Social Death And/Or Dismemberment

Laura likes to make little comics, and this one made me laugh. This is another one of those social discomforts--there seem to be so many these days--that would of course be very difficult to explain to our ancestors. But it cracked me up that Laura recognized the potential for such a precise brand of angst in a particular intersection of technology and social life. But now I risk doing that thing where you explain the joke.

Just lately, a widely-read blogger, the Uppercase Woman, apparently accidentally followed a certain twitter account, and then unfollowed it. The account she followed/unfollowed is a so-called parody account that exists only to imitate and make fun of Uppercase Woman's tweets. So whoever runs that account got an email notification that the very object of her parody had followed her, however briefly, which showed that she is aware of the parody account and may even read it. That must have been very gratifying to the parodist, because she wasted no time in crowing about it to the community that has assembled for the purpose of dissecting and criticizing this blogger's posts.

This was all kind of gross to me. Yes, "gross," that's a advanced critical term. Look for my forthcoming book on media, affect, and the technological deformations of empathy in our modern age.

Further, in discussing some other situation on the interwebs, Elle remarked that, just as Michael Pollan in his Food Rules instructs us to avoid any "food" that your great-grandmother wouldn't recognize, we should eschew social kerfuffles that would be nonsense to that dear old soul. So anytime someone is attempting to score points and their demonstration involves the panoptical following/unfollowing/liking/poking of someone/something on a social media platform, let us gracefully sidestep if we can. Perhaps a good time to visit the punch bowl.

We were out late seeing the Hunger Games movie tonight, so I wanted to post briefly. I thought the movie was fine. I don't know what I would have made of it if I hadn't read the book. Anyone in that category?

Here's another one from Laura:

Basically.

Sorry to ramble, but I swear there is a method in it somewhere. Chime in if you feel moved.

night!

A Hair Do And An Elbow Don't

Laura's elbow in a happier time.

Wednesday night at swim practice, Laura had her arm fully extended on a stroke and the kid in the next lane ran into her hand, jamming her outstretched arm. She says she saw her elbow bend way the wrong direction. She says it was sickening, and I can well believe it. It hurt a lot and she got out of the pool. But she was moving it and didn't seem to be too distressed. We just had her ice it and I told her she'd rest it the next day. She skipped swimming last night, but her arm wasn't feeling any better, even with rest and ibuprofen. She took to wearing one of her circle scarves as a sling.

So, like any concerned mother, I went to get my hair done this morning. I told Laura she could sleep in and skip school, but I needed to get in for my foil and cut, because that appointment was hard to get, and with the holidays upon us, the other matrons were gonna be all up in there, taking all the morning time slots and drinking all the cucumber water.

Hurr

So my lady did her thing, which takes about three hours, and then asked if she could hot roll me and take some pics for her Pinterest board, so I was like, okay, so she put a bunch of rollers in my hair and when she was finished, I looked like a Judd cousin. I have some curls, but they're not big blousy curls like she produced. And I resolved that I needed a date night, because that hair needed to be out and about.

Then I went home and Laura's elbow was not really in any better shape than before, so we got Hank and went to the children's urgent care and were seen quickly. They xrayed her and said that nothing is broken, it's probably just sprained, and it's hard to determine the extent of soft tissue damage with xray, but nothing is swollen. They gave her a sling and told her no sports for a week.

As he was ushering us into the first room, the male nurse nodded towards me and said to Laura, "Is this your sister?" I was like, oh please, and Laura explains, "No, she's my mom." And he chuckled and I kind of rolled my eyes, but, you know, appreciatively. It was the power of the hair!

And as we were wrapping up, I got a text from my friend. She was like, "How did Laura turn out? We are heading there because Harrison's cousin hit him in the head with a hoe."

Yikes!

So we go out into the waiting room and there is Hank's buddy Harrison, looking a bit wan and clutching a paper towel to the back of his head. It was clear there had been a lot of blood. My friend looked a bit wan herself. So by then Matt was there and the other dad was there and we had a pleasant little neighborly catch-up around our injured children. The intake nurse was reassuring them that even minor head wounds bleed profusely, and the dad was like, "Yep, it's not our first time at this rodeo."

Harrison got five staples in his head and is okay.

Then we went back home, and Matt went back to work, and I was still planning to go out when he got home tonight. Then something got in my eye that I was super allergic to. I have no idea what it was; I don't really have a lot of problems with allergies. But it itched and then swelled up, and I took a benadryl, which made me feel instantly drowsy.

So Matt came home and I'm like this weepy, puffy-eyed, sleepy Judd cousin with fantastic CMA hair, and I was like, "Let's just eat this pizza you got for the kids and stay home." Done. 

Now I'm stretched out on the couch and this hair is like the desert rose in the poem, born to blush unseen. And that's a Friday for you.

Around here, people are starting their vacations tonight, because the kids are out of school all next week. Y'all?

Edited to add: OMG, remember when I was bald? That was a thing that happened. Anyway.

Never Enough Time To Do All The Nothing You Want

No post without a picture. So, Percy.

This morning I asked Matt, "This weekend, what do you not want to do?" He said, "There is so much I don't want to do. Everything, actually."  So we have no real plans.

We're a family who needs regular downtime.

There was a fair amount of downtime for me today. In fact, one reason I started blogging again was because of days like this, days where nothing big happens and I know that in three weeks I will not remember it at all, and it's one more day of my precious life gone. Cheery, right? Teach me to know my days are numbered and all. That's what I'm trying for.

This morning I got up at 7:00 and got Hank up. That's too late for the bus but in plenty of time to drive him to school, which I did. But when I got there the car line was so long that I parked and circumvented the line by walking him to the door, walked him to the door wearing my literal pajama pants. I am not abashed.

Then I returned home where Laura had arisen and gotten dressed and was working on a model of a cell wall for science. The last I'd heard, this was going to involve shaving cream or something, but then I turned my back for five minutes and during that time she found an old Whitman's sampler box, punched holes in the sides to represent the plasmodesmata, put a piece of craft foam on the bottom, lined the perimeter with cotton balls, and then filled the box with a half inch of shampoo. Cytoplasm? Fruity, delicious-smelling cytoplasm. I pulled off the lid and was like, whoa...hmmm...okay, done!

