Diagram sentences
Independent eyebrow movement
Procrastinate
Write
Swim

Now, you probably knew the first four of those, if you know me at all. But I don’t get to show off my swimming ability very often. I swim like wow. Porpoises? Jealous. I was better as a child, where as a youngster I blasted through the YMCA levels to “shark” and then “junior lifeguard” before age 9, and won most of the swimming competitions I entered. Except butterfly stroke. And, well, that’s just the stupidest fucking stroke anyway. What’s intuitive or natural about flailing yourself around in the water in that manner? Showy.

I digress.

So, anyway, I swim. And I have these kids that have been afraid of swimming, not wanting to get their faces wet. And I have been the queen of patience. Until today.

I asked the 6 year old, I BEGGED her to let me throw her across the lake today.

I told her what would happen, that she would go under, but that she could hold her breath and close her eyes. At first, she ran (rather slowly, as we were both IN the lake, rather easy to catch up to …) from me. But, perhaps sensing how eager I was to get this milestone out of the way and go on to the business of teaching her to swim, to fulfill the promise of her genetics, she aquiesced!

I flung her.

She weighs 48 pounds and is 48 inches tall. I am surprisingly strong. She went pretty far. I was eager! And she went underwater. Hold on. Must place more emphasis.

MY CHILD WENT UNDERWATER, FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER.

And came up blowing and snorting, happy with herself. She spent the next hour voluntarily dunking her whole body underwater, then flinging herself up into the air in triumph!

So, today, I celebrate the first step of Kelsey’s new swimming frontier! Way to go, K!

Monday night, we walked to dinner at Brigham’s, right down the trail from our house.

Tuesday, my mother, niece, and nephew hijacked the girls and me, and we did lunch at an awesome li’l Greek diner on Mass Ave in Arlington, followed by food shopping in nearby Burlington.

Wednesday, friends invited us over to their house for dinner in Natick, followed by playing Rockband. It was my first Rockband experience, and I must say that I rock at singing. It said so right there on the game console. I rocked it at 98% my first try! So, evidently, I rock. On the way home from Natick, we stopped by another friend’s house to pick up some of the husband’s stuff and played more Rockband. I rocked more. And I must also brag on my man’s SWEET drumming skillz. Oh, yes, he has skillz.

Thursday, we had a Boston adventure, negotiating the bus and subway transit with kids with something akin to aplomb. We walked around a bit, got coffee and comic books, and managed not to get lost thanks to Allen’s mad mass transit knowledge. Although, next time I will bring my sling for Laurel, as she’s smallish and apt to be trampled in the 5-o’clock rush to get home. I held her the entire way on a crowded, standing-room-only subway. Not very comfortable.

Friday, my mom took the kids and me to Rainforest Cafe in Burlington Mall for lunch. The lunch experience was awesome for little kids, and mine were enchanted with the decor, the fish, the animatronic elephants, the volcano (towering structure of brownie, ice cream, and chocolate sauce that was teh yum!). And in the evening, I joined a few friends (and a roomful of people I don’t know yet) for some folk singing and got some me time.

Saturday, we spent an incredibly easygoing, lazy day in Maine at our friends’ lake house, swimming, boating, relaxing, and sunning ourselves. 

And Sunday we returned from our Maine trip and finally discovered that there is a floor in the bedroom/office under all those boxes! We now have a functional bedroom/office!

Altogether not a bad week!

This week, I’ve found the local swimming spot and watched my kids play in the water for 2 straight hours; watched a matinee with the kids when the temps soared near 100 degrees; got lost on the way to a friend’s house in Melrose; helped out another friend who needed emergency last-minute childcare for a few hours in Ashland (and got a close look at the traffic challenge in both directions!); got lost in Medford looking for a store; walked to my first doctor’s appointment; and may have landed a new part-time, writing-from-home gig from a former employer.

Lots of challenges remain, but I’m making the transition with little stress and, of course, a huge appetite for MORE interaction with friends. And now to convince the best friend in North Carolina that she needs to move near me, get my stupid dog back (*sigh* — I miss her), create a portal linking Florida and Alabama family so that they are nearer,  and then life will be damn-near perfect *knocking on wood*.

