Every once in awhile I have a realization of such proportion as to shake my view of reality forever. This one happened the other day (meaning, like, two months ago. yikes.)
I was still pregnant, and we were desperately trying to decide on a name for the new baby girl. I had narrowed my list down to a few favorites, but my husband didn't really seem excited about any of them. He just kept saying he wanted to go get some baby name books from the library. I found several baby name web sites and tried to refer him to those, but he was still pretty insistent on using the books. Then he got them. And he studied them. Devoutly. And he made his own list.
At the risk of offending people who may have these names, I have to say that I was surprised. Halcyona? Melisande? Shield? ???
The next day, sitting in church, I was reflecting on his name list (while, um, simultaneously reflecting on what was being said... and keeping my kids from exploding in the pew.) As I looked at my four other children, and thought about THEIR names, I suddenly realized that if the naming process had been entirely up to my husband, my boys would have names like Axe, Abner, and Aerk. (Not even exaggerating a little!)
And that's when the REAL realization came. For the past ten years I'd been thinking that WE, together, decided what to name our kids. And to some degree that was still correct, because we had together narrowed down our lists and decided on the final names. But in that moment, I realized that for the past ten years I'd been vetoing every name he suggested, and that nearly all of the names that actually made it to the list were MY suggestions. Admittedly, if I had to do it over again, I'd STILL probably veto them, but I started to wonder what that says about us. Is it an indicator of how wonderfully persuasive I am? Or how incredibly selfless he is? Or just that his names were destined to be dismissed... Should I be proud of the fact that I'd been "winning" the name debate? Or embarrassed that I hadn't given more serious thought to his suggestions?
Either way, I have to say that I like my kids' names. I think THEY like their names. But maybe if we have a 100 more, or if I break down and let my kids get a pet, then we can pull out the name Melisande.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
On the Passage of Time
I am inspired. Apparently I haven't been inspired for awhile, because, well, I haven't written anything since July, and now it's October. And October's almost over.
Actually, a more accurate statement would probably be that right now I have two hands free at the same time, and apparently THAT hasn't happened since July, because I know that on a daily basis I am inspired enough to compose entire blogs in my head. HOWEVER, having them in my head doesn't get them posted.
Back to being inspired though. In the past week, some very long-lost friends have found my blog and commented on it. This has happened despite me not writing anything since July. So I decided I needed to write something. But then I had this problem where I have countless blogs already composed in my head, and I have to decide which one do I use to re-enter reality after surviving the summer, starting school, being immersed in homework, welcoming a new baby girl, and returning to that mom-of-a-newborn stage where my eyelids need to be pried open in the mornings.
But instead, to emphasize how quickly the past few months have escaped me, I share the following story.
The other day (meaning the first week in September) I was at the ATM and was trying to deposit a check. I punched all the numbers in and waited for the magic beeping sound signifying that the machine was ready for me to insert my money. It never came. Instead I got this crazy error message on the screen telling me that my card had expired. I looked at the card. WHAT?! It hasn't expired! It must be a mistake!
So I tried again. Punched in the numbers. Waited for the beeping. Again, error message. Your card has expired. I was baffled. What was I supposed to do? In the five years since we opened our account I have not set foot inside the bank. I also had two cranky kids in the car and had no desire to go inside of a bank anyway. (This is, incidentally, one reason why I opt for the ATM or on-line banking whenever I can! The other one is that I would really rather not have to think about what to say to a human, especially at the bank. It's about as bad has having to call the insurance company!)
So I pulled into the drive-through teller lane. I was pretty annoyed by this point, especially because I was going to have to talk to a human at the bank when I JUST wanted to DEPOSIT my STUPID CHECK! I got the cute little cylinder out of the whoosher and inserted my check. (What are those things called anyway? The things that whoosh your money over to the attendant?) I started writing a note to the attendant so that I could send over my ATM card and ask them why their machine is so STUPID that it thinks my card is expired. Mid-epistle, I stopped short. I looked at my card.
Right there on the card it said "Expiration date 09/08." And in my head, it was, "oh about 06/08 or something, definitely not 09/08. That sounds so late in the year, and it would have to be, let's see, the ninth month. That's September. ... ... Whoops. It IS September. My card is expired." Don't I feel stupid. So I went home and looked in my "files" to get the new cards the bank had sent who knows how long ago. And I kept looking at the calendar. Wow! It's September! And now of course, it's October.
Anyway, all of that was just to emphasize that I have no concept of time right now. And tomorrow my new baby will be four weeks old. Life is such a blur. Maybe I just need to get some sleep!
Actually, a more accurate statement would probably be that right now I have two hands free at the same time, and apparently THAT hasn't happened since July, because I know that on a daily basis I am inspired enough to compose entire blogs in my head. HOWEVER, having them in my head doesn't get them posted.
