I know I haven’t posted for awhile.  I had a problem with uploading pictures which I thought was all my fault because I was stupid OR maybe all iphoto’s fault because it hates me for putting 9000 photos in it.  Turns out there was an actual problem which is now fixed.  To offer you just a little something while I collect my thoughts, here is a recent pic of the fam (minus Brad who was probably doing something useful like working).

On our way to Cousin Kai’s Pirate party

2 Comments | In: family | | #

Yes I have gotten older, yet again.  Here I am on the cusp of 40, and I figured it was time to throw a big shin dig.  Usually I do just about nothing for my birthday, and who knows if I will feel like doing a big 40 bash, so I made a plan to have a big old 39th karaoke birthday party at a club in town.  And you know what?  It was about the best birthday I have ever had.

I don’t know what it is about singing—maybe just a bunch of oxygen gets into your brain and lights up those foggy areas—but I know it makes me really, really happy.  And I don’t just mean that I enjoy it and feel basically good, I mean that it ignites all the pleasure cortexes in my brain and makes me ELATED.  Really.  I go to gospel choir once a week sort of tired and down, but the minute I start singing I feel full of energy and life.  I went to a karaoke party for a friend a few months ago and suddenly it was 2am.  I had a huge smile plastered on my face that didn’t fade for days.  Happy.  And my birthday party?  Well I am still sort of high off it.  I love to sing.

I don’t think I am alone in this either.  Some people just gotta sing.

Singing in our culture is sort of hard sometimes.  We tend to lump it into a whole host of things that you are either “good” at or not good at, and if you are not good at it, we surely don’t want to hear you…. I don’t care if you are only 7 years old.  I’m not sure what makes a person a good singer.  Is it genetic?  Is it exposure?  A combination of both?  And what about those people who have really nice voices that are just sort of boring?  If their noses were a bit longer or their larynx a touch shorter, would they have awesome voices?  It is sort of sad to me that we Americans don’t let everyone just experience the joy of singing without worrying about being “good”.  It seems clear that we are only focused on the performance aspects of singing, not on the communal aspects or the mental health aspects or just the spiritual aspects.  There is a lot of singing to be done in the world; very little of it for an audience’s entertainment!

Check out my braces!

What would I do if I couldn’t sing?  Something else I guess… but I can not imagine not singing.

At the beginning of the party, only my immediate family was there, exactly on time, which was sort of funny. We are a prompt bunch.

Here’s to another year!   (And here’s to Brad’s grandparents Elsie and Elmer Werth who gave me money for my birthday which I used to throw myself the BEST BIRTHDAY EVAAAAAAH!)

No Comments | In: Awesome!, family | | #

You know what is really great?

Having a baby around that you are in no way responsible for taking care of!

You get smiles, cuteness, a warm body to cuddle, but you don’t have to wake up all night to take care of her, nor remember where you put her down.  It is great.

Our friend Clementine came to visit us for two weeks with her new baby Madina, and it was such a relaxing, enjoyable time.  I don’t know many people who I would relish having around for two weeks, but Clementine, because she lived with us before, felt comfortable and easy to be with.  She expects very little.  She is accustomed to “hanging out” and makes the most of that social time without suffering from the itchy legs-oh-my-god-I-must-be-doing-something-right-now that I experience.  We fell right back into our old patterns—flowing in and out of the living room, drinking tea, inviting various friends and acquaintances over, eating squash, trying our old Thai food haunts.  Clementine, like always, was helpful with kids and dishes.  I, like always, have too much spare clothing and was able to outfit my African friend in more weather-appropriate attire.  (These African ladies!  They walk around in the the thinnest–albeit voluminous– dresses and SANDALS, even though it is sleeting rain outside!)  The various Portland friends together sent Clementine back to Seattle with boots, tights, a hat, gloves and a sweater.  I repaired a couple dresses and skirts too, so I felt useful.

But Madina!  Sweet Madina is one of the best babies ever.  Brad pointed out that Madina complains only slightly more than Clementine (which is never).  The kid eats.  The kid sleeps!  The kid smiles a radiant smile.

I hate to use the word “miracle” to describe her, but because Madina was born early, early, early at  2 lbs 12 ounces, I know we are all lucky to have her here.  She spent her first 3 months in the hospital, so it is even more of a pleasure to see her chubby and happy.

