So, Connor has been struggling at basketball games. Can't sit on the bench. Wants to dribble the ball all the time. Wants a million drinks of water. And it has been driving his Coach (Dad) nuts. So, last week I made him a deal. Without Coach knowing about the deal, if he came home and told me that Connor had a great basketball game--that he sat still and listened, etc.--he could get Lego Star Wars for his Wii. Guess what? Great game. Like they say, people respond to incentives. But you can never be sure what the consequences of those incentives may be.
We've had the Wii for a year and its never really been a big deal. However, Lego Star Wars has changed everything. Its all we hear about these days. General Grievous. The Wookies. Defeat. Triumph. Friends who know the game better are bodily dragged here by Connor to help him learn and get through levels. Its an obsession. A sweaty obsession because he's jumping around the living room for hours.
At the same time, Bob has started to be interested in some computer games again after not playing any for years. Its a perfect storm of lack of productivity and happiness.
So, I'm on the computer this morning when Connor woke up at 6:30am and we have an interchange about the fact that he can't play Wii until he does two pages from his math pack. He brings it in and fires through the arithmetic in record time with no mistakes (meanwhile, his teacher would say that he bitched about it and took him 23 minutes). Then, he prepares to attack Darth. But before he leaves the office:
C: Mom, you better finish what you're doing on the computer.
D: Why?
C: Because Dad will be up sooon.
D: So?
C: Well, he's going to make you move so that he can play "Bioshock".
D: I don't think he's playing that too much today. We have alot to do.
C: Ummm. Yes he is.
D: How do you know?
C: Because, Mom, me and Dad, we're the same. We're about the games. And we're lazy.
You said it, kiddo. Not me.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Friday, February 26, 2010
The Flames Do Come
Connor has never been a "scared" kid. You know, not scared of Santa, not scared of Mickey Mouse. Fearless about climbing, jumping, diving. Not scared of monsters at night (its never come up). Not scared of ghosts (he swears he sees the ghost of our dead cat, Buddy, all the time and he couldn't care less). He's just not wired that way.
So, it surprised me last night when he suddenly burst into tears over the fire escape ladder.
We were snuggled up in bed reading "New Brother, New Sister"--a favorite around here lately for obvious reasons. In the story, the mom and the dad are clearing out a room for the new baby, painting the crib, etc. We just cleared out our new baby's room this past weekend so I stopped reading at that point and said "That's just like we did on Saturday. A baby room is fun to get ready for." That's what started it.
He suddenly got serious. Sat up. Turned his body to face me and said "Mom, you know that fire escape ladder box that was in the baby's room and that is out in the hall now?" (We have a pile of furniture in the hallway that Bob needs help moving to the basement.) I acknowledged the box. He continued. " I really need you to take it away. Take it to the basement. Put it where I can't see it." I asked why. "Because it reminds me of a fire and I DON'T WANT TO DIE!!!" Explosive tears ensued.
Wow. I was shocked. But I also felt oddly well equipped to deal with the situation. You see, when I was in 3rd grade I spent about 6 months deeply entwined in an immense irrational fear of house fires. Seriously. For me, it stared when some random fireman came to my class and distributed those big orange dot stickers. Your parents were supposed to put these on your bedroom window so that the first responders coming to your house as it blazed to the ground would know that your window was the window of a child who needed to be snatched from the jaws of a melting, searing death. Looking back, I have to say that the whole thing happened around the time that my grandfather died so it really wasn't about fires. It was just the time in my childhood when I became aware of mortality. Aware of the fact that I was going to croak and that people I loved were going to croak. And as is typical of our species, I channeled all of that into a single, graspable issue: worrying about a fire.
