It had been, oh 18 years or so since I was last at a waterpark. We had the opportunity to take our kids to a local one this past weekend. It was an eye-opener in a couple of ways.
First there was the vast amount of flesh on display. I was stunned by some of the swimsuits I saw. Let's start with women of a certain age and girth. Maybe they don't shop around and don't know that there are nice-looking, comfortable suits designed to cover and contain excess and, um, sagging flesh. (I own one, because I am of a certain age and I do have some excess flesh I'd prefer not to expose to the world.) I know we are into tolerance and fat acceptance and all, and I'm not suggesting that people with unattractive bodies stay home. (Did they try to ban fat people on the beaches of Brazil a while ago?) But people should have a little modesty.
Ah, modesty. Even the toned young women could stand to have a little modesty. I am always particularly shocked by the proud dad walking beside his teen daughter whose suit leaves nothing to the imagination. Do these guys not get it, that men are looking at their daughters' bodies? Or do they like it, maybe? I would have preferred to die rather than have my father see me in a tiny swimsuit, if my mother had even let me wear one, that is. But the moms are just as bad.
I guess, though, there's no point to the belly-button bling if it's covered by a swimsuit. I did not know it was required attire now. Live and learn.
But then I saw the women in burqas. Black burqas covering every inch of skin, out in the sun on the deck of the wave pool. It must have been torture. The kids and dads were dressed for the waterpark, and left the moms sitting there sweating while they went and played in the water.
I don't get this. If the sight of a woman's flesh, even her face, is evil or sinful or whatever... what are they doing at the waterpark? Why are they letting their sons go to the waterpark to be exposed to it all? Why their daughters, who will grow up to be covered like their moms? (OK, I am assuming they were moms; since I couldn't see their faces I have no idea if they were old grandmothers. Or old men, for that matter.)
Don't think I am saying that they should not be allowed there. Of course they have the right to be there. (Though like many others I am creeped out by having masked people out and about in our society.) But why are they there? Why are they sitting there sweating and watching other people, dressed inappropriately, having fun? They have rejected the notion that women are free to dress as they wish so why do they come to a temple to uncovered women? I would have liked to ask them if they wouldn't rather be playing in the pool too. Or why, if their husbands believe women should be covered up, they are out there playing next to uncovered women? (One can't help but wonder if their husbands don't secretly like getting a glimpse now and then.) Why are their sons and daughters out there? That has got to be some weirdness for a kid: mom can't even show her face out in public, but here we are with women showing everything. And it's cool.
Of course if I had my way, everyone would adhere to my standard of appropriate dress. It would be somewhere between complete coverage and let it all hang out.
We had fun anyway.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Friday, May 14, 2010
Deprived no more
My kids finally got a video game system. All these years - the boy is almost 13, the girl about 11 1/2 - they have lived with no game system. Everyone they know has a wii, or a playstation, or an x-box. DS? But of course - who doesn't have one? I mean, other than my kids.
But, now there is an x-box in the house. It came from an uncle who says he bought it for himself but never used it. He also sent some games - mostly still in sealed packages. When it arrived, the boy, who has never, ever asked for a game system, just lit up. He was so excited! When asked, he finally admitted that he had been wanting one. I had asked him about it at Christmas, and he'd said no - he must have known we weren't going to buy him one anyway. He also admitted that it would be easier and more fun when other boys are over. It's true that for his age group, our house is boring. I've always felt vaguely bad about that but not enough to do anything about it.
Of course he has had exposure to games before, with friends, so wasn't a complete doofus (like me!) when it was time to start playing. My girl took a little longer. But not so very long. Kids can learn the games quickly. There's no long learning curve for them.
They are having a great time with it, racing cars and playing Lego Star Wars. It's fun to watch them and listen to them.
Once more, we waited, and once more, we found it wasn't so bad after all. Amazing, how that keeps working out. Once more my kids can see that delayed gratification doesn't mean no gratification at all. And I think it's that much sweeter when they have to wait.
