Capricious.
Petulant.
Easily upset.
Sensitive.
Creative.
Messy.
Articulate.
Precocious.
Inquisitive (to a fault).
Advanced.
Snotty.
These are some of the words I would use to describe my sweet little Laney Lou. As you can see, they run the gamut. Some days, it's "Mommy, I love you so, so much and I love spending time with you!!" Minutes later it's, "Mommy. I. WANT. TO. BE. BY. MYSELF. WITHOUT. YOU. GO. AWAY!" It's exhausting and scary.
Tonight, she said from the back of the car, "Mommy, who was that on the phone, was it Grammy?"
I said, "Yes, how did you know?"
She said, "I could tell by that bossy little voice."
I said (snickering), "Grammy's?"
She said, "No yours..."
She does crack us up regularly! Last week she told my mother who is early childhood educated, in a voice that appeared to be without emotion, "Grammy. I don't think you're very good at taking care of children." HAHAHAHA!! All because my mother had lost her temper, ever so briefly, with Elena.
It's just very hard to be the mother, and grandmother, and brother, and grandfather, and father of a spirited little redheaded four-year-old.
Wish us luck.
Send us prayers.
Monday, August 25, 2008
I Love Two-Year-Olds
I love it when my kids are starting to cobble together language. Liam is starting to migrate from a noun-only vocabulary to one that leapfrogs from adjective to verb to noun. An example?
Where he used to say: truck, truck! beep! beep!
He now says: beeping sound! truck backing up?
Where he used to say: mailbox! mailbox!
He now says: uh oh! broken mailbox! oh! another one mailbox!
It's so cute!
Where he used to say: truck, truck! beep! beep!
He now says: beeping sound! truck backing up?
Where he used to say: mailbox! mailbox!
He now says: uh oh! broken mailbox! oh! another one mailbox!
It's so cute!
Monday, August 18, 2008
Broken Mailbox, Wrong Way, Beeping, Pees Car, Fire Tuck, Trash, Yick...
My walks with Liam continue to be punctuated by his observations. All things wheeled or mechanical are of particular interest. We think he has a career in civil engineering. Seems the mailbox obsession has morphed into his recently accepting a position as a mailbox inspector.Black maillllllbox
White mailllllbox
Green maillllbox
Grey mailllbox
Uh oh....broken mailbox...
A broken mailbox is any mailbox not in pristine shape, rusty, crooked, bent, dinged, or (and this was funny) just a 4x4 sticking out of the ground is a broken mailbox. Apparently any post must have HAD a mailbox on it in Liam's world.
New to the vocab is the phrase "wrong way" (thank you, Ketra). So now, when we are walking, if we turn off the straightaway, I hear a nervous voice from behind me, "Uh oh...wong way...wong way..." Very cute (for now).
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
I Undo
The lovely State of Connecticut was kind enough to grant me dissolution of my marriage today. Yikes! Who ever thinks that just two days after their five year anniversary, they will be celebrating their divorce. I always knew the statistics, but somehow felt impervious to them. To get unmarried is a surreal experience. You arrive at the courthouse and with no pomp or fancy dress, you sign your rights away. You release all your claims on each other, sign collaborative childcare and custodial documents and walk out thirty minutes or so later, free.
The proceedings almost felt staged. The questions, when asked by my lawyer, seemed a touch on the ridiculous side. I mean, she knew the answers to all these questions, I had given her all this information many times. But, it's all part of the laying down of logic. A court case is an iterative form of communication with questions and answers being the method by which new information is disclosed. You are asked questions by friendlies and unfriendlies...although, in this case, there was only the one litigator, mine. Patrick self-represented. The judge was fair (big surprise) and had a sense of humor, which I always appreciate. We managed to walk away owing each other nothing, paying each other nothing and with joint custody. Perfect for our situation.
My only disappointment was that I wasn't divorcing the gentleman before me on the docket who was paying his wife $2500 a month in support and an additional $2500 in support while she has to pay for her big ol' house in New Canaan. Additionally, they had liquidated all their "stuff" which was resulting in him writing her a check for $327,000. Wow, I thought to myself, I really should've married and divorced for the money! Mr. Sykes, I may not have wanted to marry you, but man, your divorce terms sound lovely. I do.
The proceedings almost felt staged. The questions, when asked by my lawyer, seemed a touch on the ridiculous side. I mean, she knew the answers to all these questions, I had given her all this information many times. But, it's all part of the laying down of logic. A court case is an iterative form of communication with questions and answers being the method by which new information is disclosed. You are asked questions by friendlies and unfriendlies...although, in this case, there was only the one litigator, mine. Patrick self-represented. The judge was fair (big surprise) and had a sense of humor, which I always appreciate. We managed to walk away owing each other nothing, paying each other nothing and with joint custody. Perfect for our situation.
My only disappointment was that I wasn't divorcing the gentleman before me on the docket who was paying his wife $2500 a month in support and an additional $2500 in support while she has to pay for her big ol' house in New Canaan. Additionally, they had liquidated all their "stuff" which was resulting in him writing her a check for $327,000. Wow, I thought to myself, I really should've married and divorced for the money! Mr. Sykes, I may not have wanted to marry you, but man, your divorce terms sound lovely. I do.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Ite Mail Box
Leave it to quirky little Liam to be the subject of a blog again. He's just so funny! He is currently completely obsessed with mailboxes. He finally learned to call them "mail box" (I leave a space intentionally because he says them with a big pause and breath in between the two words) and not just "mail, mail, mail, mail" as he was in the last blog.
One day, recently, he saw a white mail box, got super excited and shouted out a three-word description (before this was unheard of as he was single word kind of boy), "ITE MAIL BOX!" Well, partially on account of the three words, and partially because it WAS indeed a white mailbox, I went a little crazy with the praise. "YES LIAM! That IS a white mail box! Nice work! Good noticing! (etc...)" Now, in his little brain, ALL mail boxes are white mail boxes. It's a single concept, "ITE MAIL BOX," repeated ad infinitum on our daily walks. Elena and I are slowly breaking him of the habit of saying "ITE" by pointing out all the other lovely colors of mailboxes that exist. Green mailbox, black mailbox, silver mailbox...he tries, but sometimes he just can't help himself. It's branded in his little gray matter. The highlight of the walk for him is when we pass the one actually white mailbox. His little face lights up, he points, he gestures, he shouts, "ITE!! ITE!!! ITE MAIL......BOX!" It's really so cute.