I must have made my mother run through a fire escape process with me 100 times. I'd practice the STOP, DROP, & ROLL over and over again before going to sleep. I'd stand a my door and imagine smoke pouring underneath it and practice feeling it to see if it was hot so that I'd know if I should try to go out my window instead. And then, at my window I always made sure I had something bid and hard enough to break the glass in the event I could not lift the window on my own. I'd picture the broken glass strewn about and knew that I would take my pillow case off to lay on the sill so that as I clambered up to make my escape I would not get cut. I felt good about all those bushes below that would cushion my 5 foot drop. I pictured the fire trucks lit up in the yard. I was deep into it.
So, the boy and I had a long chat about fires last night. About how rare they are. About how they generally happen as the result of smoking or candles or heaters or Christmas trees. And we had a long talk about how silly it would be to keep our fire escape ladder in the basement when the only place we'd need it is on the second floor. This weekend we're going to have a fire drill. And we're going to take out the ladder and practice setting it up. And then we're going to put it away and cross our fingers that the acorn fell a little further from the tree. And every once in awhile I'll check to see if he's up late at night practicing the STOP, DROP, & ROLL.
The flames of childhood fears have just begun to lick at our doors here in Tatertown. And it makes me a tiny bit sad. If Connor was a child who had always been afraid of things I would not feel the loss. But in his case, I do. He's had nearly 7 years of joyful ignorance of danger, risk, and death. But clearly that time is passed. We'll do our best to be his guides into this new world, but I for one will grieve for the world that is now lost.
So, it surprised me last night when he suddenly burst into tears over the fire escape ladder.
We were snuggled up in bed reading "New Brother, New Sister"--a favorite around here lately for obvious reasons. In the story, the mom and the dad are clearing out a room for the new baby, painting the crib, etc. We just cleared out our new baby's room this past weekend so I stopped reading at that point and said "That's just like we did on Saturday. A baby room is fun to get ready for." That's what started it.
He suddenly got serious. Sat up. Turned his body to face me and said "Mom, you know that fire escape ladder box that was in the baby's room and that is out in the hall now?" (We have a pile of furniture in the hallway that Bob needs help moving to the basement.) I acknowledged the box. He continued. " I really need you to take it away. Take it to the basement. Put it where I can't see it." I asked why. "Because it reminds me of a fire and I DON'T WANT TO DIE!!!" Explosive tears ensued.
Wow. I was shocked. But I also felt oddly well equipped to deal with the situation. You see, when I was in 3rd grade I spent about 6 months deeply entwined in an immense irrational fear of house fires. Seriously. For me, it stared when some random fireman came to my class and distributed those big orange dot stickers. Your parents were supposed to put these on your bedroom window so that the first responders coming to your house as it blazed to the ground would know that your window was the window of a child who needed to be snatched from the jaws of a melting, searing death. Looking back, I have to say that the whole thing happened around the time that my grandfather died so it really wasn't about fires. It was just the time in my childhood when I became aware of mortality. Aware of the fact that I was going to croak and that people I loved were going to croak. And as is typical of our species, I channeled all of that into a single, graspable issue: worrying about a fire.
I must have made my mother run through a fire escape process with me 100 times. I'd practice the STOP, DROP, & ROLL over and over again before going to sleep. I'd stand a my door and imagine smoke pouring underneath it and practice feeling it to see if it was hot so that I'd know if I should try to go out my window instead. And then, at my window I always made sure I had something bid and hard enough to break the glass in the event I could not lift the window on my own. I'd picture the broken glass strewn about and knew that I would take my pillow case off to lay on the sill so that as I clambered up to make my escape I would not get cut. I felt good about all those bushes below that would cushion my 5 foot drop. I pictured the fire trucks lit up in the yard. I was deep into it.
So, the boy and I had a long chat about fires last night. About how rare they are. About how they generally happen as the result of smoking or candles or heaters or Christmas trees. And we had a long talk about how silly it would be to keep our fire escape ladder in the basement when the only place we'd need it is on the second floor. This weekend we're going to have a fire drill. And we're going to take out the ladder and practice setting it up. And then we're going to put it away and cross our fingers that the acorn fell a little further from the tree. And every once in awhile I'll check to see if he's up late at night practicing the STOP, DROP, & ROLL.