Back to being inspired though. In the past week, some very long-lost friends have found my blog and commented on it. This has happened despite me not writing anything since July. So I decided I needed to write something. But then I had this problem where I have countless blogs already composed in my head, and I have to decide which one do I use to re-enter reality after surviving the summer, starting school, being immersed in homework, welcoming a new baby girl, and returning to that mom-of-a-newborn stage where my eyelids need to be pried open in the mornings.
But instead, to emphasize how quickly the past few months have escaped me, I share the following story.
The other day (meaning the first week in September) I was at the ATM and was trying to deposit a check. I punched all the numbers in and waited for the magic beeping sound signifying that the machine was ready for me to insert my money. It never came. Instead I got this crazy error message on the screen telling me that my card had expired. I looked at the card. WHAT?! It hasn't expired! It must be a mistake!
So I tried again. Punched in the numbers. Waited for the beeping. Again, error message. Your card has expired. I was baffled. What was I supposed to do? In the five years since we opened our account I have not set foot inside the bank. I also had two cranky kids in the car and had no desire to go inside of a bank anyway. (This is, incidentally, one reason why I opt for the ATM or on-line banking whenever I can! The other one is that I would really rather not have to think about what to say to a human, especially at the bank. It's about as bad has having to call the insurance company!)
So I pulled into the drive-through teller lane. I was pretty annoyed by this point, especially because I was going to have to talk to a human at the bank when I JUST wanted to DEPOSIT my STUPID CHECK! I got the cute little cylinder out of the whoosher and inserted my check. (What are those things called anyway? The things that whoosh your money over to the attendant?) I started writing a note to the attendant so that I could send over my ATM card and ask them why their machine is so STUPID that it thinks my card is expired. Mid-epistle, I stopped short. I looked at my card.
Right there on the card it said "Expiration date 09/08." And in my head, it was, "oh about 06/08 or something, definitely not 09/08. That sounds so late in the year, and it would have to be, let's see, the ninth month. That's September. ... ... Whoops. It IS September. My card is expired." Don't I feel stupid. So I went home and looked in my "files" to get the new cards the bank had sent who knows how long ago. And I kept looking at the calendar. Wow! It's September! And now of course, it's October.
Anyway, all of that was just to emphasize that I have no concept of time right now. And tomorrow my new baby will be four weeks old. Life is such a blur. Maybe I just need to get some sleep!
Saturday, July 19, 2008
How to do a "Tongue-Plant"
My 2yo just did something I didn't know was possible. He did a face-plant onto my kitchen floor and landed on his tongue. I'm guessing you would call that a "tongue-plant." How did this happen, you ask? Well, I will attempt to answer, while avoiding his light saber wrath.
He was standing on a stool, having a tongue-out, shout-of-glee party with me. In essence, we were taking turns yelling and laughing -- all with mouths wide open, and in his case, with his tongue sticking out.
At one point he decided he wanted his head to be a little closer to mine, so he stepped off the stool, but didn't quite catch his balance and fell face-forward onto the floor, tongue still hanging out of his mouth, leaving a huge wet spot on my kitchen floor. The amazing part, though, is that there wasn't even any blood!
Oh, the feats that a 2-year-old boy can discover! A new olympic event, possibly?
He was standing on a stool, having a tongue-out, shout-of-glee party with me. In essence, we were taking turns yelling and laughing -- all with mouths wide open, and in his case, with his tongue sticking out.
At one point he decided he wanted his head to be a little closer to mine, so he stepped off the stool, but didn't quite catch his balance and fell face-forward onto the floor, tongue still hanging out of his mouth, leaving a huge wet spot on my kitchen floor. The amazing part, though, is that there wasn't even any blood!
Oh, the feats that a 2-year-old boy can discover! A new olympic event, possibly?
Monday, July 14, 2008
Boys and Girls are Different, Exhibit A: Sticks
My kids love sticks. All four of my kids love sticks. But the other day I realized that my 3 boys play with sticks very differently from how my girl plays with sticks. Here is my best attempt at describing some of the differences.
Boy Stick Play:
I admit I haven't done an exhaustive study, but based on my own 3 subjects, here are some things you might expect from a boy who has just found a stick. Understand, of course, that stick is somewhat broadly defined, and can include a range of items, including small twigs found outside, random kitchen utensils, crochet hooks, toothbrushes, brooms, or toilet plungers. Anything goes, as long as it is shaped like, well, a stick.
As soon as the boy picks up the stick, it transforms. The stick is no longer a stick. It is a lightsaber, or a sword, or a gun, or Harry Potter's magic wand. In other words, it is a weapon. And the boy wields it like a weapon, looking for a dueling partner, regardless of whether the candidate happens to have their own "stick." The stick gets swung around, in completely unpredictable motions, endangering everything in its unpredictable path. Moms shield themselves. Boys are banished to areas where they can do less damage. Moms also get frustrated as they search endlessly for household items that have been commandeered for "stick" use. Eventually, boys get their "sticks" taken away. Since my oldest is now ten years old, I have simply accepted that this is normal. Isn't this just the way kids play with sticks?