Being with these friends (this new baby friend here) makes me thrilled at the surprises in life.  You think you know what you need in life, but there are such other intentions for you in store…and you have no idea what they might be, what deep place inside you they make feel full and whole and perfect.  It is sappy to say, but such a joy to be alive!

2 Comments | In: Current musings, family | | #

Yeah, I realize that I am sort of going backwards here.  At this rate, I could post something about Easter next.  I figured that I needed to get up pictures of the kids soon though.  It has taken me a bit because my iPhoto is really bogging down.  Could it be the 9000 photos in there?  You know how the advent of digital photos made you take 10 pictures of the same thing instead of one decent picture?  The thought was that then you could go back and select the best to keep.  My problem is that I never went back.  I am starting at the beginning and deleting liberally, which is a poignant exercise as much of what I am deleting is my PRECIOUS LITTLE BABY photos.  I am not even through Francis and I dumped 1000 “not as good” photos.  I am keeping the best ones of course, but it is still hard to trash them forever.

ANNNNNNYYWAY……

Halloween.  The kids talk about Halloween costumes for months before October even peeks around the corner.  I think we are generally planning for costumes round about April, with final plans drafted early September.  We make everything of course because that is half the fun.  Plus it is one of the only times the kids think we are cool, so needless to say, we don’t want to throw that one over too lightly.

Brad has a great technique with the kids; one which he also uses when it is time to make pinatas.  He asks the same question each day for a week.  When the kid gives the same answer three days in a row, that is what he starts working on.

This year I had a freaking awful morning with the children one inservice day.  It was suppose to be great because we had nowhere to go, but as it was, we got trapped in a horrible maelstrom of whining and yelling.  (I tried to stop whining, really I did!). It looked like the whole day was bound to go to crap, but then we started digging through fabric in my studio.  In reality, I probably was trying to ESCAPE the kids, but they followed and engaged me and I made the best of it by shifting everyones focus to Halloween costumes.

Initially Zephyr wanted to be a clone trooper.  I sort of nixed that one.  It is the helmet thing.  I knew that Brad could do some paper mache magic, but you just never know in Oregon if it is going to be pelting down rain or 60 and balmy on Halloween night.  Next suggestion was a sting ray which was more my speed.

I learned something this year:  everything can be “poncho-ized”.  The poncho is the great Halloween costume middle ground.  Many a thing starts with a poncho, including sting rays.

Love the poncho.

Francis initially wanted to be a musketeer, which seemed super easy, if not too creative.  We had most of the elements of that costume already because she had been Puss in Boots a few Halloweens ago.  Or maybe it was for Mardi Gras?  Anyway, a musketeer is just Puss sans ears plus mustache.

Digging through the fabric though, we came across a bunch of (really tacky) stuff I bought a year or so ago when Zephyr said he wanted to be a mermaid.  Francis, in typical 8 year old form, said, “Ooooooooo!  It is beauoooooootiful!”.  So we started in on figuring out how to make her a mermaid.

I had a general concept for the tail—which she didn’t like.  When you are 8, you don’t care how you will walk down the street.  You want to cover those feet because of course, “mermaids don’t HAVE feet Mom!”.  She was close to tears, but I insisted that she must be able to walk.  I made a mid length skirt and then tacked on huge fins which then attached to black elastic that looped around her arms.  She could lift her arms to lift her fins.

Next problem wasn’t so hard.  I was not about to let my daughter run around in a bikini top.  I have nothing against bikini tops—I am not particularly modest myself— but bikinis belong at the beach or the swimming pool, not at school or trick or treating.

Going to Oregon Children’s Theater productions, I’ve really observed how the costume designers interpret and suggest features of the characters using textures and quality of fabric.  To make a chicken, they put a woman in tights and crocs and a square dance skirt with multi colored flounce.  The fluffiness of the skirts suggested the feathers and big butt of a chicken.  If they need to make a bug, they focus on color, crazy shoes and glasses.  Maybe a hat.  You don’t have to make the whole thing to make the viewer identify the subject.

Following these principles, I dug up this really cool crocheted top that my mom gave me.  I’ve worn it a couple times, but it has these drawstrings on it, so I knew I could cinch it up a lot.  Because it is crocheted, it suggests fishing nets, which to me suggests mermaids.  I think it worked.

