Now Where Did I Put My Groove?

I just got back from the weirdest spa. I think it was a spa. I had a nice, quiet room and an entire staff at my beck and call. I even had cable television, including a special station called “Hand Washing to Avoid Infection.”. I highly recommend the acupuncture. One needle stick, and I was out for hours. I was a little surprised at how often they asked for a urine sample or poked around for my blood, and they woke me at all hours to check my blood pressure. There were never any mints on my pillow, either. Maybe the occasional alcohol wipe or specimen cup, but whatever. Got to take the bad with the good, right? And at least this time they didn’t give me a baby when I left.

So now I’m home. Yay. I am slowly getting back into the swing of things. Yesterday, my husband took me for a car-ride, which perked me right up and confirmed my long-held suspicion that I am part golden retriever. I am no longer taking meds that restrict my ability to drive, so in theory, I am good to go. So for the first time in two weeks, I am alone with Squish. And I am terrified.

It seemed like a good idea. I can safely operate heavy machinery, after all, so how much more trouble can it be to keep up with a four year old? Quite a bit more, as it turns out. I’ll take the heavy machinery. It’s easier to win an argument with a belt sander than with a preschooler, and table saws come with an off-switch. Pray for me. I did not think this through.

Yeah, he’s laying on the back of the couch. Because why not. He’ll be good, right?

 

Nearly Wordless Wednesday: Class Time With Professor Padawan

Dear Professor,

I am a student, and I keep my nose to the grindstone during the school year, so when it’s time for a break, I want to relax as much as possible. How do I know that I have squeezed all the fun out of Spring Break that I can?

Signed,

Want My Money’s Worth

Dear Money’s Worth,

An excellent question. And also an easy one. You will know that you have properly utilized your Spring Break when at 10am on a Friday morning, you look like this:

Well done!

 

***Editor’s note: I know it looks as though he has spent his Spring Break deep in study. Rest assured he did not. Having carried all his bedding downstairs the night before for a sleepover (or a stay-up-all-night-er), he was forced to use his books as a pillow.

 

The Best April Fool’s Trick EVER.

My daughter has an evil streak. I admit I kind of like it. A couple of years ago, she perpetrated the greatest prank in the universe. I may have put her up to it, but I’m pleading the fifth.

Anyway, it all started when I got a “tween kit” from Kotex, a nifty little pamphlet that contained coupons and suggestions on how to talk to my tween about first periods. Which was weird because my only tween was the Padawan, and I always considered it his teacher’s job to teach him about punctuation, but whatever. We got the little packet, and an idea began to take shape.

Girl-child immediately found a piece of junk mail addressed to her dad. She carefully removed the address label and affixed it to the packet with a bit of glue. Then she mixed it in with the day’s mail and waited for her prey.

Yes.. I saved it. Evidence of her evil genius.

When my husband came home, he flipped casually through the mail. And then he stopped, casting furtive glances to left and right. His brow crinkled, and I heard him mutter “Why do they think I want to know this?” as he began to hyperventilate. He fell for it, believing for a moment that Kimberly-Clarke in all its wisdom had singled him out to have The Talk with his daughter, and wondering desperately how to get out of it. What a glorious day!

Was it cruel? Maybe a little. Unusual? Not for this family.

Well done, Girl-child.

 

Nearly Wordless Wednesday: Ode to Joy

Joy is the mountains on the first warm weekend of the year.

Mountain stream, how I’ve missed you!

Joy is a big sister who is happy to piggy back you when you get too tired.

Love my sis

Joy is when she RUNS!

WHEEEEE!

Good morning. What brings you joy today?

 

Nearly Wordless Wednesday: I Guess He’s Not Faking

Squish said he’s too sick for school.

Okay, maybe when a preschooler is still enough that a cat collects his body heat like a furry vulture scavenging for scraps, he’s sick.

 

He might be right.