The flames of childhood fears have just begun to lick at our doors here in Tatertown. And it makes me a tiny bit sad. If Connor was a child who had always been afraid of things I would not feel the loss. But in his case, I do. He's had nearly 7 years of joyful ignorance of danger, risk, and death. But clearly that time is passed. We'll do our best to be his guides into this new world, but I for one will grieve for the world that is now lost.
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Does It Really Say What I Think It Says?
This was in a box of Sweehearts GLAM sparkle message hearts.
I Heart You
For a math exercise recently, Connor's class did a poll and graph. The topic: my classmates favorite holidays. They each had to ask all the other students for their choice, tally the results, and put it in a graph. No shock in the fact that Christmas was #1. But I was surprised to see that Valentine's Day was #2. Really, more than Halloween? But it was undeniable.
During that long snow week we tackled decorating a Valentine delivery box and writing out all of the classmates cards. Remarkably, Connor ground it all out in about 30 minutes with very little complaining. Yesterday was the big party and the kids had a blast. Again, I made 48 sugar cookie hearts for them to decorate and was glad to help the volunteer moms out.
Here's the box sitting out near my foyer Valentine's day display. That's Connor at age 2--one of my favorite pictures of him and I drag it out every year.
During that long snow week we tackled decorating a Valentine delivery box and writing out all of the classmates cards. Remarkably, Connor ground it all out in about 30 minutes with very little complaining. Yesterday was the big party and the kids had a blast. Again, I made 48 sugar cookie hearts for them to decorate and was glad to help the volunteer moms out.
Here's the box sitting out near my foyer Valentine's day display. That's Connor at age 2--one of my favorite pictures of him and I drag it out every year.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Totally Tubular
This weekend we enjoyed our 3rd annual family tubing trip to Wintergreen resort right here in Virginia. They've had PLENTY of snow at the mountain, and it was a seasonally appropriate temperature this year as compared to last year when we enjoyed a waterslide at 50 degrees. The runs were fast and the fun was awesome.
We had some new families join us this year: The Kellys, The Baldas, The Halls, and The Grotons. They had a great time and are already "in" for next year. We also spent a fair amount of time talking about an early October "Halloween" group camping trip that we'll try to organize. It is so nice to do things in big groups with other families and make these annual traditions. I kept thinking this weekend how this will the something that our kids always remember.
As usual, the kids a had a blast at the hotel. The movie theatre room has been closed, so when we checked in and found that out , Bob and I ran to Target and bought some games. We hardly needed them. The kids were joyous just being together running around the lobby. We did get in a few games of Twister and the bucket of army men staged a fine western front in the dining room. The hotel was awesome as usual and let us totally take over the lobby area which we utterly destroyed. By the end of the night there was enough food on the floor to feed a family of four. As the night wore on, things quieted down and I observed this trio in the corner:
It seemed that everyone dragged out their Leapsters, DS's, and Connor his iPod for a mini gaming convention.
On top of the winter fun, everyone surprised us with a baby shower on Saturday night. We were shocked and grateful. Carole Baird made an AWESOME red velvet cake that Connor talked about all the way home yesterday. And we got some truly sweet and lovely gifts for our little future tuber. (Hmmm....a Tater IS a tuber, come to think of it!)
We had some new families join us this year: The Kellys, The Baldas, The Halls, and The Grotons. They had a great time and are already "in" for next year. We also spent a fair amount of time talking about an early October "Halloween" group camping trip that we'll try to organize. It is so nice to do things in big groups with other families and make these annual traditions. I kept thinking this weekend how this will the something that our kids always remember.