Tonight, as we came to the end of the road and thus the end of the string of mailboxes, he started asking for more mailboxes. "Mo mail box? Mo mail box?" And, my little boy, who NEVER uses sign language to communicate, signed more....awwwwwwwwww....
One day, recently, he saw a white mail box, got super excited and shouted out a three-word description (before this was unheard of as he was single word kind of boy), "ITE MAIL BOX!" Well, partially on account of the three words, and partially because it WAS indeed a white mailbox, I went a little crazy with the praise. "YES LIAM! That IS a white mail box! Nice work! Good noticing! (etc...)" Now, in his little brain, ALL mail boxes are white mail boxes. It's a single concept, "ITE MAIL BOX," repeated ad infinitum on our daily walks. Elena and I are slowly breaking him of the habit of saying "ITE" by pointing out all the other lovely colors of mailboxes that exist. Green mailbox, black mailbox, silver mailbox...he tries, but sometimes he just can't help himself. It's branded in his little gray matter. The highlight of the walk for him is when we pass the one actually white mailbox. His little face lights up, he points, he gestures, he shouts, "ITE!! ITE!!! ITE MAIL......BOX!" It's really so cute.
Tonight, as we came to the end of the road and thus the end of the string of mailboxes, he started asking for more mailboxes. "Mo mail box? Mo mail box?" And, my little boy, who NEVER uses sign language to communicate, signed more....awwwwwwwwww....
Monday, June 23, 2008
Strapped In
There is something so comforting about driving when you have kids who are almost 2 and 4 years old. They are safe. They cannot reach each other. You have a task, mindlessly driving. You can listen to music and buzz along fielding questions from the back of the car. It's a wonderful, freeing feeling. Imposed immobility. Sometimes, I get lucky and one of them falls asleep. Once in a blue moon, both of them fall asleep (it has happened once in the last six months, I think).
Yesterday, I was driving with both kids and Patrick. We were trying to go to a restaurant which was under renovation (don't try and hit up the Sesame Seed in Danbury just now). I took back roads and the long way to the second choice restaurant. He was annoyed, "Why on earth are you going this way?" Because they are quiet, happy and strapped in. Therefore, I am happy. I think I could drive to Maine and be happy right now.
Yesterday, I was driving with both kids and Patrick. We were trying to go to a restaurant which was under renovation (don't try and hit up the Sesame Seed in Danbury just now). I took back roads and the long way to the second choice restaurant. He was annoyed, "Why on earth are you going this way?" Because they are quiet, happy and strapped in. Therefore, I am happy. I think I could drive to Maine and be happy right now.
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Divorce, Amicable Style
Last week, as we prepared for the tag sale, Patrick and I got to that lovely, cathartic point where you will pitch anything, have lost all attachment to stuff and are free to purge. Yesterday, I threw out wedding albums, my wedding planning book (to which I was attached at the hip for a full year), photos and memories. It's sometimes nice to throw out memories, especially when it's a joint decision.
Tag Sales Bite
Apparently, the world does not buy stuff through tag sales anymore. I didn't do the best job advertising, but wow. We made all of $21, which means we did not even break even on the cost of the signage. Makes me want to cry. I am stymied by the amount of crap I now have to deal with. Craigslist and ebay, here I come.
Entropy and the Four-Year-Old
...or three-year-old, or two-year-old, or any child for that matter! You can count on a lot of things when you have a child: late nights, diapers, sickness, hugs, messes etc., but one thing I did not count on was the complete and utter derangement which children bring to the physical household. It's almost laughable.
I have to start by saying, I was not born a neat person. There is a photograph from when I was about eight, where I am lying flopped on a mattress on my floor, looking completely crestfallen. The source of my upset is not, as you might guess, something traumatic or sad, but instead merely that I had to clean my room. If you expand your attention beyond the girl on the bed, you will see that she is floating on the aforementioned mattress, surrounded by a foot high sea of debris. Sigh...I have not been neat, no. When I was pregnant with Elena, I prayed for an anal rententive child. In short, I DID NOT GET MY WISH.
Elena is a lot of wonderful things: creative, bright, interesting, articulate and energetic. The problem is that she likes to explode all over the house. All the explosions have some meaning to her, and on my more magnanimous days, I have fun trying to discern the meaning. On my less amused days, I feel overwhelmed and discomfited. This morning, I must be in a more generous mood. I captured some of this little outcroppings on film. This exercise of photographing some of the odder combinations was inspired by a game a friend of mine used to play in college. Silly, half-drunk college kids that we were, would walk to the grocery store and roam around looking for acts of the supermarket vandal. We would look for items furthest from their home, or in the funniest location. The fungal cream in the ice cream freezer, or the side of meat nestled among the fresh flowers...these things would crack us up!
The juxtaposition of ball and unicorn don't make me laugh on their own, but it's the addition of the potato masher that really gets me going.
I have to start by saying, I was not born a neat person. There is a photograph from when I was about eight, where I am lying flopped on a mattress on my floor, looking completely crestfallen. The source of my upset is not, as you might guess, something traumatic or sad, but instead merely that I had to clean my room. If you expand your attention beyond the girl on the bed, you will see that she is floating on the aforementioned mattress, surrounded by a foot high sea of debris. Sigh...I have not been neat, no. When I was pregnant with Elena, I prayed for an anal rententive child. In short, I DID NOT GET MY WISH.