I was troubled by the fact that the cell was rectangular and not some more organic shape, and she was all, "Mom, it's just like a schematic." And then she pointed to the holes in the side of the candy box and talked about ion transfer, and I was all, okay Marie Curie.

Later I told Matt that she had filled a cardboard box with shampoo, and he allowed as how that sounded like an absolutely terrible idea.

This all took until about 8:15.

Then I remembered that it is Staff Appreciation Day and I owed a cafeteria worker breakfast at 9:00. The room mom had sent me her breakfast order: Chicken biscuit and tea. I texted the room mom and said, "I'm gonna assume this is sweet tea," and she was like, "Uh, YEAH." 

So I got back in the car and went to Chick-fil-A for chicken biscuits and tea. Then I drove back to the school, this time wearing legit pants. Right in the foyer, they had a drop station set up to receive all the incoming meals, and I stayed to see the breakfast labeled with my lunchlady's name and then I was off again.

By now it was raining lightly and I texted my tennis friend. We agreed to push our singles match back a bit in hopes that it would dry up. Fabienne was coming to clean, so I decided to go home and clear away some clutter. I ran around like a dervish and put sheets out, etc. When she came in, I greeted her, but I don't really like to hang around while she works. I think everyone basically feels that way? Usually I either have something to do at the elementary school and then have lunch out, or I have tennis and then lunch out, and by the time I've done all that she's finished and gone.

So I cleared out of there again and my friend and I met at the tennis court. We played exactly one game--I'm talking maybe two minutes of tennis, and it started to rain in earnest. We surrendered and climbed back in our cars.

Let the record show that I won that one game.

I went to TJ Maxx and returned a pair of pants for Hank. I did not buy anything else, so that was a revenue-neutral situation. I tried on a few dresses though, and fingered lots of the merch, but I was kind of over all of it. It's good to go and remind myself of all the stuff I don't need though.

Then I went to Panera and sat by their little gas fireplace and ate lunch by myself. Matt is my preferred lunch partner, but he was busy today--his exact words were, "I have to get some work done before the company goes to play whirlyball," so I was on my own. Panera is the kind of place where you're quite comfortable being by yourself, so I eavesdropped a lot and I read Wolf Hall.

It's a lot better now, but I remember that Panera during the worst of the recession was a anxious place. Lots of tense, hopeful little meetings and interviews going on at all those little tables. Anyway.

Then I went to the store and bought apples. Then it was time to meet Hank's bus. Fabienne had gone, leaving a clean house, or, you know, clean enough. Hank brought his buddy home and they jumped on the wet leafy trampoline and whacked each other with nerf swords at the same time. When they wanted to come inside, I made them stand on a beach towel while I removed the leaf litter from their clothing.

There was a letter in Hank's folder that informed me he's going to be given a thirty-minute "creativity test" next week. I pondered that in my heart. I really have no idea what that would look like at all.

Then Laura came home, and her afternoon tennis was also rained out, so we found ourselves with hours of afternoon at home, and that almost never happens. Laura told me her box of shampoo went over just fine, and that there is a new girl in school and she's the prettiest girl she's ever seen and they are already friends. Then I made some beans and rice with andouille sausage and we piddled around. Then Matt came home. The End.

It's just a blog about nothing.

Thank you for reading; I hope your eyeballs still point the right way. xoxo

I Just Wanna Know You Better

Camp Papa and LJ

Yesterday my tennis coach said to me, "Becky, all I'm gonna say is, enjoy your kids while they're young." She had been regaling me with stories of how her college-age children were driving her crazy. They actually sound like delightful people, but her family is adjusting to their new life stages.

This morning, Laura wanted to get to school early for a science review session, so we pulled up in the drop-off lane at 7:45, right after we got Hank to school. Kids aren't allowed in the building before 8, so we sat together in our heated seats while Taylor Swift sang on the radio. Laura was tired and not animated. She'd been home late from swimming and then had studying to do. In the mornings--some mornings--I bear the brunt of all of Laura's annoyance with the universe. The angle of the sun, the air temperature, the sogginess of a cheerio, these things are probably my fault. It's okay, I am maddeningly unfazed by her moods. Some days she saves all her charm and her stories, all her sparkly cheer, for her daddy, which I get. I totally get it.

She sat there and woke up a bit and then kids started to pop out of cars and go into the building. A male teacher I didn't recognize walked by the car and smiled in at us through the window. I said, "Who is that?" Laura opened the door and slid down from the seat. As she did, she turned back and said, "He's one of the vice principals. He's in charge of discipline."

She said "discipline" so archly! How does she know to do that? And she raised an eyebrow and half smiled. In that moment it was like she was twenty years old. I felt like I was looking at myself. Her whole expression just nailed this humorous, like, skepticism about the whole enterprise of, I don't know, discipline? The institution of school? It made me laugh, and she walked away, and her long blond hair was behind her like a flag.

For some reason, out of a whole day, that was a moment I wanted to tell you about.

(Because I also napped, had lunch with Matt, and played tennis, we could talk about those but the shadows grow long.)

I hope you had a moment you liked.
xoxox

I Think That I Shall Never See

Laura making an entrance.

We are still follow, follow, following that yellow brick road, until this time tomorrow night. As a tree, Laura is in all six shows. Her line is a scornful, "She was hungry!" after Dorothy plucks an apple from one of the trees. Then all the trees throw their plastic apples down at Dorothy and Scarecrow.

Then in another scene, she's an oak tree. And in the Haunted Forest, she has Spanish Moss. So, you know, a full tree acting range! As my dad said, "Epiphytes are hard to pull off."

But Laura is hilarious. She's complaining that none of the other trees stay in character. She's like, "We're supposed to be mad! And all the other trees are turning their heads to watch Dorothy. We don't care about those humans!"

It is a fun show. I remarked on it last year, but there's a load of talent in that group of kids. The little Dorothy is the complete package. And for some parts, Toto is a real dog, who totally steals the scene.

Never work with animals, people.

Goodnight Oz!

More tomorrow, my pretties!

