Curious

I went to the grocery store to pick up a few items. As I approached the U-Scan checkout station, a white, freckled, red-haired, mulletted boy of about 4 or 5 was sitting in a cart growling at anyone who passed by, while an older black man scanned the items from the cart. I can't help but wonder what their story is.

Fiery Gizzard

A few months ago, I took the kids on a walk in Shelby Park here in Nashville, where there is a paved 'nature trail' along the river. It was like a brick hit me in the head when Finley asked me if we were going through 'the deep, dark forest.' Good grief, I thought. I can't let them grow up thinking this is a forest. So yesterday, we went on our first real family hike in the South Cumberland area of Tennessee.

I had forgotten why I liked Tennessee so much after I moved here ten years ago, and yesterday I remembered why.

Hikes are different experiences with small children, though. In the days of my youth, we used to take our shoes off and run the trails, take a dive into the swimming holes, and free climb any available rock faces. Yesterday, we walked at a snail's pace so that Finley wouldn't fall behind and exercised extreme caution when it came to rocks, drop-offs, and poison ivy. We hardly let Joe out of the backpack. He was a fall waiting to happen. Finley slipped on a rock and fell into a section of creek. We must not let her get dirty often enough, because she wanted to change clothes immediately, and I had to 'talk her down.' And she kept asking me where we were going.

Here's hoping it's not another three years before we see a real trail again.

State of the Household Address

It is Sunday afternoon, and the little ones are in the basement with Daddy watching football, throwing balls, rolling cars, and/or playing on the computer. (Yes, Finley is a computer whiz. More on that later.) Reanna is with her mom for the weekend. I am in our finished-out-attic-space bedroom, as far away from the rest of the family as possible and still be in the house, for a little peace and quiet. Allow me to zone out for a minute....

(pause)

Ah. That was nice.

I have been operating in that constantly overwhelmed state of being that most mothers slip into now and again. Perhaps it is all perspective. I am too tired to figure it out, though. And honestly, the hardest part, and one of the contributing factors is that disjointed lack of ability to concentrate fog that hovers around my head. That last sentence didn't make any sense. Whatever. Can Omega-3s clear this fog? I'll move on. (I sound like president Bush, don't I?)

Back to the State of the Household. Perhaps if we take it point by point...

1. Reanna/School. Going well, I think. I line out two or three weeks of work in advance for Reanna, and she does the work. Not too exciting for either of us, but I think it is working. I am sure that most of the the stuff she is reading in History and Science is not going to stick, but I haven't felt too concerned about that. After all, I didn't need to know most of that info, and forgot a lot of the dates, places, people, and scientific jargon over the years. Most of the time, she works ahead of schedule, which allows her free time later in the week.

I am a little discouraged Reanna doesn't get too much hands-on/real-life learning, but I don't have the time or energy for what I would consider ideal. For the most part, I try to look for teachable moments outside of the books that relate to her studies. In science, she is beginning to study the animal kingdom (I think), so we went outside to the compost bin where a huge garden spider has woven her web. I caught some bumblebees that were flying nearby, and forced them into the spiders web. Finley and I enjoyed watching her wrap up the bee in her webbing and inject it with poison. Reanna was fascinated, but I don't think she would admit to enjoying the spectacle. She has taken to baking a weekly batch of cookies. She experiments with the recipes and allows Finley to 'help' her.

We joined a group that has scheduled field trips for every Friday of the school year. We went rollerskating a few weeks ago. Although there were so many kids there and it was impossible for a newcomer to actually meet anyone, Finley and Reanna enjoyed themselves. Finley was fearless in her little plastic Barbie skates. She went right out into the middle with the big kids all on her own after Reanna had skated with her for a while, and picked herself right back up after falling several times. Reanna won a glowstick necklace in a contest.

2. Finley. In an attempt to keep Finley occupied when Reanna needs help, I let her draw on the white board. I have learned to make her wear an old t-shirt of mine in order to avoid marker stains on every piece of her clothing. I recently realized that if Finley is to learn to read, she will also need to know lower-case letters, so I introduced those to her last week. I hope I don't confuse her too much.

