We just finished our first week of summer. We went to the beach. We went to the art museum. We stayed home. We did things around the house. We decompressed.
Kindergarten had left our entire house exhausted. Especially it's victim. I sent them in the beginning of the year, a happy go lucky child, excited about school, and along about December, I stated to get complaints about going to school, by the second to the last say she was screaming," I can't go, not even one more day! ". Part of this, was probably my fault. She was in a lot of extra stuff this spring, but in my defense, the extra stuff is so much more fun than learning fractions, nouns and verbs and synonyms. Every night we were encouraged but not required to read an ar book, do I-station and dreambox, practice our spelling words, work on math facts, and do our homework. Things I didn't learn about in kindergarten and a workload I didn't have until high school. Now ask me if she can add? No, not really, but that didn't stop them. I don't really blame her teacher, I think it is just the culture of the school, which is well regarded in Houston. We are not zoned to it, but it is a school for gifted and talented kids, and i nought she would do better there than the Montessori magnet by out house. I think on the whole, she thrived there, she didn't really care about what they were learning. She could keep up just fine and she loved her teacher and her friends.
But by the end of the year her tantrums outnumbered her little sister's. I think h summed it up best when he said, "she has gone to twice as much school as we did at this age, but she is at the same maturity level we were." And it it crazy. They talk about the "race to nowhere" but clearly, they want us to go somewhere. And then there are all the parties and field day and teacher appreciation and recitals and then to top it offTallulah crashed into the coffee table and we had ER drama.
We were all just done.
So now we are doing our fun things. And a thing she complains about but is freakishly good at (swim team).
We will have more beach trips
We are looking forward to visiting our aunt in michigan.
And we are going to chill. I explained to her what camps are--which is what upper middlish people do to their kids in the summer, all in the name of enrichment. "No mama, I just want to be with you every day."
Yes, I am that lucky.
No bucket list to check off this year. We are just going to enjoy every day.
Sunday, June 8, 2014
Tuesday, May 13, 2014
Montesorri, baby?
"You love your children. And God makes them different, so you love them even more." My sister in law told me this once.
My current thoughts on this are, "hell yeah he does."
Tallulah gets herself up in the morning. She takes off her diaper and puts it in the trash. She gets herself dressed down to shoes. She does all of this without being told.
When I was sick, she went to the pantry and got food for her and her sister.
Yesterday, I found her drinking milk from the jug. She had literally moved a chair to the refrigerator, got out the milk, and had herself a swig. "I was tuwsty."
We have this plate, and it has a huge crack on it. It is the plate that Annabelle hated when she was three. And if it was put in her place for dinner she would scream and cry and have a tantrum about it. The other night, I set it at Tallulah's place. I was curious to see if she would hate it too, especially since she is so neat about things and eschews cracks, dirt and imperfections in general. Turns out, she didn't like it either. But instead of screaming and crying about it, she just moved it to my spot. Problem solved.
She knows how to change the tv channel, dial the phone, look at pictures on our phones, and do crazy stuff with the iPad. All self taught. Her sister still struggles with knowing which is the on button on the remote. Can you say Luddite?
She wants to do everything for herself and by herself. So, what do I do with this child? Who is so competent and capable, but still gets concepts like forward and backward confused, let alone knowing all the different types of dinosaurs and whether they were theropods or sauropods--things that Annabelle had mastered at this age.
Do I send her to the Montessori school down the street, which would totally be a good fit for her, when her time comes for kinder?
Probably not. Because being in two different PTAs would kill me.
My current thoughts on this are, "hell yeah he does."
Tallulah gets herself up in the morning. She takes off her diaper and puts it in the trash. She gets herself dressed down to shoes. She does all of this without being told.
When I was sick, she went to the pantry and got food for her and her sister.
Yesterday, I found her drinking milk from the jug. She had literally moved a chair to the refrigerator, got out the milk, and had herself a swig. "I was tuwsty."