Weekendly

EB hid all the eggs in the backyard. I don't know why that chair is there.

My sister has a LOT OF NERVE. On my SubMat facebook page (you click that little fb logo up there on the left and "like" my page and then you don't miss a minute of her 'tude), she's all, "Um, blogging 'every day in March.'" This from someone who hasn't blogged in a coon's age. And I was like, March is a long month, gah, and then my Dad helpfully pointed out that there's a difference between metric March and Imperial March. Or something to do with the switch to the Gregorian calendar?

Anyway, I think I liked having my previous post at the top of the page for a couple of days. And we had kind of a whirlwind weekend here so far.

We celebrated Easter with the kids on Saturday morning, because Laura has since headed to the beach with her friend's family for Spring Break and wouldn't be home on Sunday morning. Matt the Easter Bunny hid two dozen eggs out in our backyard, which is a lot of ground to cover and a lot of different terrain. Before long, the kids needed hints. He requested a garbage bag, I brought it to him, and he told the kids that for every few pieces of litter or broken plastic crap they gathered, they would get a hint to an egg location. So they were out there picking up trash and finding eggs at the same time. Truly, he is the Master of Revels. Also, his hints rhymed:

"If not at first an egg you see, get thyself to the crook of a tree."

"If eggs you seek, follow this command: look deeper down into the sand."

There were a bunch of these, each more poetical than the last. I sat on the porch drinking coffee and cracking up, proud to have helped him pass his genetic material into the next generation of humans.

I spent the rest of the day helping Laura get ready to go, with a few bumps in the road. She had recovered from her virus and went to school on Friday, and was feeling fine, but then Saturday afternoon, she went for a run with Matt, and came home complaining that her ear hurt. I was all, damnation. I didn't want to send her off with another family for a week if there was a chance her viral head cold had turned into an ear something. So we headed to the clinic at the CVS. That place looked like an extras casting call for "Walking Dead." There were about six people ahead of us and the nurse was at lunch.

I thought, "To heck with this, I'm calling my neighbor." One of Hank's little buddy's mothers is a pediatrician. They live around the corner from us, I see her almost every day, and I have never never sought her medical opinion or asked for a bus stop consulation. I don't know, I just feel like it's an imposition? Though she has never said anything that would give that impression. But I texted her and asked her if she would look in Laura's ear, and she came right away.

She couldn't get her little ear flashlight to work, but she said the easiest thing, given that Laura was going out of town, was to prescribe an antibiotic and call it a day, so she phoned the pharmacy from my kitchen and we were all good. Normally I would have just kept a watch on her and not gone for the ab's, but Laura was nearly in tears because she thought her trip was imperiled. And I didn't think it was an ear infection, I thought it was exercise-induced ear pressure. But I am not that kind of doctor. Anyway, my neighbor told me several times that she was really glad I'd asked her, and I thought, well maybe she became a pediatrician because she wants to help children, even if they just live around the corner. And her husband is a plastic surgeon, so between them, we're covered.

Later, to Matt, I was like, "That was so convenient!" And he was like, "Having the doctor come to your house? Yes."

As Laura gathered her things together to get out the door, her ear pain lessened and lessened until it seemed she'd made a full recovery. I think my ear-pressure diagnosis was correct. Humanities PhD power! So I delivered her into the care of the other family. Matt and I feel comfortable with her instincts and judgment, as well as with that family, so I'm thinking she'll have a wonderful week. My biggest fear is drowning, and I told her not to go past her knees in the Gulf, which she won't because she thinks there are a lot more sharks than there really are.

Then Matt and I, the carefree parents of one child, threw all our stuff together and headed up to the mountain house, late. Hank fell asleep immediately, and we rode along companionably. One fun topic for musing was, if our family life were a sitcom, who and what would be the best potential spinoffs? Like Archie Bunker spun off the Jeffersons, who were the Bunkers' neighbors. Following that template, we thought the telegenic black family around the corner (my friendly kitchen pediatrician!) would make good viewing. And we conceived of a hipster office comedy involving Matt's twenty-something employees.

I guess the two of us have already talked about all the important things.

Now I'm just telling you everything that happened to me since we last spoke. Sorry.

I hope you have had a wonderful weekend. xoxo

Her Drama Faculties Are Undiminished

Laura woke up in the wee hours of this morning with a very high fever and a sore throat. Ruh roh. Also chills, headache, the works. Strep was my first thought. I turned off her alarm clock, dosed her with meds, and as soon as the pediatrician's office opened, I called and got her a morning appointment.

Her fever had slowly come down by the time of the doc visit, but she was feeling very poorly as we drove over there. She is never sick, so we were both sort of in a state of dismay.

I asked, "Did you manage to get back to sleep after you first woke up this morning?"

She sighed and looked at the passing trees. "No," she said. "Every hour was like a decade."

Gracious.

The quick strep test was negative, it's just some virus, so there was nothing for it but some good old-fashioned being waited upon--hand and foot--by mama. So that's what we did. We came home, installed her on the couch, and I set about bringing her different drinks, hulling her strawberries, arranging her throw blankets, and feeling her forehead. And no school tomorrow either.

And I know she felt bad, because darned if she didn't stay on that couch until she went up to her room at bedtime. This is unthinkable for her--she is go-go going during all of her waking hours. I offered to bring her something to read, and she was like, "I don't feel like I can focus on anything." So she watched Ferris Bueller. Then she watched War Games, I guess she was in the mood for a Broderick festival. Then she played some Xbox Lego Lord of the Rings ("Don't tell Hank"), then she watched Dancing with the Stars, then, after Hank came home, she watched a show about dinosaurs.

I made a big pot of delicious chicken noodle soup, and she managed to eat that as well as strawberries, toast with cheese, some chicken pot pie, a banana, and popcorn. I figured that was enough nourishment for basic life support.

At one point I ran out to the store for more provisions, and I got a text from Matt. He said he wasn't sure if he was getting sick, but he felt tired, achy, and enervated. He did allow as how these could all be symptoms of the nine-mile run he did this morning. And I was like, let's hope so, I can't advise you because I wouldn't know anything about what it feels like to have run that far. For me it would feel like being dead. But one sick person at a time!