So… changes. Lots of ‘em. I have to get used to the sound of sirens going by outside our house, the traffic noises, as we live on a fairly busy street, the proximity of PEOPLE. They are everywhere! People walk on the sidewalk outside our house, fly by on bikes and skates and on foot on the Minuteman Trail out in back of our house. People live above us, in the second-floor apartment. It’s a return to living among people, multiplied by 100. I haven’t lived this close to others since college. I’m both frightened and excited about this dramatic change to the way I live my life.

In the end, it’s just another house. That’s what my 6 year old said to me last night at bedtime. She was letting me know that she is OK with this move. “Mommy, wherever we live, it doesn’t matter, cuz it’s the same.” And it is. I forget sometimes that big changes such as this aren’t as big if you’re little. Saying goodbye to schools, friends, neighbors was not heart-breaking for my kids. Their worlds are still small. Allen and I are the sun around which their lives revolve, and as long as that stays intact, it doesn’t really matter too much. Sure, they will miss their friends, their lives in NC, even the house we left behind. But mostly, they are fine. Eager, in fact, to experience new things in their new home and town. Life is small. I envy that a little. I’m learning from them, though. It doesn’t have to be so hard.

One thing we did have to let go of is our dog. But she is in good hands. My friend sent me this picture of Tommy yesterday. She is fine, looks a little slimmer, and appears to be resting on a leather couch. We look forward to visiting her.

Kids and dog have survived this big change. Allen loves living in a city, and is enjoying his new job. I am totally ecstatic to be living near friends and family. It’s good. Change. I’m tired, but that good tired, that muscle-sore, backaching tired that means I’m doing things that matter.

My friendships in NC will survive. Distance is not an obstacle in true friendships. And now I will get down to the business of living in a new city. After the obligatory two cups of coffee, of course.

Hello, Bostonians!

But don’t disregard that older child. Oh, no. Don’t do that. She may not win at strategizing her victories, but she’s the queen of passive aggressive. *Snf* that’s my girl!

Because, you see, the kindergartener can express herself using words. She has conquered the feat of sounding out words and using them, a secret code if you will, against her sister. Her sister who cannot yet read. Do you feel the power?  

I give you evidence of her stealth, of her victory. And the younger one? She will not know of her defeat for some time.

Kelsey Luvleeey

Laurel Stooped

Last night, we had a huge meltdown because it was Kelsey’s night to pick out the book. Today’s meltdown is about Laurel’s clothing to go to the dentist. Nothing unusual here. And then she has another meltdown because Kelsey won’t let her get in on her side of the car.

Both Kelsey and I are refusing to take the path of least resistance with Laurel and let her have her way all the time. I can tell, as Kelsey asserts herself, that she tires of all the battles and tantrums. It’s important to Kelsey that she doesn’t always give in to her sister. Part of me wishes she would in this case, but I need to let K have her own relationship with L instead of negotiating every exchange.

At the dentist, Laurel runs around like a crazy thing while I am trying to schedule a return visit for Kelsey’s mouth full of cavities. This is very unlike Laurel, as she is usually very well behaved in public places. Then, on the way out, she decides to make us wait while she counts every chair in the office before exiting. THEN, she runs back and forth on the sidewalk in front of the car, grinning at me while I’m doing the 1-2-3 count. Finally, she gets in and I strap her into her seat.

We drive to a store to fax some documents for Allen’s new employer, and I am waiting for both girls to get out so that I can push the lock button on my side, as my remote is broken. Laurel doesn’t move. I wait. She doesn’t move or say anything. Finally, at the end of my patience, I reach over and undo her seat belt and motivate her physically to get out of the car, as she slumps like a boneless chicken.

“Are you punishing me for something?” I ask, my voice frustrated.

“You wouldn’t let me wear the glass slippers” she mumbles around fingers stuck into her mouth. Big sad eyes look up at me.