We have this plate, and it has a huge crack on it. It is the plate that Annabelle hated when she was three. And if it was put in her place for dinner she would scream and cry and have a tantrum about it. The other night, I set it at Tallulah's place. I was curious to see if she would hate it too, especially since she is so neat about things and eschews cracks, dirt and imperfections in general. Turns out, she didn't like it either. But instead of screaming and crying about it, she just moved it to my spot. Problem solved.
She knows how to change the tv channel, dial the phone, look at pictures on our phones, and do crazy stuff with the iPad. All self taught. Her sister still struggles with knowing which is the on button on the remote. Can you say Luddite?
She wants to do everything for herself and by herself. So, what do I do with this child? Who is so competent and capable, but still gets concepts like forward and backward confused, let alone knowing all the different types of dinosaurs and whether they were theropods or sauropods--things that Annabelle had mastered at this age.
Do I send her to the Montessori school down the street, which would totally be a good fit for her, when her time comes for kinder?
Probably not. Because being in two different PTAs would kill me.
Thursday, May 8, 2014
The whistle
For reasons that no one will ever really be able to understand, yesterday, while at Southland Hardware, dumb dumb, aka hyphen, decided to buy the girls whistles. Coach style whistles.
Annabelle got hers last night, and in her way of playing, she began to try and whistle songs and blow on it in different ways trying to make different sounds, asking us what each one sounded like. She tied a string around it and put it in the "art studio," for later use.
Tallulah got hers today.
And in her way of playing, she blows it. She blows it loud and proud.
She blows it in the van. She blows it inside the house. At the table. May I just say, your ears have never really experienced pain until you are sitting in a minivan where a three year old is blowing a whistle.
She keeps it in her purse, along with a magnifying glass, a pretend phone(which, she informs me, has games on it, unlike mine), a treasured pair of clip on earrings, a broken tiara that is more like a headband, and various chapsticks. Tallulah is nothing if not prepared.
She takes the purse with her everywhere, and sleeps with it, along with 25 stuffed animals. So it was not entirely unexpected, but still totally annoying, when tonight, after calling for me about 5 times, I heard the whistle.
My first thought: ummm, no. My second thought: the person who created this problem needs to fix it.
"Hieu..."
He was in the bathroom and not responding.
She blew it about 3 more times, each time louder and I was starting to get really hacked, especially since the girls share a room and Annabelle was asleep.
"Hieu, go deal with that."
"Dude, she is calling you not me, we both know that." He said this with goofy half smile he gets when he knows he has done wrong.
I went in the room. She just wanted to tell me goodnight. And she wanted me to hustle up.
Annabelle got hers last night, and in her way of playing, she began to try and whistle songs and blow on it in different ways trying to make different sounds, asking us what each one sounded like. She tied a string around it and put it in the "art studio," for later use.
Tallulah got hers today.
And in her way of playing, she blows it. She blows it loud and proud.
She blows it in the van. She blows it inside the house. At the table. May I just say, your ears have never really experienced pain until you are sitting in a minivan where a three year old is blowing a whistle.
She keeps it in her purse, along with a magnifying glass, a pretend phone(which, she informs me, has games on it, unlike mine), a treasured pair of clip on earrings, a broken tiara that is more like a headband, and various chapsticks. Tallulah is nothing if not prepared.
She takes the purse with her everywhere, and sleeps with it, along with 25 stuffed animals. So it was not entirely unexpected, but still totally annoying, when tonight, after calling for me about 5 times, I heard the whistle.
My first thought: ummm, no. My second thought: the person who created this problem needs to fix it.
"Hieu..."
He was in the bathroom and not responding.
She blew it about 3 more times, each time louder and I was starting to get really hacked, especially since the girls share a room and Annabelle was asleep.
"Hieu, go deal with that."
"Dude, she is calling you not me, we both know that." He said this with goofy half smile he gets when he knows he has done wrong.
I went in the room. She just wanted to tell me goodnight. And she wanted me to hustle up.