We glue gunned a bunch of shells, broken necklaces, and nerd air beads to a fleece crown as the final touch.  (Air gun pellets are all over the pedestrian overpass most weekends.  They piss me off so much!  Don’t these teenagers realize they are LITTERING?  Anyway, I pick them up and this time glued them to the crown.)

Inez was a tag-team effort.  She wanted to be a shark.  I was tired of making costumes, so I handed it off to Brad.  Actually first I made her a poncho, then I handed it off to Brad.

Brad has some really great paper skills.  He sat down and figured this head out, then worked with craft foam sheets to make it more permanent.  I can’t say enough about those craft foam sheets.  I am sure they are some sort of environmental nightmare, but man, they work great!  You can glue gun them together and they sort of melt in the heat which can create a super clean bond (if you work fast and carefully and keep your mess on the inside of your object).  Here is the shark:

She looks a little pope-like from the front.

Brad made himself a star fish.  I was pretty impressed with his sewing skills, especially the care he put into making a pocket on his belly for candy (or his hands I guess),  but he was saddened by people’s guesses.  After a couple people asking if you are a banana or a penis, you would feel sad too.  (For the record honey, I don’t think you look at ALL like a penis.  I really don’t look at you and think “penis”….hardly ever.  Really.)

After all these costumes were done, I sort of threw mine together in less than 15 minutes.  I had wanted to be a creepy doll, but the execution on that one was sort of flawed.  I need to invest in one of those expensive theater make up sets, like the ones I remembered from high school.  Instead I had this greasy stuff from Goodwill.  It ran off my face in about 5 minutes and then I just looked like a Juggalo in a cute dress.  Anne joined us as a beautiful unicorn pony in a tutu (she found everything in our costume box—way to fit into a costume made for a 7 year old, Anne!).  Here is the group photo:

5 Comments | In: family, My super freakin' cute kids, Projects That I Do With My Clever Little Fingers | | #

13 Comments | In: family | | #

Around here the first day of school was a little anti-climactic.  Only Francis went out the door that day as Zephyr’s Kindergarten had a staggered start in order to allow all the new students to come meet their teacher and visit the classroom.  It is a nice way to do it, but not something that confident little Zephyr needed.  He knew Sr. Siam and had been peeking his head in the kindergarten door ever since his first day in pre-K at Beach.  On his appointed day, he charged in the classroom and proceeded to show off EVERY LITTLE BIT of his broken Spanish.  He talked a blue streak.  His grandfatherly, mellow, Cuban teacher asked me, “Does he always talk this much?” not once but twice.  I was subsequently both proud and sort of embarrassed—-proud that he knows so much Spanish and is not afraid to try it out, embarrassed that he would not shut up.

I’ve certainly had my struggles with not shutting up.  Most of my embarrassments in life have been not in what I have neglected to say, but in those times where I misjudged the necessity to speak.  I should shut up more often really.

Zephyr seems like he will adjust just fine to school.  Like me, he charges right in bravely (and rashly), and in many ways this is a comfort to me because it is something I understand.  On the first day, parents were to take all kids to the cafeteria where the kids would meet their teacher and walk in a line across the playground to the Spanish Immersion annex building.  Zephyr was thrilled to be at school, proud of his lunchbox and excited to see old friends.  He got in line and was ready to go.  The only hitch in the walk-in-a-line plan was that the doors to the cafeteria are sort of narrow and many of the first time parents were sort of hover-y.  They ALL wanted to walk along with their kids on the way to the kindergarten classroom.  I found this slightly amusing and fell back from the crush of ADULTS pushing towards the door, because it was apparent that not everyone was going to be able to fit through following the line of kids.  When the doors finally cleared, I moved through with Inez.  Entering the playground area, it was clear that the line had totally disintegrated.  These kindergarteners didn’t know the first thing about moving in a line, and the hanger-on parents weren’t really helping much.  Sr Siam and the vice principal were busily gathering kids up and moving them back into the line.  I was chuckling at this chaos when I noticed that I couldn’t see Zephyr.  He was gone.