Flashback to 2 hours ago: While trying to get kids out the door, I see Laurel in a pink dress, crown, and dress-up heels. I can deal with the crown. I mean, how many little girls do you see walking around with a crown on? Probably a few at least, right? But the dress up shoes are clicky, and too big, and plastic with no rubber on the soles. Not appropriate footwear for leaving the house. I ask her to please put on her shoes, and she refuses. Curls up in a ball on the floor and whines. So, I get her shoes and socks, put them on her while she is in said position, and muscle everyone out the door so that we aren’t late for our appointment.

All this plays through my mind as I’m walking my kids across the street to fax the documents.

“So, you’re sad and angry that I wouldn’t let you wear the dress-up shoes, and THAT is the reason for this behavior?”

“Uh huh,” she replies.

My child is getting her vengeance. And maybe she’s justified.

There are some things I know I need to tirelessly fight for: Parking lot safety, appropriate behavior in public places, crossing streets, required parental permission before going anywhere out of my range of vision — things where the common element is the safety of my children.

And then there are the other things.

The manual for Laurel has been updated with a note, suggesting that fighting over things such as wardrobe are in the “Is it really worthwhile” column. Yes, the glass slippers are an injury-waiting-to-happen. But, they are also important to the way she wants to identify herself. What’s the better road to take? Let her wear the dress-up shoes and risk the possibility of a boo boo. OR, take the dress-up shoes away, and with it you take away a child’s fantasy, her sense of power, of identity.

Suddenly, I am the evil stepmother, and Cinderella is a sad little four year old who will never become a princess.

This is rather long. If you’re reading it from a feed or other source, I apologize! I can’t seem to do a cut with this version of wordpress.

I checked out this site to see what our current consumption of natural resources looks like, to get an idea of our starting point. Here is a synopsis of our life as it is today. For an explanation of the measurement system used here, please read this. Basically, the measurements are in global acres, which is the approximate number of acres it takes to sustain the rate at which you’re using up earth’s resources. At the rate our family is going now, it would take 4+ earths to sustain life on this planet if everyone lived at our same usage.

Carbon footprint
I drive approximately 60 miles per day to transport kids to and from school. Together, Allen and I probably put 10,000 miles on one car, and close to that on the other car, per year in our current housing situation. We live on the outskirts of Greensboro, in a rural area. We thought we’d love it. It’s quiet, and the sun sets in our backyard every evening. But the cost in terms of fossil fuels used is pretty high. So, our carbon footprint is much higher than we’d like. Right now, with our current lifestyle, our carbon footprint equates to about 59.4 global acres/year. The national average is 91.4, so we’re far below the norm. But there is much room for improvement that will translate to big changes for our family in the coming years. More on that in a minute.

Food footprint (and some carbon)
We buy organic when we can, but we also have to be cost-conscious. And, unfortunately, buying organics and local foods can be expensive, both because of the higher price, and the fact that we have to drive out of our way to get them. The availability of good local produce is low. We can get some seasonal vegetables at our local farmer’s market, but not near enough of the fruits we consume can be found from local farms. We’re doing what we can afford. And I consider where the produce is coming from before I buy. I’ll buy oranges from Florida rather than California, because the amount of fossil fuels used to transport the fruit to my area is part of the equation. Although we live in a rural area, most of the farms in our area produce corn (not food grade, mostly) or tobacco. There is a strawberry farm nearby, but that provides a favorite fruit for just a few weeks of the year. There were more roadside stands in Rhode Island than there are here, a fact that puzzles me quite a bit, with all this land around us. Our food footprint equates to 42.9 acres/year. The national average is 65.7. If we were staying put, I would plant a vegetable and herb garden to help offset that number. We have a .75-acre lot, and there is plenty of space. But we’re not staying. Which brings me to talking about our house.

