Frances has been in Speech therapy since she was twenty months old. So, this is my fifth year into it. She has had seven different ones with varying approaches and strategies. I was talking to another mom at her speech camp last week about how a therapist recommends something, she buys it, and then it sits in the playroom. I started laughing because I do the same thing. This isn’t just the playroom. There are tons of kitchen appliances that are collecting dust because we have had no desire to make waffles ever again.
Something that I did break down and buy is the set of Guided Reading Beach Balls.
Frances has always had a hard time with sequencing and re-telling a story to me, and this was recommended by a speech pathologist at the UNC-G Speech and Hearing Center.
While this is not going to detract from the on-going commentary that is story time, we have now incorporated the “beach ball game” into the bedtime routine. The three of us read a story, and then choose a beach ball color and answer the question. Sometimes they toss it back and forth between each other, and sometimes they just choose a color and answer the question.
Here is an example of how we do it, using Eric Carle’s “The Very Busy Spider.” I modify it for a five and three year old.
1)What is the setting? (Where is it- A jungle or a farm?)
2)Who are the characters (Spider, farm animals)
3)What is your favorite part? (When the pig asks her if she wants to roll in the mud, when she catches a fly in the web)
4)How did it end? (The spider falls asleep.)
As a mother who can hear her three year old re-tell a story and every little thing that happens during his day, to know that my five year old can’t freaks me out. It really does and there is no other way to put it other than to say I’m freaked. This little approach is a step in the right direction.
I will post more things that worked for me, but remember, I’m just quacking.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Soccer Camp Week in Review
I'm sure there are moms who keep a little "journal" of all the little events in their child's life. If I had to scribble one down for soccer week, this is what it would look like:
Monday-Mommy has to stay, there is no shade, thank goodness I packed one water bottle, nothing to sit on, remembered his soccer ball. Happened to have sunscreen in Vera, but only the regular kind. Kenneth stops the ball by falling over it, not using his feet. He falls seventeen times according to his friend. Every ten minutes all the little preschoolers come running for water. Lowell wants to drink from everyone’s sippy cup but his own.
Tuesday-Packed a small cooler of drinks and a snack for after camp, had a quilt to spread out and toys for the baby. Said baby was also wearing a huge sun hat and sunscreen. Woman behind me starts screaming that her phone won’t turn on. She borrows her friend’s to call her husband at work and tell him her phone won’t turn on. Screams at him goodbye, and then tells the rest of us husbands are worthless. Kenneth has learned to stop the ball with his feet, according to his friend, he only crashed twice.
Wednesday- Rained all night and was very muddy. This is the day he wants to wear his special uniform that his “Tio Dani” sent him from Barcelona. I tried to tell him no, but there really was no point. Frances starts screaming she wants to wear hers to school, so both of them are wearing their good outfits in the rain and mud. Lowell won’t nap in his stroller, so I get no reading time, but should probably be watching the soccer drills anyway so we can practice at home. Kenneth does not stop when the coach yells “red light.”
Thursday-It is a cool day for July, he doesn’t really need sun block but they still get water breaks every ten minutes. He starts to yell when we get there, “Mom! Mom! I have to go the coach is in the circle mom!” He is going to miss the world cup if I don’t hurry down to the field. He asks me when he can go to high school, he wants to start soon.
Friday-Daddy takes the morning off to watch the last day. Frances doesn’t have school so she runs up and down the bleachers, Lowell chews on the orange cones. Even port-a-johns are cleaner in Connecticut. Kenneth is given a popsicle after the final little mini-game. He tells my friend, “no thanks, I don’t like popsicles, can you get me a banana?” Everyone thinks I am a strict nutritionist. LOL my friends know me better than that.
Move over Diego Maradona. I still wish he would sign up for preschool emo poetry writing instead.
Monday-Mommy has to stay, there is no shade, thank goodness I packed one water bottle, nothing to sit on, remembered his soccer ball. Happened to have sunscreen in Vera, but only the regular kind. Kenneth stops the ball by falling over it, not using his feet. He falls seventeen times according to his friend. Every ten minutes all the little preschoolers come running for water. Lowell wants to drink from everyone’s sippy cup but his own.
Tuesday-Packed a small cooler of drinks and a snack for after camp, had a quilt to spread out and toys for the baby. Said baby was also wearing a huge sun hat and sunscreen. Woman behind me starts screaming that her phone won’t turn on. She borrows her friend’s to call her husband at work and tell him her phone won’t turn on. Screams at him goodbye, and then tells the rest of us husbands are worthless. Kenneth has learned to stop the ball with his feet, according to his friend, he only crashed twice.
Wednesday- Rained all night and was very muddy. This is the day he wants to wear his special uniform that his “Tio Dani” sent him from Barcelona. I tried to tell him no, but there really was no point. Frances starts screaming she wants to wear hers to school, so both of them are wearing their good outfits in the rain and mud. Lowell won’t nap in his stroller, so I get no reading time, but should probably be watching the soccer drills anyway so we can practice at home. Kenneth does not stop when the coach yells “red light.”
Thursday-It is a cool day for July, he doesn’t really need sun block but they still get water breaks every ten minutes. He starts to yell when we get there, “Mom! Mom! I have to go the coach is in the circle mom!” He is going to miss the world cup if I don’t hurry down to the field. He asks me when he can go to high school, he wants to start soon.
Friday-Daddy takes the morning off to watch the last day. Frances doesn’t have school so she runs up and down the bleachers, Lowell chews on the orange cones. Even port-a-johns are cleaner in Connecticut. Kenneth is given a popsicle after the final little mini-game. He tells my friend, “no thanks, I don’t like popsicles, can you get me a banana?” Everyone thinks I am a strict nutritionist. LOL my friends know me better than that.