One nano second of panic and it seemed clear to me that no one would kidnap my son on his way out of the cafeteria.  None of these parents was organized enough for that.  They couldn’t even handle the kindergarten line.  I stood there thinking—-knowing my son, he is probably in the classroom.  And he was.  He hopped across the playground, in the doors and right to class where he found his name on the desk and started the assignment on the table.  He even turned on the classroom lights.  I think this kid is going to be okay in life.

Francis is in third grade this year.  Her class is a 3/4 blend which is a sort of different experience.  She was shocked that she doesn’t do all her classes in the same room any more.  Now she leaves for math, art, technology, music, and pe.  She was disappointed that math is no longer in Spanish.  On the whole, she has a lot less of her day in Spanish, and her literacy classes (writing and reading) occur separately in each language.  She says math is too easy, which we will be checking into when we are a bit further into the year.  It is a little early in the year to be a pain in the ass parent.

Inez is hanging out at home with me, picking vegetables in the garden, playing with the chickens, doing chores, and riding bikes.  We have started a new tradition of picking up garbage on our walk home from school each morning.  Inez is really into it.  I have to watch that she doesn’t pick up anything that is really gross.

It’s great to have the older kids in school, but it isn’t super easy like I had thought.  I have more time (sort of) but it is clear that I only sent the more independent ones off to school, so I still have the one who creates the most problems when unsupervised.  I kept the one around who picks all the letter keys off the laptop keyboard and then throws them (inexplicably) in the trash can.  But even Inez had a promotion of a sort.  This kid is now officially out of diapers.  Halleluia!  But still, when can she go to school?

3 Comments | In: family, My super freakin' cute kids | | #

And all my kids are in bed.

It’s true.  I am very good at putting kids to sleep.  I believe in it.  Here are my techniques and how I put them into play today:

1)  Tire them out.  Ride the children all over heck and gone even if you have no particular destination.  We just got one of those cool cargo long-bikes, so we took it out for a spin today.  We decided to go to St Johns to check out their sidewalk sales.  It wasn’t a real destination—more just a place to go that was more than 6 miles away.

Here is our bike!  I have wanted one of these for so long.  It is essentially just an elongated bike where you can haul heavy cargo over the back wheel.  Apparently these were designed for less developed nations where people might need to haul coffee or other crops.

We will use it to haul kids.  I rode it home from SE Portland with all three on the back, but that wasn’t really such a desirable ride.  There was a little fish-tailing and the weight!  The weight!  It is best with just the youngest two, but I love the flexibility of being able to throw anyone on there.  I could probably toss Brad one there too.  The bike bags extend so I could even figure out how to strap my guitar on.  I think I will try it tomorrow morning for church.

Anyway, we rode to St Johns.  Francis rode her own bike.  She is really good at it now.  Zephyr is up on his own bike too, but not as predictable in traffic.  It’s nice to put him on the back of the bike.

2)  Take regular naps and quiet time.  If you teach your kids when it is time to go and when it is time to chill, they are better able to make those transitions throughout the day.  Francis is 8, but still goes to a 2 hour quiet time each day during the summer.  She is in her room playing, reading or sleeping (which she rarely does).  I don’t care if she is bored.  I think boredom is good for you.  She does really creative things during this time.  Plus during this time I read and nap.  I am important to this family, and I need A LOT of sleep.  In order to make sure no one gets beaten, I must get my rest.

3)  Take the kids to dinner REALLY early.  Brad and I are great believers in eating early.  If you eat early, kids then feel the next natural thing to do is to go to bed, so we try to start thinking about eating at 4pm.  No really.  On the weekend, when Brad is around, if we are going out to dinner, we start out walking there around 4pm.  Today we went to a Gospel choir picnic at 3:45pm.  It was awesome.

Those ladies (and men) can sure cook.  And they love to eat and visit in a very low-key way that is quite satisfying.

4)  Provide necessary intellectual and natural world stimulation.  Seek it out if necessary.  Someone in my choir said that she thought she saw a dead coyote in an empty lot alongside MLK, so we went to find it.  Ahhhh nature!

Yeah, that is weird, I agree.  What is a coyote doing in the middle of the city?  The kids were fascinated; Brad was disgusted and refused to get out of the car, even though I begged him to help us go find it.  I am not sure that I have ever seen a dead coyote even in the country (not counting taxidermy).  This was pretty interesting.

