PNW tour/review of children's museums

This year, we managed to make it to 5 children's museums in the area.  If we had known there was one in Spokane, we would have gone to that one, too.  We'll have to wait until next year to take our Portland trip.  From what I understand, that museum is the bomb.

Hands On Children's Museum- Olympia
Our home base. The boys like it a lot, so much that we have a membership.  Good layout, good variety.  It is currently constructing a newer, bigger space by the water, complete with outdoor exhibits and a sand castle building area.

Drake's happy place: the water table


Children's Museum of Tacoma
It's OK, but not for that price (go on Market Day when admission is free).  Odd layout.  The best part, quite frankly, is the art studio.  [Note: I wrote this before the museum changed the exhibits.  The museum is pretty awesome now.  Totally worth the price of admission.  Can't wait until it moves into its newer, bigger space.]


Massive building blocks

The Children's Museum, Seattle  (In the basement of the Center House)
Lots of space.  Mostly good exhibits. The revolving exhibits are pretty good.  (Drake loved the Curious George tour.  The Clifford tour was nice, too.) One or two exhibits bordered on lame.

In the area for younger kids

KidsQuest- Factoria/Bellevue
Odd location (it's in the Factoria Mall next to the PetsMart).  Strange layout.  Best train table we've seen.  It has some exhibits that differ from the others.



The giant Lite Brite wall (and the drinking fountain)

Port of Play- Astoria, OR
Not so much a children's museum as an old gym.  It's housed in a defunct elementary school.  After driving for three hours, the boys loved running around like crazy people.  (It was pouring buckets outside, so running around like crazy people outside was not an option.)  Variety of activities.  The stage area housed the museum portion.  Only $3 to get in.  $3!!!  We can't gain admission anywhere for $3.


Bikes, cars, scooters, a bouncy house, etc.

The beauty of having a membership to any of these museums is you get a discount at all of the other museums in Washington and Oregon.  (Sorry, that is misleading.  You won't get the discounts with a basic membership.  With an upgrade, you get a discount.)

Grow a pair

I have two friends who have gone through particularly nasty divorces.  The marriages have been legally dissolved for some time, but the sh*tstorm keeps swirling around daily.  In both cases, the ex-husbands are manipulative control freaks who attempt to continuously manipulate the person who left.  One is using blackmail; the other is using the legal system (takes her to court, like, every other week, over baseless accusations).  In both cases, the males claim they are doing what is best for the children.  Making sure the mother of their children has no money is not doing what is best for your children.  These men continue to throw temper tantrums and act like spoiled brats.  Gentlemen (and I use the term very loosely), it's time to man up and grow a pair.  If you really want to do what is best for your sons, then let it go and move on with your lives.  Put your big pants on and show your sons what a real man looks like, because right now, it isn't you.

No one is ever fully innocent when a marriage fails.  But, for the friends who still support these "men", you need to take a step back and assess the situation.  If he were as innocent as he claims, why does he keep trying to sue her?  Why has he enlisted your help in blackmailing her?  If he were truly an innocent victim in all of this, he would have been sad, had too much to drink, burn a picture or two, then go hug his son(s) and tell them that daddy loves them and it isn't their fault.  The truly innocent to not engage in such despicable behavior.  And neither should you.

Admit it-- you're jealous

At lunchtime to Flynn: Your sandwich is not a monster truck jump.

At snack time: Your cookie is not a monster truck jump.  See, I was too specific at lunchtime in regards to what does or does not constitute a monster truck jump, thus creating endless potential for all remaining foodstuffs to become said jump.

But the kicker for the day:  Flynn, Mommy is not your personal Kleenex.  Please go get a tissue from the box.

*sigh*

Dear Grocery Store Chains

While I appreciate your efforts to both protect the environment and save money, reducing the thickness of the plastic bags (which causes them to tear whenever they come in contact with a right angle) does nothing to remind me to bring the bazillion reusable bags currently residing in my house to the store.  They sit in the laundry room.  That's where they go when emptied.  Maybe consider bringing back paper bags?  Those at least hold more than one can of soup.  Thanks ever so much.