As usual, the kids a had a blast at the hotel. The movie theatre room has been closed, so when we checked in and found that out , Bob and I ran to Target and bought some games. We hardly needed them. The kids were joyous just being together running around the lobby. We did get in a few games of Twister and the bucket of army men staged a fine western front in the dining room. The hotel was awesome as usual and let us totally take over the lobby area which we utterly destroyed. By the end of the night there was enough food on the floor to feed a family of four. As the night wore on, things quieted down and I observed this trio in the corner:
It seemed that everyone dragged out their Leapsters, DS's, and Connor his iPod for a mini gaming convention.
On top of the winter fun, everyone surprised us with a baby shower on Saturday night. We were shocked and grateful. Carole Baird made an AWESOME red velvet cake that Connor talked about all the way home yesterday. And we got some truly sweet and lovely gifts for our little future tuber. (Hmmm....a Tater IS a tuber, come to think of it!)
Because it was so cold, the tubing runs were FAST this year. Down at the end you can see those black spots....those are rubber mats in the runs to slow the tubers down. Bob actually hit the rear fence twice.
And here's our annual group shot! I was pretty jealous watching everyone this year...next year Bob and I are switching off with that baby and I'm getting in some fun, too!!
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Birthday Blizzard
Well, I love snow. I really do. I never complain about it like many other people do. Yes, it can be inconvenient. Yes, it requires work. But it is so beautiful. And really, 5 or 6 times a year is just a treat. But nature outdid itself for my birthday this year.
Its being called SNOWMAGEDDON or SNOWPOCALYPSE. Pick a name. Call it what you wish. It was a big ass storm. People even heard snow thunder in the area.
It began Friday morning, February 5th at around 10am. School was closed pre-emptively and I worked from home. Bob went in to the office until around noon. It started out slowly--deceivingly innocuous. But it didn't stop until around 4pm on Saturday. 30 straight hours of snow. And depending where you measure, the untouched snow in our yard measures between 25 and 30 inches. And, it is heavy, wet snow. When the sun came out at 4:30pm yesterday, anywhere that there was a narrow hole in the snow, it glowed a blue arctic icy color. It truly is spectacular.
Our neighbor, Brent, went to the store on Friday and bought a $700 snow blower. We liked him an awful lot before that purchase. I just want you to know that. But now, we love him. Bob and another neighbor, Frank, followed him around the neighborhood with their shovels doing detal work for a total of 7 hours yesterday. And actually, Brent started snowblowing on Friday night to get ahead of it.
Here are a few shots of the glorious outcome of the storm.
The hard to see path back to the Southern Magnolia. Bob was quick to get out there and keep the snow off of it. He cleaned it with a pole 4 times and I was headed back for the final shakedown right before this shot. By the way, that fence on the left? Yes, its up hill. But that cross beam is above my waist.
Doesn't she look pretty with white icing? It hides the fact that the trim needs painting!
I managed to make him hold still for this for only a moment. I was interrupting him, Danny, and Danny during a robust sledding run DOWN THE DECK STAIRS. There was so much snow that they had packed it into a speed run.
The customary shot of the vehicles.
Its being called SNOWMAGEDDON or SNOWPOCALYPSE. Pick a name. Call it what you wish. It was a big ass storm. People even heard snow thunder in the area.
It began Friday morning, February 5th at around 10am. School was closed pre-emptively and I worked from home. Bob went in to the office until around noon. It started out slowly--deceivingly innocuous. But it didn't stop until around 4pm on Saturday. 30 straight hours of snow. And depending where you measure, the untouched snow in our yard measures between 25 and 30 inches. And, it is heavy, wet snow. When the sun came out at 4:30pm yesterday, anywhere that there was a narrow hole in the snow, it glowed a blue arctic icy color. It truly is spectacular.
Our neighbor, Brent, went to the store on Friday and bought a $700 snow blower. We liked him an awful lot before that purchase. I just want you to know that. But now, we love him. Bob and another neighbor, Frank, followed him around the neighborhood with their shovels doing detal work for a total of 7 hours yesterday. And actually, Brent started snowblowing on Friday night to get ahead of it.
