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Friday, June 18, 2010
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Train Wreck
Last night, I was up too late (the boys were sick and not sleeping well), and I flipped mindlessly through the channels. I stumbled upon a train wreck of a reality show called You're Cut Off. Essentially, nine extremely spoiled adult brats have been cut off from their benefactors and must change their selfish ways in order to return to their lavish lifestyles. Holy cow! I'm supposed to feel *sorry* for these women? One spent more money in five minutes than I make all quarter teaching two classes. I notice this princess entitlement trend more and more. Why does a nine-year-old need a Coach purse? How many cars does a single girl need? The father of one woman bought her a Ferrari (with cash) and she wrecked it in the parking lot. It's an effin' Ferrari; show some respect! It seems like we are breeding a generation of entitled brats. Do we think they won't love us if we don't give into every little whim and desire? We're their parents; they are supposed to hate us a little. Tough love, man.
I fear my boys will end up with a girl like this. I hope I can do enough during their lives to keep them grounded. They see me cleaning and cooking, but also working on the house and working for a living. We share the simple pleasures without buying the latest and greatest toys. (Cardboard boxes and plastic spoons make for a fun afternoon.) They will have chores. I will teach them how to fend for themselves. Hopefully, all of this will help them steer clear of the toxics divas out there, ready to clean out their bank accounts and steal their souls.
I fear my boys will end up with a girl like this. I hope I can do enough during their lives to keep them grounded. They see me cleaning and cooking, but also working on the house and working for a living. We share the simple pleasures without buying the latest and greatest toys. (Cardboard boxes and plastic spoons make for a fun afternoon.) They will have chores. I will teach them how to fend for themselves. Hopefully, all of this will help them steer clear of the toxics divas out there, ready to clean out their bank accounts and steal their souls.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Enjoying the moment
Maybe it's because I'm naturally pessimistic or because I have so much sh!t to do, but I don't very often have the pleasure of enjoying the moment. I'm constantly thinking about what else needs to be done or dwelling about what I am putting off. Today was a rare day. I was in the moment and able to really enjoy it and appreciate it.
Tim and I took the boys to Ruston Way. I thought this would be a great place for Drake to ride his new bike (flat, safe, not too many people on a Sunday morning). Flynn was strapped in the stroller, and off we went. Drake can really move on that bike. After a half a mile, we came to a beach. The tide was out, so we ventured down. The boys had a blast! Is it a universal boy trait to throw rocks into water? We saw dead crabs, live star fish, and the boys returned the rocks on the shore back into the Sound. We walked probably 2-3 miles, watched boats go by, ate fish and chips (well, all three boys did; I ate cow), marvelled at all the dogs and pigeons, and enjoyed being a family.
I wasn't thinking about all the final essays I needed to grade and all the coursework I needed to upload. (BTW, the essays did get graded; just enough course content was uploaded to help students get by for the week prior to class starting). I look forward to more of these moments.
Tim and I took the boys to Ruston Way. I thought this would be a great place for Drake to ride his new bike (flat, safe, not too many people on a Sunday morning). Flynn was strapped in the stroller, and off we went. Drake can really move on that bike. After a half a mile, we came to a beach. The tide was out, so we ventured down. The boys had a blast! Is it a universal boy trait to throw rocks into water? We saw dead crabs, live star fish, and the boys returned the rocks on the shore back into the Sound. We walked probably 2-3 miles, watched boats go by, ate fish and chips (well, all three boys did; I ate cow), marvelled at all the dogs and pigeons, and enjoyed being a family.
Look, Mommy, water!
I wasn't thinking about all the final essays I needed to grade and all the coursework I needed to upload. (BTW, the essays did get graded; just enough course content was uploaded to help students get by for the week prior to class starting). I look forward to more of these moments.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
The everlasting effects of Mrs. Collins' English class
This morning, I was reading a discussion board post from one of my online students. As I was reading, my eyes fell upon the word "germane," and I said (out loud), "Oooh, vocab word!"
For those of you who did not have the pleasure of being is Diane Collins' English class, I'll put this into context. Every week, we studied vocabulary words out of our little workbook and were quizzed on those 20 words. If you found one of those words being used in the real world (that is, in print), you brought the evidence into class and she would give you a point of extra credit. I found more words in Cosmo and Calvin and Hobbes than any other sources. She always raised one eyebrow at me when I brought in Cosmo.
