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If, hypothetically speaking, one were to set a goal for sometime in the future, but during the time needed to achieve that goal, the person's whole existence was redefined, would that person be considered a loser for not meeting the original goal?  I'm asking for a, uh, friend.

Didn't buy that answer, huh?  Me, neither.  As I see the big 4-Oh on the horizon, I've been beating myself up for not being even remotely close to meeting an arbitrary goal I set for myself a couple of years ago (to be achieved before turning 40).  Never mind that everything has changed in quite dramatic fashion since I made that goal.  Still, I cling to it, and belittle myself for not working toward it.  I try not to go down that path that leads to the shame spiral.  (Tick-tock.  Five months left to go.  Get a move on, girl!)

Is it acceptable to change goals?  Or is one perceived as a quitter for not seeing it through?

I'm a Walker, not a Baker

What it was supposed to look like

The result

Totally nailed it

Production guilt

Scene: Drake finished his latest Bee book.  It's quite the series, especially now that he can spell.  He chose the bee as the subject matter because he can draw one.

Drake: Mommy, do you like my new book?
Me:  Yes, Drake.  It's an awesome book.
Drake:  I know.

Mommy, when are you going to write your book?

...

Thanks a lot, kid.

Flynn's school time adventures

I'm getting the biggest kick out of Flynn attending school.  It's not just because the house is quiet and I can accomplish something during daylight hours.  It's his approach to school.  He'll actually tell me tidbits from his day.  Day 2 was "the funnest day ever!"  He sings the songs that he learns.  He introduced me to the lunch teacher:  Mrs. Something.  He saw a mime performance and described it.  (Mommy, a mime is an actor who reacts, and there's NOTHING THERE!)  I hope going to school doesn't lose its shine for him too quickly.

This makes me a horrible human being, doesn't it?

This week, I am volunteering my B4K time and equipment at a day camp for a local church.  (For future reference, if I ever agree to do something like this for free again, please slap me.)  And, as the saying goes, no good deed goes unpunished.  Yesterday, I met the human version of Draco Malfoy and his two cronies.  I don't know if the kid could perform magic; most likely not, since the church is rather conservative and probably forbids the reading of Harry Potter and its Devil-magic.  When I was younger, I was one of those cronies, always wanting to be accepted by the popular, charismatic one.  I wanted to be noticed and be a part of the elusive inner sanctum.  Draco was the charismatic kid with the strong personality.  I'm sure he gets his way in every walk of life, and, if not, convinces others to get stuff for him.  Because of the numbers in the class, there was a group of three (which I despise doing).  He, naturally, was a part of the group of three with his two cronies.  Draco spent ten minutes in the middle of the build using the power drill model they were constructing as a gun.  He gave me nothing but attitude and snark during the class, letting me know he was better than I.  When it wasn't his step to build, he was in the face and openly belittling another kid in the class.  So what if that other kid was working on a simpler version of the drill; that awkward kid finished.  Draco and his group did not.  One of the cronies came to me upset.  "But, we didn't finish."  My response: "I know, sweetie.  But remember, one of your group mates spent ten minutes playing with the model before it was finished."  I felt bad for the crony.  He watched the awkward kid laugh and have fun with his finished model.  It's a hard lesson to learn, about standing up for yourself.  I told him to remember this for tomorrow and maybe he could work with a different partner, for tomorrow's build involves a remote control.

