Another Meg-ism

I sometimes refer to my children as my "material," and here's a great example of WHY.

Last night we were driving home from a family gathering and Thomas suddenly needed to make a pit stop. We were right by a winery Matt's dad works for, and we knew there was a very nice restaurant right there with a bathroom accessable by the back door -- a quick in and out and we'd be on the road again. When the guys returned, Matt chuckled about a little encounter they had with a patron of the restaurant while waiting for their turn at the urinal.

 Did you know that in some upscale restrooms they install a TV at eye-height in front of the urinals so the guys don't have to miss a play in the game? Apparently there was some college football game on and Thomas said, "Look, Daddy, your game!" The man looked at Thomas and Matt and began to ask rather slurrily, "Who you rootin' for? You a 'hio man, or you for USC?"

Matt thought it was funny that there was an exchange of any kind in the bathroom, which as a woman I find funny -- I have had all sorts of great conversations with perfect strangers in restrooms all my life. Another example of vive la diference, eh?

From the backseat Megan gave a little chuckle said, "Why didn't you just go to another one?" ~ meaning another stall, since this one was occupied.

This opened a short discussion about stalls versus urinals, and Matt added, "And this restroom happened to have just one urinal. We were just waiting our turn."

"Oh, I call those Gertrudes," Megan said.

There was a short pause as Matt and I looked at each other, and then we both said, "What do you call Gertrudes?"

"Urinals."

Another pause. Then in stereo: "Why?"

Meg shrugged. "Oh, it just seems like the right thing to call 'em."

Indeed.

And I just call them material.

Why I Have Them

Last night I was reading the third Percy Jackson and the Olympians book aloud to Megan and I came to a description of Poseidon that included a remark about his having laugh lines. Megan turned to me and confided, "I hope I have those when I grow up." She smiled and let the crinkles around her eyes form, then touched my face with a loving hand: "Just like yours, Mom."

Oh, yes, I have laugh lines, my dear. And I treasure them almost as much as I treasure you!

~SMILE!~

It was Megan's first day of school today -- fifth grade, "only one year away from Middle School," she cheerfully told me many times this summer -- and it went beautifully.

The teacher (a friend of mine from Girl Scout leadership meetings) led her 33 students in a rousing game of "Get to Know You" Bingo, challenged each student to create a geometric shape with six straws and "as much string as they needed" to make it 3-D, and demonstrated the turning-off-the-lights technique if the class has to leave the room for any reason. (Er, not all at the same time -- sorry! -- but over the course of the day!) The third thing sounds like a no-big-deal sort of thing, until you hear what happened when the lights went out: I guess RIGHT as she flicked the light switch a fire alarm was pulled somewhere on campus (accidentally, it turns out) but to all involved it sounded like the lights going out set off the cacophony of sirens!

Ah, fifth grade... when else can bingo, straws and fire alarms make the top three stories about what happened at school today?

Girl Scout Camp

Last Sunday I packed up three girls and their assorted belongings and drove an hour and three-quarters to deliver them to Girl Scout Camp. Megan and Kate had been last year, but this was Brianne's first year to sleep in three-sided Adirondack "cabins" and hike up and down dusty hills to various activities and gatherings -- meals, campfire circle, program and crafts. They were in for a world of fun, packed into a week that would fly by and seem like forever, all in one!

The Girl Scout camp is called Kamp Konocti, and it is held each year at the Boy Scouts of America's Masonite Navarro campground. (The campground has been around forever -- last year we visited my parents shortly after Megan got back from camp and my dad rustled around in a stack of pictures to produce a photo from the mid-1950s of himself smiling up from the floor of an awfully familiar looking Adirondak cabin, at the exact same campground!) It is entirely volunteer-run, and the dedication of the administration (Director, nurse, Counselor in Training Advisor, etc.), the Unit Leaders and Counselors, and the three levels of C.I.T.'s was impressive. Seriously -- YOU try to get a couple dozen seven- to fourteen-year-old girls up, dressed, and down a hill to breakfast in the chilly redwood-shaded campsite -- or even more exhausting, those same girls ready for bed and in their bunks in the dark! LOL

The camp lasts for six nights, and the girls are not allowed to talk to anyone from home (unless your mom is one of the many volunteers, in which case you have to refer to her by her camp name -- Elasta Girl, Ziggy, Rafiki, Froggy, Glitter, etc., not "mom" -- or risk having to sing a silly song in front of everyone), except for letters or cards in the mail. They keep the girls so busy there is very little time to get homesick... unless you count the tears that come when the letters are distributed. (My best friend was a counselor again this year, and again in Megan's unit. Apparently the mail gets delivered to camp around 4 PM, which means it doesn't get sorted for camper delivery until after dinner -- a prime hour for getting a little Mommyitis. It became a little easier if they held the mail until breakfast the next day, right before a lineup of exciting activities that were sure to distract the girls from missing home quite as much.)

Each night accomplishment awards are given out to the units -- Clean Cabin Award, Lights Out Award, On Time Award, Girl Scout Way Award, Spirit Award, etc. Megan's group -- Hopi -- won the Spirit Award the first night, on the condition that they stop singing their unit song the entire way through camp as they made their way to or from any area. Apparently they were quite... spirited... and since they were the absolute last campsite, they had a long trek anytime they had to go anywhere. LOL (I wish I could reproduce it here for effect, but I think you'd have to hear it... "Brr, it's cold out here! There must be some HOPI in the atmosphere! I said, Brr! It's COLD out here! There must be some HOPI in the ATMOSPHERE! I said BRRRR!...")

After a week of singing, crafting, and general merriment, camp came to a close. The parents once again made the drive out to camp to pick up their girls -- dusty, tired, hoarse, and chattery girls -- and load up the cars with sleeping bags, pillows, suitcases and sleeping mats -- this time all dusty, damp, and thrown willy-nilly in bags instead of neatly folded, and some belongings in another person's bag entirely. (We lost a jacket, but gained a random sock and a bottle of camping soap. I have yet to come across a mug from the mess kit, too...or take a total inventory of all the clothes, as they are still in the laundry process.) There was the close of camp program, first -- each unit put on a skit, some of which were surprisingly involved and intricate, and the C.I.T.s were awarded ribbons of valor (these are high schoolers who volunteer to assist all week, and they totally deserve all kinds of kudos) -- and then it was mass exodus.

The adult counselors were the last to leave each site, after making sure each girl got signed out safely and all her belongings got hauled down the hill, plus packed up their tents (adults sleep in tents, strung up between the Adirondacks) and double-checked that the site was returned to pristine condition. Because I was picking up Cari and all three girls, I hung out a little longer and actually drove the van up into the camp areas to load up the massive stack of belongings, rather than attempt to tote them armful by armful down the path, around the other campsites, and down the hill to the parking area. (Remember, Megan, Kate and Cari were in the furthest-out campsite!)