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Greetings and thoughts
Hello. It's been a while. I've been a restaurant widow, doing everything by myself and waiting for my husband to come home to keep him company and so I am exhausted with no time for coherent thoughts, let alone put them to iPad, as it were. But last night h pissed me off royally by saying that one of his wine glasses that I had left on the drying board was dirty, when I had washed it and then he proceeded to spend ten minutes washing it and I thought " if this dumb dumb thinks I have 10 minutes to wash his f ing glass...." and was filled with a murderous rage for about 5 minutes, until I had a bless his little heart moment and moved on. But consequently, I don't feel like waiting up for him so I am writing instead.
We have discovered the Cosby show. I have rediscovered it. And I makes me feel nostalgic and it makes the girls happy. They squeal with delight and Annabelle says "oh theo!" Or "Rudy is so cute!" It makes me sad too. Sad because there is no show like this on tv anymore. Sad because of the way adults currently interact with their children-- which is to say that they don't-- and you can really see this if you watch one episode of this show. Of course, it is a fictional show, but it was real in some ways, like a time capsule of what we did when we were at our very best.
And it makes me sad that I didn't marry cliff. Cliff who is so romantic and loving. Who feeds Claire pears, dances in the living room with her and makes their kids laugh. Sad that my husband gets annoyed with the way I wash dishes.
I didn't marry cliff. I married h. Who just came home after working crazy hours and brought me my favorite dish from my favorite restaurant.
Maybe we all get to dance off the stage into the sunset. Maybe we all get our own kind of happy.
We have discovered the Cosby show. I have rediscovered it. And I makes me feel nostalgic and it makes the girls happy. They squeal with delight and Annabelle says "oh theo!" Or "Rudy is so cute!" It makes me sad too. Sad because there is no show like this on tv anymore. Sad because of the way adults currently interact with their children-- which is to say that they don't-- and you can really see this if you watch one episode of this show. Of course, it is a fictional show, but it was real in some ways, like a time capsule of what we did when we were at our very best.
And it makes me sad that I didn't marry cliff. Cliff who is so romantic and loving. Who feeds Claire pears, dances in the living room with her and makes their kids laugh. Sad that my husband gets annoyed with the way I wash dishes.
I didn't marry cliff. I married h. Who just came home after working crazy hours and brought me my favorite dish from my favorite restaurant.
Maybe we all get to dance off the stage into the sunset. Maybe we all get our own kind of happy.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Disturbing new trend amoung a certain type of sahm
I will call it: wearing really expensive workout clothes to places other than the gym.
Part one: really expensive--
I get all these catalogs, I guess the catalog gods don't realize that I don't exercise as much as I used to, so I get them, and I peruse them. They have titles like athleta, title nine and sweaty Betty. And there is a store called lululemon. And they sell work out clothes. Stuff you are going to sweat in and stink up. And they sell them for ridiculous prices. Like 90 bucks for a pair of pants. Now, they are cute, they are very cute, and I am well trained enough by our consumer culture to want to look cute when I go to they gym, but I cannot justify spending that kind of money on spandex pants -- not even getting to the top and bra and brightly colored shoes. And then there is the little cover up for after you are done working out. You could easily drop 300 on a workout outfit. That will stink. Because it will get ass sweat on it.
Part two: to places other than the gym
Now, I go to the y and most people there are sensibly dressed in target gear or old t shirts. Even though my neighborhood is becoming very fancy, the y is decidedly old school, but I see these women around town. Like at central market or whole foods or some other such place, like the mall or at school. And they are wearing gym clothes. So I wonder, do they not have ass sweat? Because after I work out, unless I am going to krogers or the car wash, I go home and clean up. Do they know a store that sells better deodorant? Like I get my stuff at target, and my deodorant too, but since they go to lululemon, is there some correlating deodorant place? That sells 25 dollar organic deodorant?
Like what kind of class are they taking in these outfits? Do they feel like they workout better? Or do they just feel better because they look cute and it somehow takes out the drudgery of working out out of the work out? Because this, I understand.
These are the things I was wondering as I went into an athleta store today, looking for workout pants, but seeing the price tag, I couldn't do it. H works too hard and I love him too much. And my ass is too big and sweaty.
But there was a lady there shopping. She was decked out from head to toe in lululemon (which, for the record, I think is a dumb name) and shopping in athleta, so I guess they have no brand loyalty. They are just loyal to the look. Leggings, top and hoodie with bright shoes. She was pushing a baby.