One Jacked Tradition

This time of year is filled with a myriad of traditions, whether it be lighting some candles, gathering around a pole, or singing off key and eating too much.  I, personally, am looking forward to the re-institution of a favorite tradition on the 25th: a big meal at Jack in the Box.

Yes.  Jack in the Box.

My family celebrates on Christmas Eve.  Growing up, we always had a fancy dinner, usually some dish we never ate at any other time of year.  Prime rib was a favorite. Cornish game hens.  I have a vague recollection of a goose at one point.  We never had a turducken, but I'm sure if it existed when I was a kid, we would have had it.  We would then go to mass.  Santa visited our house when we were at church.  I thought it was rather kind of the fat man to put us ahead of the non-church-going folk.  After mass, we opened presents while listening to a Perry Como Christmas album.  On Christmas Day, we slept in and ate cinnamon rolls.  The day was really low key.  Sometimes we went to the movies, but mostly we basked in the post-holiday glow.  Good times.

And then I met Tim.

Tim's family celebrates on Christmas Day.  For our first Christmas together, we ate dinner at my parents' house on Christmas Eve.  I spent Christmas Day at his place.  About midday, he called his folks.  I remember him talking for a long, long time.  (At this time, Tim's parents and his siblings, minus one or two, lived in Spokane.)  The phone was passed around and around.  After the chat fest, we were hungry, and there was never any food in the house, thanks to a mooching roommate.  One block from his house was a Jack in the Box.  So, we went.

[Tangent about Christmas-- The next Christmas, we spent it with Tim's family in Spokane.  It was to be the last Christmas for Tim's mother.  Leading up to the trip, Tim would quiz me on names of all the siblings.  (He is six of seven.)  I needed flowcharts to keep up with all of the information.  I met everyone on Christmas.  I mean EVERYONE.  Holy chaos!  I didn't know a one bedroom house could hold that many people.] 

When you don't have kids and your family is a bunch of CE people, what is there to do on CD?  You have to eat, right?  We always lived near a Jack in the Box, for some reason.  And, it is open on CD.  Thanksgiving is an American holiday, so most establishments are closed.  Christmas is a religious holiday in nature, so some places accommodate non-Christians.  The funniest part of eating at JITB on CD is the evangelizers who give me literature about Jesus.  Apparently, if you are dining in JITB on CD, you are a heathen.  That cracks me up every time.  Tim and I ate at JITB on CD for years.

Since we moved to Tacoma, our pattern has been to have festivities with my father's family on CE and my mother's family on CD.  Well, 2010 was a b!tch of a year and can suck it. Because of this, nothing will be taking place on CD.  As much as I enjoy the prime rib at Darlene's house, I am totally fine not having any obligations that day.  And, guess what is three doors down?  JITB.  Sweet!

So, whatever your traditions, long-standing or new, enjoy them with loved ones, related or not.  I raise my glass to welcome 2011.

Conversations with the boys

Drake is really coming into his own, personality and language wise. He gets really upset if I laugh at something he has said. (Pre-schoolers shouldn’t be self-conscious about anything. Chalk another on up to genetics!) So, I decided to start writing this stuff down. Plus, this will give me a big chuckle later in life when he is telling me he hates me.


D: Mommy, can I watch Monster Trucks?
Me: Sure, honey.
D: I need some sweet freestyle action!

D: Mommy, can you tell me about car insurance?

D: (on “phone”) Hello? Yes, this is Drake. I’m just watching Monster Trucks with Mommy and Flynn. Oh, I have to go now. It’s getting exciting. Ok, Bye. (hangs up phone)  That was my friend, Grandma

D: Oh, my phone is ringing. It’s Grandma and Grandpa.


Flynn refuses to be outdone by his big brother.  The words are flowing fast and furiously lately, and I am actually able to decipher what he is saying.  My favorite new word is "Meese": a hybrid of "more" and "please".  The words used most frequently are bonk, mess, and crash.  (Guess what we do in this house?)

-----
Added 2/22/11

D: Mommy, I'm too little to drive your car by myself.

D:  (laughing)  My penis is so silly!

F now sings his rendition of "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star".  It's so stinkin' cute!  I hope to catch it on video.