I have been a little concerned about her interest in TV. If she gets bored, she like to ask if she can turn on the TV. Most of the time I tell her 'no.'

Finley also loves to play computer games. Once the computer is on, she knows to click on my name to log in. She then will click on the 'e' to get on internet explorer. (I am thankful she can't type yet.) I help her pull up the pbs-kids website, where she maneuvers all over the website playing the different games. In one game, she has to pick out the requested letter in order to help build a wall to keep the big, bad wolf out of the house. In another, she helps Cookie Monster sort fruits and vegetables into different colored bins and learn about the food in the process. Amazing. A useful tool... in moderation.

3. Joe. He threw his first full-on tantrum this Friday, complete with flopping on the ground, almost-throwing-up-I'm-crying-so-hard crying, and resulting snuffing. All because Mama wouldn't stand and hold him. Mama wanted to sit down. Apparently, that's not okay.

Joe is also an extremely picky eater. I wonder if he has some food allergies. He refuses cookies, peanut butter, mayonaise... No sandwiches, no rice, no meat. He subsists off smooties with vegetables snuck in, bagels (with cream cheese), apples, bananas, grapes, cheese, beans, and pasta.

And I love hearing him learn to talk. If you haven't seen the latest video, click here.

4. Misc. I am beginning to wonder if it is possible to have more structure around the house... It seems that if I could work up a sort of schedule for the kids (especially for Finley), that might alleviate some of the 'games' Finley and I play. 'Can I go outside?' 'Not right now.' ' Can I paint?' 'Not right now.' 'Can I watch Mr. Rogers?' 'He's not on TV.' ... (Shyla?)

I remember once after Finley was born, I decided I would make a cleaning schedule. I worked it out so that I would do laundry certain days, vaccuum certain days, and detail clean one room every week, so that the whole house would have a good cleaning every month. I didn't make it through the first week. I sweep under the kids' beds when the fuzz is about an inch thick and creeping out into the hallway.

5. Chris. He works hard most days, packs his own lunch, cleans the kitchen every night, and rarely complains about my movie picks. He's a good man.

6. And though there are only a few of you that I have let know the details, I have been working on a little book. I am excited about it. It is a concept I have carried around in my head for two years, and finally started on the artwork for it in July. Woohoo!

So there. It's hard work, but we're gonna stay the course.

School Days

Generally, Finley wants to thinks that any word that starts with 'F' must be her name. I have been trying to teach her otherwise, but most type includes the small letters, (as opposed to capitalized... is there a more technical name? oh yes, I just remembered...) I mean lower case letters, and she doesn't know those yet. Learning is complicated isn't it?

Anyway, I managed to keep her interested and encouraged enough today to get her to scrawl out her entire first name for the first time today. I only helped her with the 'N.' Finley's is the one in black, if you couldn't tell (wink, wink).

I was far more excited about it than she was.

When Bunny Grows Up

Has anyone of you read the book When Bunny Grows Up by Richard and Patricia Scarry?

Baby Bunny's family speculate about what the baby will be when he grows up: lion tamer, policeman, doctor, pilot... But bunny doesn't care to be any of those things.

Baby Bunny wants to be a daddy rabbit.

Tractor Pull, Part 2

I meant to write about this, but forgot...

One of my favorite things at a tractor pull is when a father lets his son drive the tractor.

There were probably three or four boys-becoming-men that drove tractors in this pull, with their dads walking along side, coaching them. One kid was a bit chubby with reddish hair and freckles. He unconsciously kept pushing out his lower lip in concentration. I don't think he ever took his eyes off his dad.

There's something about it that makes me almost need to pull out a hanky.

Sunday at the Tractor Pull

Tractor pull: tractors compete to see how far they can pull a sled. (A sled is a big trailer with a moving weight that increases the drag the further the the tractor pulls the sled.)

Finley entered the kid's tractor pull and won a blue ribbon.