But, now there is an x-box in the house. It came from an uncle who says he bought it for himself but never used it. He also sent some games - mostly still in sealed packages. When it arrived, the boy, who has never, ever asked for a game system, just lit up. He was so excited! When asked, he finally admitted that he had been wanting one. I had asked him about it at Christmas, and he'd said no - he must have known we weren't going to buy him one anyway. He also admitted that it would be easier and more fun when other boys are over. It's true that for his age group, our house is boring. I've always felt vaguely bad about that but not enough to do anything about it.
Of course he has had exposure to games before, with friends, so wasn't a complete doofus (like me!) when it was time to start playing. My girl took a little longer. But not so very long. Kids can learn the games quickly. There's no long learning curve for them.
They are having a great time with it, racing cars and playing Lego Star Wars. It's fun to watch them and listen to them.
Once more, we waited, and once more, we found it wasn't so bad after all. Amazing, how that keeps working out. Once more my kids can see that delayed gratification doesn't mean no gratification at all. And I think it's that much sweeter when they have to wait.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Misnamed and misblurbed
Novels about Russia always pull me in. I think it started when I read We the Living in high school. I love reading about Russia under the czars, and find stories of revolution compelling. So, based on the cover and the blurb, I picked up The Red Scarf (Kate Furnivall) from the library.
I read it quickly, very very quickly. I kept slipping away from my children to read. It had me hooked early on. It reminded me in some ways of We the Living, though I read that so many years ago. (I don't know if Ms. Furnivall had it in mind when she was writing The Red Scarf, but after reading a few reviews to refresh my memory, I noticed that Sofia's last name is the same as one of Rand's characters.)
Sofia and Anna are prisoners - enemies of the state - in a Soviet labor camp in Siberia. Anna is sick, so very sick. After she saves Sofia's life, Sofia determines to escape and save hers. And so she makes her way to a small village where, based on scraps of information from the past, she expects to find Vasily, Anna's childhood friend - and a cache of jewels, with which to buy Anna's release.
The story goes between Anna in the camp, Sofia on the run and in the village, and memories of both women's pasts. This worked well for me, and I didn't find it confusing; it really added to the story. And when those scraps of information turned out not to be entirely accurate, it didn't bother me; the complications were good, not a distraction.
But then Sofia gets to the village and things fall apart a little bit. There's that old gypsy with the eerie eyes who knows she's coming before she arrives, and has the ability to make people see and do things that he wants them to see and do. OK, a little hypnotism in a story never hurts, even when it seems unlikely that someone will look at a blank piece of paper and see identity documents. But then, suddenly there's a secret ceremony and we've got full-on magic. Including a magic rock. Not Bewitched-twitch-your-nose-and-disappear magic, but once this is introduced, seemingly impossible obstacles are overcome.
There's also a romantic element that gets a little too close to romance-novel style. And some events come together too easily even without the magic. I never did figure out how the plane ride that got Sofia and her companion closer to Anna came about.
I am always a little reluctant to express my criticism of a book. If I know so much better, why don't I write my own? Those who can write, do; those who can't write, complain about writers' shortcomings. Well, I can't write a better novel. I don't have that talent. This writer does, I think. This could have been a truly great novel without the gratuitous magic, which made me feel cheated. If the blurb had mentioned it, I wouldn't have picked this up.
And the title? The red scarf gets 2 brief mentions. It is not an important part of the story at all. I kept waiting for it to be, but... no.
If I was writing an Amazon review, I'd give this book 2 stars. I wish it could have been more!
I read it quickly, very very quickly. I kept slipping away from my children to read. It had me hooked early on. It reminded me in some ways of We the Living, though I read that so many years ago. (I don't know if Ms. Furnivall had it in mind when she was writing The Red Scarf, but after reading a few reviews to refresh my memory, I noticed that Sofia's last name is the same as one of Rand's characters.)
Sofia and Anna are prisoners - enemies of the state - in a Soviet labor camp in Siberia. Anna is sick, so very sick. After she saves Sofia's life, Sofia determines to escape and save hers. And so she makes her way to a small village where, based on scraps of information from the past, she expects to find Vasily, Anna's childhood friend - and a cache of jewels, with which to buy Anna's release.
The story goes between Anna in the camp, Sofia on the run and in the village, and memories of both women's pasts. This worked well for me, and I didn't find it confusing; it really added to the story. And when those scraps of information turned out not to be entirely accurate, it didn't bother me; the complications were good, not a distraction.
