We went on a walkabout for a strategic planning session this afternoon. It landed us in the city lot where they store all the mulch, a result of all those Christmas trees that are left on the curb.
Needless to say, a pile like this is just asking to be climbed.
Remember your first time on the high dive?
You made your way up the ladder, and then stood, trembling, on the end of the board for what seemed like an eternity. Then, finally, if you didn’t fink out, you screwed up enough courage to take the step off into the deep.
My kids are lucky enough to have a kinder, gentler version of this experience. On their last day of swim lessons, every child had a chance to jump off with their instructor. Like tandem skydiving, they counted to three, and then took the plunge together. Neko couldn’t have been more excited with herself.
Can I get a high dive do-over?
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.
Tonight Tom was taking a few extra minutes pulling his dinner together. When I finally caught his eye he flashed me his plate.
There are so many reasons I love this man.
Mornings are a challenge.
There’s breakfast to be made and consumed, pajamas to be shed and clothes to find a put on. My kids grumble a bit about all these things.
And quite frankly, I don’t blame them. I really don’t want anything other than coffee until 10am and would happily stay in my pajamas all day. So, um, they come by this honestly.
But we do need to get to school, work, and all those other things that exist out there beyond the walls of our house.
We’ve mostly nailed down the getting dressed and eating thing. But the last thing that was making me crazy was getting stuff together. We try to walk out the door at 8:30am, but at 8:40am, we’re inevitably still looking for a glove or hat or something. Things are supposed to make their way into cubbies, but, arg, we’re always missing something.
My new rule? At 8:00am you must stop what you’re doing and find every single thing you need for the day. If you don’t find it then, you won’t have it for the day. This might sound a bit cutthroat, but I know my kids. They really do want to go to school with two gloves and their hat (no recess unless you have the proper attire). They like to eat lunch. But they also like to procrastinate just as much as I do in the morning. We can all use a deadline here and there, right?
At 8:10am this morning, I couldn’t have been happier to see this big pile of stuff, ready for the day.
Hallelujah.
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.
When the weather crept over 50 degrees and the sun came out, we all rejoiced.
Although it’s gorgeous, I think I might be reaching my fill of the snow.
We shuffled everyone outside. Tom and I were focused on winter clean-up. Between the snow and the wind, there’s debris as far as the eye can see. The upside of the snow? It was a nice little blanket over a sea of hard work.
As we were gathering sticks, Neko was eyeing the cart. The minute we left it unattended, Neko claimed it, and conned Ellery into being her passenger. Ellery later decided it was balmy enough to merit a bathing suit and flip flops.
And then a few minutes later she revised it to a bathing suit, flip flops…and a blanket.
Things come later to a third child. Thank goodness for Alex, or the poor kid would have never had a playdate.
But playdates are beginning for Ellery. Buzz Lightyear, Cinderella, the chicken, and the lion had a fantastic time.
Neko came home from school the other day with a big frown.
When I asked what was wrong, she grumbled that today in class she was the only one who didn’t know her phone number.
I know. I KNOW. That’s stuff I should have taught them in preschool. I had this big plan that I would sing it every day in the car on the way to school, but then on the way to school we were making sure everyone had their lunch and backpack and then they were out the door. We really don’t live that far from school, and I’m not really on my A game in the morning, so maybe that wasn’t the best plan.
And then I thought maybe we’d recite it over dinner every night.
But it never happened, and suddenly I’m the guilt-ridden parent of three children who don’t know their own phone number. (They know their address—do I get points for that?)
As I wallowed in my self-pity, I wandered over to my blog feed and read about my friend Kate D., who in the midst of her three children’s sickness, began writing the times of their medications on the bathroom mirror to keep them all straight. And then I had my a-ha moment. Why not write our phone number on their bathroom mirror? Then every time they wash their hands or brush their teeth, they’ll see it. Ultimately, it has to sink in, right?
Two days later, and two of the three can recite their phone number from memory.
I think next I’m moving on to the word of the day or tricky math problems. Or quantum physics.
(On a side note, I think it’s time replace the bathroom word labels.)