ODing on RfML

I've had a bit of free time ever since the end of NaNoWriMo and the quarter.  Instead of vegging out in front of the TV or playing Bejeweled Blitz, I have been reading blogs, most notably Rants from Mommyland.  Tim scratches his head and wonders why I am cackling like a hyena while alone.   Two moms (who go by the monikers Kate and Lydia) unexpectedly because friends and created the blog to help each other cope with motherhood and cleaning up other people's fecal matter.  They have been writing for over a year, and I am completely caught up with all posts.  In my twisted brain, I am BFFs with both ladies and invite them over for drinks. 

Reading the blog has been therapeutic, eye-opening, and a boost.  I have learned so much.  1) Although I feel like it most days, I am not a horrible mother.  2)  Making friends at this age is difficult for most people, not just my socially-retarded self.  3)  Armed with a sense of humor and a (moderately) decent night's sleep makes this time so much easier to handle.

I would very much like to find a Kate to my Lydia.  Oh, wait.  I have, but she lives in Phoenix and I don't anymore.  Damn. 

Just call me “Grace”

I never thought I would be thankful for the wild, wet, Washington winter weather.  (Whew!)  Here’s why.  Yesterday, I dropped a folding chair on my foot.  Nothing is broken, but it still hurt like a m-fer and is turning beautiful shades of blue and purple and swelling.  The only shoes that I can fit into and don’t cause anymore pain are my wellies.  (As Flynn is modeling here:)

Mommy's little fashion victim plate

Wellies are only acceptable if it is pouring outside or if your job requires you to step in squishy stuff, this necessitating the need for such footwear. Otherwise, you are just a fashion don’t. I am already in this category, and I don’t need anything else to drag me down further.

I still need to run some errands today and pick up the boys. Oh, crap. The sun is coming out. Curse you, nature!

Hello, Ladies!

Two little girls are now attending Miss Tracy's with the boys.  D and F have been stuck there together since September.  The other boy who was there with D moved on to kindergarten, leaving D alone with his brother.  This should be very interesting.  One girl is D's age; the other is not quite 1, but is crawling up a storm.

When we arrived this morning, the wee one was near the door.  F was all smiles.  He immediately began gathering up some toys to give to the girls.  He is already trying to win their affections through shiny objects.



This is for you.  Let's be friends!



End of Quarter

The boys are sleeping in for once, and I thought I would get a jump start on grading the final essay that was due yesterday.  I log in to the school site, and ALL OF MY CLASSES ARE GONE!  Holy sh!t!  Panic sets in as I whisper a string of obscenities. (I don't want to wake the little dudes, or teach them any new vocabulary words.)  I fire off a panic-y e-mail to tech support.  Within two minutes, all of my classes are restored.  Andy Duckworth is the greatest tech support guru ever!!!!

Now that I have access again to my courses, I have an e-mail waiting for me from a student.  She is concerned because she received a D on her first essay and has a really good excuse why it is late.  My late policy is very simple:  full points for on time; 75% max for anything up to a week late; 0 after that.  It's not that I don't care about my students; it's... no wait, I don't care.  It's none of my business what happens outside of the class.  Life gets in the way, and unless it involves me phoning the police on your behalf, it's your private life.  Anyway, back to Beggy McBegsalot.  I took a look at her overall grade.  She is missing 33 points for the entire quarter.  Unless she completely f***s up this last essay, she will be getting an A.  An A is an A. Whether it is 94% or 100%, it shows up the transcript the same.  Stop nickling and diming me, people.

And those are my rambling, incoherent thoughts at the end of the quarter.  Hooray for Winter Break!

The Santa Experience

We have not had much luck in the "visit with Santa" department.  I was hoping this year would be better.  We went early yesterday, to beat the crowds.  Only three other kids were in line ahead of us.  (All of them were waiting patiently, as my boys were running around, screaming like banshees.)  The two girls who worked there were not every interested in getting things going.  The velvet ropes are fine; my kid is losing his mind.  Let's get a move on!

Finally, it was our turn.  D hung back a bit, but F ran right up to Santa and gave him a big hug.  He sat on Santa's lap and was quite content.  D finally joined the party.  Within those 15 seconds, F went from happy kid to "what am I doing here, who are you" fear and panic.  And then the tears started.  This was the best we could do.