Elena is a lot of wonderful things: creative, bright, interesting, articulate and energetic. The problem is that she likes to explode all over the house. All the explosions have some meaning to her, and on my more magnanimous days, I have fun trying to discern the meaning. On my less amused days, I feel overwhelmed and discomfited. This morning, I must be in a more generous mood. I captured some of this little outcroppings on film. This exercise of photographing some of the odder combinations was inspired by a game a friend of mine used to play in college. Silly, half-drunk college kids that we were, would walk to the grocery store and roam around looking for acts of the supermarket vandal. We would look for items furthest from their home, or in the funniest location. The fungal cream in the ice cream freezer, or the side of meat nestled among the fresh flowers...these things would crack us up!
The juxtaposition of ball and unicorn don't make me laugh on their own, but it's the addition of the potato masher that really gets me going.
Tupperware should be outlawed in our house as containers become tidal pools, collecting random bits.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Tim Russert
There are some people you just don't get an opportunity to meet until it's too late. Life can be filled with missed opportunities. I hate missed opportunities. I am living a missed opportunity right now in Tim Russert's death. Maybe it's because I am only thirty-eight and he was a bit ahead of my time? Maybe it's because I avoid the news due it's graphic and negative nature? Maybe it's because I have never been inclined towards politics? For whatever reason, I didn't get to know Tim Russert until this latest chapter in his life...his death. What a tragedy! His funeral service was so moving. The stories and eulogies enlightening and engaging. I totally missed out. I miss you, Tim Russert...and I didn't even really get to know you.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Just a Bunch of Stuff
Today was an exhausting day. The POD people (as I affectionately call them, and I'm sure they adore) dropped off Patrick's and my storage POD holding all our (remaining) worldly possessions. I would say we reduced our 1100 sq. ft. house's worth of "stuff" by two-thirds when we got the POD and now, after having paid $2995 over the last year and a half to house said worldly belongings, we are putting this expense to an end.
I started out the day by making a punch list. For those of you not in construction or project management, which I also am not, but like to sound cool and talk about such things as punch lists, is a list of tasks and subtasks broken down to "bite-sized" chunks. Basically, my punch list ordered the POD activities. First empty the garage, then empty the POD into the garage, then take all garbage to the dump and then sell all worldly possessions at tag sales, sit back count money and move on with divorce and life. Really, not that big of deal, right?
And, I am surprisingly unattached to the items in the POD at this point. Most of the really important stuff came with me when I moved into my parents' house. The really sentimental stuff is hiding in boxes. No big deal. I was most moved by the greyhound collar that belonged to my sweet girl, Athena that, when jingled, did sound EXACTLY like she was alive and bouncing around the POD. Awwwww...Poor Thene girl! Who knows what the other end of the POD may hold, but for now, there have been no real big shockers. Just a bunch of stuff.
Stuff that holds the promise of selling, though! I think everyone should have a tag sale at least once in their lives, preferably BEFORE accumulating a houseful of trinkets and crap. I have started to think of my "stuff" priced and arrayed. I am already arranging it in my mind on shelf space. I am so excited for the opportunity it provides to bring me a few bucks. Not because I am poor (for once), but because it allows me to lighten my load even more. Somehow, I spent all this time out there hunting for, buying, accumulating and storing this junk and now, "Good riddance!" I say. It's value has completely inverted. I don't want to horde it, I am ready to set it free. Good bye my big ole POD-ful of stuff!
I started out the day by making a punch list. For those of you not in construction or project management, which I also am not, but like to sound cool and talk about such things as punch lists, is a list of tasks and subtasks broken down to "bite-sized" chunks. Basically, my punch list ordered the POD activities. First empty the garage, then empty the POD into the garage, then take all garbage to the dump and then sell all worldly possessions at tag sales, sit back count money and move on with divorce and life. Really, not that big of deal, right?
And, I am surprisingly unattached to the items in the POD at this point. Most of the really important stuff came with me when I moved into my parents' house. The really sentimental stuff is hiding in boxes. No big deal. I was most moved by the greyhound collar that belonged to my sweet girl, Athena that, when jingled, did sound EXACTLY like she was alive and bouncing around the POD. Awwwww...Poor Thene girl! Who knows what the other end of the POD may hold, but for now, there have been no real big shockers. Just a bunch of stuff.
Stuff that holds the promise of selling, though! I think everyone should have a tag sale at least once in their lives, preferably BEFORE accumulating a houseful of trinkets and crap. I have started to think of my "stuff" priced and arrayed. I am already arranging it in my mind on shelf space. I am so excited for the opportunity it provides to bring me a few bucks. Not because I am poor (for once), but because it allows me to lighten my load even more. Somehow, I spent all this time out there hunting for, buying, accumulating and storing this junk and now, "Good riddance!" I say. It's value has completely inverted. I don't want to horde it, I am ready to set it free. Good bye my big ole POD-ful of stuff!
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Missed it, Dangit!
Apparently, as part of an enticement to film here, the State of Connecticut has been offering some tax breaks and incentives to Hollywood. So, this new movie, All Good Things starring Kirsten Dunst and Ryan Gosling is being filmed here. And, not just here in Connecticut, but here in my town. They are also shooting on Lake Lillinonah tomorrow. My dad was in the music store this evening getting his bass fixed when a props guy was in there getting a guitar for Kirsten Dunst set up for the film. Apparently, she plays the guitar and would like to perform this stunt herself in the movie. All exciting things.
I am only sorry I missed their set-up in town. Would have been pretty cool to have seen our entire community center draped in blackout cloth. Such are the challenges of shooting night scenes without the assistance of actual night. I am still kicking myself for not popping on my sneakers and hoofing it downtown to check it out. I keep racking my brain to figure out why I didn't? I suppose it could have been because it was over 100 degrees that day. Maybe that's why?
Well, that's about all from this sleepy town reporter.
Details on the Lake Lillinonah shooting, so you don't miss it. Click to enlarge.
I am only sorry I missed their set-up in town. Would have been pretty cool to have seen our entire community center draped in blackout cloth. Such are the challenges of shooting night scenes without the assistance of actual night. I am still kicking myself for not popping on my sneakers and hoofing it downtown to check it out. I keep racking my brain to figure out why I didn't? I suppose it could have been because it was over 100 degrees that day. Maybe that's why?
