jackets and obvious privilege? These people, were, after all, able to afford expensive gear and $63 lift tickets. And expensive food and drinks in the bar. Was I one of those people who did that without a second thought once? I think I was. Before we transitioned to one income and three kids.
Ginny’s kids seemed to be having a wonderful time (despite the two crashes her poor boy had, one of which ended the day with a ride down from ski patrol - not seriously injured, but sore and sad nonetheless). Yet, I noticed a million ways in which my kids would not have had a similarly fun time.
When my kids are old enough to ski, I always told myself, the whole family would start going up together. In the past couple of years, my friends with kids younger than my oldest have been putting their kids in ski schools, and then enjoying full days of downhill fun while the kids learn to ski. They kids like it, they say, and the parents enjoy the weekly snow time. With a two year-old at home, ski lessons would mean either separating the family every week for a long day, or bringing a two year-old to the ski hill and trying to entertain her for a full day. Somehow hanging out with my two year-old, the odor sweaty ski socks, and the squeak-clomp of ski boots all day does not grab me. Thus, I have just not summoned the energy to make it happen.
My older kids also are not super excited about taking ski lessons. They don’t relish the idea of being dropped off with a stranger and a group of other kids to do something that they feel is physically challenging. While I always envisioned enrolling them in ski school, the homeschooler in me realizes that they can learn to ski or snowboard just like I did, with a couple of pointers from friends and a lot of trial and error. Since I snowboard, I may not be the best person to provide ski lessons. Unless….I learn to downhill ski. It’s crazy, so I am not going to go there yet.
Likewise, my kids don’t have the tolerance for crashing and falling that Ginny’s kids do. They were horrified to learn that their little friend had a crash that ended his day on the slopes. They hold on to me for dear life when we get on roller skates on a flat rink. They do not crave speed. They do not welcome danger.
And that’s okay with me. I didn’t feel comfortable with the speed/danger/crashing stuff until I was in high school at the earliest. And I didn’t really embrace it until I was in college. And that still gave me a good ten years of hardcore snowboaring before I took my parenting hiatus.
What I did realize last month, when we tried cross country skiing as a family, is that everyone in my family can manage cross country skiing together. Baby Sister rides in the sled. The rest of us ski. Even I can go as fast as my 5 year-old on skis. And it’s probably good for them to see me tipping over and muddling through as much as they do. They will learn to balance and move on skis. But they will also have a model show what it’s like to struggle and learn a new physical skill.
I also note that there are some distinct advantages to cross country skiing that I never considered before trying it with my kids. For a lot less than the cost of lift tickets, we can enjoy a day of cross country skiing together. Rather than blasting down the hill and getting separated, or having to wait for someone who is slower, we can all ski together, chatting as we go. We never have to stop and sit on a cold lift in the wind. I don’t have to worry about my kids falling off the lift. And did I mention the cost of lift tickets? Yikes!
When Baby Sis is old enough to put planks on her feet, we will revisit our position. Maybe it will be time to consider some vertical. Until then, we will work on the kids’ cross country skills and enjoy family time that way together for a bit longer.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Inadequacies Revealed
Big Sister: Mom, you know how Little Sister has to find her breakfast in her carseat most mornings?
Me: What?! I feed her breakfast, though I guess I forgot today…..(furrowed brow)
Big Sister: Well, right now, she is eating a breadstick that she left in the car from last week. She saves food for later because she never knows when she might need it.
Me: What?! I feed her breakfast, though I guess I forgot today…..(furrowed brow)
Big Sister: Well, right now, she is eating a breadstick that she left in the car from last week. She saves food for later because she never knows when she might need it.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Monday, December 28, 2009
Are You Kidding?
An editor contacted me in mid-December and asked if I could get an article done by January 4th. It was a pinch, she said, and I could decline. But I have such a difficult time turning down assignments. I figure it helps my future career if I am a reliable and responsive writer. Though I have no idea what my future career looks like, and I don’t know why I don’t consider what I do now my career. But those are questions for another day, I think.
In this situation, I suggested to this editor that I write an article that recycles some old research and she accepted. I figure that the research is always the hard part. If I just had to pound out an article, it’s easy breezy. Okay, I agreed.