Move over Diego Maradona. I still wish he would sign up for preschool emo poetry writing instead.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Show and Tell
Who thought this torture up for mothers everywhere? Mom is the one who has to ask the principal for special permission to bring in the family snake and maybe let the class watch it eat a rat. Mom is the one who gets the frantic call from the child screaming, “Please bring in my share toy! Please bring it now!” Most likely she has plenty to do other than come back to school with a “show and tell” object. But she does it because she is mom, then the kid gets in front of the class and has stage fright and just stands there with a light saber or an American girl doll and won’t let anyone touch it during free time. To drag the agony out even longer, someone sneaks over to someone else’s cubby and takes it, and then the preschoolers proceed to chase each other around the room, banging each other and all the centers with said sword or doll baby.
I loved “show and tell” day because it meant that math started late. My brother and I had a Venus flytrap and we took turns showing it to our classes. It was a big deal for him to walk it down to the third grade room. I also remember being especially excited about sharing chop sticks from Taiwan and a Georgia O’Keefe style cow skull I found on a ranch. We all know what “show and tell” really means. It means, “I have it, and you don’t.”
Fortunately for me, my daughter’s Pittsburgh school had no “show and tell." I will be forever grateful to Dr. Sharon Carver for that. Maybe I should send her a note. However, now we live in Connecticut. The other morning Frances was screaming for her Daisy Duck doll I couldn’t find as the bus driver pulled up and was shooting daggers at me to get her on the bus. Which I did promising my child she could share Daisy next week. Of course by then she will have moved on to Pluto.
My son’s “show and tell” is on Fridays. Now here is the clincher. It has to be science oriented. This keeps it educationally satisfying, attention grabbing, no fighting on the playground, and especially no going home to tell mommy and daddy that little Freddy has some 100$ toy that everybody else only wishes they could buy their kid. Kenneth has a collection of plastic animals and picks one a week for school. This is a whole new fight, one week he wants to take the bull elephant and the next week the calf. How is that for three year old science?
What makes it science anyway? What if he wanted to share his nebulizer or a bottle of Percocet? (We don’t have any, but what if…..) What if he wanted to share a picture of an indigenous tribe half naked in Brazil? Would that be better than sharing his blankie? Hmmmm…….
I too as a teacher have experimented with classic “show and tell”. My third graders were to bring in pictures of their family members and describe them in Spanish. One kid showed off a bunch of pictures of a family cruise and made it very clear his grandpa footed the bill before I could yank him off the stage. Now on a successful note, my 8th grade Spanish class had to do a speaking assignment version of the elementary school “show and tell”. They loved it!!! I had never seen fourteen year olds get a kick out of something like they did pretending to be eight again. So there is a time and place for bringing in your gymnastics trophy or your favorite stuffed animal.
“Show and Tell”, dear “Show and Tell”. At least I would rather sit through that than a round of “Heads up! Seven up!” and that is saying something.
I loved “show and tell” day because it meant that math started late. My brother and I had a Venus flytrap and we took turns showing it to our classes. It was a big deal for him to walk it down to the third grade room. I also remember being especially excited about sharing chop sticks from Taiwan and a Georgia O’Keefe style cow skull I found on a ranch. We all know what “show and tell” really means. It means, “I have it, and you don’t.”
Fortunately for me, my daughter’s Pittsburgh school had no “show and tell." I will be forever grateful to Dr. Sharon Carver for that. Maybe I should send her a note. However, now we live in Connecticut. The other morning Frances was screaming for her Daisy Duck doll I couldn’t find as the bus driver pulled up and was shooting daggers at me to get her on the bus. Which I did promising my child she could share Daisy next week. Of course by then she will have moved on to Pluto.
My son’s “show and tell” is on Fridays. Now here is the clincher. It has to be science oriented. This keeps it educationally satisfying, attention grabbing, no fighting on the playground, and especially no going home to tell mommy and daddy that little Freddy has some 100$ toy that everybody else only wishes they could buy their kid. Kenneth has a collection of plastic animals and picks one a week for school. This is a whole new fight, one week he wants to take the bull elephant and the next week the calf. How is that for three year old science?
What makes it science anyway? What if he wanted to share his nebulizer or a bottle of Percocet? (We don’t have any, but what if…..) What if he wanted to share a picture of an indigenous tribe half naked in Brazil? Would that be better than sharing his blankie? Hmmmm…….
I too as a teacher have experimented with classic “show and tell”. My third graders were to bring in pictures of their family members and describe them in Spanish. One kid showed off a bunch of pictures of a family cruise and made it very clear his grandpa footed the bill before I could yank him off the stage. Now on a successful note, my 8th grade Spanish class had to do a speaking assignment version of the elementary school “show and tell”. They loved it!!! I had never seen fourteen year olds get a kick out of something like they did pretending to be eight again. So there is a time and place for bringing in your gymnastics trophy or your favorite stuffed animal.
“Show and Tell”, dear “Show and Tell”. At least I would rather sit through that than a round of “Heads up! Seven up!” and that is saying something.
Just a Quick Stop at the Cleaners
So, you have an uneventful, successful trip to the grocery store. Then the cell phone rings. Why oh why did you answer it? You should have let it ring. You should have known better. But believe it or not, the phone was in the side pocket of your now famous Vera Bradley back pack, so, on the high of a successful grocery store trip, you answered it.
“Hi honey! Are you still at the store?”
“Yes! We are finishing up.” You are secretly thinking, “See? I am competent. I can take three kids to the store and buy a week’s worth of groceries without anyone screaming or biting.” June Clever take that!
“Great-hey listen, I’m leaving New Haven now. Can you pick up my dry cleaning? Thanks, love you bye.” And he hangs up without giving you a chance to say yes or no.