The soup seems to have restored us all, mostly.

Hank is fine. He has a new watch that lights up, and it caused quite a stir in the classroom, with people asking him the time repeatedly. He mentioned that he instituted a policy to deal with his sudden popularity. The first three times you ask him what time it is, he'll tell you for free, and after that it costs a penny.

I didn't know what to say to that, exactly, as I had my hands full with other things.

I hope you are feeling well.

Don't Wanna Miss A Minute

Yesterday my dad interrupted a lengthy phone chat I was having with my mom. He just wanted to tell me how much he loves me and admires the person I've become? Nope. He wanted to say, "Tell her she owes me a blog post for Saturday." And now for Monday but I know nobody is really keeping track RIGHT?

We'll make it up as we go. I'm realizing I need to make time during the day to blog, because once night falls and the stars appear over the village green, and all the people are snug indoors, there are just too many things competing for my attention: parental duties, marital leisure, basement ping pong, the hope of an early bedtime, and also Matt and I have started watching Justified.

Since last we spoke, Troy the rat trap checker came back. We were both glad to see each other. He went up in the attic and informed me that we'd murdered another flying squirrel, and I received this news with equanimity. Then I went to play tennis, where my friend said, "Oh, you paid the exterminators what? You should have called me, I have a guy."

I should have called her. She always has a guy.

Then I took Hank to karate and Laura to swimming and made a black bean and sausage soup. Laura and I nearly both lost our minds over her math homework. What's a hectoliter, quick!

Then it was today. Now I'm just telling you everything I did.

This morning I went to tennis team practice and then hung around and hit with some of the girls. The weather was gorgeous, and after three hours out there playing, all my cares had flown away. I had lunch with Matt, grabbed Hank, and checked Laura out of school to take them both to the dentist. It was there that my joy turned to chagrin.

The kids go back and then in a bit the dentist ushers me into his office and goes, "I have bad news." First of all, I have an allergy to the words "bad news," and I only want to hear them when it is bad, bad news. He told me that Hank has four cavities, which will have to be remedied in two lengthy appointments, probably involving some kind of sedation. Poor bud!

There was a fair amount of implicit judgment floating around about my slatternly ways of letting him brush his own teeth instead of doing it for him. I dunno, he has one of those spin brush things and I thought he was doing okay. But he was not! And now I am covered in shame.


Obviously Chick-fil-a was called for.

So there we repaired to nurture our spirits and kill a little time before I could drop Laura at swimming. A number of waffle fries found their way into my mouth. Laura ate a pile of chicken and then some of her brother's food. After a few minutes she goes, "Is it weird that I'm hungry right now?" I encouraged her to wait twenty minutes and then reassess. The girl can eat.

We chatted as Hank went to and from the play area. I petted Laura's hair and said, "Your hair is really  long, do you want to get it cut before spring break?" "Not really," she said.

Hank looked at me and said, with all the accumulated wisdom of his six years, "Just let the girl do what she wants."

Not bad advice.

But even with such charming company as those two, I stewed and was glum about Hank's dental situation. Laura, sensing the mood, goes, "Are you, like, traumatized right now?"

"No," I said, "but I was just realizing that one of Hank's cavities costs the same as killing one flying squirrel."


So basically everything is fine here. Now you're caught up. How are you?

At The Crack of Doom

Laura had to be on deck for a swim meet at 6:45 this morning, forty-five minutes from our house. When I first opened the email containing the session times, I winced in an exaggerated fashion. Like, I pulled my shoulders up around my ears. I have written before of my dislike of scheduled things, and when the scheduled things are early in the morning, I am like BEYOND GAH.

A meet on a school day is a new thing for us. This particular meet is Friday, Saturday, AND Sunday, and Laura is swimming all three days. At 5:45, I rolled out of bed, put on jeans, and pulled a fleece on over the camisole I slept in. I nudged Laura and in ten minutes, we were out the door into the dark. She had packed her backpack the night before, she has always been easy to get going in the morning. I got her a sausage biscuit on the way because if it is still dark outside, there is no such thing as a healthy breakfast. Just please hand over the grease and bread. I had a banana, because banana and coffee are two of my favorite tastes together.

We got to the meet and found seats in the bleachers. I said, "Didn't you bring anything to read or do?" She said, "I never bring anything." And then she sat there and watched every event. I remembered, duh, this is her sport, she wants to watch it being done. A big sign on the far side of the room had that pool's records for each event, for men and women. We studied the list; Michael Phelps's name was all over it. Then, watching the 15-18 boys swim a long, grueling medley, Laura gestured toward the records and said, "Michael Phelps would be done by now." That made me laugh. I said it sounded like she was quoting the worst coach in the world, just comically non-motivating. "You know, guys, Michael Phelps would be done already. He'd be dried off and eating an entire pizza, probably folded in half like a taco. Step it up."

Then she swam her events and it was all good and we were out of there at 11:30. But even though I had nothing demanding on my schedule for the rest of the day, to my friends I was all, "You GUYS, OMG so early! And driving down to Chamblee! But it's for the children!!!" Then we got Hank, had lunch, saw Fabienne the cleaning lady out the door, relaxed for a little bit, and then went up to the playground and tennis courts for Laura's lesson. I watched some of my friends play and enjoyed the sudden turn to gorgeous weather after the raw, bone-chilling and spirit-breaking, chilly-damp soul funk we've been enduring.

Matt had to get Hank ready for school and this is how that went.

The whole family has been going pretty hard all week. The tennis, y'all, good lord. I had five tennis matches or practices between Tuesday and Thursday night, including two three-set, three hour grinders. (Winning!) Funny how you can feel two different ways about two different matches you won. One I was annoyed about, because we never should have let those ladies take us to a third set--we played like utter goofballs and the pace was so slow you would have cut your own throat--and the other I felt absolutely triumphant and glowing about, because we lost the first set and had our hands full, these girls were good. It did not look good for us, but we adjusted our game and took the match. I ran from side to side for three hours--nobody who has known Becky for a long time would have recognized me. I don't even know, it's like I'm a stranger to myself.