Well, that's about all from this sleepy town reporter.
Details on the Lake Lillinonah shooting, so you don't miss it. Click to enlarge.
Sunday, June 08, 2008
The Power of Archive
This is pretty amazing! I googled "heat insanity" today, since it's 99 degrees and I feel as though I am melting, and I got this headline:
HEAT CAUSES INSANITY.; Serious Results of Continues High Temperatures in Rhode Island.
It's a New York Times article, I think to myself, it's got to be reliable. Then I look at the date to see if it's outdated...Guess what that date was?
HEAT CAUSES INSANITY.; Serious Results of Continues High Temperatures in Rhode Island.
It's a New York Times article, I think to myself, it's got to be reliable. Then I look at the date to see if it's outdated...Guess what that date was?
August 2, 1898, Wednesday
Holy crap...I never expected that!
Friday, June 06, 2008
Berry Picking Season
Those who read the blog last year, will remember my obsession with picking raspberries from our front yard. Every day, for the short-lived raspberry season, my daughter and I could be found at the foot of the hill gathering juicy, ripe berries in stained fingertips. I think I also said this in last year's blog, but it makes me feel like a pioneer housewife, living off the land, gathering the fruits of the season.
Since raspberry season is pretty much the month of July, I feel the need to extend the berry picking by at least another month or two. This year, I am waiting with bated breath for the local strawberry season to start, which should be mid-June at the latest. I cannot wait. Strawberries, fresh plucked from the vine are like a whole different fruit! Modern, grocery store strawberries come from South America and other points far away. This means they are bred for hardy travel. Their skin and fruit made to withstand conveyer belts, picking machines and trucking, is tough and solid. You could probably drop a strawberry from the grocery store on the ground and it would bounce.
Strawberries fresh picked are delicate, sensitive things. They are as thin-skinned as a new baby. So, in two weeks or so, expect a blog of succulent berry pictures.
Since raspberry season is pretty much the month of July, I feel the need to extend the berry picking by at least another month or two. This year, I am waiting with bated breath for the local strawberry season to start, which should be mid-June at the latest. I cannot wait. Strawberries, fresh plucked from the vine are like a whole different fruit! Modern, grocery store strawberries come from South America and other points far away. This means they are bred for hardy travel. Their skin and fruit made to withstand conveyer belts, picking machines and trucking, is tough and solid. You could probably drop a strawberry from the grocery store on the ground and it would bounce.
Strawberries fresh picked are delicate, sensitive things. They are as thin-skinned as a new baby. So, in two weeks or so, expect a blog of succulent berry pictures.
Above is a picture of the raspberries at harvest time last year.
Monday, June 02, 2008
Know Thyself
And it is only in knowing thyself that I realize what my freaking problem is! Here I am making a go of it on my own. I have a new, pretty successful business. It covers the bills. It's fun. It's different everyday (something I always consider a prerequesite for a good job). And yet, I face these wonderful periods of disenchantment. Why?
Well, first of all, I am a person who needs and wants to be engaged by my work to truly enjoy it. In fact, if I am engaged, nothing can stop me from finding my work exciting and entertaining and fun at anytime of the day or night. I can spend hours and hours at it and never tire. However, then there are the fallow periods. The troughs alongside those peaks. These are the times when I have to do the less engaging work and immerse myself in dullness. It's enough to depress me and sometimes even immobilize me. The longer I am frozen by the ennui the longer it takes to get through the rote stuff and get back to the exciting part.
Secondly, I am sensitive to praise. I think I have mentioned on here before my mercurial reaction to praise, have I not? Let's face it, I'm a praise junkie. When I don't get the positive feedback I so dearly crave, I start to lose my mojo. The color fades from my personality. To quote the Beatles, "I need a fix cause I'm going down."
I do know thyself and I do know this will all clear when I can finally shrug off my fears, move forward boldly and get some damn work accomplished.
Well, first of all, I am a person who needs and wants to be engaged by my work to truly enjoy it. In fact, if I am engaged, nothing can stop me from finding my work exciting and entertaining and fun at anytime of the day or night. I can spend hours and hours at it and never tire. However, then there are the fallow periods. The troughs alongside those peaks. These are the times when I have to do the less engaging work and immerse myself in dullness. It's enough to depress me and sometimes even immobilize me. The longer I am frozen by the ennui the longer it takes to get through the rote stuff and get back to the exciting part.
Secondly, I am sensitive to praise. I think I have mentioned on here before my mercurial reaction to praise, have I not? Let's face it, I'm a praise junkie. When I don't get the positive feedback I so dearly crave, I start to lose my mojo. The color fades from my personality. To quote the Beatles, "I need a fix cause I'm going down."
I do know thyself and I do know this will all clear when I can finally shrug off my fears, move forward boldly and get some damn work accomplished.
Sunday, June 01, 2008
Alert the Fashion Police!
My daughter is the queen of doing EVERYTHING HERSELF. This means damn near everyday we get treated to outfits that are reminiscent of Punky Brewster. The "matches" are hysterical. Unfortunately, I can't do anything but laugh since I am trying to be the kind of mother who doesn't care about things such as matching clothes. I am trying to be the kind of mother who values independence and freedom of choice over aesthetics...did I mention that I am TRYING? It's HARD!
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Laundry Dregs
OK, I am, as my dad puts it, a "strange agent" in more ways than one. However, one of my oddest quirks is that I actually enjoy folding laundry. I like pulling hot, still pliable and fluffy clothing out of the dryer and folding them crisply. I don't enjoy nearly as much folding laundry that has cooled and become stiff and hard to manage. And I absolutely deplore laundry dregs.
