The Farm Report

Category: mumbling

  • Day 2: Addendum

    Day 2: Addendum
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    So here’s a funny thing about parenting—you never quite get it down.

    I used to say this a lot when the kids were little. You’d nail down a whole routine around their nap and then they’d stop napping. That sort of thing.

    Turns out this phenomenon holds true when they’re eight.

    I had a whole plan for our trip to D.C. We’d go see some historical places—but not too many. For Neko, we’d go to the Natural History Museum, since that sort of thing is really right up her alley. We’d walk and talk. How could this possibly go wrong?

    Except it did.

    We took our trolley to our first stop without a hitch. When it reappeared, a huge family swarmed in front of us, taking all the free seats, despite our waiting for 30 minutes before them. Without many other choices, we then walked from the White House to the Lincoln Memorial in 90° heat.

    There was a lot of eight-year-old complaining. There were several stern talks from a weary mother which included several heated mentions of the phrase, “This is SUPPOSED TO BE FUN.”

    Finally, Neko turned to me, and mumbled, “It just seems like we’re doing everything YOU want to do.”

    And then I realized I was having one of those parenting moments. We have graduated from the time where I set the agenda for vacation. These little people, whom I used to run around in a stroller, carefully scheduling around naps and bedtime, have their own ideas these days.

    So under a tree, in the middle of Washington D.C., I asked Neko what she would like to do. Her answer? She would like to get a souvenir at the gift shop, ride on the Metro, and go swimming.

    It was time to reevaluate my list.

    We agreed we would finish seeing the sights, and then go swimming. I would get to have take-out from the nice Mexican restaurant down the street. Tomorrow we would go on a duck tour, hit the gift shop and pick up souvenirs. But I also wanted to see Julia Child’s kitchen at the American History Museum.

    We shook on our new plan.

    That evening, I found myself on the Metro, riding home from a swimming pool across town, with my daughter, both of us smiling and content.

  • Rain

    Rain

    I’m so over the rain.

    Those May flowers can come any time now.

    In the meantime, I’ll photograph the reflections of the garage door in the rain drops.

  • Lucky

    Lucky

    Shep: “Dino Dan is so lucky.”

    Me: “Because he gets to meet dinosaurs?”

    Shep: “No, because his mom is a police officer.”

     

  • Going to the doctor…twice

    Going to the doctor…twice
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    I went to the doctor today. I decided the sinus infection I was humoring was no longer welcome to hang around these parts. Seven days is plenty, thank you.

    Ellery didn’t have school, so she joined me. She sat quietly and watched while the doctor gave me the once-over.

    When we returned home, she decided it was her turn to be the doctor. She strapped on the stethoscope, gathered up the toy medical bag, and headed my way. I let out a huge laugh, however, when she pulled out her “laptop” and as she asked me for my symptoms, she typed furiously.

    Clearly, Fisher-Price needs to add something to their doctor’s kit.

     

  • Indisposed

    Indisposed

    I don’t think any of us would benefit from me explaining where I’ve been for the past few days. Let’s just say that it involved plenty of this and the room where it resides.

    I am better. I think.

  • Into the vault

    Into the vault
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    I helped organize the storage room of my children’s school today. I felt like Steve Jobs and I just took a walk back into the good old days.

    I had to remind myself of the whole 365 Things project because omigosh I found myself having these visions of mounting all these old computers somehow on the long wall down our hallway as a sort of mini Apple museum.

    But then I reminded myself of my track record on those particular kinds of projects these days.
    So I settled on taking a few photos and fondling that adorable itsy bitsy monitor that accompanied
    the Apple IIc.

    Somewhere toward the end of this process we uncovered this ancient water softener. If water softeners still looked like this today, I might feature it prominently somewhere in my house.

    I probably could have strung those sentences together in a much better way, but, lordy, I’m tired. I promise to do better.

  • Fairy clothes on my faucet

    Fairy clothes on my faucet

    One of the hilarious parts of parenthood are the little dioramas that greet me when I turn the corners of our house.

    Today I looked in the shower to turn on the water and found it was acting as a coat hanger for Fawn’s clothing.

  • Tulips

    Tulips

    Whenever I go somewhere with a child (or three) in tow, I try not to be in a hurry. I try to budget in plenty of extra time.

    But today I had to get to the grocery store, as people can’t stop talking about this whole Ice-pocalypse business. And this is my afternoon to watch my nephew. And then pick up the older kids from school. Plus, I need to pick up Kendall so Tom and I can go see a talk about conservation planning this evening. By the time it is over, the impending doom of Bad Weather will be upon us.

    So grocery shopping? It needed to happen in the next 45 minutes.

    Ellery and I hustled in, me scooting her around as quickly as I can. Suddenly, she’s yanking at my sweater, and I manage to peel my eyes away from the produce to see what she wanted.

    “Mom, we REALLY need flowers!”

    I was a few minutes late gathering my nephew. But she was right. We really did need flowers.

  • Maintenance

    Maintenance

    The van was due for its 90,000 mile service. Tack on a recall, and you’re looking at a four hour wait.

    Thank goodness Chris scooped me up from the dealership and we had a Panera-based work day. I like these little shake-ups. It’s good to sit behind your computer, but look out a window with a different view. Plus, their coffee pot never turns up empty.

  • Story

    Story

    On the heels of finishing Catwings, Neko picked up a marker and wrote a story.

    To some, this may not seem out of the ordinary, but this child has not exactly enthusiastically embraced reading and writing yet. (Skating, skiing, chickens, and the name of every animal she’s ever laid her eyes on—that’s another discussion.)

    At moments like this, we very intentionally do not correct spelling. There’s a time and a place for that, and it certainly is not when one is writing simply for pleasure. I have stood fast by my philosophy that if we don’t force it down her throat, one day she will do it out of love and desire.

    I believe that day is approaching fast.

    On a side note, she taught herself cursive. Clearly, the way to her writing heart will be partly a graphic one. But I suppose she comes by that honestly, eh?