Today, the kids bounded into the room, psyched for the build.  Motors and remotes!  I made all of them partner with someone.  There was an even number today, so no groups of three.  Draco tried to convince me he needed to be in a group of four.  I said no because the group of three couldn't finish yesterday.  One of the cronies had to be away from Draco.  The crony was pretty bummed to be away from his leader.  The build started, and funny, every group but Draco's finished and had enough time to attach the remotes and play.  The discarded crony had finished and was racing his bulldoze model across the room.  At two minutes before clean up, Draco hands me his model.  "We aren't done."  What little was done was completely incorrect.  I have no idea what instructions he was following because it certainly wasn't what I had given him.  I was able to rig something together so it would move, but no remote was able to be attached.  He never asked for help.  He never attempted to give any effort.  He was humbled.  And I was thrilled (on the inside, of course).  He wasn't the top dog, the MVP,  the go-to guy, the golden boy.  He was just like the rest of those kids are on any given day.  He finally knew what those other kids felt like, the ones he openly mocks every day.  And guess what, the other kids were having too much fun to make fun of Draco for not finishing or not having skills or not being the best.  I'm probably a horrible person to be so happy that he had that lesson.  He'll probably go back to being his normal self tomorrow.  I hope his cronies stop elevating him to God-like status and learn to stand up for themselves.

The Kid's Version of Kickstarter

Drake hates getting his face wet.  Always has.  He screamed bloody murder during his first mom-administered bath because I dared to touch a washcloth to his cheek.  The progress during swimming lessons has been painfully slow because he refuses to put his head under.  Getting him to shower/bathe has been a challenge lately, which is unfortunate because it's summer.  Summer = Sweaty, stinky boys.  During one of our bath time power struggles, after much protestation, I finally said to him, "You could always invent something that will get you completely clean without having to take a shower or a bath.  Until then, this is the only way to get the stink off."  He, much to my amazement, was listening and taking my words to heart.

Enter the lemonade stand. Drake asked if he could set up one. I firmly believe this is a rite of passage in childhood, and I was/am extremely supportive of the endeavor.  I took him to the grocery store for supplies (which he had to pay back from the sales at the stand).  I let him choose items that would give him the most bang for his buck.  He and Flynn were responsible for manning the stand, waving at cars driving by, explaining the menu options to customers, delivering the product.  I sat out with them to help with pouring and to make sure no one ran into the busy street.  We were out there for three hours, which was way longer than I expected them to last.  They had 15 customers during that time, including one lady who only gave a donation.  The received lots of honks and smiles and waves, and lots of praise from those who stopped.

Open for business

One gentleman who stopped mentioned that he used to do this 50 years ago.  He then asked the boys what they were going to do with the money.  Drake responded, "I'm going to build my new invention that will let you take a shower without taking a shower.  No water, but like a shower."  The man was a little taken aback.  He was probably expecting Flynn's answer of buying a bunch of stuff.  He wished Drake luck on his endeavors and walked back to his car with a smile.

Flynn's attempt at crowd control
"YoHfTuPark"

They had me write this at the curb.

What they learned from the experience:

• Eat a big lunch.  Otherwise, we end up eating our snacks for sale.
• People really only want to buy drinks instead of snacks.
• More people chose Strawberry Kiwi over regular Lemonade.
• If Mommy puts away all of the snack stand, a large portion of the day's profits go to Mommy as payment for services rendered.
• People tend to be ridiculously generous when you only ask for donations instead of a set price per cup.
• Next time will be all profit, since many supplies are left over.
• Working a lemonade stand is really fun...when there are customers.
• Being patient is really hard.

The stand will probably become our Saturday midday activity for most of the summer.  Stop by and donate to Drake's Awesome Invention Fund.

My kids are pretty sweet...

..when they aren't throwing tantrums.

One of my big fears as a parent is my children will be jerks.  I encourage good manners and being nice to people, but it's really out of my control.  I've had a glimpse that hopefully my fears are unfounded.

Flynn and I went to the LEGO store in Bellevue on Wednesday. While getting ready to drive there, Flynn found a quarter.  He told me that if I needed to buy anything that cost 25¢, he'd take care of it. After an hour of shopping in the store, we left the store to get lunch.  The kate spade store recently opened next door to the LEGO store.  Jokingly, I told him, "Honey, if you ever need to buy Mommy a present, that's the place to go."  Without hesitation, he reached into his pocket, took out the quarter, and started to go into kate spade.  My heart melted a little.  (Can one purchase anything in kate spade for a quarter?)  Flynn is also the same kid who gave his daycare lady 42¢ so she could buy oatmeal, raisin bran, and Cheerios.