Laundry dregs are the pieces of laundry too small to warrant actual folding which fall to the bottom of every laundry basket in our house: bibs, socks (particularly unmatched socks), washcloths, hankies, undies for tiny people aka kids. It seems I am not the only one who hates laundry dregs. They seem to collect in laundry baskets. The worst situation ever is when all the laundry dregs from all the laundry baskets get dumped into one basket (usually on laundry Saturday) and then there is a full basket of JUST dregs to contend with. UGH. Need I say more?
I just waded through four baskets of laundry today. I folded most everything, unfortunately it was all cold laundry, but I got over that when I realized it was preferable to staying up all night pacing beside the dryer. There is a quarter basket of laundry dregs staring at me, showdown style right now from the other side of the room. It's as if it knows and is taunting me, "you were NOT supposed to get on that computer until ALL the laundry was DONE, Young Lady."
And here I lay on my bed with my laptop, the petulant laundress, thumbing my nose at the laundry dregs. Until tomorrow, my friend. A demain.
Laundry dregs are the pieces of laundry too small to warrant actual folding which fall to the bottom of every laundry basket in our house: bibs, socks (particularly unmatched socks), washcloths, hankies, undies for tiny people aka kids. It seems I am not the only one who hates laundry dregs. They seem to collect in laundry baskets. The worst situation ever is when all the laundry dregs from all the laundry baskets get dumped into one basket (usually on laundry Saturday) and then there is a full basket of JUST dregs to contend with. UGH. Need I say more?
I just waded through four baskets of laundry today. I folded most everything, unfortunately it was all cold laundry, but I got over that when I realized it was preferable to staying up all night pacing beside the dryer. There is a quarter basket of laundry dregs staring at me, showdown style right now from the other side of the room. It's as if it knows and is taunting me, "you were NOT supposed to get on that computer until ALL the laundry was DONE, Young Lady."
And here I lay on my bed with my laptop, the petulant laundress, thumbing my nose at the laundry dregs. Until tomorrow, my friend. A demain.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Lemur
This weekend I got to spend a lot of quality time with the kiddos. It's nice when I have time to get out and do things with them and really listen to their little voices. Elena, for instance, is horrid unless you give her the attention she so dearly craves, then she becomes your faithful servant, loving admirer, and biggest fan. She will literally stand beside me and stroke my arm or leg, fawning on me. When I put in the time with her, I get back good behavior that makes it a very worthwhile endeavor!
Liam has just been a baby for so long, it's not been as dramatic with him. Sure he likes the attention and sure I pick up on some of his Liam-isms when I spend time with him, but he's just been too young to really interact much. That is until recently. Lemur is starting to add more words into his vocabulary and show off his silly personality. I LOVE IT!!
This weekend, I took him to the Memorial Day parade and he donned his "Hello, My Name is Trouble" t-shirt which both my mother and my friend Robin think I should NOT be putting on him anymore lest he get a complex. Well, to that I retort, it's not a label for him to read to himself, it faces outward. It's a disclaimer for the world to read. I actually felt so much more secure knowing that anyone who might see him running across the street, or dashing into the middle of a marching band would have been adequately warned that here, indeed, did come Trouble.
Today, I took him walking on my back (as I often do) and he was just pleased as punch to be back there riding along. The ENTIRE walk was peppered by his running commentary of all the things we were passing. It sounded something like this, "tee (tree), tee, tee, tee, tee, caw-caw (car), caw, caw, CAW, CAW, mail, mail, mail (as we passed a mailbox)" REPEAT and REPEAT and REPEAT. He is a little loudmouth! Cute though.
Then, tonight when I was trying to put him to bed, he was running away from me with just his diaper on. I am not so into chasing, being a lazy sort, so I sat in the center of the room asking him to come to me. I was actually curious to see how long it would take him to acquiesce (Which apparently, I'll spare you the suspense, is NEVER). He kept scampering out of my reach and giggling incessantly (a sound which truly tortures his sister for some strange, unknown and disturbing reason). Then, he dashed into the closet, quick as a naked mole rat and I heard him in there flaunting another of his newest words, "Climb, climb, climb, climb." (I don't know what it is with him and needing to repeat whatever word he chooses OVER and OVER, but I can't say it's my favorite trait). Anyhow, he was trying to climb any and everything he could find that was climbable in that closet. He's such a cute little lemur. Such a pip!
Liam has just been a baby for so long, it's not been as dramatic with him. Sure he likes the attention and sure I pick up on some of his Liam-isms when I spend time with him, but he's just been too young to really interact much. That is until recently. Lemur is starting to add more words into his vocabulary and show off his silly personality. I LOVE IT!!
This weekend, I took him to the Memorial Day parade and he donned his "Hello, My Name is Trouble" t-shirt which both my mother and my friend Robin think I should NOT be putting on him anymore lest he get a complex. Well, to that I retort, it's not a label for him to read to himself, it faces outward. It's a disclaimer for the world to read. I actually felt so much more secure knowing that anyone who might see him running across the street, or dashing into the middle of a marching band would have been adequately warned that here, indeed, did come Trouble.
Today, I took him walking on my back (as I often do) and he was just pleased as punch to be back there riding along. The ENTIRE walk was peppered by his running commentary of all the things we were passing. It sounded something like this, "tee (tree), tee, tee, tee, tee, caw-caw (car), caw, caw, CAW, CAW, mail, mail, mail (as we passed a mailbox)" REPEAT and REPEAT and REPEAT. He is a little loudmouth! Cute though.
Then, tonight when I was trying to put him to bed, he was running away from me with just his diaper on. I am not so into chasing, being a lazy sort, so I sat in the center of the room asking him to come to me. I was actually curious to see how long it would take him to acquiesce (Which apparently, I'll spare you the suspense, is NEVER). He kept scampering out of my reach and giggling incessantly (a sound which truly tortures his sister for some strange, unknown and disturbing reason). Then, he dashed into the closet, quick as a naked mole rat and I heard him in there flaunting another of his newest words, "Climb, climb, climb, climb." (I don't know what it is with him and needing to repeat whatever word he chooses OVER and OVER, but I can't say it's my favorite trait). Anyhow, he was trying to climb any and everything he could find that was climbable in that closet. He's such a cute little lemur. Such a pip!