I was discussing this phenomenon with my sister, who has also noticed it. Her issue: you can see the whole ass. The whole thing, and it leaves nothing to the imagination.
"Just give me some old middle school gym shorts," She said. "Hell, just give me some coach shorts," I said. Either that or the willpower to stop drinking Soda. I'll take that too.
Part one: really expensive--
I get all these catalogs, I guess the catalog gods don't realize that I don't exercise as much as I used to, so I get them, and I peruse them. They have titles like athleta, title nine and sweaty Betty. And there is a store called lululemon. And they sell work out clothes. Stuff you are going to sweat in and stink up. And they sell them for ridiculous prices. Like 90 bucks for a pair of pants. Now, they are cute, they are very cute, and I am well trained enough by our consumer culture to want to look cute when I go to they gym, but I cannot justify spending that kind of money on spandex pants -- not even getting to the top and bra and brightly colored shoes. And then there is the little cover up for after you are done working out. You could easily drop 300 on a workout outfit. That will stink. Because it will get ass sweat on it.
Part two: to places other than the gym
Now, I go to the y and most people there are sensibly dressed in target gear or old t shirts. Even though my neighborhood is becoming very fancy, the y is decidedly old school, but I see these women around town. Like at central market or whole foods or some other such place, like the mall or at school. And they are wearing gym clothes. So I wonder, do they not have ass sweat? Because after I work out, unless I am going to krogers or the car wash, I go home and clean up. Do they know a store that sells better deodorant? Like I get my stuff at target, and my deodorant too, but since they go to lululemon, is there some correlating deodorant place? That sells 25 dollar organic deodorant?
Like what kind of class are they taking in these outfits? Do they feel like they workout better? Or do they just feel better because they look cute and it somehow takes out the drudgery of working out out of the work out? Because this, I understand.
These are the things I was wondering as I went into an athleta store today, looking for workout pants, but seeing the price tag, I couldn't do it. H works too hard and I love him too much. And my ass is too big and sweaty.
But there was a lady there shopping. She was decked out from head to toe in lululemon (which, for the record, I think is a dumb name) and shopping in athleta, so I guess they have no brand loyalty. They are just loyal to the look. Leggings, top and hoodie with bright shoes. She was pushing a baby.
I was discussing this phenomenon with my sister, who has also noticed it. Her issue: you can see the whole ass. The whole thing, and it leaves nothing to the imagination.
"Just give me some old middle school gym shorts," She said. "Hell, just give me some coach shorts," I said. Either that or the willpower to stop drinking Soda. I'll take that too.
Saturday, March 22, 2014
A canine conundrum
I am cleaning up after supper and I hear Tallulah yelling (in her throaty old black lady voice that she gets when she is real mad) " I told you no! I don't like it when you do that!!!" I discounted it for a second because the girls have been bickering basically all day, but then my mom radar said " wait a minute, Annabelle is in some other part of the house, who is she yelling at? " I stuck my head out of the kitchen to find that she has the dog in a headlock and is applying pressure.
Of course there were stop-that-this-instants and what-in-the-Sam-Hill-do-you-think-you're-doings? I briefly wondered if she needed counseling and was perhaps sociopathic, but then took comfort in the fact that very few seriel killers are women. Turns out the dog had "thumped me with her tail and I don't like it she she does that!" The dog, to her credit, was taking it all in stride looking just slightly annoyed, because she is essentially a good dog, despite the fact that yesterday, she somehow reached up onto the kitchen table and got a bag of pecan halves my mother had given me and ate most of them and the bag they were in...but I digress.
We finished cleaning, weeded the kitchen garden(can you imagine, dear reader, lettuces and herbs and flowers in a very cottage pottager style? Me too. But that is not at all what it looks like), cleaned up outside, came in got baths, did teeth and nails and hair and cleaned up their room a bit and read books and then I left them in their room with a few books to look at, so I could play on Facebook. Then, after a few minutes, Annabelle came out to tell me she was tired. So I went in to lie down with her ( yes, I am the bad mom that has to lie with her kids for a few minutes to get them to sleep--you wanna make something of it?? Meet me out back). Tallulah though still wanted to look at books. And of course wanted the light on and was prepared to scream and have a fit over it, as she has been prepared to do and has done all day long. So I told her to go to the living room and look at them out there.