Drake brought home a big book containing artwork and photos from his kindergarten year.  Most of his answers on the question sheets involve me.  What is love: Mommy.  How can I be more like Jesus: helping my Mommy.  (The accompanying drawing was odd him helping me wash LEGOs.)

Such sweeties.  I write this now, so when they are teenagers, I can look back fondly.  Oh, and so I have some evidence.  Just in case.

Flynn's bank story

When Flynn and I go to the bank, he insists on sitting at the desk in the lobby and drawing a "map" on deposit slips.  To the untrained eye, the map is a bunch of scribbles.  To him, the scribbles include where we are, how we got there, and some hidden challenges along the way.

The upper right is our house.  The lower right is the bank and the bank's main doors.  The challenges are in the middle.

On the other side of yesterday's map was a drawing.  And here's the story he told me to go along with it.

Once there was a sea monster who lived under the water.  No one ever saw the sea monster because he was invisible.  One day, along came a fish.  He said to the sea monster, "You need to come on land.  That's where all the food is," he explained.  The sea monster went on land and got the food.  The End.

You can see the sea monster on the left.

The bank employee who was assisting me had no idea what to make if this.  I was impressed he used the word "explained".

Dreaming

Current time: 3:43 a.m.

I have had a fitful night of sleep, fighting a self-induced migraine cause by lack of Starbucks.  Tossing, turning, dosing, pain, fighting, and finally, a nap.  In the most recent interrupted portentous vision, I dreamt I was on the talk show circuit, promoting my novel.  You know, the one I haven't finished yet and spend more time writing about it here than writing it.  One can ignore the Muses for only so long before they stop being so subtle. I get it, ladies. Message received.

Pinterest

I've been hearing about Pinterest for a while and its meth-like addiction.  Other moms spend hours on end scouring the boards and repinning image after image.  I finally succumbed and joined, but not as myself and my personal interested.  I joined as the business.  (Bricks 4 Kidz Tacoma... just in case you haven't seen my 80-zillion Facebook posts and tweets.)  Lots of pins of Lego bricks and Lego related crafts.

Bite me

At first blush, I thought the site was all about, "Hey, look at this super cool thing I found."  The truth is much more sinister. I was unaware that it was a site promoting DIY perfection.  It pits woman against woman to duke it out for domestic superiority.  If the valentines handed out to your child's class weren't handmade, you are a failure as both a mother and a woman.  The myth of the super mom is alive and well, and feasting on our souls. Everything we do must exceed the expectations of others.  I'm all for handmade valentines, but if your child is handing them out, the cards need to be made from that child's hands. 

It must be nice to be a young, full of energy and optimism.  How about we let the lazy moms be lazy?  Just for a little while.  We can start a site showcasing the shortcuts we make every day to keep the shorties in our house alive and make our lives a little easier.  Little tips like, "I take shampoo and soap along to use after swim class.  This way, they don't need a bath for a couple more days."   Mostly, we're just too tired.  Thankfully, we lazy moms have Etsy: the place where young, energetic moms sell the cool stuff they found on Pinterest to the moms who are too tired to give a crap.

Today's funny

Drake:  I invented a new color.  The color of awesome!
Flynn: Oooooo!  What does it look like?
Drake: I don't know yet.

What's wrong with society

You really had to imprint "play money" on bills one-third the size of a normal bill and in black and white instead of green?  I weep for our future.

How to (unintentionally) make a congregation cry

Step 1: Play "How Great Thou Art" during the service over Memorial Day weekend.

That's all.


I remember the elderly man walking into church.  He held his military baseball hat in his left hand as he walked to a pew toward the front.  The hat was brown; I don't recall seeing one in brown before.  Navy seems to be the color of choice for military baseball-style hats.  I wasn't able to see the specifics.  My eyesight isn't that good.