Of course, holiday hoo-haw is always more than I expect it to be. We started the month with holiday activities, which included a downtown adventure with friends, a holiday choir concert for both big sisters, a holiday choir performance on TV for one of the kids, two performances of a play in which both big sisters participated, and a piano recital. In addition to our already full schedule of classes and activities, we made plans to make holiday gifts for friends and family, celebrated Hannukah, set and decorated our tree, made and decorated cookies, shipped a giant stack of gifts around the country, cleaned the house in preparation for entertaining, culled less-loved toys and personal items to donate to those who need them more than we do, and so on. Our holiday celebrations included gatherings with friends, and gatherings with family over multiple days. I still had to wrap gifts and make sure Santa’s orders were placed and received. Phew!
All of this hoo-haw plus a small article to write.
In the midst of holiday hoo-haw, I mentioned to two close friends that an editor asked for an article due January 4th. They said, well, of course you declined. Neither employed the slightest hint of sarcasm or ironic tone. Sheepishly, I said, well…..I said I would do it.
“ARE YOU KIDDING?” they both burst out.
It seems that they know me better than I should know myself. I think I should hire them next time I need to say no to someone.
Actually, the fact is that I am almost done with the article and it really hasn’t been painful at all. I did have an abundance of research that I haven’t yet fully employed and it was a familiar and easy topic for me. In fact, it has made me realize that I should try to do more of the same! If I could recycle my research and articles a few times, I could certainly earn more for my time. But the effort involved in pitching and building relationships with new editors is sort of out of my bandwidth at the moment. Maybe I will find some room for real career development when my youngest has grown a bit more. There is something about having a two year-old that is both magical and exhausting.
Despite the fact that I have accomplished my holiday goals thus far (well, with two gifts that I wanted to finish on time, but did not, though the receivers of the gifts are extremely easy-going and won’t mind the delay), it has been a little tighter than I wish. I have also had a difficult week with some digestive issues that are probably stress-related.
I always envision the relaxed, peaceful atmosphere of homeschooling and holiday time. And I then realize that the relaxed, peaceful atmosphere that homeschooling and holiday times can bring are really created by me for the rest of the family. I get a lot of help from my co-parent, and he works hard in high own right. But, it’s so often my work and effort that allows everyone else to sleep in and take life a little easier. Maybe this all pays off when the kids are old enough to appreciate what I do and help in a more meaningful way. I will let you know.
In this situation, I suggested to this editor that I write an article that recycles some old research and she accepted. I figure that the research is always the hard part. If I just had to pound out an article, it’s easy breezy. Okay, I agreed.
Of course, holiday hoo-haw is always more than I expect it to be. We started the month with holiday activities, which included a downtown adventure with friends, a holiday choir concert for both big sisters, a holiday choir performance on TV for one of the kids, two performances of a play in which both big sisters participated, and a piano recital. In addition to our already full schedule of classes and activities, we made plans to make holiday gifts for friends and family, celebrated Hannukah, set and decorated our tree, made and decorated cookies, shipped a giant stack of gifts around the country, cleaned the house in preparation for entertaining, culled less-loved toys and personal items to donate to those who need them more than we do, and so on. Our holiday celebrations included gatherings with friends, and gatherings with family over multiple days. I still had to wrap gifts and make sure Santa’s orders were placed and received. Phew!
All of this hoo-haw plus a small article to write.
In the midst of holiday hoo-haw, I mentioned to two close friends that an editor asked for an article due January 4th. They said, well, of course you declined. Neither employed the slightest hint of sarcasm or ironic tone. Sheepishly, I said, well…..I said I would do it.
“ARE YOU KIDDING?” they both burst out.
It seems that they know me better than I should know myself. I think I should hire them next time I need to say no to someone.
Actually, the fact is that I am almost done with the article and it really hasn’t been painful at all. I did have an abundance of research that I haven’t yet fully employed and it was a familiar and easy topic for me. In fact, it has made me realize that I should try to do more of the same! If I could recycle my research and articles a few times, I could certainly earn more for my time. But the effort involved in pitching and building relationships with new editors is sort of out of my bandwidth at the moment. Maybe I will find some room for real career development when my youngest has grown a bit more. There is something about having a two year-old that is both magical and exhausting.
Despite the fact that I have accomplished my holiday goals thus far (well, with two gifts that I wanted to finish on time, but did not, though the receivers of the gifts are extremely easy-going and won’t mind the delay), it has been a little tighter than I wish. I have also had a difficult week with some digestive issues that are probably stress-related.