But then Sofia gets to the village and things fall apart a little bit. There's that old gypsy with the eerie eyes who knows she's coming before she arrives, and has the ability to make people see and do things that he wants them to see and do. OK, a little hypnotism in a story never hurts, even when it seems unlikely that someone will look at a blank piece of paper and see identity documents. But then, suddenly there's a secret ceremony and we've got full-on magic. Including a magic rock. Not Bewitched-twitch-your-nose-and-disappear magic, but once this is introduced, seemingly impossible obstacles are overcome.
There's also a romantic element that gets a little too close to romance-novel style. And some events come together too easily even without the magic. I never did figure out how the plane ride that got Sofia and her companion closer to Anna came about.
I am always a little reluctant to express my criticism of a book. If I know so much better, why don't I write my own? Those who can write, do; those who can't write, complain about writers' shortcomings. Well, I can't write a better novel. I don't have that talent. This writer does, I think. This could have been a truly great novel without the gratuitous magic, which made me feel cheated. If the blurb had mentioned it, I wouldn't have picked this up.
And the title? The red scarf gets 2 brief mentions. It is not an important part of the story at all. I kept waiting for it to be, but... no.
If I was writing an Amazon review, I'd give this book 2 stars. I wish it could have been more!
Friday, April 09, 2010
The fish stories
Tonight just after kissing my kids goodnight, I found that our beta, Aristotle, had died. I was going to feed him. That's usually my daughter's job but she had forgotten. I am pretty sure her food forgetfulness was not the cause of death - she is good at remembering and a beta can live for a few days, at least, between meals.
This is our 2nd beta. I didn't care much one way or another about this fish. But our first beta, Joe, was a wonderful fish. So I am putting up some old blog posts, from another blog site, about the day Joe died. This was in 2006, so my kids were only 9 and 7.
#1:
Our pet fish, Joe, died today. We'd had him about a year, after buying him on impulse (sort of) at a craft store. We learned a lot about fish while dealing with various fish illnesses. He went from a tiny cup to an unheated fish bowl to a deluxe tank with heat, filter, and lots of cool plants.
Joe was a very personable fish, as fish go. When one of us would approach the tank, he'd swim over and "flare" at us. That's fightin' behavior for a betta, but we took it as a sign of affection. We'd puff out our cheeks in an attempt to flare back. He was the most interactive fish I've ever come across.
After getting to know Joe we acquired a few more fish, some corydoras, to live in a separate tank. They're cute, but don't have personality like Joe. So when one of those fish died a few weeks ago, it wasn't too traumatic. E made a little grave marker, but it was a busy weekend so we stashed him in the freezer for burial later. Um, he's still there.
We could tell Joe was getting sick, or tired, or just plain old, for a little while. We prepared the kids for his death. We talked about getting some clove oil to anesthetize him so he wouldn't be uncomfortable at the end. But we never got around to it. We were going to go this afternoon....
At bedtime one night J said "goodnight, and maybe goodbye forever, Joe." Oh my. I hate to admit it but it made me laugh. I said "I hope when I'm old you never say that to me!" He wasn't too happy about that.
As is usually the case in our lives, things don't happen in a calm, orderly manner. We were getting ready to go to our homeschool group book club meeting and the kids were saying goodbye to Joe. They were sort of hugging the tank when they realized he was dead. Oh no! E ran out of the room sobbing. J exclaimed that Joe's guts were leaking out and we had to "get him out of the tank quick!" Then he started sobbing. "I don't want to go to the book club! Yes, I want to go to the book club! Oh, I don't know what I want! Joe!! Joe!!"
So I did what any other calm, confident mother would do: I called Daddy. He very graciously offered to come home and take care of the fish while we went out. Since we'd be out he could do some work from home. What a guy! So we said goodbye to Joe one more time and left the house.
On the way to book club we started a new audio book, called Poppy. It's about some mice, and an owl. Within the first few minutes one of the mice is captured and killed by the owl. More wailing, and a quick hit of the eject button on that one. One dead animal a day is our quota.