I've been out of high school a great many years. Yet, I still respond in Pavlovian manner whenever I see one of those words. Here's to you, Mrs. Collins, for still having an effect after all these years.
For those of you who did not have the pleasure of being is Diane Collins' English class, I'll put this into context. Every week, we studied vocabulary words out of our little workbook and were quizzed on those 20 words. If you found one of those words being used in the real world (that is, in print), you brought the evidence into class and she would give you a point of extra credit. I found more words in Cosmo and Calvin and Hobbes than any other sources. She always raised one eyebrow at me when I brought in Cosmo.
I've been out of high school a great many years. Yet, I still respond in Pavlovian manner whenever I see one of those words. Here's to you, Mrs. Collins, for still having an effect after all these years.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Week 1 update
I did make some progress of the first week of my life makeover. I did exercise four days in the form of taking Flynn out for really, really long stroller rides. I only took the boys out for fast food once. I worked in the garden, almost fixed the BBQ, repaired the roof, cleaned a clogged gutter, and worked on Drake's baby book. All of my grading is up to date. This is important because this week is finals week (lots and lots of essays). Plus, I was just given two online classes to teach in the summer quarter, and all of the course content needs to be posted by next Sunday. I have not been able to give up my addictions just yet.
The most surprising result from this makeover is the benefit of having a clean sink every night. When I wake in the morning, it's calming to have clean dishes. I wasn't expecting that. Now if I could just get the rest of house to be as clean as my sink. I would be really mellow.
The most surprising result from this makeover is the benefit of having a clean sink every night. When I wake in the morning, it's calming to have clean dishes. I wasn't expecting that. Now if I could just get the rest of house to be as clean as my sink. I would be really mellow.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Mr. Mischief
I was fairly certain that Drake would be the child to cause my grey hairs, with his epic meltdowns, blind rage, and fierce tenacity. Although he does all of this, he's always been one to follow the rules (once firmly drilled into his noggin). He always holds my hand in parking lots and on sidewalks. He's only drawn on a non-paper surface once. He has the proper amount of fear and respect for the escalator and the oven. He hasn't torn up any books. He never tried to climb out of his crib. He won't leave his room during naptime or bedtime (not even to go to the bathroom- which is a whole separate issue). Drake will contribute some to my grey hair collection, but he won't be the main contributor.
That honor goes to Flynn.
I've been blindsided by his happy-go-lucky demeanor and his sweet smile. Lurking inside my sweet little boy is Mr. Mischief. He has figured out how to climb into his brother's bed (car carrier to the train table to the bed). He's much like a rat: if the space is big enough to get his head through, he will go through it. I found him up the attic; I thought I had sufficiently blocked the stairs. He seems to know which buttons on the remote to push. We were watching "Presto" on the Wall-E DVD. The short had just ended and went back to the main menu. Before I could grab the remote, he pushed some buttons and "Presto" began playing again. He clapped for himself, proud of what he had just done, and plopped back down on the couch. He managed to record The Count of Monte Cristo. (I can't fault his taste.) I catch him climbing onto the end table. When I call his name, he turns slowly to look at me, and the glint is in his eyes. That glint lets me know he's up to something. He's almost too charming, with those baby blues and long eyelashes.
Both boys are smart cookies. This is only the beginning. They'll probably rewire the house and program all the lights to turn on and off in sync with "Big Balls." At least life won't be dull. :)
That honor goes to Flynn.
I've been blindsided by his happy-go-lucky demeanor and his sweet smile. Lurking inside my sweet little boy is Mr. Mischief. He has figured out how to climb into his brother's bed (car carrier to the train table to the bed). He's much like a rat: if the space is big enough to get his head through, he will go through it. I found him up the attic; I thought I had sufficiently blocked the stairs. He seems to know which buttons on the remote to push. We were watching "Presto" on the Wall-E DVD. The short had just ended and went back to the main menu. Before I could grab the remote, he pushed some buttons and "Presto" began playing again. He clapped for himself, proud of what he had just done, and plopped back down on the couch. He managed to record The Count of Monte Cristo. (I can't fault his taste.) I catch him climbing onto the end table. When I call his name, he turns slowly to look at me, and the glint is in his eyes. That glint lets me know he's up to something. He's almost too charming, with those baby blues and long eyelashes.
Both boys are smart cookies. This is only the beginning. They'll probably rewire the house and program all the lights to turn on and off in sync with "Big Balls." At least life won't be dull. :)
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