I always envision the relaxed, peaceful atmosphere of homeschooling and holiday time. And I then realize that the relaxed, peaceful atmosphere that homeschooling and holiday times can bring are really created by me for the rest of the family. I get a lot of help from my co-parent, and he works hard in high own right. But, it’s so often my work and effort that allows everyone else to sleep in and take life a little easier. Maybe this all pays off when the kids are old enough to appreciate what I do and help in a more meaningful way. I will let you know.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Time to Myself
I enjoyed the strange luxury of a day to myself to run errands. I bought holiday gifts, pet supplies, books, and craft supplies. I visited a dear friend and her new baby. I even sat down for 15 minutes (because who can spare time when there is so much to pack into one day?) to gobble down some lunch. By myself.
In some ways, it was heaven. And in some ways, it was dreadfully lonely.
At the end of the day, part of me still wanted to keep on driving and knock of some more errands without any helpers. But it was very nice to come home to my boisterous bunch. Well, except for the mess they made while I was gone....
In some ways, it was heaven. And in some ways, it was dreadfully lonely.
At the end of the day, part of me still wanted to keep on driving and knock of some more errands without any helpers. But it was very nice to come home to my boisterous bunch. Well, except for the mess they made while I was gone....
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Sunday, November 8, 2009
CLE on Slavery
Went to such an intersting seminar about slavery last week (as I try to get enough CLE credits to maintain my license, which I do not use in any way). It reminded me that slavery, which was made legal by this very country at its inception, was debated even as the formation of the country was considered. This quote really grabbed me:
"Every master of slaves is born a petty tryrant." It's from Mason, of Virginia, during the Constitutional Convention.
Makes you wonder who wanted to be a petty tyrant. Or did they really disagree with Mason? Did they really find some moral high ground to justify such a tremendous violation of human rights?
I also wonder what the things that the leaders of our country have done to the indigenous people of our nation makes them...
"Every master of slaves is born a petty tryrant." It's from Mason, of Virginia, during the Constitutional Convention.
Makes you wonder who wanted to be a petty tyrant. Or did they really disagree with Mason? Did they really find some moral high ground to justify such a tremendous violation of human rights?
I also wonder what the things that the leaders of our country have done to the indigenous people of our nation makes them...
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Two and a Half Years
It has been two and a half years since anything has hung on our walls. We moved out for a year long remodel and the owners of the house we rented were fussy enough that we didn’t want to hang anything on the walls. It was not big deal because we didn’t really have the energy for extras. We packed away wall hangings for the duration of our remodel.
Then when we returned to our house in July of last year, the boxes sat in the living room. Framed photos and art. I was tired from moving twice in one year and having a baby in the meantime. I couldn’t muster the energy to hang things all around the house.
And the walls were sooooo pretty. It was almost impossible to think about banging nails into them. So was the whole house, though. New floors with nary a scratch. Perfect cabinets. Clean windows. Smooth counters. It felt too fancy for us. It was like someone accidentally gave me a Tiffany necklace when I was meant to have the JC Penney version.
I also worried what others might think of us when they saw our sparkling new, big house. Would they think that I am Tiffany fancy? Oh, don’t mind this big house, I would think, we are really JC Penney people. For goodness sakes, my kids’ favorite place to shop is the Goodwill.
Slowly, I have gotten used to the compliments we receive for our beautiful house. It really is lovely and I do appreciate how nice it is. I also have decorated it in my own Goodwill style, so I trust that people see the real me when they look around –and not some imposter who keeps her house clean and perfect and lives in the pages of a magazine.
We have also slowly banged up the cabinets, and floors. Someone chipped the counter. Several spots on the counter have stained. It’s a patina, I tell myself. Rather than a flaw, it shows patterns of use and reflects a house that is lived in.
And boy do we live in it. On any given day there may be oodles of kids running amuck, guinea pig poop and hay on the floor, insects in jars on the counter, science experiments in the kitchen, and art projects on the dining room table.
Our youngest child even drew with crayons on the pristine white window sills by the kitchen table. And now that our youngest is getting into the messy and destructive phases of life, it’s hard to be too concerned about keeping things perfect. There is something about having a two year old painting at the kitchen table that really loosens me up about messes.
So, this month, we unpacked the wall hangings. There are pictures of my children that they themselves did not remember or recognize. I revisited pictures of my past before children, friends from law school and college, my pet cat that grew up with me, and passed grandparents. It was like unpacking old friends. Eric and I hung the pictures around the house and found places for all of the photos. Once the first nail was banged into the wall, it was easy to muck of the rest of them.
Then when we returned to our house in July of last year, the boxes sat in the living room. Framed photos and art. I was tired from moving twice in one year and having a baby in the meantime. I couldn’t muster the energy to hang things all around the house.