It was a circus clown in the car trick to get packed -- we barely got everything and everyone into the van, even after stuffing some things into impossibly small spaces. Kate was sort of wedged in the backseat, stuff piled on the bench seat next to her and a sleeping mat that belongs to another girl in her troop stuffed into the space that the aisle afforded us -- but we had the one who gets carsick in a front seat (with nothing in front of her, and a bag handy) and I could see out the rear-view mirror (but only barely through the thick layer of dust on the rear window!) so we were off~!

On the drive home Cari was dreamily planning her return to civilization -- "First a shower, then a bath, then another shower for EVERYONE! And oh, man, I have to do a nasal wash in the worst way! I have dust EVERYWHERE!" -- and everyone was looking forward to using a flush toilet again. (The bathrooms the girls use all week are called "biffys" and they lack that feature that we take for granted... a water tank, a handle, and the reassuring whoosh of waste going away.) Kate and Brianne were anxious to see Ms. Kitty (and Daddy, of course) and Megan was excited to see Thomas and Daddy. We made one unscheduled stop to settle a tummy and another stop for food -- after the windy road! -- and then we pulled up to our house and did the greet and hug thing before unloading all the stuff and sorting it into two piles: one to take into the house, and one to pack into another van for the remaining drive.

After the hugs and hearing all the funny camp stories and songs ("Hi, my name is Joe, I have a wife, three kids and I work in a button factory..."), the best part of yesterday was when Matt and I went up to go to bed, and I could check on both sleeping kids, safe and sound in their own beds before I went to my own. What could be better in life than that contented feeling -- unless it could possibly be that contented feeling WITHOUT the doggone Joe and the button factory song running through your head??

New Wheels

One of Megan's birthday gifts was a very generous gift certificate to Amazon.com from her Uncle Dan and Tio Randy. Matt and I had been discussing the fact that Meg could really use a next-sized-up bike, but we figured we'd wait until Christmas... nope! The gift certificate has been morphed into a super-cool big bike for a ten year old! And bonus: Megan and Mommy got to put it together! (Daddy was so surprised! LOL)

Total Drama Island

The virus that knocked us all on our -- tushes -- hit Megan with a particularly nasty cough. It was hacking, persistent, barking, and loud, but not productive. And she milked it.

She doesn't like the liquid medicines available to her, objecting to both the grape flavor and the entire family of red flavors -- berry, bubble gum, cherry. Unfortunately, she is not old enough or heavy enough to resonably take most adult preparations, so she chooses to suffer -- loudly.

After two days of constant hacking, I finally told her she needed to take some cough suppressant to give her body a break. "It's not like you're coughing anything up," I said. "You need to stop coughing long enough to get a rest."

We gave her a choice of the stuff we had available and after five minutes of whining, begging, and attempted negotiations ("I'll stop! I'll cough up stuff! Really!") she chose the grape-flavored cough and cold mix, and we poured out her dosage: two teaspoons, which filled a tubular spoon doser to the top.

"THAT MUCH??!"

We assured her that yes, this was the correct amount, and she began the whining, begging, and negotiations again.

"Just get it over with," we told her. "Stop complaining, suck it down, and you can have a drink of whatever you want to get the taste out of your mouth."

She agreed she'd drink some 7-Up, so we set her glass right next to her, handed her the dropper-spoon, and encouraged her again.

She lifted the spoon to her lips, closed her eyes, and froze... "I CAN'T!! I just can't. My body won't LET me!"

We reminded her that she was 10, that she needed the relief, that it was only 2 teaspoons, and she COULD DO IT.

Again we watched as she raised the spoon, closed her eyes, and froze.

There were tears. There was wailing. There was a prolonged session of attempted negotiations. There were more tears. There was more encouragement, more reasoning, more firmness.

Finally -- FINALLY -- after 25 minutes of unbelievable drama -- she took the hated purple stuff.

Tear-stained and exhausted, she accepted a wet washcloth and stretched out on the couch for a rest from the ordeal, and Matt and I exchanged the "OH MY GOD" look so familiar to parents.

The next four hours were blissfully cough-free, or at least less cough-y, and she got a good sized break.... Don't you hate it when your parents were right?

Personalities Revealed: A One Act Play

Scene: Dinner table.

Cast: Megan, age 10; Daddy; Mommy

Action: Megan is allegedly eating, but has her body turned to look out the window.

MEGAN: Hey. Why do birds put their tails up when they land?

DADDY: Probably something to do with the mechanics of flying and landing.

MOMMY: Or maybe it just feels good to them to do that.

MEGAN: Or maybe it's like a sign -- "HEY, EVERYONE! I LANDED!"

Birthday Present

Megan got a birthday present a little early this year. She turns 10 on Monday, and the party is Sunday, but we thought this present deserved a chance to come home to a quieter home for his first few days. Her present? A little guinea pig she's named Percy, after Percy Jackson and the Olympians.

Percy is quieter than her first guinea pig, Emily, but he's darling in his own right. He's a deep, dark brown -- nearly black -- on top and a warm, mellow brown on bottom -- like an almond chocolate bar. He's bright-eyed and soft, with a patient dispostion and a surprising fearlessness with regard to boys, cats, and other surprises that abound in our house!

Megan is thrilled, and she's been busy getting to know Percy and learn what Percy likes. We've held him on our chests as we've read out of the first Percy Jackson book, The Lightning Thief, and he seems to enjoy hearing about the demigod who loaned him his name... if gentle little sniffs and wiggles are anything to go by!

The Joy of Reading

Yesterday the mailman walked a package up our front walkway to leave it on our porch, and Megan looked up from her current book to say, "Mom, the post is here."

Mind you, we aren't British; we don't refer to the mail as "post"...but Harry Potter does! And I'm proud to say that we are thorougly a Harry Potter household, with three different books going at once!

The day after school got out for the summer Megan slammed her book shut and announced with a satisfied sigh that she'd finished the final Harry Potter book. An hour later she was curled up in a chair by the window, Book 1 open in her lap. In the last sixteen days she's gone through Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, and Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. She's a third of the way through Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix... No wonder her lexile scores were off the charts!

(P.S. She does do other things besides read all day, by the way... honest!)

(P.P.S. We're waiting for the complete Percy Jackson and the Olympians series to arrive any day now, too. She and I are going to read those together as a summer project. I can't wait for the "post" to get here!!)

Megan's B-day Request

It's that time of year again.

For two months each year we get treated to a countdown of how many days we have left to get to Megan's Birthday, the Most High Holiday, June 29th. For example, the last day of school is May 29th, which happens to be only 31 days away from Megan's birthday!