I am quite proud of Drake.  He wasn't greedy talking to Santa.  In fact, I don't believe he mentioned at all what he wanted.  (He told me the night before: slippers.  They arrived in the mail today.)  He talked to Santa about how we dress up on Christmas, which is, according to D, tomorrow.

A word about the racket that is the photo with Santa.  I do not need the 18 wallet sized photos along with the flashing photo frame and key chain.  I just want a simple picture.  ($25, BTW)  Remember when all we got was a simple Polaroid?  That's all I really want.  Plus, you are not allowed to use your own camera anywhere near the magic chair.  I am in the wrong business.

Grief is a sneaky bastard

I had a dentist appointment today.  (I know, really exciting stuff!)  Anyway, the dentist's office is a couple of blocks from my Grandma Maria's house.  Let me amend that-- a couple of blocks from the house where Maria lived.  It's no longer her house; the house closed on Monday and now belongs to someone else.

Driving to said appointment, I found myself purposely going a different route so I wouldn't have to drive by the house.  Intellectually, this is silly and I feel a tad foolish.  It's just a house; she isn't there anymore.  But emotionally... emotionally, I wasn't ready for it.  So many memories are locked up in that house.

This will be our first Christmas without her.  She always loved this time of year: all of the baking, the buying of too many presents, the overabundance of tape to be sure the box was closed under the wrapping paper.  (Seriously, one year she used duct tape to guarantee the box would remain sealed.) 

You think you are doing fine and are healing from the loss.  And then something stupid and trivial, like the driving route to an appointment, will set you off again.  Bloody hell.

Christmas traditions

I'm a pretty low-key person when it comes to celebrating stuff (birthdays, holidays, and the like).  I believe this stems from my inherent laziness.  There is one tradition, however, that I was sad to lose for myself but am happy to pass on to my children: the German advent calendar.  This is no ordinary countdown to Christmas with a lame picture behind every door.  It's a piece of chocolate!  One for every day until the holiday.  It's a very German thing: you may have a treat, but in an overly disciplined, structured sort of way. (As kids, my brother and I figured out how to get all of the chocolate out at once without opening all the doors.) The rule in the family is you may have your own calendar every year, until you have children, then they get the calendar. 

The boys LOVE it.  Flynn threw a massive hissy fit today (including rolling on the floor, screaming, and refusing to eat his breakfast) because he only got one piece of chocolate.  Drake is showing signs of restraint this year; he was only mildly annoyed for only getting one piece of chocolate.



Oh sweet structured goodness!



DonorsChoose.org

I normally don't promote any type of charity.  I feel this is a personal decision.  But, lately, I have been getting really annoyed by most charities.  I believe the majority of the planet is "aware" of breast cancer; how about we try to cure it?  I'm just saying.  Also, most of us have no idea if the money goes to actually help a person in need.  Some charities have administrative costs of 75%.  Holy cow!  Is the charity helping people or itself?  See my frustration.

I didn't know about this charity until I attended the Rally to Restore Sanity (Seattle satellite).  The organizers raised funds to hold the rally, and let all of us know that any extra money would be donated to Donors Choose.  It piqued my interest, so I went to the site and checked it out.  Awesome.  The charity is designed to get specific materials into specific classroom.  Teachers post their classroom needs to this site, explaining how the materials will be used.  The complete cost of the project is given (and verified) included product cost, shipping, tax, and an optional(!) 15% contribution for administrative costs.  Those wishing to make a donation can search by city, content area, or immediate need. 

I decided to do a search by Washington and Language Arts (together).  I found a teacher who wanted to purchase green pens for her fourth grade class to help teach them the process and importance of editing and revising.  (Awesome!)  Her classroom is in Seattle in a high poverty area (info provided on Donors Choose).  I wasn't able to give much, but I gave.  Her project ended up being completely funded, and afterwards, I received a very nice thank you note.

It is sad that teachers are not given the resources that would be the most effective in the classroom.  (That is another rant for another day.)  But, here is an opportunity for teachers to ask for what they need and for us to give it to them, without bureaucracy (tax deductible, of course).