5)  Put them to bed 30 to 45 minutes before you might hope that they would be asleep.  (And please, don’t be a dumby and put your baby to bed at 10 or 11pm.  It is not that your kid “isn’t a sleeper”.  I hate that shit.  It is that you have not figured it out and do not have the humility to go to the freaking library and get a parenting book or to ask your parents how they put their kids to bed.  And if you have asked your parents but you are still putting your kid to bed at 10pm or worse, letting them fuss and cry on your shoulder until they fall asleep while everyone watches you wondering WHY THE HELL YOU ARE TORTURING YOUR BABY, WHY THE HELL YOU ARE TORTURING THE ADULTS IN THE ROOM, then you don’t want to listen to the answer.  And why is that?  How much resolve do you have as a parent?  Some?  None?  Put them in there.  Leave them alone.  Don’t worry about what they do after that, i.e, screaming, being stupid, crying, whining.  They are in bed, they are safe , they are developing healthy sleep habits that will assist their physical and mental health their ENTIRE LIFE and they will eventually fall asleep.  (Reference Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child by Marc Weissbluth).

Woa.  Sorry.  I started ranting there.  It’s just that kids not getting the sleep they need REALLY, really bothers me.  I think it is because I need so much sleep, and because I am so saddened when dealing with young people with social problems, addiction issues, depression, sickness, etc…. they all have sleep disturbances too.  So put your kids to bed.  Please.

8 Comments | In: family | | #

This summer thing is working out just how I had hoped it would.  At the beginning of the summer, I sat down with the kids to brainstorm what they wanted to do.  In reality I wanted to lay down the law (and present what they wanted to do as the carrot).  They wanted visits to grandparents, bike rides in the neighborhood, playing in the sprinkler, popsicles and berry picking.  I want a quiet time every day where I can nap or read.  All has gone according to my (evil) plan.

Mid June we went out to my parents’ place in Sheridan.  The weather was only so-so summery.  It took a long time to warm up in Sheridan, which is even cooler than Portland.

As it was, the plan to “sleep out on the deck” with my childhood friend Maria became a midnight “haul the kids in out of the rain”.  My parents have two dogs who love nothing better than barking their heads off every night.  Mom and Dad don’t mind.  They claim to not hear a thing, which I would attribute to hearing loss if there weren’t complaints of city noise when they stay in town.  Anyway, midway through our sleep out on the porch adventure, I heard strange scratching noises on the scaffolding underneath the deck.  My dad had been pouring a new footing that day and had beams strung under where we were sleeping.  The dogs were freaking out, and it quickly became clear that SOMETHING was hanging out down there.  I jumped up and yelled over the edge and the unknown lurker tumbled down through the hop trellis, taking half the scaffolding with him (or her).  At that point, I was thoroughly freaked.  Although I knew rationally that a raccoon is not going to climb back up the deck and into bed with me, I felt vulnerable with all those kids strewn all over the deck.  And I guess I am afraid of raccoons after seeing them go after chickens so enthusiastically.  I was actively talking myself out of being scared of a raccoon when it began to rain steadily.  Thank you RAIN!  Now I could wake up my friend and tell her we needed to move inside without sounding like a scaredy cat city girl!  Yes!

Maria and I managed to move 4 sleeping children into the house without waking a single one.  Actually I am not sure that Maria was awake herself.

In the morning, this one slept on:

My dad is amused by us.  I love how relaxed my parents are about their hospitality.  Some people fuss over you when you come to stay, and in their fuss, make you incredibly uncomfortable.  I once stayed somewhere where the parents wanted to give ME their bed, which embarrassed me to no end.  My parents just figure that people can find some nook or cranny where they can be comfortable, and because they’ve been so flexible with their views, over the years I have brought scores of people out to crash on the floor.  Mom and Dad just flow along with it.

The next day it was a visit to a chicken breeding farm out in Sheridan.  Even though this farm had my same town as the address, it was so far in the hills that it took nearly half an hour to get there.  Once there though, the rewards were great!  I learned a lot from the farmers.  They were incredibly generous hosts and we saw some gorgeous birds..