Saturday we went shopping for the birthday goodies -- invites, plates, etc. She chose a random theme, which has proved a bit difficult to provide... for the big 1-0 she's having a Watermelon Party.

(I know. The lady at the party store did that look too: What?)

We had to settle for some generic invitations, but we found some dark green plates and then some smaller pink plates, which we'll put Sharpie "seeds" on. Layered on the pink tablecloth, it should look pretty watermelon-y. We'll serve watermelon -- natch -- and probably find some watermelon flavored candies like Poprocks and gum and Jolly Ranchers as take-home goodies. I think I saw a cake years ago shaped and colored like a watermelon... I'll have to go dig that one up. If I remember correctly it was an ice cream bombe, with chocolate chips for the seeds... Hmmm....

Later that day Meg came downstairs with a list of "suggestions." Here is the list:

Megan's B-day Request

1. (Big asterisk next to this one.) Guinea pig.

2. A cell phone.

3. A regular phone.

4. My own TV. (Plus Tivo.)

5. My own laptop.

6. A new bedspread.

7. My own email address.

8. More Webkinz.

9. Finish bookcase. (Note: this is an ongoing project she and Daddy are working on, building from scratch.)

10. My own phone number.

11. Wii.

What can I say? Both of my kids dream big, and shoot for the stars! And there's only 42 more days to Megan's Birthday!!

(And again, Embassy Wife, I am soooo jealous about your low-key birthday party!!)

Open House

Last night was Open House for the fourth and fifth grade campus here in town. They had a dinner planned, some entertainment, and then an open door policy that let parents and kids scope out the other classes... very fun. We hired childcare for Thomas (he would NOT have had any fun at this event, and by extension, neither would we) and took Megan all by herself, a rare treat for the three of us.

First stop: the book fair, a total treat! We bought one of the Percy Jackson and the Olympian books, then ducked out to grab a bite to eat at Applebee's before scooting back to tour Ms. Jordan's classroom and finally moving on to see the other classes.

In Ms. Jordan's class the newest class "pets" were a great focus: real live crayfish, including one with only one claw that the children have named -- any guesses? Yep. Claw.

Apparently one child (not ours, for the record) has already been pinched more than once by the same crawdad. Meg informed us about this with that awe that kids have for another kids' injuries: "THREE TIMES!" Matt and I exchanged that look that needs no words: "Really. Huh. What a smart child, to keep sticking her hand into the claw, three times."

Sheesh.

And yes, the child in question is probably moving on to 5th grade next year... crawdad pinches not being on standardized testing...

We don't get to specifically request a teacher, per se, but we can request a classroom style, or a teaching style, to complement our child's learning style... and based on that, I'd have to say I found our perfect fit. Unfortunately, the paperwork was due three weeks ago... sigh. (They do have a day where you can tour the classes in session, to get a grasp of the teachers, but I had a doctor appointment, so I had to go blindly into the request form.) I knew one 5th grade teacher from Girl Scouts, so I wrote her name down -- against the spirit of the rules, but whatchagonnado? -- and guess what? Her class was the one we felt was the best fit!!

Now we wait... At this point, I'm just sort of hoping we don't get Crayfish Girl in Megan's class again... LOL

Quotable Meg

When Megan got into the van this afternoon we did our standard homework check: Agenda? Yes. Worksheets needed? Yes. Lunchbox? Yes. Jacket? Yes. Yea! No return trips today!

I asked her if her teacher had been in school today, after being absent two days last week, and Megan lit up. "Oh, yes, and she did something very "for science," as I say." (The phrase "for science" is from Mythbusters. The stars of the show often say, "All in the name of science!" or "The things we do for science!" when they have to do something unpleasant or dangerous or exciting, like swim with chummed sharks and try to determine if sharks are attracted to swimmers playing dead or swimmers thrashing around.) I sat up, wondering what Ms. Jordan did that was so exciting or dangerous.

Turns out Ms. Jordan wasn't swimming with sharks, but she did take four eggs and set them on the small table by the projecter. (Megan: "Well, first she had to clean that table off, you know.") Then Ms. Jordan began stacking textbooks on top of the four eggs ("Those genteel eggs," Megan marvelled, shaking her head at the memory.) and she got to 17 books before any egg cracking occured.

"Then she broke an egg and told us the parts, and then -- and this is the best part! I was so excited I couldn't sit still!! -- she broke an egg on the projecter screen!!"

Wow, indeed! I guess the Egg Industry was right: They are incredible, after all!

ADHD Seminar

I went, I listened, I bought the book.

The seminar given by Blake Taylor last night was funny, engaging, and full of good advice. He read bits of his book, ADHD & Me: what I learned from lighting fires at the dinner table, and gave more than a glimpse into his experiences growing up with ADHD. He was brutally honest, completely down-to-earth, and amazingly hopeful about the capablities of young people with ADHD, who have differences, not disabilities, as he said over and over again.

Since this young man -- he is still in his teens, at least until May, as he pointed out with a laugh -- attends a very prestigious university and is studying to be a doctor, the advice he gave about successfully living with ADHD rang true. He'd been through the experiences of being completely disorganized, of being distracted while attempting to study, of having social issues with his peers... and despite all that, he's developed strategies to cope, and he's thriving. He emphasized the often-overlooked gifts of ADHD, the strengths and the compensations that come from having a difference in how he exists in our world.

Yes, that was a sigh of relief...

In the seminar Blake shared several humorous stories of things that he'd done as examples of the various aspects of ADHD. For the hyperactivity story he relates a tale about going to a museum to see a T. Rex fossil when he was about 6 years old and thoroughly into dinosaurs. Seeing the fossil wasn't enough for him, though: he darted past his pregnant mom --and slow grandpa and all the fencing designed to keep the public away from the ancient artifact-- to actually touch the bones. For the rest of that museum visit, a security guard tailed his family from exhibit to exhibit. (As he began this story, I had a shiver of premonition; what would my son do in this situation? Sure enough...)

Another story involved going to a dance in the sixth grade. Remember feeling awkward and self-concious and uncomfortable at that age? Multiply it by ten and you have his aversion to the whole idea of the dance. His stepfather essentially bribed him to go, and Blake immediately went into "how do I survive this ordeal?" mode. He decided to sneak a book into the dance, and found the smallest book on his family's shelf -- a tiny encyclopedic tome devoted to insects -- which he smuggled in a pocket of his cargo pants. At this point in the story he looked up and gave a short laugh: "Yes, I did read that during the dance. And yes, I realized -- when I wrote that chapter -- how geeky I must have looked." He went on to explain that he had developed a tactic of self-isolation to guard against being isolated by his peers, which is common in ADHD kids.