Girl Stick Play:
BUT THEN... When we were at the playground the other day, my daughter picked up a stick. A large stick. I prepared to run for cover. Then she started "sweeping" the mulch with it. I just watched in awe. It wasn't a weapon. Nobody was getting hurt. The opposite end of the stick was actually... on the ground! THEN she started playing in the mulch. All those little "sticks" of wood. But she didn't throw them. They didn't go in anyone's hair, or hit anyone in the eye. Instead, she made a birthday cake, with a longer stick as a candle. THEN we were going for a walk. She was collecting sticks. I sighed, expecting a full-on stick battle when we got home. But instead, she poked every one of the sticks in my front yard. She was planting "trees."
The funny thing is that she still loves to play lightsabers, or have imaginary adventures with my boys. But she plays lightsabers, get this, with our toy lightsabers! And not with my toothbrush!
Boy Stick Play:
I admit I haven't done an exhaustive study, but based on my own 3 subjects, here are some things you might expect from a boy who has just found a stick. Understand, of course, that stick is somewhat broadly defined, and can include a range of items, including small twigs found outside, random kitchen utensils, crochet hooks, toothbrushes, brooms, or toilet plungers. Anything goes, as long as it is shaped like, well, a stick.
As soon as the boy picks up the stick, it transforms. The stick is no longer a stick. It is a lightsaber, or a sword, or a gun, or Harry Potter's magic wand. In other words, it is a weapon. And the boy wields it like a weapon, looking for a dueling partner, regardless of whether the candidate happens to have their own "stick." The stick gets swung around, in completely unpredictable motions, endangering everything in its unpredictable path. Moms shield themselves. Boys are banished to areas where they can do less damage. Moms also get frustrated as they search endlessly for household items that have been commandeered for "stick" use. Eventually, boys get their "sticks" taken away. Since my oldest is now ten years old, I have simply accepted that this is normal. Isn't this just the way kids play with sticks?
Girl Stick Play:
BUT THEN... When we were at the playground the other day, my daughter picked up a stick. A large stick. I prepared to run for cover. Then she started "sweeping" the mulch with it. I just watched in awe. It wasn't a weapon. Nobody was getting hurt. The opposite end of the stick was actually... on the ground! THEN she started playing in the mulch. All those little "sticks" of wood. But she didn't throw them. They didn't go in anyone's hair, or hit anyone in the eye. Instead, she made a birthday cake, with a longer stick as a candle. THEN we were going for a walk. She was collecting sticks. I sighed, expecting a full-on stick battle when we got home. But instead, she poked every one of the sticks in my front yard. She was planting "trees."
The funny thing is that she still loves to play lightsabers, or have imaginary adventures with my boys. But she plays lightsabers, get this, with our toy lightsabers! And not with my toothbrush!
Monday, June 30, 2008
WANTED: One Competent Tooth Fairy
I think we need a new tooth fairy.
From the time our kids started losing teeth it seems she just keeps letting the poor tykes down! Admittedly, there have been a few times when the kids have put a tooth under the pillow, and then woken up in the morning to actually find money there, but more often than not, they come down the stairs in the morning with a disappointed look, and I immediately realize with a panic that she must not have come...
I'm not sure whether or not to complain to her supervisors, though. First of all, she DOES come eventually -- usually before the kids have even eaten breakfast. And there have been a few times that she HAS been considerate enough to leave notes explaining her tardiness. (Ever seen a tooth fairy note? They're written on a tiny piece of paper with the tiniest little handwriting I've ever seen. The kids tell me that this proves, of course, that she's real...) And of course, I'm assuming that most nights she's just exhausted and falls asleep before she feels like it's safe to go in their room. So I almost feel sorry for her...
But I feel so guilty every time I have to come up with excuses to tell my poor kids. This past week, when my oldest actually lost TWO molars, she still spaced it. The next morning he wrote her a note, asking her to please come earlier next time so that the money is there when he wakes up. Ouch!
The best I could come up with was that she was probably just confused because he had actually lost the first tooth on Tuesday, and the second tooth wasn't lost until Thursday night, but the teeth didn't go under the pillow until Thursday. I tried to cover by saying that she probably came Tuesday -- and Wednesday -- and couldn't find a tooth, so then she didn't know what to do when Thursday came around.
Has anyone else had problems getting YOUR tooth fairy to perform? All the kids want is for there to be money there when they wake up! Is that so hard? Any ideas on how to help a non-functional tooth fairy start performing better? Or is there a tooth fairy agency where I can go to hire a new one? AAARGH! Or do I just keep making excuses for the poor gal?