And the walls were sooooo pretty. It was almost impossible to think about banging nails into them. So was the whole house, though. New floors with nary a scratch. Perfect cabinets. Clean windows. Smooth counters. It felt too fancy for us. It was like someone accidentally gave me a Tiffany necklace when I was meant to have the JC Penney version.
I also worried what others might think of us when they saw our sparkling new, big house. Would they think that I am Tiffany fancy? Oh, don’t mind this big house, I would think, we are really JC Penney people. For goodness sakes, my kids’ favorite place to shop is the Goodwill.
Slowly, I have gotten used to the compliments we receive for our beautiful house. It really is lovely and I do appreciate how nice it is. I also have decorated it in my own Goodwill style, so I trust that people see the real me when they look around –and not some imposter who keeps her house clean and perfect and lives in the pages of a magazine.
We have also slowly banged up the cabinets, and floors. Someone chipped the counter. Several spots on the counter have stained. It’s a patina, I tell myself. Rather than a flaw, it shows patterns of use and reflects a house that is lived in.
And boy do we live in it. On any given day there may be oodles of kids running amuck, guinea pig poop and hay on the floor, insects in jars on the counter, science experiments in the kitchen, and art projects on the dining room table.
Our youngest child even drew with crayons on the pristine white window sills by the kitchen table. And now that our youngest is getting into the messy and destructive phases of life, it’s hard to be too concerned about keeping things perfect. There is something about having a two year old painting at the kitchen table that really loosens me up about messes.
So, this month, we unpacked the wall hangings. There are pictures of my children that they themselves did not remember or recognize. I revisited pictures of my past before children, friends from law school and college, my pet cat that grew up with me, and passed grandparents. It was like unpacking old friends. Eric and I hung the pictures around the house and found places for all of the photos. Once the first nail was banged into the wall, it was easy to muck of the rest of them.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Homeschooling Parents
Big sister to middle sister: "You know, in some families, it's the dad who is homeschooled and the mom goes to work."
So true.
So true.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Hungry
Middle child: Mommy, I want to know everything….like how your voice works…and how the water comes out of the faucet….and how the lights work….I want to know what it’s like on Mars….
This one kept asking, "Why?" to everything when she was just two. I kept telling her she was too young. That phase comes later. Apparently it was just a preview.
This one kept asking, "Why?" to everything when she was just two. I kept telling her she was too young. That phase comes later. Apparently it was just a preview.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
InNocent!
"I'm In-NO-sent!" cries big sister. She said it just like that. InNOsent.
The first time she said it, we were studying history and talking about religious persecution. She had read somewhere that Jesus was innocent of the crimes alleged by the Romans, but was crucified anyway. Ah, ha! Innocent is what she meant to say. But she learned the word from reading it and pronounced it the way it looked to her. InNOsent. After she went on and on about how so many people were accused of things and persecuted for their beliefs, even if they were inNOsent, I finally had to break it to her that it was pronounced "innusent." I hate to offer a correction when she is doing such good thinking about big concepts, but she said the word so many times that I worried she would ask later why I never mentioned it.
Apparently she doesn't mind saying it the way she read it because she continues to claim her inNOcence, apparently feeling an affinity for the persecuted.
The first time she said it, we were studying history and talking about religious persecution. She had read somewhere that Jesus was innocent of the crimes alleged by the Romans, but was crucified anyway. Ah, ha! Innocent is what she meant to say. But she learned the word from reading it and pronounced it the way it looked to her. InNOsent. After she went on and on about how so many people were accused of things and persecuted for their beliefs, even if they were inNOsent, I finally had to break it to her that it was pronounced "innusent." I hate to offer a correction when she is doing such good thinking about big concepts, but she said the word so many times that I worried she would ask later why I never mentioned it.
Apparently she doesn't mind saying it the way she read it because she continues to claim her inNOcence, apparently feeling an affinity for the persecuted.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Learning All The Time
We spent the past week out of town. I thought I would be so cool and bring along lessons so we would stay on top of things. We were going nonstop with beautiful weather and did practically no sit down lessons in the way I envisioned. Not that we didn't learn, which I must remind myself to keep from being discouraged. We learned about erosion on the beach, lighthouses, jellyfish, sea lions, pelicans, beach trash, whales, waves, wind, and so much more.
And I must remember the unschooling, which follows me around like a bad penny.