Stare at the children. Stare at the grocery bags. What is one trip to the dry-cleaners? It’s the same shopping center for crying out loud. How hard can it be?
You chugga chug chugga chug chugga cha cha cha with the children all the way back to the car (It’s a Little Einsteins thing). You unload all the groceries into the back. You make sure all three of them are strapped into the proper car seat and climb in the driver’s seat. You drive to the opposite side of the shopping center to get the dry-cleaning. But here is the deal-there are no parking spots near the dry-cleaners. You circle around twice, knowing the popsicles are melting, and pull into a spot that to be honest is closer to the grocery store that you just came from than the cleaners. How do you get all three of them across the busy parking lot and to the cleaners? You pull out the double stroller but really don’t feel like putting Lowell in the hippy sling, so you plan to strap him in the stroller with Kenneth and tell Frances to be a big girl and walk. She is half way to the Blockbuster before you can catch her. You grab her and walk with the boys around and up to the store.
The cleaners really isn’t that eventful, with the exception of Frances dancing in front of the mirrors and running into the dressing room. The owner comes out with a heck of a lot more dry-cleaning than you thought you were picking up, and he looks from you, to Frances dancing in front of the mirror, to the boys squirming in the stroller, and tells one of the teenage boys who works for him to carry the clothes for you. This is incredibly nice, but you are highly embarrassed by how far away you had to park and all the groceries in the back. The kid smiles and follows you out the door, when Frances proceeds to run off again and you chase her again. And then you realize just exactly how far you had to park with the extra person walking with you. Then you open your trunk and see all the groceries and now all the clothes and don’t forget you have to re-fold the double stroller and make all of it fit nice and neatly
You get the stroller back in around the groceries and then place the clothes neatly on top. You thank the poor boy who has probably decided that he is never going to accidentally get anyone pregnant ever thanks to the experience with your three kids. You load everybody up, get in the car, do the “Ready normal people?” chant, and then your daughter starts to scream, “My Goofy! Where’s Goofy?” She left her Goofy doll in the cleaners.
Do you really, really want to load all three of them back in the stroller and walk back to the cleaners? Really? Do you really think your daughter will get over it? The answer is “No” to all the questions. So you do something the old you would NEVER do. The you before you had a third child that is. You drive around and park in the NO PARKING ZONE in front of the said cleaners and leave all three kids in the car. You run in, grab Goofy, and run out.
Your husband has beaten you home and he can’t figure out what took so long. All he asked you to do was “pick up” his dry cleaning. Two second trip, right?
Guilford needs a drive thru cleaners-it can go next to the Chick-Fil-A.
“Hi honey! Are you still at the store?”
“Yes! We are finishing up.” You are secretly thinking, “See? I am competent. I can take three kids to the store and buy a week’s worth of groceries without anyone screaming or biting.” June Clever take that!
“Great-hey listen, I’m leaving New Haven now. Can you pick up my dry cleaning? Thanks, love you bye.” And he hangs up without giving you a chance to say yes or no.
Stare at the children. Stare at the grocery bags. What is one trip to the dry-cleaners? It’s the same shopping center for crying out loud. How hard can it be?
You chugga chug chugga chug chugga cha cha cha with the children all the way back to the car (It’s a Little Einsteins thing). You unload all the groceries into the back. You make sure all three of them are strapped into the proper car seat and climb in the driver’s seat. You drive to the opposite side of the shopping center to get the dry-cleaning. But here is the deal-there are no parking spots near the dry-cleaners. You circle around twice, knowing the popsicles are melting, and pull into a spot that to be honest is closer to the grocery store that you just came from than the cleaners. How do you get all three of them across the busy parking lot and to the cleaners? You pull out the double stroller but really don’t feel like putting Lowell in the hippy sling, so you plan to strap him in the stroller with Kenneth and tell Frances to be a big girl and walk. She is half way to the Blockbuster before you can catch her. You grab her and walk with the boys around and up to the store.
The cleaners really isn’t that eventful, with the exception of Frances dancing in front of the mirrors and running into the dressing room. The owner comes out with a heck of a lot more dry-cleaning than you thought you were picking up, and he looks from you, to Frances dancing in front of the mirror, to the boys squirming in the stroller, and tells one of the teenage boys who works for him to carry the clothes for you. This is incredibly nice, but you are highly embarrassed by how far away you had to park and all the groceries in the back. The kid smiles and follows you out the door, when Frances proceeds to run off again and you chase her again. And then you realize just exactly how far you had to park with the extra person walking with you. Then you open your trunk and see all the groceries and now all the clothes and don’t forget you have to re-fold the double stroller and make all of it fit nice and neatly
You get the stroller back in around the groceries and then place the clothes neatly on top. You thank the poor boy who has probably decided that he is never going to accidentally get anyone pregnant ever thanks to the experience with your three kids. You load everybody up, get in the car, do the “Ready normal people?” chant, and then your daughter starts to scream, “My Goofy! Where’s Goofy?” She left her Goofy doll in the cleaners.
Do you really, really want to load all three of them back in the stroller and walk back to the cleaners? Really? Do you really think your daughter will get over it? The answer is “No” to all the questions. So you do something the old you would NEVER do. The you before you had a third child that is. You drive around and park in the NO PARKING ZONE in front of the said cleaners and leave all three kids in the car. You run in, grab Goofy, and run out.
Your husband has beaten you home and he can’t figure out what took so long. All he asked you to do was “pick up” his dry cleaning. Two second trip, right?
Guilford needs a drive thru cleaners-it can go next to the Chick-Fil-A.
25 Random Harry Potter Things About Me.
In the spirit of the final release of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, here is a list of random Harry Potter facts about me.