Blake's mother was in the audience, and she was applauded roundly for her support of her son -- deservedly so. The challenge of ADHD was her son's to face, but without her, he would surely have failed many times in his life. (Her challenge -- parenting a child with ADHD -- is worth another book. A third of the questions at the end of the presentation were directed to her, and most of those dealt with the medication issue: "How did you decide to try medications?" "How did you know the medications were working for your son?" "Do you recommend any one medication?")

Blake told the audience that he does indeed take medication for his ADHD, and he has since he was five or six years old. He says the medication makes it possible to apply the other coping mechanisms -- sleep, exercise, diet, and organization, to name a few things he's found helpful -- and that it's not just "to study" or "to sit in class." He realized that keeping his impulsivity in check was actually a safety concern, and that the ability to focus made social interactions more positive and possible.

After the presentation I did buy the book, and I had him sign it. I wanted to read more of his insight, but I also wanted a chance to approach the table and tell him, "Thank you. You did an amazing job tonight, and I very much appreciate your insight."

Incentive, American Girl Style

You may call it bribery, but we prefer incentive... and we are perfectly willing to do whatever it takes, up to and including ordering a much-desired item and setting it on a shelf to encourage desired behavior.

American Girl is a company that makes wonderful historical dolls, books and accessories to encourage young girls. They are expensive, but very well-made and interactive. The company has discovered a new market, a la the Disney Vault: They created a contemporary Girl of the Year, ONLY AVAILABLE for THIS CALENDAR YEAR!! (Oh, sorry, did I sigh out loud?)

This year's Girl of the Year is Chrissa, who endures a new school and the pressure of bullying when she moves to another town. Bullying is a huge issue with girls in 4th, 5th, and 6th grades -- and beyond, as most of us women can tell you from personal memory. From the subtle shunning to the outright physical intimidation, girls follow a complicated social system that can be painful and scarring, both emotionally and physically. Some people assert that this stage is something all girls have to go through, that it's natural, but what tools do most of our daughters have to deal with their peers' unkindnesses? As a mom and a Girl Scout leader, I am ever-alert to the monumental task of equipping our girls with self-esteem, values, and empathy -- often despite what is going on in the world around them.

When Megan expressed an interest in Chrissa, I was not surprised. She often pores over the catalogs with little cries of delight when she discovers something new: "Oh! They have Kit's Reporter Set! Look, Mom, Chrissa has a LLAMA!" Setting her sights on Chrissa, she posted a picture of the doll on the wall above her desk and began talking about when she'd get her... "I have $5 -- no, wait, $6, so that means I only need... how much is she? $95? Well, plus tax, so that's $105. Okay. So I need... only $99 more! Can I do some chores, Mom?"

Matt and I know that Megan is a goal-oriented child. When she wanted a guinea pig we made a deal that she had to keep her room clean for twice a day inspections for 30 days, tying responsibility to the pet ownership. We wrote out five things we'd be checking at 8 AM and 8 PM so she knew exactly what to shoot for, and drew up a chart with 60 squares, one each for morning and night. If she failed an inspection, no star. But she could see her goal getting closer, and see the things she needed to do to get to her goal:

*bed made

*floor clear

*surfaces clear

*clothes taken care of

*nothing shoved    (**By the way, this was our ace in the hole; it was a free space sort of rule that meant she couldn't do a sweep of stuff under her bed or into a hastily-opened drawer as we were coming up the stairs to check. We did a few spot checks, but she caught on quick that we COULD be looking, so she didn't try to stash anything. :) ...)

It took her two months to earn the guinea pig, but she did it -- and the pride in accomplishing that goal was almost worth more than the actual guinea pig, both for her and for us!

We came across a coupon for $10 off an American Girl purchase, if redeemed before 2/28/09. As Megan has $99 to go, it didn't seem likely she'd be able to sweep, gather laundry, or clean bathroom sinks in time to get to cash in on that savings. We discussed it, and decided to go ahead and order Chrissa with the coupon, but hold onto her until the entire amount has been earned.

Megan drew up a grid of squares representing dollars, and colored in six of them. We reviewed the ground rules for "extra" chores-- namely, the "regular" ones have to be done first -- and wrote out a few tasks she could do to earn some money. She and I sat down and placed the order, and then she immediately ran up to pin a larger photo of Chrissa on the wall above her desk. The chart will go next to it, so she can see where she is, and how much further she needs to go to get to the goal. Chrissa will stay in her box, in my closet, until the chart is fully colored in.

The benefits to our system? Well, besides the $10 off, we have a motivated girl; instead of a dreamy idea, the doll will be very much real, and very close by! The doll will be that much more cared for when she does get it, because she's worked hard to earn it. And for the next several weeks, I'm not going to have to do much sweeping!

Already Out-Smarted

You've heard the adage that each generation gets smarter than the last, and learns more, earlier? It's true.

My nine year old daughter is doing algebraic equations with about as much trouble as I have brushing my teeth. I didn't get to algebra until junior high, and even then it kicked my butt... I hated the class with a passion. I remember staring at the window blinds, and the back of the head of the kid in front of me, and watching Mr. Van Dordrecht's mouth move in his thick beard and mustache, but not much else about the stupid x, y, and n's that we were allegedly making into equations. (Who cares that x over y equals a minus n squared? When is Duran Duran's new video coming out on MTV???) Maybe that's why I got my lowest grade ever that school year... a D+. Now that I think about it, maybe that stood for Duran Duran? But wouldn't that be D squared? Sorry... I digress...

Last night I was checking Meg's homework, and I saw this equation: 1 + (7x7) = a divided by 2. (I couldn't find the division symbol on my laptop, which goes to show how math backward I am...) Anyway... She had a = 100, and I saw she'd used multiplication to get that answer. I gently pointed out that the symbol was division, and she dutifully went to review it. A moment later she said, "But Mom? If the equation is supposed to be balanced on each side of the sign, wouldn't that be 100?"

Oh.

Now that you mention that, yes, yes, indeed, it should in fact be 100. Carry on. Good catch. Ahem.

Geez. I'd be totally flunking fourth grade math if I had to do it again!

When I told my math-savvy husband about this problem, he sent me an amused smile. "How about I check her math from now on?"

Gee... think?

Megan's POV

We taped (oops, TiVo'd) the Inauguration, so we could watch it with Megan and Thomas later in the day. Of course, Thomas couldn't care less -- he went in to play with his Piston Cup racetrack instead -- but Megan was fairly interested in the whole ceremony.

As the camera panned over the distinguished guests, we pointed out who was who: Al and Tipper Gore, George Bush the elder, George and Laura Bush, Bill and Hilary Clinton.