At the book club we learned that another family had dealt with dead fish today. But they had simply flushed them. E was appalled. "They flushed them? Down the toilet? We are not doing that to Joe! Or to any other fish we ever have!"
Tomorrow we will have the funeral for our two fish. Stay tuned!
#2:
Today was the funeral. I had thought the kids would be upset and ready to do it early in the day, but they didn't even mention Joe at all. Yes, the same kids who yesterday asked, wailing, "How are we going to live without Joe?" didn't seem to even remember him this morning.
But in the afternoon when we asked them about the funeral they got all somber. Yesterday they had said they just wanted to keep the fish bodies in some kind of box so that if we move, we can just take them along with us. I informed them that that's not the way it works, and that depending on how many pets they have over their lifetimes, they'd have a mighty big burden eventually. So we decided to do the burial under our favorite maple tree. E had a difficult moment of wondering how we would get the fish into the hole. I think she was worried that we were going to make her touch the dead fish. Eewwww! Daddy explained the procedure and she was satisfied. J said he wanted to plant some forget-me-nots there and was satisfied when we said we'd do it in the spring. (As if he'll remember.)
E found the grave marker she'd made when the cory died and put Joe's name on it. Cheater! I guess the cory didn't deserve a marker anymore. It's just made out of a craft stick and some wooden shapes. Pretty cute, actually. The kids went out and picked the last of the flowers to stick in there too.
C slipped the fish into the hole - E refused to watch - and the kids covered it up and then decorated it. Then C said a prayer. He did a fine job of thanking God for all the creatures and the opportunity to care for some of them, and the joy they had brought us. Everyone was crying by this time.
I was surprised that no one asked if we'd see Joe in heaven. Glad, too.
And I'm really glad we didn't just flush them.
#3:
This entry won't make sense unless you have read the previous one about our fish dying.
When we arrived at the book club and were parking, I noticed the truck was acting funny. The steering was hard, or maybe the transmission wasn't quite right. We went in, and while the book discussion was going on, I went back outside to check it out. Drove up and down the street a couple times, and there was just something wrong. Great.
Once again I did what any confident, intelligent woman would do: I called my husband. He said he'd drive over and see what was up, as soon as he finished dealing with the dead fish. It was about a 25-minute drive.
When my cellphone range, the official book club meeting was over, the kids were playing, and the moms were drinking coffee and chatting. I answered while starting to walk outside to get the bad news about the car. I wondered if we'd need to have it towed.
"Honey, you have to take the truck out of 4-wheel drive."
"Huh? I've never had it in 4-wheel drive! I don't know if I know how to put it in or out of 4-wheel drive!"
Apparently I'd hit the button while on the road and never noticed it. I figure it must have been when I was hurrying to eject the story of the murderous owl and the hapless mousie.
My husband is a patient, patient man.
This is our 2nd beta. I didn't care much one way or another about this fish. But our first beta, Joe, was a wonderful fish. So I am putting up some old blog posts, from another blog site, about the day Joe died. This was in 2006, so my kids were only 9 and 7.
#1:
Our pet fish, Joe, died today. We'd had him about a year, after buying him on impulse (sort of) at a craft store. We learned a lot about fish while dealing with various fish illnesses. He went from a tiny cup to an unheated fish bowl to a deluxe tank with heat, filter, and lots of cool plants.
Joe was a very personable fish, as fish go. When one of us would approach the tank, he'd swim over and "flare" at us. That's fightin' behavior for a betta, but we took it as a sign of affection. We'd puff out our cheeks in an attempt to flare back. He was the most interactive fish I've ever come across.
After getting to know Joe we acquired a few more fish, some corydoras, to live in a separate tank. They're cute, but don't have personality like Joe. So when one of those fish died a few weeks ago, it wasn't too traumatic. E made a little grave marker, but it was a busy weekend so we stashed him in the freezer for burial later. Um, he's still there.
We could tell Joe was getting sick, or tired, or just plain old, for a little while. We prepared the kids for his death. We talked about getting some clove oil to anesthetize him so he wouldn't be uncomfortable at the end. But we never got around to it. We were going to go this afternoon....