"But, dere no one dere. Dat living room is scary and I want to say heaw."
"Well, then you need to be quiet and have the light off. Or you can go in the living room. You won't be by yourself. The dog is out there."
"Oh? De dowg out dere? Oh. Okay, I go be wid hehwah. She likes books."
And off she went. Happy as a clam, reading books to her best bud. Hopefully this time there would be no tail wacking.
Of course there were stop-that-this-instants and what-in-the-Sam-Hill-do-you-think-you're-doings? I briefly wondered if she needed counseling and was perhaps sociopathic, but then took comfort in the fact that very few seriel killers are women. Turns out the dog had "thumped me with her tail and I don't like it she she does that!" The dog, to her credit, was taking it all in stride looking just slightly annoyed, because she is essentially a good dog, despite the fact that yesterday, she somehow reached up onto the kitchen table and got a bag of pecan halves my mother had given me and ate most of them and the bag they were in...but I digress.
We finished cleaning, weeded the kitchen garden(can you imagine, dear reader, lettuces and herbs and flowers in a very cottage pottager style? Me too. But that is not at all what it looks like), cleaned up outside, came in got baths, did teeth and nails and hair and cleaned up their room a bit and read books and then I left them in their room with a few books to look at, so I could play on Facebook. Then, after a few minutes, Annabelle came out to tell me she was tired. So I went in to lie down with her ( yes, I am the bad mom that has to lie with her kids for a few minutes to get them to sleep--you wanna make something of it?? Meet me out back). Tallulah though still wanted to look at books. And of course wanted the light on and was prepared to scream and have a fit over it, as she has been prepared to do and has done all day long. So I told her to go to the living room and look at them out there.
"But, dere no one dere. Dat living room is scary and I want to say heaw."
"Well, then you need to be quiet and have the light off. Or you can go in the living room. You won't be by yourself. The dog is out there."
"Oh? De dowg out dere? Oh. Okay, I go be wid hehwah. She likes books."
And off she went. Happy as a clam, reading books to her best bud. Hopefully this time there would be no tail wacking.
Friday, March 7, 2014
So I made the mistake of buying "let it go" on iTunes today....
It is from the movie Frozen, which is awesome because in the end the true love ends up being sister love, which pretty much sums up life as far as I am concerned.
But after listening to it 32 times today, I was kind of sick of it, so I scrolled to something else on my kid friendly play list(kids friendly meaning no curse words not necessarily kid music) and landed on angel flying too close to the ground which is my favorite willie Nelson song (although how could you possibly choose?).
Then I hear this.
A( in an extreme whine) I want frozen
Me: we are taking a break from frozen
A: ok, but I want to listen to something like frozen
Me: but this is like frozen (In the sense that it is music)
A: no I want it to sound like Ana or Elsa.
Me: he does
A: no he doesn't
A: ok pretend that he does...
Then we all got quiet, which is the calm numbing effect that is willie Nelson, and soaked all that beautiful nasal twang and chromatic scales in and dethawed from our frozen trance.
But after listening to it 32 times today, I was kind of sick of it, so I scrolled to something else on my kid friendly play list(kids friendly meaning no curse words not necessarily kid music) and landed on angel flying too close to the ground which is my favorite willie Nelson song (although how could you possibly choose?).
Then I hear this.
A( in an extreme whine) I want frozen
Me: we are taking a break from frozen
A: ok, but I want to listen to something like frozen
Me: but this is like frozen (In the sense that it is music)
A: no I want it to sound like Ana or Elsa.
Me: he does
A: no he doesn't
A: ok pretend that he does...
Then we all got quiet, which is the calm numbing effect that is willie Nelson, and soaked all that beautiful nasal twang and chromatic scales in and dethawed from our frozen trance.
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