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Just Back from Detroit
You know, poor Detroit. It gets a bad, bad rap. No one wants to go there. People always joke about it. When I say I am going there, they pity me. They wonder why in the world I would be going to the "armpit of the nation." But, those people probably haven't ever been to Detroit, or they are living with an antiquated view of the city.
I first became interested in Detroit when I traveled there to visit some friends last summer. I was vacationing on Lake Michigan (which I have done since I was a teen quite frequently) and decided to detour to meet these friends. Boy, I sure am glad I did. Then, I read the book Middlesex, a good deal of which takes place in Detroit at the turn of the century. Fascinating...more Detroit intrigue!
The suburbs remind me a lot of Chicago, lots of subdivisions and suburban sprawl. And, as I get to know the city better, I like its patchwork personalities; the Henry Ford's Dearborn, historic Greenfield Village, almost farmland Plymouth, strip-mall Taylor. Then, this visit, thanks to the rental of a Garmin GPS with my little VW Rabbit rental car, I was all set to tour. I could get as lost as I wanted, type an address into the GPS and immediately untangle the neighborhoods and roads which had me twisted. What a wonderful feeling of freedom! I highly recommend it to anyone traveling in a new city. It's well worth the $12/day it costs.
So, two things for you to put on your bucket list:
1) Go vist Detroit
2) Rent a GPS and get lost
I first became interested in Detroit when I traveled there to visit some friends last summer. I was vacationing on Lake Michigan (which I have done since I was a teen quite frequently) and decided to detour to meet these friends. Boy, I sure am glad I did. Then, I read the book Middlesex, a good deal of which takes place in Detroit at the turn of the century. Fascinating...more Detroit intrigue!
The suburbs remind me a lot of Chicago, lots of subdivisions and suburban sprawl. And, as I get to know the city better, I like its patchwork personalities; the Henry Ford's Dearborn, historic Greenfield Village, almost farmland Plymouth, strip-mall Taylor. Then, this visit, thanks to the rental of a Garmin GPS with my little VW Rabbit rental car, I was all set to tour. I could get as lost as I wanted, type an address into the GPS and immediately untangle the neighborhoods and roads which had me twisted. What a wonderful feeling of freedom! I highly recommend it to anyone traveling in a new city. It's well worth the $12/day it costs.
So, two things for you to put on your bucket list:
1) Go vist Detroit
2) Rent a GPS and get lost
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Selling Snake Oil
OK...not really, but I am selling this wood process. It's so refreshing to be selling something I can hold in my hands and touch and feel. After years of selling esoteric solutions which require months of strategizing, this product is a show-and-tell item. It's really more like evangelism, hence the snake oil reference.
Yesterday, I went to a company who makes leather for the airline industry, another beautifully tangible product. The factory was so cool. Dies, presses, giant tumblers, cutting tables, and something called a water-jet cutter. It was just like a class field trip! Have I mentioned lately that I love my job? Sorry it makes me blog less often lately.
Yesterday, I went to a company who makes leather for the airline industry, another beautifully tangible product. The factory was so cool. Dies, presses, giant tumblers, cutting tables, and something called a water-jet cutter. It was just like a class field trip! Have I mentioned lately that I love my job? Sorry it makes me blog less often lately.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Happy Birthday to Me
Am I really thirty-eight years old today? It's sure gotten anti-climactic over here on birthdays for grown-ups. It sure sucks to be a grown up sometimes. I miss the days of birthday dinners and presents at your supper chair. Oh well. Time to grow up.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
In a Related Blog...
...talk about imbeciles...
...and yet, I passed at least four of them on the road! Must really suck to be a Hummer salesman these days...maybe they moonlight selling Smart Cars or something.
...and yet, I passed at least four of them on the road! Must really suck to be a Hummer salesman these days...maybe they moonlight selling Smart Cars or something.
Freaking Gas Prices
The reality is just now setting in. Over the winter, I was content to hole up on my couch and watch movies for months, but daggummit, now I am ready to get out and enjoy the fresh air. Today, I went on a business trip (my OWN business so I foot the expenses) to Philadelphia. Roughly 300 miles round trip. That's $65 in gas!!! Last week, I was in Detroit on business. To rent the car was $13.95 a day. To fly there was $140 round trip. I spent $250 in gas for the trip! It's just getting crazy. I am starting to opt out of doing things if they mean "spending gas."
On the trip today I started thinking about my trip to the Outer Banks and how much it will cost me. My car averages 23 miles to the gallon and it is approximately 1000 miles round trip for me. Check my math since I am a math imbecile, but that's about $175 in gas (assuming it stays around $4 a gallon), no? YIKES!
I feel like I need my wings clipped!
Sunday, May 11, 2008
God Loves You
In my hometown, almost every teen attended an Emmaus retreat during their high school years. This is a retreat, based in the Cursillo tradition. An Emmaus was a way to feel loved by your family, your peers and your community. It was one big Christian love-in with fabulous, catchy music, peer talks and prayer. The slogan of the Emmaus: I LOVE YOU, GOD LOVES YOU, PASS IT ON, sums up the whole philosophy in a phrase.
So, last night as I was putting Elena to bed, I was staring down into her perfect little face and I said, "I love you...(and reflexively)...God loves you."
She smiled, her eyes grew wide, and she said in awe, "He does?"
Guess I should tell her more often.
So, last night as I was putting Elena to bed, I was staring down into her perfect little face and I said, "I love you...(and reflexively)...God loves you."
She smiled, her eyes grew wide, and she said in awe, "He does?"
Guess I should tell her more often.
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Kiki Unplugged
It’s amazing how much less creative I am when I am offline blogging. I know I am a Praise Junkie (PJ), so maybe it’s the promise of connectivity that spurs me on? Maybe having a virtual audience makes me perform better? Who knows? All I know is that I am sitting here in Laguardia Airport, trying to find my writing mind. The thoughts are there, up there in the white space on my mind. I just seem to be having trouble getting them out. It’s kind of a constipating feeling.