At the mention of Hilary Megan lit up: "Oh! I know who she is! She was president, right?"

Er, no, not quite.

the List

I was doing a little archaeology in the kitchen (clearing off the counter for those of you who don't stack) and I came across a list of Megan's. It is her plan to become a rock star... and I think we could all use a little of her goal-setting prowess! Her list is in blue, and my explanation/remarks are in red.

LIST OF THINGS TO DO WHEN WE (Megan and her friend Natalie) GO TO LA

1. Call Uncle Dan (so he can pick us up at the airport)

2. Pay girls a visit (the little girls of Uncle Dan's neighbors, who live upstairs)

3. Unpack bags (note: THIRD on the list)

4. Treat Uncle Dan to breakfast (very thoughtful)

5. Go shopping! (no explanation needed!!)

6. Go to HOLLYWOOD! ( LOL)

7. Call Mom & Dad and tell them what happened! :)

I have no doubt that she's going far in life... and I can't wait for that phone call to tell us what happened! :)

Affirmations

Megan and I have been discussing affirmations.  Now, that may seem very "California-ish" to some of you, but positive thinking is timeless and effective, and it's not taught enough, in my opinion.

Megan has struggled with ADHD for several years. She's incredibly bright, and creative, and energetic; and also  flighty, distracted, and fidgety. She was beginning to get  frustrated with what she saw as her limitations, and in response we started to shift the focus away from "ADHD has control" to "I have control." As she gets comfy in bed she breathes deeply and says, "I can focus."

She soaks up information like this, and promptly puts it to use... unlike adults, who often hear great ideas and WANT to employ them, but don't do anything about it.

This morning we were watching a Bob the Builder Christmas DVD, and Megan said, "Did you know it can take 3 or 4 months to make a playdough movie?!" (That would be 'claymation' in 9 year old terms.)

 Still amazed, she added, "They must have really had to have used good affirmations to get that done! They had to pretend it was Christmas in the summer!"

BIRTHDAY TRIP (Part 1)

Megan and I had a fabulous time in LA last weekend, doing all things American Girl and birthday related. Uncle Dan was an amazing host, putting us up in his place and taking us everywhere we wanted to go for 48 hours... although it felt much shorter to us!

The flight from Sonoma County to LAX was perfect. Megan loved every bit of the process, from security to boarding to flight instructions. She was thrilled when the snack cart came by and offered our choice of beverages to go with the packet of crackers they handed out -- although she was expecting peanuts, the bruchetta toasts were EXCELLENT, she told me.

Uncle Dan whisked us away from the airport and we picked up his boyfriend, Randy, and headed to Dan's place for dinner with some good friends. Art and Gus and their two daughters live upstairs from Dan's studio apartment, so we had built-in playmates, even! Uncle Dan had arranged to have a surprise for Megan, too-- a princess cake and nine candles to blow out! (This would be cake #2 for #9, by the way!)

The next morning we went to breakfast and then hit the Grove mall, where the new American Girl movie was playing and the American Girl store was waiting...

Kit Kittredge was TERRIFIC, just adorable from start to finish. We got special T-shirts to commemorate the event, even. (Uncle Dan didn't want his, for some reason... and we gave mine to Hannah, Megan's cousin, as part of her early birthday present.)

The next step was to hit the American Girl Place, but first we needed to fuel Uncle Dan with some snackies and caffeine... Megan couldn't even eat, she was so excited and anxious to get inside the two-story red building, so we kept it very brief... and then we were off to Little Girl Heaven!!

(Stay tuned for Part 2)

WHERE IS THE BALANCE?

Matt and I are blessed to have very bright, very sweet, very funny children... which feels very much like the ancient blessing of "may you live in interesting times."

Lately Megan is on a planning kick, which I enjoy. She draws up lists and plans and labels things so we know what is what: A is the computer, B is the Mythbusters site, C is the telephone, D is a smiling girl saying, "Well, Hi, Adam! Hi, Jamie!"

Yes, Megan is planning to meet the Mythbusters. Her plan includes contacting them (email was hard, but we may have found a street address...) and then to wait for them to call. She has pretty much decided to invite them to her birthday party, which will be a  Mythbusters themed event this year, and so far her only dilemma is which one to hope comes....

Matt and  I were talking the other night about how far we let her get carried away in this endeavor. Do we sit her down and give her the cold hard facts of life -- namely, that two adult men probably don't want to come to a 9 year old's party? Or do we let her dream and plan and hope?

How far is too high to reach? How big is too big to dream? And who are we to define her limits?

And yet, who better than us to lovingly give her boundaries, to give her a sense of reality, to give her some perameters to work within?

So, listen, Adam, Jamie? We'd love to have you come to Meg's party. There'll be homemade ballistics gel (peach jello) and some quicksand (cornstarch and water) and a decent amount of Diet Coke and Mentos to watch geyser up into the air. There'll be cake... And I bet she'll do her famous clicking for you, too.

(Oh, and for the record, the rest of the team is invited, too. We're fans of ALL the Mythbusters!)

Hair and There

I'm not the most trendy of women. That's okay with me; I don't think I could be trendy if I tried. (And frankly, I don't have the energy, interest, time, or money to be devoted to the Latest Whatever.)

When I go get a haircut, I either go to the Beauty College, or a quicky cut place for a trim. I love words, but I'm reduced to waving frantically in the air and using phrases like "crappy part here," and "so it goes swwoooop here," and "this thingy that goes zhwip here." The gals are patient with me, and they do what they can with me. ("No product, thanks. No, I don't want to look all that different than when I came in, just tidied up, thanks.")

When I came home from today's haircut Matt looked up and said, a touch reflexively, "Hair looks nice, babe." (I imagine he reminded himself a few times while I was gone to say something nice when I came home, no matter what. LOL) It does look nice. It's freshly washed, trimmed, dried smooth so that it curves under the way it's supposed to... and it looks a lot like what I wanted when I went in. (Win/win, in my book.)

While I was sitting in the chair, I got to look around at the other brave women in the room. I say brave, not because they are at a Beauty College for a haircut- these students are good, and very supervised-- but because they are willing to experiment with their look... I am in awe, really, at that willingness. There were several color jobs going on-- highlights, or whatever-- and some perms and such. The student gals working on their clients are beyond cute, and totally trendy/hip/with it. They are the type that can swish their hair up and twist it, clip it with a chip clip, and it looks DARLING. I am sooo not that girl, though.

The girl I am -- er, the mom that I am, really -- is pleased with the whole morning, though. I got a nice haircut, got some fun people watching in, and a couple of hours to myself. Not bad for a Saturday...

He's getting better...