That night I ate the whole world, then climbed into bed feeling various pains. That's not usual for me, but my toes hurt, my legs hurt, and my elbow was sore from overuse. I resolved to take today and tomorrow off from tennis. I turned down a match and I even turned down an invite to a St. Patty's Day party tonight, because I think we were all craving some downtime. Also the party hosts are loud, prone to drunkenness, famously volatile, and on the brink of divorce. Which is basically the same as saying, they're on our mixed doubles team.

I KID. THERE ARE ONLY LIKE TWO COUPLES ON OUR MIXED TEAM WHO FIT THAT DESCRIPTION. lol j/k

Matt is taking Laura to her meet tomorrow, otherwise there is no way I'd be awake and blogging. God bless you all and God bless America. xoxo

Well I Guess The Child Has Heard One Thing I've Said

This morning Laura and I sat in the car waiting for the school bus. She had cajoled me into driving her up there because it was 31 degrees, and baby might catch a chill. Anyway, so we sat together in our heated seats and I took in her outfit.

"Oh, I didn't know you ever wore those yoga pants to school," I said.

"Well," she said, "Yoga pants, a sweatshirt, and Toms, that's the thing now."

"That's the thing now?" I asked, "What about jeans and cowboy boots, is that no longer a thing?"

She assured me that jeans and cowboy boots was still also a thing.

In the rear view mirror I spied her friend Claire getting out of her family's SUV.

I said, "Wow, you're right. There's Claire wearing yoga pants, Toms, and a sweatshirt. She has a bow in her hair and is also chewing gum."

Laura said, "Her mother lets her chew gum."

I opined as how that must be nice for her. What's funny is that I don't actually FORBID GUM, but it is not part of our lives, and whenever I see Laura with gum, I say, "Where did you get that? Why don't you go spit it out?" I think it's one of the least attractive things you can do with your face.

Laura went on, "Whenever any of my friends asks me if I want gum, I say, 'Noooo.'" And here she affected a glum, hangdog look.

I said, "Yes, as I have mentioned before, you will never see Kate Middleton with gum in her mouth."

I offered that as though it closed the case. Laura sat in silent acquiescence.

I don't know why I make a thing of the things I make a thing of, I just do. There's a method to it all, somewhere.

I Would Have Done Such Wonderful Things

Such wonderful things with that golden hour that was taken from us today. I know that complaining about something to do with clocks is zzzzz but there it is. I kind of lost the hour in which I was going to blog a real post.

What I did instead of blog with the limited time available to me today:

Woke up late, still at the mountain house. Farewelled Matt's departing family.

Had some coffee and ate supper leftovers for brunch. Didn't want to take a lot of food home.

Started reading Death Comes to Pemberley by PD James. If you are an Austen fan, you would really like it. Usually when someone attempts to imitate Austen's style and tone, it makes me feel a deep, deep sadness. But not in this case.

Texted with four people to find out what was going on, in real time, with our Sunday team's tennis match today. The news was mixed.

Played a board game that Laura had spent the morning making. It involved buying lottery tickets to get ahead and win. Hmm.

Stripped/made a bed. Policed our area and gathered our belongings. Cleaned the kitchen. Directed children through the sub-par performance of cleaning jobs. While Laura was on her knees cleaning something off the kitchen floor, she said, "I feel like Cinderella!" Matt said, "Only the Cinderella who always gets to go to the ball? And doesn't ever work?" I chimed in that there was a name for that Cinderella--it's the evil stepsisters. Laura harrumphed.

Then I gave Hank some glass cleaner and some paper towels, and honestly, watching a young child attempt to clean a pane of glass effectively...it is just something. Something character-building. I showed him how to do it better and then we did it together and a lot of paper towels died in the process.

Read some more while Matt and the kids had one last hot tub.

More light reading.

Shut down the mountain house and locked the door behind us. It is always strange to me to think of it sitting there, cooling down, empty and waiting, the rays of sun traveling across the rooms day after day and nobody there. Except the ladybugs, who are wintering in the corners.

Sat in the passenger seat and provided color commentary on all of life while Matt drove us home to Atlanta.

Played a little Rock Band 3 with the family. Found that child bedtime came quickly, more quickly than the kids felt was just. Matt announced, like the closing-time bartender, "You don't have to go to sleep but you can't stay here."

Watched an episode of Game of Thrones with Matt. Watched the very first episode again because now we know who the heck everyone is.

Sat in bed and instead of blogging, let Matt show me some of the new parts of his game, Dungeon Blitz. It's looking great.

Wrote this post.

Tomorrow morning's wakeup is gonna be tough. xoxo

Of Buckets

We are in the mountains this weekend with Matt's mom and brother. It was a very quiet day today. Highlights were: Staying in bed until 11am while Betty tended our children, playing boardgames, inspecting a mudslide that has buried one of the mountain roads, and washing rich brown mud off of two dogs.

Mudslide or landslide? I don't know the difference.

Hank can somehow read now and that has expanded his game access.

During an afternoon hot tub with the kids, they asked Matt to give them riddles and puzzles. This is one of their favorite things. He came up with a set of questions that everyone had fun with, and I thought you might like to use them with your littler people.

He started by telling the kids that they had two buckets, a five-gallon and a three-gallon, and they were standing on the shore of a lake with unlimited access to water. They must come up with exactly two gallons. How to do it?

After some cogitation and false starts--Laura wanted to just eyeball the amounts of water in the buckets, Hank wanted to go get two gallons of milk and compare--even Hank realized that five minus three is two, and that you fill the five-gallon, pour as much as will go into the three-gallon, and you are left with a certain two-gallons of water.

One of the ground rules was that Hank was allowed to guess and think aloud, but Laura couldn't speak up until she was exactly sure of the correct answer. When she broke this rule, Matt ordered her to get out of the hot tub and run a lap around the house. Hank was then like, "Can I run a lap?" and wanted to use the physical challenge as an escape from thinking about the problems. Eventually we let him run a lap too, because why would I prevent a child from running around outside in a wet bathing suit on a winter day?

With that basic bucket puzzle theme established, with the five and the three-gallon buckets, Matt built up to asking them how to get one gallon, how to get seven gallons, etc.