At bedtime one night J said "goodnight, and maybe goodbye forever, Joe." Oh my. I hate to admit it but it made me laugh. I said "I hope when I'm old you never say that to me!" He wasn't too happy about that.
As is usually the case in our lives, things don't happen in a calm, orderly manner. We were getting ready to go to our homeschool group book club meeting and the kids were saying goodbye to Joe. They were sort of hugging the tank when they realized he was dead. Oh no! E ran out of the room sobbing. J exclaimed that Joe's guts were leaking out and we had to "get him out of the tank quick!" Then he started sobbing. "I don't want to go to the book club! Yes, I want to go to the book club! Oh, I don't know what I want! Joe!! Joe!!"
So I did what any other calm, confident mother would do: I called Daddy. He very graciously offered to come home and take care of the fish while we went out. Since we'd be out he could do some work from home. What a guy! So we said goodbye to Joe one more time and left the house.
On the way to book club we started a new audio book, called Poppy. It's about some mice, and an owl. Within the first few minutes one of the mice is captured and killed by the owl. More wailing, and a quick hit of the eject button on that one. One dead animal a day is our quota.
At the book club we learned that another family had dealt with dead fish today. But they had simply flushed them. E was appalled. "They flushed them? Down the toilet? We are not doing that to Joe! Or to any other fish we ever have!"
Tomorrow we will have the funeral for our two fish. Stay tuned!
#2:
Today was the funeral. I had thought the kids would be upset and ready to do it early in the day, but they didn't even mention Joe at all. Yes, the same kids who yesterday asked, wailing, "How are we going to live without Joe?" didn't seem to even remember him this morning.
But in the afternoon when we asked them about the funeral they got all somber. Yesterday they had said they just wanted to keep the fish bodies in some kind of box so that if we move, we can just take them along with us. I informed them that that's not the way it works, and that depending on how many pets they have over their lifetimes, they'd have a mighty big burden eventually. So we decided to do the burial under our favorite maple tree. E had a difficult moment of wondering how we would get the fish into the hole. I think she was worried that we were going to make her touch the dead fish. Eewwww! Daddy explained the procedure and she was satisfied. J said he wanted to plant some forget-me-nots there and was satisfied when we said we'd do it in the spring. (As if he'll remember.)
E found the grave marker she'd made when the cory died and put Joe's name on it. Cheater! I guess the cory didn't deserve a marker anymore. It's just made out of a craft stick and some wooden shapes. Pretty cute, actually. The kids went out and picked the last of the flowers to stick in there too.
C slipped the fish into the hole - E refused to watch - and the kids covered it up and then decorated it. Then C said a prayer. He did a fine job of thanking God for all the creatures and the opportunity to care for some of them, and the joy they had brought us. Everyone was crying by this time.
I was surprised that no one asked if we'd see Joe in heaven. Glad, too.
And I'm really glad we didn't just flush them.
#3:
This entry won't make sense unless you have read the previous one about our fish dying.
When we arrived at the book club and were parking, I noticed the truck was acting funny. The steering was hard, or maybe the transmission wasn't quite right. We went in, and while the book discussion was going on, I went back outside to check it out. Drove up and down the street a couple times, and there was just something wrong. Great.
Once again I did what any confident, intelligent woman would do: I called my husband. He said he'd drive over and see what was up, as soon as he finished dealing with the dead fish. It was about a 25-minute drive.
When my cellphone range, the official book club meeting was over, the kids were playing, and the moms were drinking coffee and chatting. I answered while starting to walk outside to get the bad news about the car. I wondered if we'd need to have it towed.
"Honey, you have to take the truck out of 4-wheel drive."
"Huh? I've never had it in 4-wheel drive! I don't know if I know how to put it in or out of 4-wheel drive!"
Apparently I'd hit the button while on the road and never noticed it. I figure it must have been when I was hurrying to eject the story of the murderous owl and the hapless mousie.
My husband is a patient, patient man.
Tuesday, April 06, 2010
The bicycle
A long time ago, it seems, we bought our little girl a bicycle. We got it at a garage sale, and it was a little big for her, but we thought it was time she had a bicycle. We got training wheels for it, too.