It even sneaks up on my on vacation. I gave big sister The Trumpet of the Swan to read because I knew it would come up in our language arts curriculum soon. She had it so briefly I was sure she didn't read the whole thing, though she insisted she did. Tonight I was staring to read a passage from the book for our language arts lesson and she stopped me. She hated that passage and didn't want to read it again.
So, I suggested we see if she could answer the questions from her memory of reading the passage. Me, thinking she wouldn't have actually read it and so she'll let me read this part to her for the lesson. I asked her the questions and she answered all of them with amazing specificity.
What are three things that the cob saw in the music store? "He saw trumpets....drums.....and banjos...."
What did the cob have in his mouth when he flew away from the music shop? "He had the red string from the trumpet's tag in his mouth." Not just the trumpet, but the RED STRING from the trumpet's tag.
I am beginning to wonder if she is actually sucking out my memory faculties and using them for herself. In any event, it's difficult to complain that we didn't stay on track while on vacation.
And I must remember the unschooling, which follows me around like a bad penny.
It even sneaks up on my on vacation. I gave big sister The Trumpet of the Swan to read because I knew it would come up in our language arts curriculum soon. She had it so briefly I was sure she didn't read the whole thing, though she insisted she did. Tonight I was staring to read a passage from the book for our language arts lesson and she stopped me. She hated that passage and didn't want to read it again.
So, I suggested we see if she could answer the questions from her memory of reading the passage. Me, thinking she wouldn't have actually read it and so she'll let me read this part to her for the lesson. I asked her the questions and she answered all of them with amazing specificity.
What are three things that the cob saw in the music store? "He saw trumpets....drums.....and banjos...."
What did the cob have in his mouth when he flew away from the music shop? "He had the red string from the trumpet's tag in his mouth." Not just the trumpet, but the RED STRING from the trumpet's tag.
I am beginning to wonder if she is actually sucking out my memory faculties and using them for herself. In any event, it's difficult to complain that we didn't stay on track while on vacation.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Canadian Home Birth Study
Canadian Home Birth Study
More research to support safety of home birth. Just in case you were wondering....
More research to support safety of home birth. Just in case you were wondering....
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Quote of the Day
About dancing outside on a wet day: "It's fun dancing out there and shaking my booty at the sky!"
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Above Average
In response to my last post, a friend recently told me that researchers say an average preschooler makes three demands a minute. I am happy to note that my children are above average.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Homeschool Math Quiz
Q: If it takes me 45 minutes with 15 interruptions from 3 kids to make 4 sandwiches for lunch, how many caterpillars are in the jar on the counter?
A: Which jar?
I am certain that our architect would cringe to know that our kitchen pass through counter, which he designed to be so elegant, is the home of two fancy goldfish, two betta fish, two pygmy frogs and their tank-cleaning snail friend, and two jars of caterpillars. I insist upon keeping the three containers of garden snails outside on the porch. I do have some standards.
A: Which jar?
I am certain that our architect would cringe to know that our kitchen pass through counter, which he designed to be so elegant, is the home of two fancy goldfish, two betta fish, two pygmy frogs and their tank-cleaning snail friend, and two jars of caterpillars. I insist upon keeping the three containers of garden snails outside on the porch. I do have some standards.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Time To Screen My Daughter’s Books
I asked my oldest child if she had any ideas about how we could help support her younger sister, who has been having trouble controlling her temper lately. Angry feelings from little sis were coming out as physical threats, like hitting or kicking, and I was feeling frustrated and hopeless after a couple of weeks of dealing with this problem to no avail.
“I don’t think there’s much left to do other than to give her a grounding,” said my oldest child.
I could not have been more surprised by her choice of words. Not only did I not know that she even knew that word, but we live in a family where we try to avoid punishments whenever possible. We try very hard to work with kids in other ways to teach them how to be most successful in interacting with others.
“What do you mean by grounding?” I asked.
“It’s when you get put in the cellar for a day and a night with no food,” said big sister very matter-of-factly. “That’s a popular type of grounding. I read about it in a book.”
“I don’t think there’s much left to do other than to give her a grounding,” said my oldest child.
I could not have been more surprised by her choice of words. Not only did I not know that she even knew that word, but we live in a family where we try to avoid punishments whenever possible. We try very hard to work with kids in other ways to teach them how to be most successful in interacting with others.
“What do you mean by grounding?” I asked.
“It’s when you get put in the cellar for a day and a night with no food,” said big sister very matter-of-factly. “That’s a popular type of grounding. I read about it in a book.”
Saturday, May 23, 2009
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