 

Virgin Shaming

I had another post all lined up for today. It was a happy one. I wanted it to run this morning, but I am frustrated. Yesterday, I was too angry to write about it. Today, the rage has faded, leaving me sad and without a lot of hope.

I’m not sure exactly how to start. I don’t even know quite how to tag this post. Is it about religion? books? stupid things that people say? stereotypes? I guess? yes? all of the above? This is hard. I don’t want it to be a long, rambly rant. I have points, and I’d love for other people to understand them. Here goes.

I unfollowed two blogs this weekend. I don’t do that often because I am pretty selective about who I follow in the first place. But I clicked “unsubscribe” with no hesitation at all. In the last few days, I dumped two blogs whose authors vilified parents who teach abstinence to their teens. Don’t leave yet! Hang with me for a few more sentences.

Let me be really clear here. These authors weren’t merely disagreeing with the stance. I follow all kinds of blogs whose authors have views different than my own. It’s a big world. If I only hung out with people who see things my way, I would have a very small circle indeed. In this circumstance, the authors were angry, disrespectful, and tried to present us as stupid. Not just ignorant. Stupid. Me no likey.

This is a loaded issue, and a personal one. That’s what really gets me. It was so personal. One of the authors went so far as to say that she felt sorry for our kids. She tried to clarify that statement in her comments, but her explanation was even muddier than the original phrasing. What I did see quite clearly is that there are underlying assumptions about teaching abstinence that border on myth.

Myth #1 – People who believe in abstinence are uptight. 

You might be surprised.

Myth #2 Teaching abstinence means that sex education involves saying “Don’t have sex until you’re married. I’ll give you a pamphlet on your wedding night.” 

I am not going into too much detail because it’s not necessary, and I’m also trying to keep this post under a million words. Suffice it to say that sex ed in my opinion should never be so black and white. There are many shades of grey. (Insert requisite Fifty Shades reference  and guffaw like a middle schooler here. Because I know I did.)

Myth #3 – By teaching my children to wait until they are married to have sex, I am judging those who do not. 

I think this may be the biggest one. There’s often the assumption that by saying something is wrong for my family, I am pointing a finger at the rest of the world. Trust me. If I’m looking for a someone to shake my finger at, I need look no further than my mirror. I’ve got enough to be going on with right here, thanks.

Myth #4 – Abstinence is unrealistic. 

I won’t disagree that it’s difficult. Learning to drive is hard, too, but if I think it’s not a good idea to run into mailboxes and school children, I’m going to teach my kids the skills to avoid them. I would be selling my kids short if I didn’t have high ideals for them. It would be inconsistent, actually. I’m going to tell my kids that they can be a marine biologist or an artist if they’re willing to work hard enough, so it would be strange to say I don’t have faith that they can delay certain pleasures until they’re married.

Both blog posts in question were in reference to things that are happening within the publishing industry, specifically with young adult fiction. I’ll address that particular topic in a future post, now that you know where I’m coming from.

If you’re new to my blog, welcome! If you’ve been here a long time, welcome back! Feel free to leave a comment below.

 

I Usually Avoid Controversy, But…

I don’t air my dirty laundry on my blog. I have aired clean laundry a couple of times, but only because Squish was sleeping in it. I don’t usually take on the Daily Post challenges, either, especially the ones that involve any kind of controversy. But I read today’s challenge, which discusses something-something, polls, something-something, divisive issues. And it got me to thinking. I wonder if a poll could save my marriage.

I know. The challenge is to discuss whether we prefer ebooks or paperbacks, but I haven’t the energy to beat a dead horse (Incidentally, polls show that 9 out of 10 people surveyed prefer hardcover books for beating a dead horse). I’ll cover this part kind of quick.

I have an e-reader, so I read both. Paper books have intrinsic resale value while e-books don’t even belong to you if they have a DRM, say something about e-books being freakishly expensive, add a little note about saving shelf space by using an e-reader, and done.