That first year it was just too big. The second year it was a better fit but felt tippy even with the training wheels so she really didn't like riding it. The third year the training wheels came off but it was too hard to learn, and I was too impatient and mean to her, and... she didn't learn to ride. And we moved, so there wasn't a lot of bike time. The fourth year she just ignored the bike. We didn't ask her about riding it.
Now it's the fifth year. The girl is 11. She decided last week that it's time to ride the bike. So we went to a local school during spring break and she tried to ride around. I remembered her comments about my past meanness so I tried extra hard to be patient. She made a little progress. We went back the next day but our time was cut short by a scraped knee. Then we went away for the weekend and didn't get back on the bike.
Tonight we went back out for the first time in 5 days. She got up on the bike and started. And she was off. No more wobbling. No more falling. She figured out how to brake and stopped dragging her feet on the ground. She's got it.
There is a lesson here. I learn it over and over but it never takes.
Some things just don't work until the child is ready. We can try and try and try all we want, and force the child to try too, but sometimes it just won't take till the child is ready for it. This could be reading, or swimming, or riding a bike. Mastering multiplication. Whatever.
I have no idea why my graceful, athletic child had such trouble with the bike. I do know it bothered me that she was "so old" to be a nonrider. Forget that I had not learned to ride till I was just a little younger than she is now. I didn't have a bike. She has had one for a long time. But it didn't matter. She couldn't or wouldn't learn till she was ready. And once she was ready, she flew.
Of course she will need a new bike soon. We think we can squeak out the rest of this summer with the current bike. She doesn't care that it's not new, that it came from a garage sale, that it only cost us a dollar. She is happy to be riding, finally.
That first year it was just too big. The second year it was a better fit but felt tippy even with the training wheels so she really didn't like riding it. The third year the training wheels came off but it was too hard to learn, and I was too impatient and mean to her, and... she didn't learn to ride. And we moved, so there wasn't a lot of bike time. The fourth year she just ignored the bike. We didn't ask her about riding it.
Now it's the fifth year. The girl is 11. She decided last week that it's time to ride the bike. So we went to a local school during spring break and she tried to ride around. I remembered her comments about my past meanness so I tried extra hard to be patient. She made a little progress. We went back the next day but our time was cut short by a scraped knee. Then we went away for the weekend and didn't get back on the bike.
Tonight we went back out for the first time in 5 days. She got up on the bike and started. And she was off. No more wobbling. No more falling. She figured out how to brake and stopped dragging her feet on the ground. She's got it.
There is a lesson here. I learn it over and over but it never takes.
Some things just don't work until the child is ready. We can try and try and try all we want, and force the child to try too, but sometimes it just won't take till the child is ready for it. This could be reading, or swimming, or riding a bike. Mastering multiplication. Whatever.
I have no idea why my graceful, athletic child had such trouble with the bike. I do know it bothered me that she was "so old" to be a nonrider. Forget that I had not learned to ride till I was just a little younger than she is now. I didn't have a bike. She has had one for a long time. But it didn't matter. She couldn't or wouldn't learn till she was ready. And once she was ready, she flew.
Of course she will need a new bike soon. We think we can squeak out the rest of this summer with the current bike. She doesn't care that it's not new, that it came from a garage sale, that it only cost us a dollar. She is happy to be riding, finally.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Further adventures in motherhood
A little over a year ago I wrote about my amazement at how well my awkward homeschooled boy fit in with his fellow Boy Scouts. Now I've come to a new checkpoint on the way to his adulthood: seeing that my boy has a life completely separate from mine; a life in which I have no part.
Through his association with Scouts he was invited to join a robotics club, part of the First Tech Challenge league. This is a high-school level group, but the individual teams have flexibility and can recruit younger guys. So, my 6th/7th grader* happily joined. There are some other middle-schoolers in the group as well, so it's not like he's a baby compared to everyone else. He is the only homeschooler, so far.
Still, I wondered how he would do. And I don't know for sure, because I'm not involved. (Except to the extent that the team leader asked me for help in recruiting more homeschoolers for the team.) I figure he must be doing OK because he's still going, and because his team leader wants to find more homeschool kids to join. Oh, I get little snips of information that lead us to the conclusion that he's a useful member of the team. But I really don't know much about it. It's his life, and I'm just not a part of it. I am stunned to hear that he is teaching newer kids programming. I didn't know he could program well enough to teach someone else. How did that happen?