Thomas is feeling a bit better, but he's still home from school. The breathing treatments and Ritalin make him a little bit of a handful. (That is an understatement, but I can't for the life of me figure out a good comparison for you...wait, how about Jim Carrey on caffeine? )

We hung out this morning watching the Shrek holiday show (taped on TiVo last night) and I've gotten a few things done here and there... very small, insignificant, non-productive things. But that's okay. I'm sort of letting the mellow day roll on, and enjoying the recovery process.

I'm sure I'll very much enjoy the going-back-to-school process, too, hopefully soon. :)

Sick Kidlet

So, all weekend we're kind of enjoying Thomas more than usual. He's mellower, slower, less inclined to Super Mischief... a welcome break.

Then he starts asking for a blanket, and falling asleep on the couch or on the  floor an hour earlier than usual. He's hot -- sure enough, he's got a fever -- 101.4.

 Thomas has a high pain threshold, and he doesn't say anything when he has a sore throat or headache or joints aching... With no other outward symptoms to treat, I was just keeping an eye on his fever, and giving him Tylenol to bring it down to acceptable levels. I decided to be safe, rather than sorry, and take him in for a look. Monday morning we trekked in to see the doctor.

The doctor thought Thomas's throat was a little red, so it was probably a bit sore; but nothing else was infected, so we were just keeping him comfortable with Tylenol or Motrin.

Then in the middle of the night Thomas woke up, completely congested, and having a hard time breathing. He was hoarse and coughing a tight, barking cough that had to hurt his throat. He called out for me, and as I entered his room he asked, "Medicine?"

Thomas was asking for the Nebulizer treatments we give him when he gets these blitzkrieg colds, to ease his breathing. It seems that every cold he gets goes right to his chest, and he gets asthma. Poor little guy, the noise and mask and steaming mist is not comfortable, but the effects are worth it -- and he knows it.

So there we sat, at 2 a.m. Tuesday morning, watching How the Grinch Stole Christmas over the buzz of the Nebulizer... ah, the memories.

This morning (well, later this morning, at 6) he woke up hoarse, and with a cough, but very cheerful. We did another breathing treatment, and he watched the Teletubbies through the roaring mist, very contentedly.

The fever seems to be gone, and he's back to his old energy levels.

I don't want him sick, ever, but it was sort of nice there for a couple of days...Sigh....

It's getting closer!

I got an early Christmas present this weekend... a new laptop! I'm so excited, I even took a picture of it to upload here. (I know. I'm sorry. But only a little!)

We also took our family picture this weekend for our annual tradition of sending out photo cards for Christmas. (It only took four adults, several hours, and six ibuprofen!)

I'm trying to figure out how to put up a series of pictures so you can get the full experience. First picture, two adults stand with two children on a bridge. Second picture, one child has rubber legs and has all-but-disappeared out of the frame. Third picture, same child is blur of motion. Fourth picture, child is now held ("contained" is our word) and the adults have decidedly strained smiles. Fifth picture other child is now squinting with an odd look. Sixth picture was deleted on the spot, as were photos seven, eight, nine and eleven. (Tenth was okay, but we all look tired.)

Now, you're probably thinking, "Of course you were tired! Such a production! Sheesh!" We were at the Christmas Tree farm for a grand total of 25 or 30 minutes, taking two family's worth of pictures, but it felt a lot longer.

Every year I hope for the best, and prepare for the worst. I go through the pictures and toss out several for expressions or stances or some other artistic detail... and then the next year, I sigh with pleasure when I come across even the imperfect poses. Look how cute they were! Look how little! Look how sweet!!

This year we got one very sweet picture for our card, and another one that I love and want to frame. In the first one we're all smiling and looking at the camera, but in the second one Thomas is hugging me and I'm looking at him... This is the picture I'll have on my desk, to look at and smile year-round.

Each year we get comments from friends and family that they love seeing how the kids are growing up, and they look forward to our cards. Sometimes I add a little newsletter, too, but usually I rely on the "picture being worth a thousand words" adage, and hope the recipients understand. (If they see the gleam in Thomas's eye, or the grin on Megan's face, surely they see why I can't write 125 cards at this time of year!)

So now another major item is checked off, and I breathe a little easier. It's really starting to feel like Christmas!!

Your New Section

And Then He Said, "Two Weeks..."

Both my kids have ADHD, which is both a blessing and a curse. The blessing is their intelligence, energy, and creativity. The curse is their intelligence, energy, and creativity.

ADHD stands for Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. Think of it as the Ditzy Channel with random abrupt forays into the X-Games, all in High Def.

The attention deficit part is easy to explain: You tell a child to go get their socks, remind them two minutes later that they are indeed going to get their socks, and follow that up two minutes later with a bellowed reminder that they had better be getting their socks. They aren't, naturally. Oh, no. Instead of poking their toes into freshly laundered foot bags they are poking crayons through a guinea pig cage, or picking toenails, or dressing a Barbie that has been naked since 2003: all vital stuff, I give you, but in the meantime the bus has come and gone and Mommy has had another cerebral hemmorage, which makes for a Bad Morning.

Remember high school geometry and that fun word, corollary? Well, there's an exciting corollary to Attention Deficit. Apparently if something is of interest to the child, it can hold their attention. The thing to remember is that socks are never of interest to the child. Neither is homework, eating breakfast, taking a shower, or cleaning a room -- really, anything a parent or teacher type person might require of you. However, if you hand the same child a video game you will not see them again until you have to surgically remove the game from their cold, stiff fingers. The obvious solution is to digitize the child's entire world and make it worth points to get clothing on their bodies, but so far Nintendo has fallen far short of that mark.

Hyperactivity sounds easy enough to understand, right? That's the fidgety kid bouncing off the walls and falling out of his chair at school, jumping the final four - or fourteen - steps down the stairs each morning, right? Not always. Apparently one manifestation of hyperactivity is the inablity to screen thoughts-into-words, or to just be quiet. The child literally can't. Shut. Up.

The good news is that there are several things you can do to help manage ADHD. One is routines, with a steady, recognizable, predictable course of events. Think checklists and agendas. Another is to reduce clutter - especially visual and auditory clutter. High-protein snacks and plenty of water help, too. And of course there are many medical options out there, as well.

One of my children presents as the typical hyper boy child, and he takes a medication that is controversial to some because it is a stimulant. With ADHD, the stimulant effect counteracts the brain's already stimulated responses, and it allows them that tiny window of thinking before they act. It doesn't prevent all impulsive behaviors, any more than eating an apple will prevent all colds, arthritis, and bad hair days... but it does give the kid a chance to try some better choices.