Joe just enjoyed sitting on the tractors.

Maybe I'll own something like this someday:

Joe Bl-bl-ing

Mr. Rogers

Who knew a guy who looked like this would be so popular?

I remember that when I was being induced and was stuck in the hospital bed waiting for Finley to emerge, I ran across Mr. Rogers on the television. I was drawn in, and the nurse thought I had lost it.

Today, none of the things that normally hold Finley's interest for more than ten minutes seem to do the job. She wants Mr. Rogers.

"Mr. Rogers isn't on until 12:30," I tell her, and proceed to explain that 12:30 comes after lunch. I even show her the microwave clock and put a post-it note up to show what the numbers on the clock will say when it is finally time to watch Mr. Rogers. She still refuses to 'get it' and continues to ask me every 5 to 10 minutes if she can watch Mr. Rogers. Finally, in exasperation, I tell her that if she asks me one more time, she won't get to watch Mr. Rogers.

As I glance at the clock, desperately wishing time would go a little faster (at least until 12:30), I receive a revelation from above. It is 35 minutes until Mr. Rogers. I can now set the timer, the one thing in this house that Finley unhesitatingly obeys, and tell Finley that when the timer goes off, Mr. Rogers will be on. Amazingly, she accepts this, and proceeds to play by herself and with Joe until the bell sounds.

Mr. Rogers is only a half an hour long. Now I'm wishing time would slow down so I can have a longer break.

Politics

If there is one thing that makes me crazy, it is politics. As this country is (supposedly) a democracy, I recognize my obligation as a responsible citizen to vote. I hate doing it. It is not easy.


Part of the reason I would not ever make a good salesman is the fact that I have the (dare I say it?) gift of analyzation and criticism. When I worked at Mail Boxes Etc., I had the hardest time not telling people that they would do better to drive the extra two miles to the post office to buy their stamps and mail their packages. If I am selling someone a car, I am anxious to point out all the defects as well as what I liked about the vehicle so that the buyer can make an informed decision.


When I prepare to vote, I try to inform myself about the candidates so that I can make the best decision. Unfortunately, most of the time, after listening to debates and comparing the candidates values to mine, I rarely feel that I can wholeheartedly throw my support behind one of them. Then it becomes that horrible game of pick the lesser of the evils for me.


The latest 'oportunity' for me to exercise my right to vote is Nashville's mayoral race. The run-off election is next week, so we have been inundated with campaign ads. Yesterday, we got an ad in the mail for Bob Clement. It made me want to dope slap the man. Here is a Clement quote printed on the ad:

"I believe we must hold Nashville public schools strictly accountable for their performance, with no excuses accepted."


Why is it that no one will say out loud that unless students get the support and encouragement they need from home, they will continue to struggle in school?


It goes on to state that he 'knows a good education helps build strong families by creating economic opportunity...' blah, blah, blah.


Isn't that a little backwards? I thought is was the family that instilled the value of education and a good work ethic into its children.


For once I would like to see a candidate that was honest and would simply say, 'This is a complicated issue with no easy answer.'

The Straight Story

I know not all of you that read this blog check my movie review blog, so I decided to review this film here as well. The Straight Story is one of my all-time favorite movies, so I expect every single one of you out there to hunt this movie down from the library, netflix, or your neighborhood movie rental place.


I first saw this film back when I had Christi for a roommate. She needed to take a nap, but got so drawn in to the movie that she got mad and had to leave the room to take her nap.





It is based on the true story of Alvin Straight, an aging man who realizes he needs to make amends with the brother he hadn't spoken to in 10 years. He drives a lawn tractor across rural Iowa to make the trip.





I know many of you may not be as endeared to corn fields and tractors as I am, but I guarantee you that you will like the movie anyway. And if you aren't on the verge of at least one tear by the end of it, well, I'll be stumped.





For those of you with younger children, although this movie is rated G, there is one scene with a bit of old-man cussing. (It reminded me of my great uncle Babe, who like to throw G-d and hell around quite a bit.)