It's a weird experience for me. I don't think of myself as a helicopter parent though I know I have those tendencies and have to work to keep them in check. When he left for a Scout campout this weekend I had to have his dad drop him at the carpool meeting place; I knew if I went I wouldn't be able to resist one last reminder or lecture or question in front of the guys. I witnessed another Scout mom do that once and I never, ever want my kid to roll his eyes at me the way that boy did at his mother.
It's not so much that I worry about his safety; no, I worry about potential (and minor) troubles. He had to cook breakfast for his patrol this morning. What if his carton of eggs broke on the way? Were they packed properly? Would the cooler keep them cold enough? When my husband pointed out that the expected high was 48 and the low 21, I wondered if the eggs would freeze overnight. My husband is a very patient man. He just looks at me and smiles in that kind way that we smile at... well, never mind. If I thought the kid would have checked his phone for messages, I would have texted him numerous reminders. But I know that the phone stays packed away, to be used only if really necessary. Which is as it should be. Scout camp is not for texting, even it's to reassure Mommy that the eggs are fine. And what if they weren't, anyway? The boys would eat more sausage, scavenge other patrols' food, and come home hungry. And he would learn how to pack eggs properly next time.
So he'll be home in a little while and I'll ask how camp went. And he won't purposely withhold information but he won't find it necessary to fill me in on every little detail. I won't be satisfied that I know what he was doing every minute, and that he was doing it well. I know this is just a little taste of the future. I'm really glad it happens gradually.
*Homeschool note: I am the type of homeschooler who doesn't pay too much attention to grade levels. My boy would be in 7th grade if he had gone to school with his age peers in kindergarten. But in Oregon, compulsory attendance starts at age 7, and a 7 year old can be enrolled in 1st grade. So, he is registered a year behind his age/peer grade.
Through his association with Scouts he was invited to join a robotics club, part of the First Tech Challenge league. This is a high-school level group, but the individual teams have flexibility and can recruit younger guys. So, my 6th/7th grader* happily joined. There are some other middle-schoolers in the group as well, so it's not like he's a baby compared to everyone else. He is the only homeschooler, so far.
Still, I wondered how he would do. And I don't know for sure, because I'm not involved. (Except to the extent that the team leader asked me for help in recruiting more homeschoolers for the team.) I figure he must be doing OK because he's still going, and because his team leader wants to find more homeschool kids to join. Oh, I get little snips of information that lead us to the conclusion that he's a useful member of the team. But I really don't know much about it. It's his life, and I'm just not a part of it. I am stunned to hear that he is teaching newer kids programming. I didn't know he could program well enough to teach someone else. How did that happen?
It's a weird experience for me. I don't think of myself as a helicopter parent though I know I have those tendencies and have to work to keep them in check. When he left for a Scout campout this weekend I had to have his dad drop him at the carpool meeting place; I knew if I went I wouldn't be able to resist one last reminder or lecture or question in front of the guys. I witnessed another Scout mom do that once and I never, ever want my kid to roll his eyes at me the way that boy did at his mother.
It's not so much that I worry about his safety; no, I worry about potential (and minor) troubles. He had to cook breakfast for his patrol this morning. What if his carton of eggs broke on the way? Were they packed properly? Would the cooler keep them cold enough? When my husband pointed out that the expected high was 48 and the low 21, I wondered if the eggs would freeze overnight. My husband is a very patient man. He just looks at me and smiles in that kind way that we smile at... well, never mind. If I thought the kid would have checked his phone for messages, I would have texted him numerous reminders. But I know that the phone stays packed away, to be used only if really necessary. Which is as it should be. Scout camp is not for texting, even it's to reassure Mommy that the eggs are fine. And what if they weren't, anyway? The boys would eat more sausage, scavenge other patrols' food, and come home hungry. And he would learn how to pack eggs properly next time.