Here it goes:
1. Kenneth’s first word was “Harry.” He said it at the beach while my cousins and I were playing with him.-You can ask Thomas or Carrie.
2. I went into labor with Kenneth during the Goblet of Fire movie. I didn’t know I was in labor because Frances was breech and scheduled. I had no idea your stomach hurt every fifteen minutes (Sorry Austin). His due date was planned so that I would not miss the movie, and it was like he waited for me to finish the movie because he knew then I would have time for him. And because I had a newborn, Goblet was the only one I saw in the theater only once.
3. Once in class a girl had book 4 on her desk with a book mark in it, and I could tell what chapter she was on from where her book mark was. I said, “Oh you just started Bagman and Crouch.” She opened it to that chapter, and the room got really quiet.
4. I had a Weasley sweater hand knitted for me with a big “P” on it.
5. I wore it to school and this one boy said ver batim, “Oh Senora! Don’t be wearing that, with your red hair you look like one of them Weasleys from those Harry Potter books.”
6. I wore the above sweater on a trip to Pittsburgh, and security pulled me. I was afraid I was being accused of terrorism, but he just wanted to know where I got my sweater.
7. I hit the side of my Nissan and knocked out a front headlight when we lived in a gated apartment community to get home in time to see the trio on Oprah. I hope Kevin doesn’t read this list, he never knew how I bumped the headlight.
8. My essay on how to read a Harry Potter novel was published in the Greensboro News and Record, the reporter had emailed me for a piece she was doing on spoilers, and I sent her that, and she said she wanted to print it instead of use it for spoilers.
9. My grandmother knitted a Gryffindor scarf for me. She was in her sewing circle and she told them it was for her grand-daughter, and they all assumed it was for Ida (my then nine year old cousin).
10. I attended all four Harry Potter book release parties. The first one was very small before the real hype began, and I was pregnant at two of them. The Breaking Dawn party was lame in comparison-yes, I went. I need a life, I know it. I am over caring what others think.
11. B.J., The priest at my church who went to high school with me, let me do three Harry Potter lessons in Sunday school. I must admit, they were cool.
12. I still have every receipt for each book that I bought and the ticket stubs for the movies. I can now add my Equus program and tickets to the scrapbook.
13. I read the books out loud to Ashley and Heather (“The Nieces”) when they were six and nine. Maybe this was the beginning of their fantasy craze.
14. I got into a fight with a very well known psychologist over whether or not famous British actors were wasting their talent on Harry Potter films. He apologized.
15. I do not have patience for those who do not read the books for religious purposes. I don’t have a problem with people who don’t like the series or just can’t read.
16. I had a Harry Potter group at the three main schools I taught at. At the high school, some of the less intelligent might have made fun, but in the end I had 25 kids show up for the discussion.
17. No one will play me at Harry Potter trivia.
18. I am very thankful that pensieves are not real and that my children will never see me in one.
19. Kevin and I went to London in 2000. We saw the line for her book signing at Harrods. Didn’t know she would be there or I would have tried to get a ticket.
20. I took all three W.O.M.B.A.T.s when she opened them on her website. I made “Outstanding” on all three of them.
21. My students always joked about how “ADD” I was. They knew that if they wanted my attention, instead of calling my name, they would say “Harry Potter” and I would look to see who it was.
22. They also knew if they worked Harry into their essay questions or dialogues they would get extra points.
23. My favorite Beedle the Bard Tale is “The Warlock’s Hairy Heart,” everybody and their brother is going to say “The Tale of the Three Brothers,” because that is the one with the Deathly Hallows, but come on. The one about the warlock is much deeper.
24. My students had to do a Harry Potter video a week where they watched a scene in Spanish and filled in the blank with the correct vocabulary word.
25. My only problem with Twilight is Edward’s death/rebirth scene. Elizabeth had auburn hair and green eyes, which matched Edward’s, and begged Carlisle to save him as she was about to die. So Carlisle took him home and made him a vampire. Ummmmm, do I need to write more? Plagiarism, Plagiarism, Plagiarism! But I still love Steph.
26. When Kevin took the job in Pittsburgh, I threw a major hissy fit about moving before the Deathly Hallows release party. It was very important to me to be at that party in Cary, not just with “The Neices,” but also with all of my students who loved Harry Potter as well. Some of them I had taught as third graders, and then taught them again when they were seniors in high school. I flew back to NC for Harry Potter.
27. I saw Equus. Awesome!
I am headed to Florida when the theme park opens.
Here it goes:
1. Kenneth’s first word was “Harry.” He said it at the beach while my cousins and I were playing with him.-You can ask Thomas or Carrie.
2. I went into labor with Kenneth during the Goblet of Fire movie. I didn’t know I was in labor because Frances was breech and scheduled. I had no idea your stomach hurt every fifteen minutes (Sorry Austin). His due date was planned so that I would not miss the movie, and it was like he waited for me to finish the movie because he knew then I would have time for him. And because I had a newborn, Goblet was the only one I saw in the theater only once.
3. Once in class a girl had book 4 on her desk with a book mark in it, and I could tell what chapter she was on from where her book mark was. I said, “Oh you just started Bagman and Crouch.” She opened it to that chapter, and the room got really quiet.
4. I had a Weasley sweater hand knitted for me with a big “P” on it.
5. I wore it to school and this one boy said ver batim, “Oh Senora! Don’t be wearing that, with your red hair you look like one of them Weasleys from those Harry Potter books.”
6. I wore the above sweater on a trip to Pittsburgh, and security pulled me. I was afraid I was being accused of terrorism, but he just wanted to know where I got my sweater.