Now on to the real topic that is on my heart: my relationship with my husband.

Every once in awhile, we get blind-sided; totally taken by surprise; knocked for a complete and utter loop. Now is one of those times. We thought we had the parenting thing worked out. We agreed on the general principles, and we’ve been able to talk through almost any conflict that arises. But we missed something along the way. We never talked about grilled cheese sandwiches.

I’m teaching the Padawan to cook. Well, cook may be a bit of a stretch. I’m teaching him to feed himself. Last week he learned how to make a grilled cheese sandwich. He did a great job with minimal supervision. He let the butter melt, dropped the sandwich in and toasted over medium heat until golden brown, then did the same for the other side. Confidence soaring, he asked to make them for the family. Conflict arose.

There he was, prepping his bread and cheese like a little soldier, melting his butter in the pan just as he had been taught. He had no more than tossed the sandwich into the pan when my husband uttered the fateful words; “You’ll want to flip that over and get butter on both sides.” Confused and uncertain, my poor son followed his father’s instructions, which resulted in a sad sandwich that was rather dry and decidedly non-buttery.

Let me back up a moment. My husband is a good man, but he brought baggage into the marriage. He never learned to make grilled cheese properly. Left to his own devices as a college student, he taught himself to butter the bread before sticking it in the pan. It was cute at first, like watching a baby eat a sock, but it has since lost its charm, especially since this behavior has now impacted how we raise our offspring.

Words were said that cannot now be unsaid, mostly to the effect of “You’re doing it wrong,” and “That’s going to burn.” Feelings have been hurt. Mostly my husband’s. No one wants to be told their grilled cheese is dry. And my poor son is caught in the middle.

I need your help. Am I way off base here?

I know that I don’t usually bring controversy into my blog, and this is a heated topic. A delicious, melty, buttery, heated topic. Please keep comments kind and constructive. Make grilled cheese sandwiches for others the way you would have them make them for you. Or something like that.

 

Tiny Misunderstanding

It’s February! For such a short little month, it sure is packed with holidays, and Squish has been learning about them all in preschool. He’s super excited about tomorrow, and he’s been telling me all about the wonder that is February 2nd.

He’s going to be watching the news on the morrow with great interest. He tells me that if she sees her shadow, she’s going to pop back into her hole, and it’s six more weeks of winter for us. That’s right! It’s that time of year again. Squish wants me to remind everyone that tomorrow is Grandma’s Day!

He may have missed a little something in the translation.

Don’t be scared, Granny!

If Groundhog’s Day brings this kind of confusion, Ash Wednesday will be interesting.

 

A Good Place To Be

It’s a good day. Yesterday I experienced a big perspective shift that really knocked my socks off. I’ll share it with you soon.

I am a lucky girl. Here’s how I am blessed today:

1) We’re coming up on the half-way point in NaNo, and I’ve realized I will not finish my book by November 30. You want to know why? The story I am telling pleases me greatly. It has been easy to write up until this point. That may change tomorrow, but for now it’s cooking along well. But I will need more than 50K words to tell the story. Like, way more. I’ll meet the word goal, but I’ll only be about 1/3 of the way through the book. So I won’t write “The End” by November 30, but I will still be a winner. In a big way.

2) Last year’s project is speaking to me, also. It’s a story that still wants to be told and desires to see the light of day. I am getting excited about that story, too. And there are two other future works that are talking to me. I am a writer again.

3) Every time I ask my kids what they want for Christmas because grandparents are anxious to finish their shopping, they say “Um, I haven’t really thought about it.” Wow. They aren’t spending all their waking hours (or any time at all, actually) thinking of things they want people to buy them. They’re better at the whole contentment game than I was at their age.

4) I made a giant crockpot full of apple butter yesterday. Want the recipe? It’s easy. And the best part was that the Girl-child helped me make it.