In the afternoon we were off to Sheridan Days parade, which is sort of weirdly charming and strange at the same time.  It is mostly emergency vehicles with their sirens on and protestant church groups angling for more fish in a small pond, attempting to show you how much fun their youth groups are having by sitting in pick up beds singing along the parade route.  When I was a kid there were big log trucks with the biggest tree they had cut down that year, but those are mostly gone now.  Remaining are bagpipe groups and a smattering of rodeo queens from small towns, plus some freaky clowns from the coast and this really strange group of old dudes from Lincoln City who dress like devils, pull women out of the crowd, take them to their “float”, put them in a stockade and stamp “SEXY” on their cheeks.  I am not kidding.  They are called the “Red Devils” and I suppose they are a social group of some sort, (but I do NOT want to know what they do for fun at their secret meetings because their public outings already give me a heart attack).  Half my life I have been afraid of the Red Devils.  The other half I have been pissed at them.  Perhaps for this reason, I have never been picked by them.  They are not dumb, and surely they know to avoid the woman yelling “sexists!”.  Maria was picked though, and she, being a better sport than I, allowed a devil to escort her to where she was branded “sexy”.  He was polite about it, but I couldn’t help but be worried about her as she disappeared around the corner with the Devils.  For Maria’s part, I figure she knows she is sexy.  She is just allowing the Red Devil the mistaken pleasure of thinking it was somehow his discovery.

I need to not be so ernest, but that is a life long struggle for me.

The sun set on much candy gathering, and as you know, I am a gatherer.  I have taught my children my unique skill set.

Too bad you can’t make this crap into jam.

5 Comments | In: Chickens Are Super Fabulous, family, My super freakin' cute kids, on the road again | | #

My grandmother passed on last week, and the kids’ art teacher also left this world, and as with all deaths, it has made me introspective.  I have all these thoughts about life that seem so profound (but really aren’t).  I found myself in front of the computer, late at night, tears running down my face looking at pictures of the kids.  ”It’s just like that!”  I was thinking like a stoned philosopher.  ”One day we’re little kids AND THEN WE DIE!”.  Sunrise sunset.  Or something like that.

Anyway, I am sick of myself when I am like this, but this is my way of grieving.  I am fascinated and fearful of death, so I try to get myself right in there as close as I can to it.  Maybe then I will understand it better.

Anyway, my uncle asked me to write my grandmother’s obituary which has been a distinct pleasure.  I feel like I learned something about her while reflecting on how to depict her life (in 70 words or less!).  And I appreciate things about her that I never noticed while she was here.  For example, she was sort of a proto-feminist.  She had to fight to keep working, and she did keep working, even while raising 5 boys.  She believed in good manners and had high standards for society.  She knew what she wanted and she recognized what she needed to do to go out and get it.  And she knew the value of a husband who could dance!  Good job Grandma.

Here you go:

Frances Wilma Parmeter

Frances Wilma Parmeter was born in the dry grasslands of Eastern Washington in Eltopia, near Pasco, March 10th, 1916. Her parents, Newmaris and Grace Lloyd, were wheat farmers and Wilma along with her two brothers and three sisters, was well-familiar with farmwork. Perhaps this is why she devoted herself so enthusiastically to her studies. Breaking the mold for rural young women at her time, she graduated high school early and entered Eastern Washington College of Education, where she received her Special Normal Diploma in 1937.

At her first teaching placement in Nespelem, Washington, she met Silas Parmeter at a dance. She was the new teacher in a tiny town; he was the best dancer. This was the beginning of a long, affectionate marriage. Wilma and Silas began their family while struggling to eke out a living in the dairy business. Wilma continued to work throughout this time, and finished her bachelors of arts in education in 1950.

She had clear ideas of the quality of life she wished for her family and she knew that they needed the stability of her income. Plus, she was sick of riding in that old farm truck. In 1961-62, the Parmeter family moved to Beaverton and had their fifth child. Wilma and Silas joined the Beaverton First United Methodist Church. She taught at Bonney Slope and Vose Elementary.

Wilma was quite the social librarian, always engaged in what was happening in her circles, the loves and interests of her sons, and the fluxes of fashion and popular culture. She loved to shop and continued to buy Christmas presents for everyone even as the family grew with many grandchildren. She loved the coast, baking, traveling, and painting. Wilma was a loyal Democrat and philanthrophist, giving faithfully to Democratic campaigns. She will be remembered as quite a lady, with impeccable manners and commitment to decency. Her children consider her even calmness and good nature a great gift to the family.