7. I hit the side of my Nissan and knocked out a front headlight when we lived in a gated apartment community to get home in time to see the trio on Oprah. I hope Kevin doesn’t read this list, he never knew how I bumped the headlight.
8. My essay on how to read a Harry Potter novel was published in the Greensboro News and Record, the reporter had emailed me for a piece she was doing on spoilers, and I sent her that, and she said she wanted to print it instead of use it for spoilers.
9. My grandmother knitted a Gryffindor scarf for me. She was in her sewing circle and she told them it was for her grand-daughter, and they all assumed it was for Ida (my then nine year old cousin).
10. I attended all four Harry Potter book release parties. The first one was very small before the real hype began, and I was pregnant at two of them. The Breaking Dawn party was lame in comparison-yes, I went. I need a life, I know it. I am over caring what others think.
11. B.J., The priest at my church who went to high school with me, let me do three Harry Potter lessons in Sunday school. I must admit, they were cool.
12. I still have every receipt for each book that I bought and the ticket stubs for the movies. I can now add my Equus program and tickets to the scrapbook.
13. I read the books out loud to Ashley and Heather (“The Nieces”) when they were six and nine. Maybe this was the beginning of their fantasy craze.
14. I got into a fight with a very well known psychologist over whether or not famous British actors were wasting their talent on Harry Potter films. He apologized.
15. I do not have patience for those who do not read the books for religious purposes. I don’t have a problem with people who don’t like the series or just can’t read.
16. I had a Harry Potter group at the three main schools I taught at. At the high school, some of the less intelligent might have made fun, but in the end I had 25 kids show up for the discussion.
17. No one will play me at Harry Potter trivia.
18. I am very thankful that pensieves are not real and that my children will never see me in one.
19. Kevin and I went to London in 2000. We saw the line for her book signing at Harrods. Didn’t know she would be there or I would have tried to get a ticket.
20. I took all three W.O.M.B.A.T.s when she opened them on her website. I made “Outstanding” on all three of them.
21. My students always joked about how “ADD” I was. They knew that if they wanted my attention, instead of calling my name, they would say “Harry Potter” and I would look to see who it was.
22. They also knew if they worked Harry into their essay questions or dialogues they would get extra points.
23. My favorite Beedle the Bard Tale is “The Warlock’s Hairy Heart,” everybody and their brother is going to say “The Tale of the Three Brothers,” because that is the one with the Deathly Hallows, but come on. The one about the warlock is much deeper.
24. My students had to do a Harry Potter video a week where they watched a scene in Spanish and filled in the blank with the correct vocabulary word.
25. My only problem with Twilight is Edward’s death/rebirth scene. Elizabeth had auburn hair and green eyes, which matched Edward’s, and begged Carlisle to save him as she was about to die. So Carlisle took him home and made him a vampire. Ummmmm, do I need to write more? Plagiarism, Plagiarism, Plagiarism! But I still love Steph.
26. When Kevin took the job in Pittsburgh, I threw a major hissy fit about moving before the Deathly Hallows release party. It was very important to me to be at that party in Cary, not just with “The Neices,” but also with all of my students who loved Harry Potter as well. Some of them I had taught as third graders, and then taught them again when they were seniors in high school. I flew back to NC for Harry Potter.
27. I saw Equus. Awesome!
I am headed to Florida when the theme park opens.
Dinner Time!
I am an excellent cook. I make three meals a day from scratch using the freshest organic ingredients that I hand pick from the Bishop’s Orchard down the road. I use my gourmet cookbooks every week. Even Lowell’s baby food is boiled, squashed and blended. What else would I do with my time if I wasn’t cooking? LMAO! Just kidding.
I have never been a cook. I have tried, sort of. It started in Ecuador when Adriana, my host mom, asked me if I could cook. I told her yes because I was thinking, when is she ever going to know the truth? Then she said, “Great! Give me a list of what ingredients you need, I’ll buy them and you can make us an American dinner!" Crap. I had to approach Tracy, who was in Ecuador with me, about what I had just done. She saved my ass, big time. I couldn’t even peel the potatoes. We ended up having a big dinner for both of our families while she coached me through the finer points of marinating chicken.
I used to love the food network. That was my Saturday entertainment during the grad school/no children years. As much as I watched Emeril, Rachel, and Jamie Oliver, the food preparation gene just never clicked in my head. I used to watch the original Iron Chef. I remember when Bobby Flay jumped on the counter (rude!). Even Rachael Ray’s books, which I have used and like, don’t always mesh. I wonder what would happen if Kevin came home to portabella smoked mozzarella cheese mushroom burgers with carrot sticks and humus on the side. Yeah right. I should invite my friend Lewis over to eat them with us.
Kevin’s mother made everything from scratch. He took hotdogs to school in a thermos. Who else had a mother that was a short order cook because each kid had to have something different? I know lots of people who do this, and I have done this. I swore I wouldn’t do it, but there are days when they are whining and I just want to read Coraline before I take them to see it. Then another idea pops in my head and I want to write it down, so I let one of them have meatballs and the other can have chicken nuggets and please let mommy read another scene from Twilight. So yes, there are short order cook days, but if I am to be honest, they are more like “throw whatever the kid asks for in the microwave” days. My grandmother just rolled over. I know it.
Lowell is now eating table food. He looks at his Gerber baby food jars like I am some kind of a freak and then he starts reaching for everyone else’s plate. He doesn’t like to be fed, he wants to feed himself. This makes the other two mad, because they were enjoying fighting over who got to feed “Lo Lo” his carrots. It never occurred to me to make it a game or a reward to feed the baby, and the minute it became one Lowell had to go and learn to feed himself. Darn it! I can’t remember when the other two started eating. Isn’t that sad?