5) I canned the apple butter this morning. I have nine jars lined up like little soldiers on my counter, and all of them sealed successfully. There is no sweeter sound than the ping of a sealing jar. Never canned before? It’s not too hard.  And you don’t need any special equipment to do it, I don’t care what the Ball jar box tells you. A big pot and a dish towel is all you need! Oh, and some jars. And some apple butter. Get peeling!

6) The depression that threatens to swallow me whole around the holidays hasn’t made its appearance, glory to God. It may show up at the door tomorrow, but for today I am not just functioning but thriving. I will take each good day as it come, and we’ll make the most of it.

7) Squish has become my cooking buddy. Yesterday he wanted to make muffins, so we found a good recipe and set to work. They were so good that we’re making them again today! I’ll try to take some pictures and share the recipe.

8) I’ve managed attended a write-in with real people in a real room. Writing has become a very solitary activity for me since I am no longer in close proximity to other writers. I grew up with AJ, and I always had a live and in-person collaboration buddy/idea bouncer off of-er/critic. I miss that. And her. So I attended a write-in. Next time I’ll get brave enough to introduce myself.

9) The last lesson I worked with my computer students on really captured their attention. They took notes, were engaged and interested, and they may remember what they learned for longer than a week. I really felt like a teacher.

So that is where I am. And where are you this fine day?

 

Taking a Leaf Out of MY Book

Sometimes I think I might like to swap my life for something a little less exciting, like being a secret double-agent, but I’d probably just get bored.

I took Squish to the used bookstore last week. It’s a fabulous place. 5000 square feet of media. Books, CDs, movies. You name it, they probably have it, will have it, or had it yesterday. I could live there.

Anyway, Squish and I went last week. We peeked in the free bin first thing, and we found a large collection of model train magazines, circa 1986. I let my littlest engineer take one of them. He tucked it proudly under his arm, and we went inside.

After a few minutes of browsing the children’s books, I looked over at Squish. He was doing an unfortunate little dance. When it comes to toileting urgency, I operate on a scale from 1-5.

1 –  number one.

2 – (what do you think two is?)

3 – one + two =3

4 – Elizabeth, this is the big one!

5 – Better use someone else’s bathroom

We were clearly operating on a 5. I grabbed the kid up and made a dash for the nearest facility. We got there in time, but barely. Crisis passed, it was time to wrap up the paperwork. Unfortunately, in our hurry to make the money shot before the clock ran out, I had not had time to check the facilities for crisis readiness. There was no toilet paper.

I checked my pockets for a stray tissue, but I was wearing my sweatpants (don’t you dare judge me!) and had none. This particular store doesn’t offer paper towels, either, so we were left high and dry there. Or maybe not so dry.

I even considered asking the woman in the stall next to us if she could pass us a bit of tissue, but she was in worse shape than Squish. I heard her mumbling to herself anxiously, apparently talking herself through her own special event. I didn’t want whatever germs she was carrying to disturb her. We were on our own.

Squish was bored with the whole do, so to speak, and he was ready to get back to perusing “Everybody Poops”, but I was a little stuck. I toyed with yanking his pants back up and forgetting the whole mess, but no. Just no. And he wasn’t wearing any socks. Finally, I looked at his train magazine, and the light bulb came on. If it was good enough for Grandpa, it was good enough for us.

I could have told him what I was going to do, but I didn’t for two reasons. First, the thought of tearing a page out of his new train magazine to do his paperwork might really upset him. The second reason, it might not upset him at all. In fact, it might amuse him so much that no magazine would ever be safe around him again. I could just see my husband’s entire collection of Runners World coming to a bad end.

I asked him if I could see his magazine for a second. He obliged. And then I betrayed him. I sang the ABC song, his very favorite, to cover the sound of tearing paper. He even joined in. I am a terrible parent. And it was terrible paper. But sometimes a job must be done, and it’s up to you and the little engine that could. And did.

Life may hand you bad cards, but sometimes you come up with a royal flush.