From the time our kids started losing teeth it seems she just keeps letting the poor tykes down! Admittedly, there have been a few times when the kids have put a tooth under the pillow, and then woken up in the morning to actually find money there, but more often than not, they come down the stairs in the morning with a disappointed look, and I immediately realize with a panic that she must not have come...
I'm not sure whether or not to complain to her supervisors, though. First of all, she DOES come eventually -- usually before the kids have even eaten breakfast. And there have been a few times that she HAS been considerate enough to leave notes explaining her tardiness. (Ever seen a tooth fairy note? They're written on a tiny piece of paper with the tiniest little handwriting I've ever seen. The kids tell me that this proves, of course, that she's real...) And of course, I'm assuming that most nights she's just exhausted and falls asleep before she feels like it's safe to go in their room. So I almost feel sorry for her...
But I feel so guilty every time I have to come up with excuses to tell my poor kids. This past week, when my oldest actually lost TWO molars, she still spaced it. The next morning he wrote her a note, asking her to please come earlier next time so that the money is there when he wakes up. Ouch!
The best I could come up with was that she was probably just confused because he had actually lost the first tooth on Tuesday, and the second tooth wasn't lost until Thursday night, but the teeth didn't go under the pillow until Thursday. I tried to cover by saying that she probably came Tuesday -- and Wednesday -- and couldn't find a tooth, so then she didn't know what to do when Thursday came around.
Has anyone else had problems getting YOUR tooth fairy to perform? All the kids want is for there to be money there when they wake up! Is that so hard? Any ideas on how to help a non-functional tooth fairy start performing better? Or is there a tooth fairy agency where I can go to hire a new one? AAARGH! Or do I just keep making excuses for the poor gal?
Friday, June 27, 2008
Halfway Down the Stairs
This morning I was on my way up the stairs when I found my 7-yo sitting on the middle step, legs stretching across the step, leaning against the wall, playing with a Lego spaceship he had built.
I was immediately reminded of a poem I heard as a child, written by A.A. Milne:
It was totally perfect -- there he was, on the middle stair, in an entirely different reality, flying his spaceship, and completely content. The only question was how to get around him without disturbing the dream. Maybe I need my own stair to sit on.
I was immediately reminded of a poem I heard as a child, written by A.A. Milne:
Halfway down the stairs is a stair where I sit.
There isn't any other stair quite like it.
I'm not at the bottom, I'm not at the top.
So this is the stair where I always stop.
Halfway up the stairs isn't up and isn't down.
It isn't in the nursery, it isn't in the town.
And all sorts of funny thoughts run round my head.
It isn't really anywhere, it's somewhere else instead.
It was totally perfect -- there he was, on the middle stair, in an entirely different reality, flying his spaceship, and completely content. The only question was how to get around him without disturbing the dream. Maybe I need my own stair to sit on.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Peter Pan or a Lost Boy?
Tonight I had to laugh a little at my sweet, sweet husband.
I had gone to a little get-together with some of the women from church, and was pleasantly munching on appetizers while chatting with the ladies. He was home with the kids.
Then I hear the phone ring. Hostess's husband answers it, and the thought crosses my mind that it might be my husband. I check my watch and reassure myself that it still isn't very late, so it's probably not him, and probably everything is fine.
Then hostess's husband comes in to tell me that my husband is on the phone.
All sorts of thoughts start flooding my mind at once. Is everything OK? Maybe someone got hurt and he needs to take them to the hospital? Maybe our house is collapsing? Our whole community has been ordered to evacuate? It isn't really like him to call about just anything, so I figure it must be something pretty important.
"Hey, do you have any idea where the disc is for Lego Indiana Jones?"
Yep. It's important. But I am left wondering whether little boys ever really grow up? Is there a secret Neverland that nobody tells the girls about? Or maybe the girls are the pirates... always out to spoil their fun...
I had gone to a little get-together with some of the women from church, and was pleasantly munching on appetizers while chatting with the ladies. He was home with the kids.
Then I hear the phone ring. Hostess's husband answers it, and the thought crosses my mind that it might be my husband. I check my watch and reassure myself that it still isn't very late, so it's probably not him, and probably everything is fine.
Then hostess's husband comes in to tell me that my husband is on the phone.
All sorts of thoughts start flooding my mind at once. Is everything OK? Maybe someone got hurt and he needs to take them to the hospital? Maybe our house is collapsing? Our whole community has been ordered to evacuate? It isn't really like him to call about just anything, so I figure it must be something pretty important.
"Hey, do you have any idea where the disc is for Lego Indiana Jones?"
Yep. It's important. But I am left wondering whether little boys ever really grow up? Is there a secret Neverland that nobody tells the girls about? Or maybe the girls are the pirates... always out to spoil their fun...
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