My other child presents typically for a girl with ADHD, with dreaminess and an inability to stop making noise with her mouth, be it talking, singing, humming, or other sounds. Her behavior was risky in the sense that it prevented her from maintaining in the classroom, and it prevented her from interacting in a positive manner with her peers. Her medication was a longer-acting version of the medication her brother was on, and it did help her focus and connect, so it was very effective.

Lately we noticed that our daughter's medications were not as effective, and we took her to talk to the doctor again. The doctor discussed what was going on, and our concerns -- both our daughter's, and our own -- and we decided to try a different medication. The new medication is not a stimulant, and it acts longer -- both positives. And then the doctor said, "So she should be off the old meds for two weeks before we start the new meds."

There was a brief pause while I attempted to process this phrase, and then I slapped him --conversationally -- and said, "What?! Why?!!"

He made some points, which I honestly couldn't tell you right now -- something about giving the new medications a chance to shine, because in comparison to the old stuff the effect is much more subtle, I think -- and we left with a shiny new prescription that we can't use for eleven days and thirteen hours. (And yes, I am counting.)

Day One without the meds we experienced Ditziness and Randomness in equal measures. We also managed to pull an off-the-tracks pocket door out of the wall pocket where it has been wedged for 4 and a half of the five years we've lived here. When asked why, the response was a shrug and a bland, "I don't know." And she didn't. She also didn't remember from minute to minute that that doorway was impassable, and she'd tug and grunt at the stuck door EACH TIME SHE ATTEMPTED TO GO THROUGH THAT DOORWAY. All. Day. Long.

Day Two without the meds we saw Lethargy and her twin sister, Apathy, along with their delighful cousins Ditzy and Random. Daddy got the door back in the wall, and screwed it shut with a bar across the top. The child was puzzled at the irritation that this extra job was causing anyone.

Day Three was mostly spent wandering around the house, not settling long enough to do anything: read, watch TV, or go outside. She also was very tetchy with her brother, who was apparently engineered to Make Her Life Hell. She hasn't brushed her hair effectively in two days ("I DID!" she answers when told to go brush it, and yet the comb and brush have been missing for 48 hours.)

Day Four... well, it's not a stimulant, and I didn't give it to HER, but I can safely say that Messers Bartles and James had a fine business idea back in the 80s! Here's to ADHD, ADD, and B&J!

Time

Today I have respite care lined up for Thomas, and Megan and I are going to run a few errands and hit a couple appointments.

First we have my Weight Watchers meeting (I was torn about taking her along, but I can't swing it timewise any differently... I decided that since the meetings are about making healthy choices, it was okay for her to be there...) and a little later we have an orthodontist appointment for Meg to get her braces tightened.

Since tightening the braces will most likely leave her sore, we're getting a treat BEFORE the appointment -- either a donut, or a croissant at a nearby cafe. It's a rare treat for us, so it is special -- both the pastry treat and the time together. I was thinking about the weird message it may send -- Weight Watchers in the morning, followed by a food treat -- but again, my focus is on making healthy choices. An occasional treat is okay, given that I am consistently making healthier choices all the other days of the week...

After my special time with Megan and her orthodontist appointment, I am dropping her off at Nona's for an overnight visit. Then Part 2 of my respite time kicks in -- I get some special time with just me... whoo hooo! I do have another couple of errands to run in Santa Rosa, but then I can do whatever I want until the carriage turns into a pumpkin at 2:00... So far I've spent it thirty different ways, all in my dreams. I've mentally gone for a walk, shopped at the mall, bookstore, and Target, holed up in a coffee shop and read a book, holed up in a coffee shop and written on my latest project, and taken a nap -- all in the hour or so I've got coming to me... sigh. Whatever I choose, it's going to feel as good as the pastry treat tasted -- which is to say EXCELLENT!

Cookie Time!

Unless you live under a rock (or someplace far, far away - like Costa Rica, maybe?) you will have noticed the arrival of a bright sign of spring: GIRL SCOUT COOKIE SALE TIME IS HERE!!

Our troop did the presales (taking orders from family, friends, neighbors, coworkers, etc.) in January, and the cookies arrived a week or so ago. Yesterday we had our first site sale of the year, and today we have site sale #2... but today we only have six cases left! (We started with around 22 cases for site sales...!)

Our girls are fourth graders, and they are largely responsible for setting up, stocking the table, attracting customers, and handling the money. We adults get to sit back and oversee their efforts, occasionally stepping in to double-check some change-making skills.

This year the flavors include the following cookies:

Thin Mints

Tagalongs (peanut butter patties covered in chocolate)

Do-si-dos (oatmeal-peanut butter sandwich cookies)

Trefoils (classic shortbread)

Lemon Chalet Cremes (lemon sandwich cookies)

Dulce de Leche (carmel-chip and -drizzled)

Sugar Free Chocolate Chips

Samoas (carmel, chocolate and coconut on crisp cookie)

Which are your favorites?  :)

Do I Want to Go?

If you got an email from your child's teacher with a flyer for an ADHD seminar on it, would you be offended?

Not me.

See, my daughter and my son both have ADHD. And my daughter and my son both have amazing teachers, who not only deal with my children, but a whole class of other children besides -- so I am always in awe and open to ideas from either classroom guru.

Ms. Jordan sent me the email knowing I wouldn't be offended. She thought I might be interested -- I am -- and she said she's always looking for insight and tips on this condition, so she's going as well.

The seminar is local, and it is featuring a young man who wrote a book about his experiences growing up with ADHD. The young man is Blake E.S. Taylor, and his book is ADHD & ME: what I learned from lighting fires at the dinner table. He is a sophomore at the University of California at Berkeley, and he wrote this book during the last two years of high school. He is also a columnist for ADDitude magazine.

Heck, yes, I want to hear this man speak! I want to glean whatever information I can from his experiences, and gather some hope to hold onto on those hellish mornings when it takes one child 45 minutes to put on socks and the other child has set off the remote search button on the cordless phones five times and the bathroom has been flooded an inch deep with half a roll of toilet paper floating on top. I want his perspective on what it's like growing up with this busy-ness inside, and what he wanted from the adults around him to help him get through a day.

He not only survived -- if you count attending a prestigous school and being a published author, he's THRIVING! (And for the record, I DO count those as a sign of thriving!)

I will admit, though, that when I see someone who clearly struggled through childhood, their teens, and their young adulthood, I want to talk to their moms -- how did THEY stay sane, watching from the sidelines?

Valentine's, 4th Grader Style

*IMPORTANT NOTE: I was not going to write about this, figuring it was private. Megan saw me posting and said I should write about her special gift... so here you go. :)

When you're in fourth grade, valentines are serious business. There's the class exchange, of course, where you have to be careful which ones you buy and/or sign for which kids (no mushy ones to that kid that smacked you with his umbrella "accidentally-on purpose" the other day, and DIDN'T EVEN HAVE TO STAY IN AT RECESS!!, for instance)-- and then there's the special ones you want to give out without a whole lot of fuss.