I admit the seven gallons stumped me for a second. I have no ego in this area and I don't mind saying.

Play around with it, it's fun!

After the kids got out and went inside, we were like, "Yeah, those two are bright enough but I don't think they're exactly geniuses." I just have to trust that with their other strengths, they'll make their way in the world somehow.

That's the scene here today. What are y'all up to?
xoxo   

Twelvish

Laura J Bean, as she is called.

Y'all, there is just so much living, so much, and it is just going by, going on by.

This won't do at all. I'm at risk of slipping into the Unexamined Life. Yesterday I emailed Elizabeth and I said something like, sometimes I get the urge to blog but then I think, "Well, THAT happened last week and I didn't blog about that so I can hardly pick up with this mundanity." Some kind of total bullshit like that.

Let's reconnect. I'll blog every day in March and maybe I'll work my way around to the really important mundanities. I mean, there is just so so much tennis to tell you about and also rats in our attic. Honestly, it's a rich tapestry over here.

A big milestone this week was Laura's 12th birthday. Huge. My neighbor wished me a "Happy Birthing Day," and I thought, whoa. That day I spent having that little baby was twelve years ago. And then, conversely, I thought, "Wait, Laura is a whole entire personality and is one of the more intricate parts of creation and she is only twelve?" Most of my sheets are older than that. I have a lot of things older than that.

So I had told her once, long ago, that she could get her ears pierced when she was twelve. You know, one of those parenting-as-random-number-generator moments. She filed that away, and then she pulled out the file and reminded me daily for the last three months. I told her, you know, just because you're turning twelve doesn't mean you have to get your ears pierced. You could wait. Well when I said that I wasn't aware that she was the absolute last person on earth without pierced ears, and there would be no more waiting. So we gathered up two of her besties and off we went.

Then we shopped and ate dinner and were all very satisfied with ourselves.

She came home from school on the actual day of her birthday and said that her friends had decorated her locker, covering it with wrapping paper and taping candy to it, and that she had been sung "Happy Birthday" to seven times, once by each class period, so I think she felt pretty celebrated.

Matt asked her to stay eleven, and she refused. I remember him asking her to stay three. I don't know where the time has gone, but it can slow the heck down please.

So now you're up to speed on Recent Birthdays and Rites of Passage. I'll be back tomorrow. xoxoxo

Varying Levels of Mastery

Just now, Hank came home from Kindergarten and announced that he had his report card. I looked over it and noted that he had high marks in each area of assessment, except he had just a 3 out of 4 in "Language and Vocabulary Acquisition." This is the child who, as he handed me the report card, said, "Prepare to be dazzled."

Somehow I feel that he will make himself understood in this world. Or that is my hope.

He is branching out all over. On Wednesday, he went to his first after-school meeting of the Lego Club. When I picked him up, he said, "I learned a lot about the history of Legos." I told him I was very interested to hear it. He told me that Legos were first invented in 1289. I allowed as how that seemed rather early to me, and he said, "Well, they were made of wood back then."

Yes, I suppose they would have been. Or carved out of bone by Vikings.

And speaking of wood.

At Laura's middle school, the kids rotate through a series of elective classes every nine weeks. Or "elective" isn't really the word, because they don't choose them, actually. Laura got to choose a year-long chorus class, and then the other classes could be PE or health or something else. I like this system, because I don't think kids really know what they like, necessarily, and they should just be made to try things.

So Monday she came home, having started a new quarter, and announced that she was enrolled in Woodshop. Y'all, the look on her face when she told me how the floor was covered ("just abolutely covered") with wood shavings. It made me think of the time we paid her to eat a pickle.  Anyway, back to woodshop, I was a bit mystified, because her schedule says "Engineering and Technology," and I figured this would be a computer lab. She said that the teacher presides over a computer lab and the woodshop, and told them that they would be spending most of their time in the shop. This will be interesting and new.

.....

Her exposure to new areas of craft may have left her feeling extra venturesome. Yesterday I went to work out with Pretty Neighbor in the afternoon, and accidentally left the house locked up. I didn't know it was locked; I figured Laura would get off the bus, let herself in, and be waiting for me there.

When Hank and I arrived back home, sure enough, she was waiting inside. She said, "Where WERE YOU?" I was like, where am I ever? What's wrong? She goes, "You have to hear MY STORY." I was all, okay! What!

She told us that she'd come home, found the front door, back door, and basement door locked. I was like, "Yet here you stand, in the house, how did you get in?" She had gone down to a basement window, removed the window air-conditioning unit, and climbed right in.

That's how I found out that our house could be broken into by a preteen girl. Or really by anyone. I praised her resourcefulness, but wondered aloud why she didn't use her phone to call me. Or to come look for me at the only one or two places I could be. And that A/C unit is heavy! But okay.

Later she said, "I'm kind of glad that I got locked out. When I put my leg up over the windowsill and hopped in, I felt..." and then she trailed off and just made a kind of finger-waggling gesture, like, happy jazz hands.

A girl's first B&E is very special.

I hope your reentry to school and routine has opened some new vistas for you. xoxo

Summer Flashback: Ate at Joe's

During my lengthy summer blog hiatus, we got to go spend a week with Matt's family at his brother and sister-in-law's lake house in Western Mass. Chris and Robin were awesome hosts. This was a week of many new scenes for us, and we loved it all: The lake, the perfect temperatures, and the pretty little towns. One day we went to the Norman Rockwell museum in Stockbridge, which is well worth seeing for all the Saturday Evening Post covers alone. Then we went to the Joe's Diner that you see in several Rockwell paintings from the 50's. It's in Lee, and if Robin hadn't taken us there, I never would have noticed it. It is a tiny hole-in-the-wall place. But guess who was there? The actual Joe, seen in this painting.

"The Runaway," 1958.

My runaways, 2012. With the authentic Joe!

Joe was quite happy to pose with the kids. Recreating the painting was his suggestion.

Cousins: Laura, Kay, Hank, and Abby

The museum is on a really pretty piece of land, and they've moved Rockwell's studio there from in town. That was my favorite part. It's a cute little house that looks like a barn. This was a great outing to do with kids, because they really get down with the whole illustration thing. The museum had a neat scavenger hunt of stuff for the kids to find in the paintings.