Here are a few shots of the glorious outcome of the storm.
The hard to see path back to the Southern Magnolia. Bob was quick to get out there and keep the snow off of it. He cleaned it with a pole 4 times and I was headed back for the final shakedown right before this shot. By the way, that fence on the left? Yes, its up hill. But that cross beam is above my waist.
Doesn't she look pretty with white icing? It hides the fact that the trim needs painting!
That's a view over the deck toward the woods behind the house. It looks like some giant baker somewhere mixed together confectioners sugar and milk and poured it over the trees.
I managed to make him hold still for this for only a moment. I was interrupting him, Danny, and Danny during a robust sledding run DOWN THE DECK STAIRS. There was so much snow that they had packed it into a speed run.
The customary shot of the vehicles.
And here's "The Fly" out for a second round of duty after a wet clothes replacement.
Finally, to wrap this up. Check this out. My dear friend Kristin sent it along after spotting
Finally, to wrap this up. Check this out. My dear friend Kristin sent it along after spotting
it on an Accuweather forecast. This sums it up in ways that I am not capable of surpassing.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Wake Up Bob!
At 1am last night I heard vague sound. Kind of like a low level, constant alarm. At first I thought it was a dream. Then I thought it was my iPod doing something crazy next to the bed. Then I thought it was a low battery signal on the phone. Then, I laid back down and decided it was a hallucination. Then I sat up and decided it wasn't.
Then, I got smart and woke up my husband.
He got out of bed and turned off the air filter that drowns all sound. And then it became clear. A car horn was on. Steady. Not an on/off alarm. A constant horn. And it was our car--the Montero.
He rapidly headed outside in 20 degree weather in his undies with his keys to investigate. In a flash, he was back inside, having determined that:
1. He couldn't turn it off easily.
2. He'd need tools.
3. He'd need clothes.
As all of this went on I quickly Googled "Car Horn Stuck Montero". Apparently, this is a fairly common problem with a fairly common immediate solution--disconnect the battery. Bob had already come to this conclusion and flown past me, back out into the driveway with channel locks and wrenches in hand.
In a very short time he had it handled. Our neighbor, Red, came over from across the street to help after being awoken by his son and initially thinking it was his car that was the culprit.
Overall, the whole thing made me feel two ways.... hysterically amused and ridiculously proud. Bob was fast, calm, deliberate, and unwavering. Just what you want your man to be in a crisis. Yet, the whole confusing, sleepy, underwear, ice cold, waking the neighbors thing had me laughing for hours.
This morning he hooked the battery up and there was no problem with the horn. But, just to be safe, the Montero will be sleeping INSIDE the garage for awhile. Right underneath our bedroom.
Then, I got smart and woke up my husband.
He got out of bed and turned off the air filter that drowns all sound. And then it became clear. A car horn was on. Steady. Not an on/off alarm. A constant horn. And it was our car--the Montero.
He rapidly headed outside in 20 degree weather in his undies with his keys to investigate. In a flash, he was back inside, having determined that:
1. He couldn't turn it off easily.
2. He'd need tools.
3. He'd need clothes.
As all of this went on I quickly Googled "Car Horn Stuck Montero". Apparently, this is a fairly common problem with a fairly common immediate solution--disconnect the battery. Bob had already come to this conclusion and flown past me, back out into the driveway with channel locks and wrenches in hand.
In a very short time he had it handled. Our neighbor, Red, came over from across the street to help after being awoken by his son and initially thinking it was his car that was the culprit.
Overall, the whole thing made me feel two ways.... hysterically amused and ridiculously proud. Bob was fast, calm, deliberate, and unwavering. Just what you want your man to be in a crisis. Yet, the whole confusing, sleepy, underwear, ice cold, waking the neighbors thing had me laughing for hours.
This morning he hooked the battery up and there was no problem with the horn. But, just to be safe, the Montero will be sleeping INSIDE the garage for awhile. Right underneath our bedroom.
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