I have tons of friends who love cooking and our wonderful chefs and they are awesome. I just can’t do it. Maybe I should add “make one decent meal” to my 2009 New Year’s resolution list. I want to take a cooking class. I really need a cooking class. But what is going to happen if I take a cooking class? If I don’t catch my eyebrows on fire, I’ll at least spill something on the floor. Then my cell will start buzzing that the kids are screaming for mommy to come home. I have never been to a Pampered Chef party, but I wonder if I could make the project. Elizabeth? Do you have the patience to teach me? For right now, I’ll stick to 30 minute meals with meat in them.
Here is a list of people and things that make me feel a little better about my cooking:
1) Hannibal Lecter- Whatever he served with the fava beans and Chianti, I know that the kids and Kevin would rather eat what I make.
2) Charlton Heston- Soylent Green is people, I know that now. But like I said before, you know you can’t cook when you see Charlton jump on the conveyer belt of wafers and you think, “Yuck! He touched it. I don’t want to eat it now.”
3) Astronauts- We used to get freeze dried ice cream in our Christmas stockings when we were kids. That was gross, but we loved it then.
4) The Hunger Artist from Kafka’s short story. I was going to say Irish Prisoners during the 1980s, but I don’t really want to go there. I guess fasting is worse than eating my cooking.
5) The Israelites-They were very fortunate to have manna fall from the sky. That was really nice of God. Maybe if my dinner really sucks one night, the kids can peak out the window and check the grass.
In Fuquay, I knew which night at which restaurant the kids could eat for free. Monday was at Moe’s, Tuesday at Chick Fil-a, Wednesdays at Remington Grill (which is now Daniels). If I tried to cook, my students would bust my husband stopping for fast food on the way home. Fuquay is like Mayberry-everyone knows everyone else’s business. I had students working at all the restaurants and one girl came into class once and asked me if I ever bothered to cook because Dr. Pelphrey came in at least three times a week and always ordered the same thing to go. Grrrrr.
Here is a list of my favorite “piss poor” dinners. Please don’t call Martha Stewart on me:
1) Spaghetti and meatballs, actually any pasta with anything on it will work.
2) Chicken nuggets, especially the dinosaur kind. I have discussed this before.
3) Sandwiches-grilled cheese if I get excited
4) Cereal-this is nothing new. God help us if we are out of milk.
5) Tortilla shells with anything in them.-This comes from being Spanish major. (lol)
6) Hotdogs-turkey of course, I buy the healthiest ones available at a regular grocery store.
7) Breakfast for dinner-I see this in a lot of status updates-excellent!
8) Pork chops-long story, I made them once when I was engaged, Kevin didn’t touch them but Brian ate three!
9) Chicken and rice covered in mushroom soup (btw-this is their favorite)
10) I can throw anything in a Crockpot and love it! Who invented the slow-cooker?
Was it part of the Industrial Revolution or World War II “women need to work” boom?
I would like to take a moment to say that I know and respect moms whose kids have all kinds of allergies and need to follow special diets for whatever the reason. You guys rock. I am sure that if I was put in that position, I would kick it up a notch and learn to cook the right things. After all, I learned to drive my Pilot and I can’t stand driving on the highway. But still, for now, my children have been known to eat peanut butter on a spoon with a handful of cheerios and call it dinner. It must be a work from home and have a third baby thing.
So, if you have stories and ideas for easy, pathetic dinners that I forgot, post them here. Or even better, if you have gone into shock because of my meal plans, email me easy solutions. Sometimes I think if we could upload into the Matrix and simulate good meals, Kevin would take the offer.
Bon Appétit
I have never been a cook. I have tried, sort of. It started in Ecuador when Adriana, my host mom, asked me if I could cook. I told her yes because I was thinking, when is she ever going to know the truth? Then she said, “Great! Give me a list of what ingredients you need, I’ll buy them and you can make us an American dinner!" Crap. I had to approach Tracy, who was in Ecuador with me, about what I had just done. She saved my ass, big time. I couldn’t even peel the potatoes. We ended up having a big dinner for both of our families while she coached me through the finer points of marinating chicken.
I used to love the food network. That was my Saturday entertainment during the grad school/no children years. As much as I watched Emeril, Rachel, and Jamie Oliver, the food preparation gene just never clicked in my head. I used to watch the original Iron Chef. I remember when Bobby Flay jumped on the counter (rude!). Even Rachael Ray’s books, which I have used and like, don’t always mesh. I wonder what would happen if Kevin came home to portabella smoked mozzarella cheese mushroom burgers with carrot sticks and humus on the side. Yeah right. I should invite my friend Lewis over to eat them with us.
Kevin’s mother made everything from scratch. He took hotdogs to school in a thermos. Who else had a mother that was a short order cook because each kid had to have something different? I know lots of people who do this, and I have done this. I swore I wouldn’t do it, but there are days when they are whining and I just want to read Coraline before I take them to see it. Then another idea pops in my head and I want to write it down, so I let one of them have meatballs and the other can have chicken nuggets and please let mommy read another scene from Twilight. So yes, there are short order cook days, but if I am to be honest, they are more like “throw whatever the kid asks for in the microwave” days. My grandmother just rolled over. I know it.
Lowell is now eating table food. He looks at his Gerber baby food jars like I am some kind of a freak and then he starts reaching for everyone else’s plate. He doesn’t like to be fed, he wants to feed himself. This makes the other two mad, because they were enjoying fighting over who got to feed “Lo Lo” his carrots. It never occurred to me to make it a game or a reward to feed the baby, and the minute it became one Lowell had to go and learn to feed himself. Darn it! I can’t remember when the other two started eating. Isn’t that sad?