Two bars into the song, used for the communion hymn, he makes a hasty retreat to the back of the church, holding his hand over his mouth, face flushed red, and holding back tears.  We watch him go, helpless to help him.   He leans against the wall at the back of the sanctuary, and the sobbing begins.  His shoulders betray what he was trying to hide.  A near-by usher goes over and puts his arm around the man.  For those of us watching it all unfold, if we weren't crying already, that moment sent us over the edge.  The usher did what the rest of us wished we could do.  He composes himself in time to be the last person in the whole place to receive communion.  The usher makes sure the priest waits.  We are still weeping, wondering his story and what made him react.

A few people ask the usher at the end of mass, since the man left fairly quickly, why the man reacted as he did.  I didn't inquire.  Two reasons.  1.  I couldn't stop crying.  (I'm crying as I write this 12 hours later.)  2.  It really wasn't my business.  I just wanted him to be comforted; it didn't matter that it wasn't me.  He story is is own, and I was a stranger.  Based on his age and his hat, I'm sure he heard that song at many a funeral: for fallen comrades in arms, maybe a spouse or a child.  I don't know.

Thankfully, the universe has a way of giving us perspective.  A toddler escaped his parents during the announcements.  He ran to the nearest stoup, and blessed himself repeatedly using scoopfuls of holy water.  He was very proud, and we were thankful for the levity.

Reflections on my teaching career (some NSFW language)

I've been a teacher for 12 years now.  (Holy shit.  When did that happen?)  I'm a little jaded.  I'm less patient when it comes to hand-holding college students through my course.  I want to scream from the rooftops, "If you do not know how to turn on a computer, don't fucking take my class!  No, I can't help you upload a file!"  Some days, the students are worse than my children.

Student: I don't get it.
Me: What part?
Student: All of it.
Me: Did you do all of the reading for the week and watch the tutorial and look through the samples?
Student: ...
Me: Grrr

I recall being lazy during college with the tendency to procrastinate.  In spite of that, I still participated in classroom discussions and submitted every assignment on time.  I could have done more, but I didn't whine to any of my professors to let me do extra credit.  The fault was entirely my own if I didn't earn full points.  I didn't blame work or family or life.  Granted, I didn't have children while earning any of my degrees.  If you want the piece of paper enough, you'll find a way to make it work. The apathy, the entitledness, the learned helplessness.  All of this has worn me down.

Thankfully, my passion has been rekindled for teaching.  Who would have thought it would be because of a bunch of kindergartners?  I never had the desire to teach elementary school.  I didn't want to dumb down my language, and I didn't want to deal with that different set of issues.  But, for the first time in my career, I am teaching to people who actually want to be there, who are excited about what is going on, and who don't have a chip on their shoulders.  I was unaware of the level of enthusiasm and joy the younger ones possess.  The following responses were recorded from an in-school demo.

K-2: OHMYGODTHATISTHECOOLESTTHINGEVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!
3-5:: Whoa, that's awesome!
6-8:  Um, is there a reason why you're here?

See, by junior high, the pattern of behavior I deal with at the college level has already manifested.  Granted, these are only generalizations based on my observations.  I'm sure if I taught electives or Honors classes, my reflections would be different.  Sure, it isn't all roses and cupcakes.  I still hear "I can't do it" and have a couple kids who don't want to be there.  The percentage is so low that I'm not bothered by it.

I'm not going to do anything crazy, like go back to school to earn another degree, in elementary education this time.  I just wonder if I would be as jaded.  Would I be as frustrated?  Who knows?  That's a big "what if?".  For now, I'm going to enjoy the shift in teaching focus and hope that my enjoyment is long lived.

Quandry

It turns out the anti-depressants were also appetite suppressants.  So, what do I do now?  I'm getting off the meds because I feel that I am in a better place, but now I am all bummed out about gaining a bunch of weight.  It's just evil, I tell you.  Pure evil.  A pox on you, major pharmaceutical companies!