Outside Stockbridge

In the studio. L, Abby, and Kay compare two different versions of "Mosaic."

Hank wanted to be sure everybody saw his pirate flag, which was actually from a Howard Pyle exhibit at the museum and had nothing to do with Rockwell. But you know, yarr!

Thank you for indulging me in this nostalgic look back at July. It was just a simpler world then, you know? xoxo

Swim for Your Life, O Human Child!

Ursula's Lair

Our thoughts and takeaways from watching multiple, multiple middle school performances of Little Mermaid:

Laura is one of the black-clad Poor Unfortunate Souls up there, but it was basically impossible to photograph her because dang Ariel was always standing in the way. And Laura was in the back because she's tall, the light was greenish and dim, and the souls were constantly, like, writhing. After a couple of shows, I was like, "Laura, scoot up front! Elbow some of the other souls out of the way, but subtly!" But she didn't.

There she is, the one who's almost in focus.

Her other incarnation.

There were two casts of lead actors, but Laura and the other members of the corps were in every show. And there was a lot of girl talent in this group! Both Ariels were truly great singers, I couldn't believe they were twelve and thirteen years old.

This little girl who played Flounder just totally killed it.

Pretty costumes.

So the girls were awesome, but you know who was not awesome? The boys. All of the boys seemed like maybe they were bribed to be on stage, and maybe they had been. It was hilarious. It was like probably they'd never spoken English sentences before. Or worn clothing, or talked and moved at the same time. Discussing it later, Matt said, "You know, science has yet to devise a use for the middle school boy." And I had to agree. Bless their hearts!

The shining exception was both little boys who played the crab, especially this kid here. He had it together and he even did the Jamaican accent. But observing the general dearth of boy talent, I understood why the high school's production this fall was Little Women.

During the show week, a rumor was circulating that next year's play would be Aladdin. We thought, hmm, that would be fun, but it needs too many strong male leads. Matt was like, they should just do it with all girls, and I was all, is there something that has even more girls than Little Women? Laura mentioned Annie. That might do the trick.

K-I-S-S-I-N-G

The other thing that cracked me up was the tizzy the entire cast was in because Ariel and Prince Eric actually kiss on stage. Look at this picture and look at the kids in the background. (There's Laura in the back right.) Not a single one of them is in character at this point, they are all reacting to their classmates kissing for real on stage. Six shows, they were like this. And when Laura talked about it, she was like, "OHMIGOD!" Oh man, so funny and kind of sweet.

It was a fun week. Having a teeninsy role to play was just about perfect for Laura. She loved being part of something bigger, but with no actual pressure. She also loved being fussed over and getting into her costumes.

We liked the big Poor Unfortunate Soul hair.

Our final takeaway--Matt's and mine--was that we do not think we are raising an actress. Laura, we feel, only wants to play the role of Laura. Which can be very appealing, and I can imagine other parts in this show she could have done well in. She is not afraid to stand up in front of people and do things. But actually acting like someone else? I can't see it. I suspect that she will find, though, that in many life situations, acting like yourself is enough. Also showing up, being cheerful, and working the hair.

I hope that you have enjoyed this journey under the sea. If for some reason you do not yet feel like YOU sat through five shows of this pageantry, the set of flickr pics is here.

Our Day And A Delicious Stew

I barely left my house on this delightful Sunday, so there is really not that much to tell you, friends. Laura came into my room this morning complaining of a stomach ache, a headache, and sore legs. I said, "Why do you think your legs are sore?" And she said, "Definitely from dancing at the party last night." I diagnosed her with Post-Dramatic Stress Syndrome and prescribed hydration and karaoke. She went off to take my advice, and I dozed off again, but then I had to get out of bed because I heard her and Matt absolutely butchering "In a Big Country." I stalked downstairs in my nightshirt and seized the microphone to sing the chorus, because neither of them could find the harmony given a map and a compass even though it is not that hard.

We just hung out at home the rest of the day. Matt and the kids threw a nerf football in the house while I tore pages out of magazines. Laura created an advertisement for tickets on the Titanic, for school, then walked to her friend's to do some science homework. Matt and Hank played a board game with a million little pieces. Hank watched some Man vs. Wild. I cooked some squash. The thrills do not stop.

All throughout these events, we were made happy by the news that our friends the Hamiltons had birthed their baby boy during the night. All ten pounds, nine ounces of him! As we went about our quiet day, I thought of them in the hospital room, tired and joyful and frazzled, getting to know their new little buddy. And I thought, every kind of day is being had by somebody, somewhere.

I made this stew a few nights ago for us to eat before going to Laura's play. I am fond of one-pot meals, and it is so delicious that if you had been here, I would have force-fed it to you and then stood there saying, "I mean, right???"

Delicious Stew

You need:

two pounds of lean stew meat
an onion of your choice, cut into chunks
garlic, minced up
carrots, 3 or 4, I like even more, cut into pieces
a sweet potato, peeled and cut into chunks
pint of sliced mushrooms, I used baby bellas
red wine
water
couple tablespoons of olive oil

Heat the olive oil in a cast-iron dutch oven and then throw the onions, garlic, and stew meat in. Braise them until the onions have little brown bits. Add in the carrots and sweet potato (not the mushrooms yet). Pour in like half a cup of water and half a cup of wine. Dash of salt. Cover the pot and let that all work for a while. Simmer, stirring occasionally. Add a little more water after a while and another half cup of wine. You want there to be enough liquid to steam/braise the veggies, but you don't want to everything to be covered. There is no need for exactitude here. Cook it over pretty low heat for a long while. Stir in the mushrooms and probably add more salt, and black pepper is good too. Cook longer. When the carrots are really really tender, and the sweet potato has largely disintegrated and joined up with the liquids to make a gravy, it's finished.

Serves 6. Best with sourdough bread and beer.

That is what I have for you today. Rest up my friends, the week is coming. (We don't have a school holiday for Veteran's Day. Frown.) xoxo

That's A Wrap

Laura, acting!