I have tons of friends who love cooking and our wonderful chefs and they are awesome. I just can’t do it. Maybe I should add “make one decent meal” to my 2009 New Year’s resolution list. I want to take a cooking class. I really need a cooking class. But what is going to happen if I take a cooking class? If I don’t catch my eyebrows on fire, I’ll at least spill something on the floor. Then my cell will start buzzing that the kids are screaming for mommy to come home. I have never been to a Pampered Chef party, but I wonder if I could make the project. Elizabeth? Do you have the patience to teach me? For right now, I’ll stick to 30 minute meals with meat in them.
Here is a list of people and things that make me feel a little better about my cooking:
1) Hannibal Lecter- Whatever he served with the fava beans and Chianti, I know that the kids and Kevin would rather eat what I make.
2) Charlton Heston- Soylent Green is people, I know that now. But like I said before, you know you can’t cook when you see Charlton jump on the conveyer belt of wafers and you think, “Yuck! He touched it. I don’t want to eat it now.”
3) Astronauts- We used to get freeze dried ice cream in our Christmas stockings when we were kids. That was gross, but we loved it then.
4) The Hunger Artist from Kafka’s short story. I was going to say Irish Prisoners during the 1980s, but I don’t really want to go there. I guess fasting is worse than eating my cooking.
5) The Israelites-They were very fortunate to have manna fall from the sky. That was really nice of God. Maybe if my dinner really sucks one night, the kids can peak out the window and check the grass.
In Fuquay, I knew which night at which restaurant the kids could eat for free. Monday was at Moe’s, Tuesday at Chick Fil-a, Wednesdays at Remington Grill (which is now Daniels). If I tried to cook, my students would bust my husband stopping for fast food on the way home. Fuquay is like Mayberry-everyone knows everyone else’s business. I had students working at all the restaurants and one girl came into class once and asked me if I ever bothered to cook because Dr. Pelphrey came in at least three times a week and always ordered the same thing to go. Grrrrr.
Here is a list of my favorite “piss poor” dinners. Please don’t call Martha Stewart on me:
1) Spaghetti and meatballs, actually any pasta with anything on it will work.
2) Chicken nuggets, especially the dinosaur kind. I have discussed this before.
3) Sandwiches-grilled cheese if I get excited
4) Cereal-this is nothing new. God help us if we are out of milk.
5) Tortilla shells with anything in them.-This comes from being Spanish major. (lol)
6) Hotdogs-turkey of course, I buy the healthiest ones available at a regular grocery store.
7) Breakfast for dinner-I see this in a lot of status updates-excellent!
8) Pork chops-long story, I made them once when I was engaged, Kevin didn’t touch them but Brian ate three!
9) Chicken and rice covered in mushroom soup (btw-this is their favorite)
10) I can throw anything in a Crockpot and love it! Who invented the slow-cooker?
Was it part of the Industrial Revolution or World War II “women need to work” boom?
I would like to take a moment to say that I know and respect moms whose kids have all kinds of allergies and need to follow special diets for whatever the reason. You guys rock. I am sure that if I was put in that position, I would kick it up a notch and learn to cook the right things. After all, I learned to drive my Pilot and I can’t stand driving on the highway. But still, for now, my children have been known to eat peanut butter on a spoon with a handful of cheerios and call it dinner. It must be a work from home and have a third baby thing.
So, if you have stories and ideas for easy, pathetic dinners that I forgot, post them here. Or even better, if you have gone into shock because of my meal plans, email me easy solutions. Sometimes I think if we could upload into the Matrix and simulate good meals, Kevin would take the offer.
Bon Appétit
Lowell's Baptism Reflection
(Note about this note: I am not here to debate infant baptism etc. etc.-read it for the fun of it or don't)
Again, another note on how the third child gets screwed. His clothes are his brother’s. His crib is in the office until the boys are both sleeping well enough to share a room and I am seriously beginning to think that this won’t happen until they are ready for college. Lately he has taken to chewing on Tupperware containers instead of the cute little teethers that his siblings had. Finally, he wasn’t able to wear the family Christening gown. I never found a church I was happy with in Pittsburgh and B.J. agreed to do it during Advent while I was home. That meant waiting until Lowell was five months old, so no newborn gown for him. My aunt loaned me a suit my grandmother made, so he did get baptized in something special, just not the family gown.
The horror of not being baptized in a Christening gown! This got me thinking about the service in general. To say that the service hasn’t changed much in the last few years is a bit of an understatement, since I have that service and probably the rest of the Book of Common Prayer memorized. You would think that when something is called “common” so that everyone participates, the third child would get it as equally as the first. No, I found a way to have this be different too.
Here it goes:
“I present Lowell Franklin to receive the sacrament of baptism.” I had to think about who I was presenting. Was it Frances for another speech or OT evaluation, or was Kenneth getting his hearing tested? And which sacrament was it? It seems like I anoint the sick every few weeks.
“Will you by your prayers and witness help this child to grow into the full stature of Christ?” Of course he will witness me being an excellent example of an Episcopalian. “Get in the car! We are late for church! Stop pinching and pay attention to the homily! Ugh-is it your turn to acolyte again? Man, we have to get up extra early, better skip SNL this week."
“Do you renounce Satan and all the spiritual forces of wickedness that rebel against God?” Well, this isn’t too difficult to answer. Of course I renounce wickedness! Who is going to say, “No, bring it on, please?” What else should I renounce? What counts as wicked? Too much television? Microwaved meals? French fries as a vegetable? Not making my own baby food? Using disposable instead of cloth diapers? Letting him play with germy car keys to keep him quiet in the grocery store? I am not renouncing anything that saves my sanity.
“Do you renounce all sinful desires that draw you from the love of God?” Do I have any desires anymore other than to make sure that these three grow up to be normal tax paying citizens and not serial killers? (Maybe I shouldn’t joke about the last part.)