Stupid spider

I finally finished reading "Charlotte's Web" to the boys last night.  I didn't realize it had been almost 30 years since I had read it.  I'll be damned if I didn't start crying when Charlotte died.  Seriously.  I had to stop reading to wipe away the tears.  She's a frickin' spider!!!!  What the hell!  Flynn wasn't phased; he's still pretty sure she was killed or kidnapped.  Drake was emotional, like me.  When I was tucking him into bed, I may have given him a small lesson in "theme".  I explained the story was really about friendship and what it means to be a loyal and true friend to someone, even after he or she is gone.   He felt better after that.  I still couldn't believe I was crying because of a spider.  I hate spiders.

Mix tape

For reference purposes only

Sure, the members of the current generation will have always had cable, iPods, and smart phones.  Yet, I feel sorry for them.  They will never experience the joy and significance of receiving/sending a mix tape.

Song selection on a mix tape is an art.  What was the intention of including the Psychedelic Furs?  Is there a deeper meaning behind the inclusion of "Bridge Over Troubled Waters"?  What the hell- "Enjoy the Silence"???  But, I digress.  Creating a playlist is too easy.  All one has to do is click and drag, then click another button to burn the playlist to a CD.  Where is the effort?  Where is the heart and soul of creating a mix tape for someone?  Before, one had to scour one's collection (or wait for the damn song to be played on the radio), queue up the song, and wait until the time was right to stop recording.  The creator had to pay attention!  It's a tragedy, really.  I would totally bring the art form back, but I haven't had a cassette player (much less a dual deck) in over a decade.  *Sigh*

As a reference for all you youngins out there, this is the significance... (Oh, some language in this one.)

So, to those of you who have ever given me a mix tape, thank you for taking the time to do so. You know who you are. ;)

368

I made a promise to myself that I would have something published by the time I was 40.  That clock just keeps tick, tick, ticking away.  I find myself creating excuses instead of words.  I can blame everything else (work, self-employment, kids, husband, house, sunshine, rain, migraines, James Bond, carpal tunnel, volunteer hours, meetings, teaching, bills, the baggage retrieval system at Heathrow), but deep down, it's just me.  If I'm truly serious about this, it's time to stop dicking around.  I have 368 days left to prove something to myself.  I need to get out of my own way and get it done.

How I Feel Watching Game of Thrones with Tim (who actually read the books and knows what's going to happen)

Me: Who kills King Joffrey?
Tim: What do you mean?
M: In the end.  Is it Robb?  Stanus?  Who?
T: No one.  No one kills King Joffrey.  He lives.
M: He wins?!?  Jesus, Tim, what'd you make me watch this for?
T: I think we'd better stop.  You're taking this very seriously.
M:  No.  I'm OK. I'll finish watching.

Old meme; new twist

She doesn't believe marshmalows are a main dish.
She'll make you put away your bike after every ride.
She'll make you eat what you asked for, even if you don't want it anymore.

She is...
The Meanest Mommy in the World

He can't remember what he did earlier today, yet...

Conversation with Flynn, while looking at a picture of a bee

Flynn: I was stung by a bee once. [This was last summer, BTW.]
Me: Yes, you were.  Do you remember why?
F: No.
M: You tried to move it to the other side of the yard.  Bees don't like that.
F: And Drake made me a Kraken. [Drake drew a picture of a Kraken to cheer him up.]
M: Yes, he did.  To make you feel better.
F:  What I really needed was an ice pack.

He's Serious

Flynn: Drake, I want some pretzels.
Me: Flynn, what is the "P" word Drake needs to hear?
Flynn: Paleontologist.
Me: hahahahahahaha
Flynn: [a little hurt]  You don't have to laugh about it, Mommy.
Me: But, it was a funny joke.
Flynn: It wasn't a joke.  I'm serious.

Where's the pause button?

I have a few minutes before the next class begins to sit still.  I haven't been able to do this much lately.  The new quarter started, and with it, I am teaching two classes and the business starts in nine schools.  Momentum is building.  I've never been so happy to be so stressed out.