So he'll be home in a little while and I'll ask how camp went. And he won't purposely withhold information but he won't find it necessary to fill me in on every little detail. I won't be satisfied that I know what he was doing every minute, and that he was doing it well. I know this is just a little taste of the future. I'm really glad it happens gradually.
*Homeschool note: I am the type of homeschooler who doesn't pay too much attention to grade levels. My boy would be in 7th grade if he had gone to school with his age peers in kindergarten. But in Oregon, compulsory attendance starts at age 7, and a 7 year old can be enrolled in 1st grade. So, he is registered a year behind his age/peer grade.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Wake up!
Thanks to Dadvocate for waking me up and asking how things are in Two Kid Land. (I like that.) I was surprised to see I haven't been here in over a month.
Things are good. There are new distractions, but it's good.
My last post was about The Brace. My little girl is doing really well. She had her first followup appointment with the orthopaedist and he said the brace fits perfectly; the pads are pushing in all the right places. So no adjustments are needed; that was a concern. It's doing it's job, which is to keep the spine from curving more. Her curve pre-brace was 27 degrees; with the brace on, it's 13. In a few months she'll have another x-ray without the brace to be sure that the curve is not getting worse despite the bracing. The expectation is that with the pressure of the brace off, the curve will revert to 27. So, we'll see. There is no medical reason to believe that the curve might go away completely... but we can pray for that too.
And her attitude is good. She has gotten to the point where she sometimes taps her trunk to be sure she's wearing the brace - it's become that natural to her. We know that hot, humid August might be a little problematic. But right now it's OK.
And man, does she have good posture!
The Boy Scout is off this weekend at his troop's annual cooking contest. Each patrol makes dinner and judges (adult leaders) sample and declare a winner. My Scout also has to make breakfast for his patrol tomorrow as part of a rank advancement requirement. He made 2nd class and is feverishly working on his 1st class requirements. Once a Scout reaches 1st class, the real fun begins. They can start working on merit badges. And I am eyeing those merit badge worksheets for my own homeschool purposes. We've already used some but tying schoolwork into Scout requirements is going to make everyone's life that much more enjoyable.
He is also involved in a robotic club about which I know very little. My boy (closer in age now to 13 than 12) has a life completely outside mine now. More about that later, I think.
We've had some not great times - massive sinus infections for 2 of us, with one having had surgery already and one coming up. A long-anticipated trip to see friends had to be canceled. We are unhappy about the state of our government.
But all in all, life in Two Kid Land is good.
Thanks for asking!
Things are good. There are new distractions, but it's good.
My last post was about The Brace. My little girl is doing really well. She had her first followup appointment with the orthopaedist and he said the brace fits perfectly; the pads are pushing in all the right places. So no adjustments are needed; that was a concern. It's doing it's job, which is to keep the spine from curving more. Her curve pre-brace was 27 degrees; with the brace on, it's 13. In a few months she'll have another x-ray without the brace to be sure that the curve is not getting worse despite the bracing. The expectation is that with the pressure of the brace off, the curve will revert to 27. So, we'll see. There is no medical reason to believe that the curve might go away completely... but we can pray for that too.
And her attitude is good. She has gotten to the point where she sometimes taps her trunk to be sure she's wearing the brace - it's become that natural to her. We know that hot, humid August might be a little problematic. But right now it's OK.
And man, does she have good posture!
The Boy Scout is off this weekend at his troop's annual cooking contest. Each patrol makes dinner and judges (adult leaders) sample and declare a winner. My Scout also has to make breakfast for his patrol tomorrow as part of a rank advancement requirement. He made 2nd class and is feverishly working on his 1st class requirements. Once a Scout reaches 1st class, the real fun begins. They can start working on merit badges. And I am eyeing those merit badge worksheets for my own homeschool purposes. We've already used some but tying schoolwork into Scout requirements is going to make everyone's life that much more enjoyable.
He is also involved in a robotic club about which I know very little. My boy (closer in age now to 13 than 12) has a life completely outside mine now. More about that later, I think.
We've had some not great times - massive sinus infections for 2 of us, with one having had surgery already and one coming up. A long-anticipated trip to see friends had to be canceled. We are unhappy about the state of our government.
But all in all, life in Two Kid Land is good.
Thanks for asking!
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