So, instead of a well-formed, interesting blog, I will tell you all the ideas for blogs I have had in the last week. “But you have been blogging in the last week!” You interrupt to protest.
To that I would respond, “You’re right, my reader, I have been. But not BIG blogs. Big Sky thinking. No, just little stories of silly things the kids said or the digger I took where I ended up with mayonnaise on my face.”
In the last week, I have been thinking about blogging about:
1) Teenagers, the use of “like” and imprecision of speech at that age. Is it a mask behind which they hide? Do people actually get more and more precise with their descriptions and speech as they mature?
2) Boys who love trains, trucks and vehicles vs. those who love balls. Does the preference, as my mother predicts, mean something about their future personalities? Ball lovers being inclined towards extroversion and vehicle lovers being quieter, introspective types?
3) Overload of choice. I have been reading some articles recently about how overloaded we are as consumers by choices. Studies have shown that when the choices become too voluminous, we shut down. The complexity of choices overwhelm us and we rebel, deciding to not make a decision at all.
4) The ridiculousness of the word “green” and how it is woven into every ad campaign, new product development process, and pitch. People say 2008 will be known as the “green” year. This strikes me as completely inane. I believe strongly in the cause, but this beating a dead horse is getting so irritating. Yesterday, I saw a vodka advertised as green. I ask you, how is one vodka any greener than another? OK, sure, there are some corporate practices that could “help” one vodka to be greener, but this one had no good reason. How about financial institutions, banks and the like? Money is green. I think that’s where it ends.
So, instead of a well-formed, interesting blog, I will tell you all the ideas for blogs I have had in the last week. “But you have been blogging in the last week!” You interrupt to protest.
To that I would respond, “You’re right, my reader, I have been. But not BIG blogs. Big Sky thinking. No, just little stories of silly things the kids said or the digger I took where I ended up with mayonnaise on my face.”
In the last week, I have been thinking about blogging about:
1) Teenagers, the use of “like” and imprecision of speech at that age. Is it a mask behind which they hide? Do people actually get more and more precise with their descriptions and speech as they mature?
2) Boys who love trains, trucks and vehicles vs. those who love balls. Does the preference, as my mother predicts, mean something about their future personalities? Ball lovers being inclined towards extroversion and vehicle lovers being quieter, introspective types?
3) Overload of choice. I have been reading some articles recently about how overloaded we are as consumers by choices. Studies have shown that when the choices become too voluminous, we shut down. The complexity of choices overwhelm us and we rebel, deciding to not make a decision at all.
4) The ridiculousness of the word “green” and how it is woven into every ad campaign, new product development process, and pitch. People say 2008 will be known as the “green” year. This strikes me as completely inane. I believe strongly in the cause, but this beating a dead horse is getting so irritating. Yesterday, I saw a vodka advertised as green. I ask you, how is one vodka any greener than another? OK, sure, there are some corporate practices that could “help” one vodka to be greener, but this one had no good reason. How about financial institutions, banks and the like? Money is green. I think that’s where it ends.
Sunday, May 04, 2008
Not the Best Day
Today I took a tumble. It was pretty good fall where I am told I looked graceful, but fear I looked a bit like like a moron (I just almost wrote mormom).
I ringed my foot with Elena's basket of animals, couldn't dislodge it, bounced off her Rody (blue horse - hippity hop thing) and landed on Liam's tractor. I ended up with my lunch on the floor and mayo LITERALLY all over me, including on my face. Luckily, the only injury I sustained was a skinned knee.
Spectacular!
I ringed my foot with Elena's basket of animals, couldn't dislodge it, bounced off her Rody (blue horse - hippity hop thing) and landed on Liam's tractor. I ended up with my lunch on the floor and mayo LITERALLY all over me, including on my face. Luckily, the only injury I sustained was a skinned knee.
Spectacular!
Friday, May 02, 2008
Mom...Pwease...
"You show us your twicks (tricks)"...pauses for a moment. "Wait, do you have any twicks?" Smiles crookedly and then says, "Oh well, Ewena (Elena) will do HER twicks then."
Guess I am not known for my twicks these days...
Then she just said, "I wanna buy some special things that we can do special stuff with. So we can do pwojects."
Tricks and projects...Has it always got to be a three-freaking-ring circus over here?
Guess I am not known for my twicks these days...
Then she just said, "I wanna buy some special things that we can do special stuff with. So we can do pwojects."
Tricks and projects...Has it always got to be a three-freaking-ring circus over here?
Thursday, May 01, 2008
A Couple Funnies from Last Weekend
On Saturday afternoon, Liam was playing in the sink, which seems to be a favorite pastime for my kids. After some time, he was quiet and asked Elena to check and see if he was still in the kitchen. Her response cracked me up.
She said, "I see an animal shirt. I see a haircut. Yup, Liam's in there!"
Then, while we were at the Battle of Ridgefield reenactment, Liam was wearing his "Hello, My Name is Trouble" t-shirt. Elena remembered this and, while she was hanging out with my friend Dave said to him, "Trouble, your name is Liam!"
She said, "I see an animal shirt. I see a haircut. Yup, Liam's in there!"
Then, while we were at the Battle of Ridgefield reenactment, Liam was wearing his "Hello, My Name is Trouble" t-shirt. Elena remembered this and, while she was hanging out with my friend Dave said to him, "Trouble, your name is Liam!"
Like Mother Like Daughter
It's hard when a trait you have, that you really don't always love in yourself, gets passed on to one of your children. It's like watching your childhood all over again, only from an adult's perspective. Some days, you can be more objective and forgive yourself for some of the behaviors by watching them in your baby, but other days it just annoys you and you find yourself snapping at, what is ostensibly a little yourself. I will dispense with the theory. I am referring to Elena (my almost four-year-old) and her constant talking.
Apparently, when I was a child I was called Constant Comment, after the Bigelow tea. Family lore has it that I once said "Who" over one thousand times before changing the subject(my dad counted). I spent my school years as the "social butterfly" (an actual quote from my third grade teacher). Even times spent alone were spent singing and talking to myself.