Later in life, when dementia began to quietly claim her, she retained her sweetness, humor and enjoyment of people around her.

She lost her husband Silas in 2004 and was preceeded in death by all her siblings. She died July 2nd at home, 95 years old, and having lived a life worth celebrating. Survivors include sons Douglas, Stanton, James, David, and Richard, 10 grandchildren and 14 great-grandchildren. A memorial wake will be held July 20th at 5:30pm at the Parmeter residence in Beaverton.

4 Comments | In: Current musings, family | | #

This is what the kids like to do all day...gallons of water later....

Summertime!  Or at least school is done.  My older sister has eagerly been awaiting school being out for summer, but I can’t say I share her enthusiasm.  It is nice to have less schedule, but the openness of the time sort of terrifies me for a couple of mixed reasons.

First of all, there are tons of kids on the block and they all LOVE our house.  This is cool, really, and I am pleased that we have plenty of fun diversions to offer on our tiny little plot.  I like being the fun house on the block… until I don’t.  That is, I have tons of patience and love and understanding for kids… until I don’t.  It is just that when I don’t, it is bad.  I am sort of a mix of strict and allowing.  I don’t mind kids doing things that might get them hurt, so in that sense I am lenient—Could break their arms?  So what.  Could fall off the roof?  Maybe they won’t climb there next time.  Wacking each other with swords?  Just make sure everyone is equally armed.

On the other hand, I am sort of a neat freak.  I don’t want the sand from the sandbox in my kitchen.  I don’t want the tools strewn all over the lawn.  Please don’t throw my pea gravel or river rock….it was hard to carry in there.  Did you just step on my poor, suffering wisteria vine?  Why, you terrible little kid!  (I don’t say this; just think it.)  And get out of my garden!  Or at least walk on the walkways and not the lettuce.  So what happens is that occasionally I just snap and need to shout, “Everybody OUT!  Time to go home!’.  Kids with nicer parents are freaked out and teary.

Yes, I need to RELAX a bit.  I am working on it, believe me, but I also feel like I need a little piece of the summer that belongs to me… and I am a tired, hardworking mother who needs a couple hours each day to just zone out and not be responsible for anyone.  Wherever the kids go, Inez goes trooping after them, and often they leave her in the dust.  Truly I want to take a nap without fearing for anyone’s well being.  I want my kids in predictable places where they are relatively safe.  And I don’t want to have to deal with anyone else’s overly-tired children.

In order to maintain a summer plan that works for me, I gathered the kids around the coffee table and put in place some summer rules.  First, chores each morning.  No arguments there.  The chores are quick and easy.  Second, quiet time, in their rooms reading each day from 1pm to 2pm.  No arguments there.  They like this.  Third, extended quiet time from 2pm to 3pm where they could play outside, but only in the backyard and no visitors.  Total UPROAR.  ”Unfair!” Francis protested.  ”That’s just another quiet time and we already did one!” Zephyr added.  ”I want to play on the swing in the front!  Why can’t we just be done at 2 and go play where we want?”.

Because.  Mom.  Is.  Tired.  And Mom likes to have the first hour of quiet time to do computer stuff (like this blog) and the second hour to sleep or read, because often the first hour gets sucked up with dishes or laundry or really boring things like that.

They eventually accepted my rules, or at least tired of arguing and got sick of being forced to sit at the table during our little summit.  It occurred to me that I have raised independent kids thus far which means that they are smart, expressive, and not afraid to be completely defiant and disrespectful.  Yay me, right?

I need to think of how to communicate this plan to the neighbors so that the two only children nearby our house are not ringing the doorbell at 1 and 2pm each day.  They are sweet kids, but being only children, their families are able to function each day with a certain level of flexibility.  I have heard their parents say, “What do you want for lunch?” and “Maybe you should take a nap” which are things that have never been uttered in my house.  My good friend across the street will be all on-board for our schedule, and I think some nearby neighbors will get it too, although I fear I will look like a total control freak for putting it into effect.  Oh well.  It’s best to accept who you are, right?

Zephyr with neighbor Ben. We need a bigger bucket.

6 Comments | In: family, My super freakin' cute kids | | #