“Do you turn to Jesus Christ and accept him as your Savior?” Yes, absolutely. This is the only time you are asked this question in any Episcopal church. Some denominations have you sing it, dance it, raise your hands up high and scream it out loud. But we ask you one time and if you say yes, we believe you and go about our merry way. I guess they assumed you told the truth the first time.
I have been an Episcopalian my entire life, except on Christmas Eve when I become a Moravian for the night. My husband kind of grew up Baptist, but only went to Sunday school. When I tried to explain an infant christening to him for Frances, he made a face and said, “You mean like in the Godfather?” Yes, that was it. Only my thoughts were a little different from the ones Al Pacino was having as he renewed his baptismal covenant. It really is applicable to any change in your life: contemplating motherhood as it pertains to having three children, knocking off the (4 or 5?) heads of the competing mafia families and becoming the new Don Corleone-same difference. See how common prayer actually is? Everyone participates!
And about the priest who baptized my son today, I have known him since I was what, nine? I am not telling any stories, because I would die if he told one on me, but thoughts did go through my head as he anointed my son with oil. Ok, I’ll share just one, “B.J. used to jump up and down on tables Time Warping from the Rocky Horror Picture Show and he just sealed Lowell as Christ’s own forever?” There is a circle of life.
Even before the Facebook boom, I couldn’t seem to ever shake my Episcopalian friends. They never leave you, ever. In some ways they are worse than the old college roommates. I think I could get swallowed by a “great fish” and they would find me some how. So I should embrace them, and I do, usually.
This is what I was thinking about as my third and last child was baptized Sunday and we welcomed him into the Episcopal faith. Maybe I should think less, and focus more. Then I won’t worry about leaving him at the Remington Grill. Again, poor third child, at least he’s ready for his spiritual journey to begin.
Again, another note on how the third child gets screwed. His clothes are his brother’s. His crib is in the office until the boys are both sleeping well enough to share a room and I am seriously beginning to think that this won’t happen until they are ready for college. Lately he has taken to chewing on Tupperware containers instead of the cute little teethers that his siblings had. Finally, he wasn’t able to wear the family Christening gown. I never found a church I was happy with in Pittsburgh and B.J. agreed to do it during Advent while I was home. That meant waiting until Lowell was five months old, so no newborn gown for him. My aunt loaned me a suit my grandmother made, so he did get baptized in something special, just not the family gown.
The horror of not being baptized in a Christening gown! This got me thinking about the service in general. To say that the service hasn’t changed much in the last few years is a bit of an understatement, since I have that service and probably the rest of the Book of Common Prayer memorized. You would think that when something is called “common” so that everyone participates, the third child would get it as equally as the first. No, I found a way to have this be different too.
Here it goes:
“I present Lowell Franklin to receive the sacrament of baptism.” I had to think about who I was presenting. Was it Frances for another speech or OT evaluation, or was Kenneth getting his hearing tested? And which sacrament was it? It seems like I anoint the sick every few weeks.
“Will you by your prayers and witness help this child to grow into the full stature of Christ?” Of course he will witness me being an excellent example of an Episcopalian. “Get in the car! We are late for church! Stop pinching and pay attention to the homily! Ugh-is it your turn to acolyte again? Man, we have to get up extra early, better skip SNL this week."
“Do you renounce Satan and all the spiritual forces of wickedness that rebel against God?” Well, this isn’t too difficult to answer. Of course I renounce wickedness! Who is going to say, “No, bring it on, please?” What else should I renounce? What counts as wicked? Too much television? Microwaved meals? French fries as a vegetable? Not making my own baby food? Using disposable instead of cloth diapers? Letting him play with germy car keys to keep him quiet in the grocery store? I am not renouncing anything that saves my sanity.
“Do you renounce all sinful desires that draw you from the love of God?” Do I have any desires anymore other than to make sure that these three grow up to be normal tax paying citizens and not serial killers? (Maybe I shouldn’t joke about the last part.)
“Do you turn to Jesus Christ and accept him as your Savior?” Yes, absolutely. This is the only time you are asked this question in any Episcopal church. Some denominations have you sing it, dance it, raise your hands up high and scream it out loud. But we ask you one time and if you say yes, we believe you and go about our merry way. I guess they assumed you told the truth the first time.
I have been an Episcopalian my entire life, except on Christmas Eve when I become a Moravian for the night. My husband kind of grew up Baptist, but only went to Sunday school. When I tried to explain an infant christening to him for Frances, he made a face and said, “You mean like in the Godfather?” Yes, that was it. Only my thoughts were a little different from the ones Al Pacino was having as he renewed his baptismal covenant. It really is applicable to any change in your life: contemplating motherhood as it pertains to having three children, knocking off the (4 or 5?) heads of the competing mafia families and becoming the new Don Corleone-same difference. See how common prayer actually is? Everyone participates!
And about the priest who baptized my son today, I have known him since I was what, nine? I am not telling any stories, because I would die if he told one on me, but thoughts did go through my head as he anointed my son with oil. Ok, I’ll share just one, “B.J. used to jump up and down on tables Time Warping from the Rocky Horror Picture Show and he just sealed Lowell as Christ’s own forever?” There is a circle of life.
Even before the Facebook boom, I couldn’t seem to ever shake my Episcopalian friends. They never leave you, ever. In some ways they are worse than the old college roommates. I think I could get swallowed by a “great fish” and they would find me some how. So I should embrace them, and I do, usually.
This is what I was thinking about as my third and last child was baptized Sunday and we welcomed him into the Episcopal faith. Maybe I should think less, and focus more. Then I won’t worry about leaving him at the Remington Grill. Again, poor third child, at least he’s ready for his spiritual journey to begin.
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