The positives? I had an excellent vocabulary, people who weren't already tired of hearing me talk thought I was charming (strangers mostly fall into this category), I was good as self-entertaining and could entertain my sisters telling stories. The negatives? I could be annoying, exhausting, and create noise pollution. It was hard to get mad at little Kristen for this behavior, though, because I was so much the optimist, it was kind of like kicking a puppy.
Cut to Elena. Yesterday, at six in the morning, she was at my bedside. I was tired and could not seem to get my eyes to open and my body to rouse. I lay there, half asleep, while she covered me with words. On and on and on she went. I was just amazed that, with no cues to encourage the coversation, she kept it up. It made me want to cry.
It occured to me that she has definitely inherited the gene for loquacity from me. I will start praying now for her ability to self-edit, modulate and read a room.
Apparently, when I was a child I was called Constant Comment, after the Bigelow tea. Family lore has it that I once said "Who" over one thousand times before changing the subject(my dad counted). I spent my school years as the "social butterfly" (an actual quote from my third grade teacher). Even times spent alone were spent singing and talking to myself.
The positives? I had an excellent vocabulary, people who weren't already tired of hearing me talk thought I was charming (strangers mostly fall into this category), I was good as self-entertaining and could entertain my sisters telling stories. The negatives? I could be annoying, exhausting, and create noise pollution. It was hard to get mad at little Kristen for this behavior, though, because I was so much the optimist, it was kind of like kicking a puppy.
Cut to Elena. Yesterday, at six in the morning, she was at my bedside. I was tired and could not seem to get my eyes to open and my body to rouse. I lay there, half asleep, while she covered me with words. On and on and on she went. I was just amazed that, with no cues to encourage the coversation, she kept it up. It made me want to cry.
It occured to me that she has definitely inherited the gene for loquacity from me. I will start praying now for her ability to self-edit, modulate and read a room.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Relational Thinking and Blogandering
I am not sure how well organized this post will be, but somehow I think that form will be appropriate to the topic.
My name is Kristen, and I am a bloganderer. I might even have to say Webanderer...
Since my employ with a software company in 1996, I have been hopelessly addicted to searching the Web. I enjoy nothing more than indulging little research requests in my brain with precision googling and then, as if exploring a new city or park, move from thought to thought, relationally.
Way back in 1995, when I was in graduate school to be am elementary school teacher, I learned about the Progressive School of education. Progressive education is a movement that finds its roots in present experience, is more democratic in outlook, and looks forward. One of its applications is Experiential education where classroom learning is guided by both the experiences of the students and the class as a whole. I think of it as the form of teaching where the way the students' mind works is most honored and respected.
Wikipedia defines:
Experiential education is a philosophy of education that focuses on the transactive process between teacher and student involved in direct experience with the learning environment and content.
This is not to be confused with Experiential learning:
Experiential learning requires no teacher and relates solely to the meaning making process of the individual from direct experience. It is an inherent process that occurs naturally. However, as John Dewey pointed out experiential learning can often lead to mis-educative experiences.
Ahhhhhh...mis-educative experiences! Therein lies the rub. All this wandering the Web and blogandering can lead to false conclusions. Just look at the popularity of Snopes. I have many friends who send out email apocrypha warning me against dangers rife in this world, from how to avoid carjacking, to the dangers of certain deoderants, I get them all. Most of these are perpetuated untruths. Thank goodness for Snopes and their research for educating me...but, then again, how do I know that what they write is true?
And Wikipedia, an encyclopedia created by the Web community. How do we know if it's not just a bunch of words conjured up by internet blowhards? And blogs are even worse. They present like articles or news, but are not more than someone's thoughts spilling out into a browser window.
Now we have Tumblr encouraging microblogging. A form of blogging even less precise and more pithy. I know I will continue to blogander, but as the articles and entries on the Internet increase daily, will I have more and more of Dewey's "mis-educational" experiences? Will I care? Are we entering an era where imprecise truths are resepected?
My name is Kristen, and I am a bloganderer. I might even have to say Webanderer...
Since my employ with a software company in 1996, I have been hopelessly addicted to searching the Web. I enjoy nothing more than indulging little research requests in my brain with precision googling and then, as if exploring a new city or park, move from thought to thought, relationally.
Way back in 1995, when I was in graduate school to be am elementary school teacher, I learned about the Progressive School of education. Progressive education is a movement that finds its roots in present experience, is more democratic in outlook, and looks forward. One of its applications is Experiential education where classroom learning is guided by both the experiences of the students and the class as a whole. I think of it as the form of teaching where the way the students' mind works is most honored and respected.
Wikipedia defines:
Experiential education is a philosophy of education that focuses on the transactive process between teacher and student involved in direct experience with the learning environment and content.
This is not to be confused with Experiential learning:
Experiential learning requires no teacher and relates solely to the meaning making process of the individual from direct experience. It is an inherent process that occurs naturally. However, as John Dewey pointed out experiential learning can often lead to mis-educative experiences.
Ahhhhhh...mis-educative experiences! Therein lies the rub. All this wandering the Web and blogandering can lead to false conclusions. Just look at the popularity of Snopes. I have many friends who send out email apocrypha warning me against dangers rife in this world, from how to avoid carjacking, to the dangers of certain deoderants, I get them all. Most of these are perpetuated untruths. Thank goodness for Snopes and their research for educating me...but, then again, how do I know that what they write is true?
And Wikipedia, an encyclopedia created by the Web community. How do we know if it's not just a bunch of words conjured up by internet blowhards? And blogs are even worse. They present like articles or news, but are not more than someone's thoughts spilling out into a browser window.
Now we have Tumblr encouraging microblogging. A form of blogging even less precise and more pithy. I know I will continue to blogander, but as the articles and entries on the Internet increase daily, will I have more and more of Dewey's "mis-educational" experiences? Will I care? Are we entering an era where imprecise truths are resepected?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