Laura's show is over. It started Wednesday and ran every night and three shows today. Three! I had to take pictures and had somehow volunteered to cover all three shows today, which brought my attendance to five of the six shows. It was a wonderful experience for her.

Today was a long day though. So much Little Mermaid! Holy Mackerel! Just...so...much...mermaid. I feel like I'm under King Triton's throne. When I staggered home after the last show, it was all I could do to go have a margarita with Matt. And it was all Laura could do to go straight to the cast party and spend two more hours bouncing straight up and down.

Climbing into the van with her friend at the end of the night, she said, "When we got there I went straight for the food. We did Gangnam Style like three times. And I hugged a lot of people." I do not doubt any of that. An enchanted evening.

Matt and I are taking advantage of Betty visiting to sneak out of the house at night. Yesterday, after a bracing evening of Little Mermaid, we went to see Skyfall. Ermagerd, Jerms Bernd! I really enjoyed it. I think I liked it a bit better than Matt, who said, "I liked it okay but I never once found myself wondering what would happen and in fact I was deeply uncurious." I don't know, I think I really like a certain kind of action movie and am ready to embrace them. I had fun at the second Robert Downy Jr. Sherlock Holmes movie after all.

I will have more for you after I climb out from under the sea. What's on for your weekend?

Raccoon Girl Treads The Boards

Smoky Eye!

Tonight was Laura's first Little Mermaid show. She had to show up wearing black eyeliner and mascara for the makeup ladies to start with. She did it herself; this pic is after her first attempt, before I got in there and smudged her up a bit. Then she goes, "I look too goth!" And I'm like, "You're playing a lost soul who has been enslaved by a sea witch. It's not too goth. And how do you know what too goth looks like? Also hush."

So her show was from 7-8:30, then she had to come home and do her homework, which took until after 10. And it was the lamest dumb ass busywork that there could be: Answering 18 questions for a "study guide" in science, and then turning right around and writing definitions to vocabulary words, right out of the same chapter. This was not a high-level learning activity. And I have never complained about a teacher in seven years of Laura's schooling, but I'm going to email the principal and register my discontent. This teacher has a false notion of "rigor" that she seems to be reaching for, but what is revealed in all of her assignments is that she's about one chapter ahead of the students AND she doesn't know what's most important and significant in the material. She was hired to fill in for a teacher who fell ill and had to retire suddenly, and I remember when at curriculum night, she boasted that before she took the job teaching, she was in "private industry." Oh! Oh well my goodness! Tell us a story of the tycoons or magnates you have known! Children, how lucky we are!

Not to be a bitch or anything.

I didn't go to the show tonight, but I'm going to--I kid you not--the next five. My parents are accompanying us tomorrow, then Matt's mom on Friday, and then I'm taking pictures at the Saturday shows. I can't wait to see it all put together with the lights and the costumes. When I picked up L and her friend after the show, they were bubbling with excitement, even after a full school day and then hours at the theater. Youth. I hope by the end of the run, we are still so excited and not collapsed in a little goth puddle.

Anway, that's all from here. xoxox

PS: Weird day, huh? Post-election hangover, only in a good way. Coming down from the nerves? Sleep deprivation? Dunno, something. I tried on a bunch of hats in REI and that soothed me. How are you?

First Rule of Fight Club

The shadows are long on the village green and I have not given you a blog post. So this is gonna be one of those posts where I just tell you what I did today. With pictures. Come along, won't you?

I started the day by taking Hank to his first sparring class. Funny, Hank has now been going to karate for a year. I know no more about it, truly, than I did when he began. I mean no more about, like, the deeper theory of this pursuit, and at every new stage of the activity, I'm kind of like, okay, whatever. He is having fun though. And six year-olds sparring is high-larious. It's funny, you never know how your kids will be in a new situation, but Hank turned out to be exactly what I would have predicted. I explained it to Matt, "He's not aggressive, but he is somehow, like, tough-minded." He's just hanging in there and he's not afraid. At the start of class, he turned to his little buddy, who is five years old, and said, "Max, don't take it easy on me." I died. After class he asked for pizza so I went next door and bought him a large.

Set-build day

Another biggish thing that is going on in Matron family life is that Laura has been cast in a small part in her middle school production of The Little Mermaid. OMGeez y'all, I'm surprised you didn't read this news written in the sky, she has been over the moon. She had been cautioned that it's hard for sixth graders to be cast, but she wanted to try anyway, and she did, learning a dance and singing a song. I was like, really! This is serious business! And she got in, with a few of her friends. Her part? One of the Poor Unfortunate Souls in Ursula the Sea Witch's number. That made me laugh. She is also a chef in the Les Poisson song. Thrilled, lord she was so thrilled, and I'm glad for her. Nobody can say the girl doesn't put herself out there.

Anyway, what this has meant is a rather escalating schedule of rehearsals over the last five or six weeks, and now, finally, show week is upon us, and it is all go go go until next weekend. They went around and performed at all three of the feeder elementary schools on Friday, so Hank got to see her, and now it's dress rehearsals for a few days and then six shows late this coming week. Y'all, I mean, I have never seen a middle school play on this scale. It is kind of beyond. I'll have more pics to show you what I mean, but just the costumes, set pieces, everything. And like so much at the rather plush public schools around here, it all runs on heavy, heavy parent volunteer effort. There must be fifty or sixty parents helping make this happen. I signed up to bring snacks, drive carpool, take pictures, and do makeup, and yet I'm feeling guilty that I wasn't there this morning hammering nails or something. I went today to take cast pictures and I snapped this. I'm also on call to take lots of candids during the dress rehearsals. For when the show is covered by Variety, you know. Okay I'm rambling but this has been taking up a lot of family bandwidth.

In the early evening, we all four went up to the tennis court and hit balls, then Matt and I played a set of singles, him beating me 6-3. Which surprised me, because I have been playing basically nonstop for months and months and he has been having, like, a job. I apologized to him for misunderestimating him and he was very gracious. Then we left the kids to their own devices and went out for a quick bite, and he showed me around the new offices of Blue Mammoth Games. OMG the game company boys are leaving the basement! I should have led with that! I'll tell you next time. In writing, this is what we refer to as parking on the downhill slope. xoxox