At my daughter's school (4th and 5th grade devoted campus, so there's something like 500 9 and 10 year olds roaming around, all pre-hormonal) a fifth grade class had a Valentine's Day fundraiser. For 25 cents you could purchase a candygram, which the fifth grade class would hand-deliver to your recipient's class on the appointed party day. The candygram had a choice of chocolates -- heart shaped, filled, etc. -- and a few different styles from friendship on up to "someone special." The buying/sending of one was as big a deal as getting one was going to be...

My daughter and her good friend Connor decided to buy one another candygrams. He wanted carmel-filled chocolate, but she has to be careful of sticky things because of a dental appliance... they discussed that and how to get around it. ("I know! I'll buy you a carmel one, and you buy me one that doesn't have carmel!") (That was a direct quote, by the way.)

My child -- being my child -- forgot to bring her money for the two week period that they were offering candygrams. No problem... She decided to go to the store and get him something extra special. Extra special turned out to be a small bear holding a handful of chocolates (non-carmel-filled, but chocolate nonetheless). The whole thing was wrapped in cellophane and tied with a bow, very festively Valentine-y. To add to it, we opened it up and tipped in a handful of Dove Promise chocolates (carmel-filled) and re-tied the whole shebang.

For the record, she paid for this with her own money, and was not dismayed in the least that it cost $5 instead of .25. (So much for hoping consequences would kick in... sigh...)

Connor LOVED his gift, and insisted on walking her to our car to thank me for the present -- because I took her to the store. (He is a sweetie, isn't he?) Megan filled me in on the way home how nicely the present had gone over: "He loved it, and he was like, Whoa! And I just started laughing, and he was looking at it and he kept jumping up and down and saying, Whoa! And I just was laughing, and laughing!"

Megan was blissful about giving her gift, and she was thrilled with her candygram Connor sent her. (He chose the mushier of the choices, by the way.) Valentine's Day 2009 was a big success, in at least two 9-year-old's hearts...

Ah... young love...

Girl Scout Father/Daughter Dance, 2009

Tickets (per couple): $35

Dress (from Ross) $12.99

Memories: Priceless

Role Models, Bad Choices, and Forgiveness

When Michael Phelps was astonishing the world in Beijing, the camera followed his every move. That big grin, the long loping stride, the studious focus as he stood on the starting block... these things dominated our television screens for the duration of the Olympics. I don't know of one person who couldn't identify the young man with just one quick glance -- "Oh, did Phelps win another one? Wow!"

The fact that Michael had ADHD and struggled with day-to-day life was of particular interest to me, because it was sparked a few conversations with my daughter, Megan, who also struggles to stay focused. I pointed out that he found something he was good at, something he loved, and he dedicated himself to being the best he could be in that field. We wondered if it was hard to stay focused when he was tired, or if he wanted to quit at some point, or how exactly he stayed so on track... and we cheered for his accomplishments, knowing how much hard work went into earning them.

The most recent news about Michael was disappointing, but after the initial sinking stomach feeling I have reached a resolute firmness: I am using it as another teaching tool. Even heroes mess up... even people who know better make bad choices... even someone who has accomplished much can fall short of the mark. His fame didn't protect him from bad influences, and his talent didn't stop him from having to think decisions through carefully and make a good choice.

The bong incident can be chalked up to be another ADHD moment -- that impulse that was just too strong to ignore, the desire to be part of something, the tunnel vision of the now versus the big picture of the tomorrows to come. It was wrong, and he should be sorry for his actions... which he seems to be. His reputation was hurt; his image was tarnished; his money-making potential took a hit... These are direct consequences of his actions, and sometimes this is what it takes to get through to the ADHD brain.

The statistics of kids and adults with ADHD who use illegal (and legal, come to think of it) substances has always been high, not to make a pun... It's another symptom of the problem, another part of the struggle. I am hoping that Megan hears about this and learns from Michael's mistakes, instead of having to make her own later in life; and if someday she makes a poor choice along these lines, she remembers that there was a way to redeem the mistake, and a lesson to be learned.

What Have I Gotten Into?

In fourth grade, the students get to have a shot at time travel. The kids, teachers, and several chaperones travel to a local historical site and set up an "ELP," or Environmental Living Project, where we experience life as it was back in the time period that the site was a living, breathing rancho or fort. We wear costumes -- excuse me, period piece garments -- and really pretend we are back in that time.

This year we get to inhabit the Petaluma Adobe, which will transport us to the mid-1800s in rural Northern California.

The chaperone meeting was last night, and the parents from the two classes preparing to go were briefed on the schedule, goals of the event, and duties. We had to sign a contract which included "no chasing the sheep" as a point the rangers felt was important to make -- swear to you, I couldn't make that up! (I assume it meant make sure the children didn't do the chasing, but who knows? Lack of TV, cell phone, and blackberries may indeed sap grown people of all rational thought...)

The duties were basically supervising several activity stations that the kids rotate through, including candle making, spinning and weaving, wood working, basket making and cooking. Guess what I got? Cooking! Over an open flame! Or in the wood-fire beehive-shaped hornos, if we want to bake. (Want?) In long skirts! And aprons! In dirt! Outside! Whee!

I love fourth grade!

making memories with sprinkles

This Christmas both kids got a chance to roll out dough, choose cookie cutters, and sprinkle colored sugar on their creations. We used a traditional sugar cookie recipe that my grandmother used to bake, and I followed the directions written out in her handwriting... which made the cookies all the sweeter to me.

This recipe actually inspired me to begin a tradition in our own family. I write down a handful of recipes a year -- simple, everyday recipes that we all enjoy, and we use often, like the marinade for pork chops, or the Peasant Soup that is so yummy. I have oodles of cookbooks, and recipes torn from magazines and downloaded off internet sites, but these are the time-tested, hands-down favorites. I have a small recipe box that I keep with the fine china, and these handwritten cards go in there, in safekeeping for the children someday.

I can see it now: Megan at the kitchen counter with her children, showing them the amount of oil they'll need for the spinach salad; Thomas and his kids digging into a tri tip cooked with the simple three-ingredient recipe he grew up with... love in every bite. It's a simple thing, really, but it will mean more than any store-bought treasure.

Try starting one for your family, or giving a newly-married couple a headstart on a tradition of their own. Recipe boxes and cards are inexpensive, and the time it takes to write out a few cards is minimal. Love is the secret ingredient, and time will only bring out more of its delicate flavor.