Housing footprint
We have far too much space for our family. Our meager, hand-me-down furnishings look lonely in our sprawling 2,400 square foot brand-new house. It’s more space than we need. We have central heat/air, and we try to keep the thermostat set at a reasonable temperature. It’s a very efficient house, as it’s new, so our bills are not terribly high. But the fact that we have so much space feels wasteful, and heating/cooling this much space is a definite burden. In addition, we have a lawn, and there is pressure from our neighborhood housing association to upkeep our lawn, both for the home values of our neighbors and ourselves, and to sell more houses in our development. I used to think I wanted more space, because I don’t like crowded rooms. And I thought I wanted a yard — room to run and play. But it takes gasoline in our lawn mower to keep this lawn trimmed, and watering is sometimes necessary. IF I want less crowded rooms, I need to simplify our furnishings instead and find a way to use storage space more efficiently. And if I want to run and play, I need to bring my kids to a nearby park. Overall, our housing footprint is too high, at 29.6 acres/year, close to the national average of 31.6. I’m not proud to be your average American in this regard. This number needs serious slashing.

Goods/Services Footprint
We recycle everything. Our community supports recycling, and most times our recycling trash is far more than our regular household trash. We buy recycled paper products when we can, and we don’t replace things in our house unless they cease working. We’ve had no new furniture, choosing instead to recycle furniture from friends or family, except for 6 dining room chairs I’ll be giving away before we move. Currently, our goods/services footprint equates to about 27.4 acres/year. The national average is 57.4, so we’re moving in the right direction here.

Big changes
All of this brings me to the exciting part! Change! It is happening now!

Allen is now living in Arlington, staying with friends. He began working last week at an awesome company in nearby Cambridge, and he is very happy. He flew for this relocation, as there is a dearth of affordable parking in the area he’s staying. He bought a monthly public transportation pass for the Boston area, allowing him unlimited travel on public transport to get around. He can take the bus or subway to most of his destinations. The cost is low, compared to the cost of gas and maintenance and (increasing) costs of insurance. Once we join him, we’ll be selling one of our cars. So our fuel/insurance prices will be cut almost in half.

And the carbon footprint should be changing as well. We’re relocating to a city, so shopping is closer, schools are in walking distance, public transportation is abundant and cheap. We won’t have to spend excessive amounts of money and fuel traveling to see grandparents, as my family is within a 20-mile drive instead of an 800-mile drive. Of course, we’ll still have to travel to Florida/Alabama once a year at least to see Allen’s side of the family, but we’ll try to stagger that with their visits to us to cut down costs.

We’ll be moving into an apartment with a smaller amount of square footage, which should mean a decrease in the amount of energy we consume to heat/cool. This is not guaranteed, as we don’t know about the apartment’s efficiency elements or medium of heating yet. But we’ll do our best.

There are a number of local farms that have co-ops in the Boston area, so getting fresh produce during the growing season should be somewhat easy. Since we consume almost no meat now, having adopted a mostly vegetarian diet for health reasons, the way we eat has seen a dramatic change. We don’t consume red meat at all, and very little chicken or pork. Some friends of ours are doing a meat co-op, and if we DID want to consume some meat, we could help support local farmers. We’ll continue to make conscious decisions about where our food comes from, hoping to support local agriculture or at least throw our money at companies that transport food to us with the least amount of fossil fuels possible.

As far as our goods used, we already use such things as Craig’s List, yard sales, friends, freecycle, and EBay to get slightly used things for our home. And I’m a huge fan of buying from Salvation Army or other non-profit companies for things such as clothing and furniture. In return, we donate our used things back into the system as much as possible, trying to reduce the landfill space it takes to accommodate our waste.

Overall, our upcoming move will help decrease our current usage of natural resources from a rate of approximately 160 acres/year to 101/year. We hope to keep decreasing that number as much as possible, through conscientious decision making and finding ways to offset our uses of natural resources.

What are YOU doing? Do you have suggestions for other ways we can help?

The last few conversations with Kelsey, for posterity:

Bob
Both girls have long been interested in the story of my father, who passed away in 1998. We talk about him as though he is present, which he very much is. Kelsey asked me the other day if my father was proud of me. It was a difficult question to answer. I had to extrapolate! But he always was proud of me, and I know he would be today. At the end of our discussion, K said “I miss Bob. I wish I could meet him.” It’s amazing to me how even people not present physically in our lives still take up so much space.

Discipline
Kelsey asked me if we could go to her old school to tell Ms. B that she should stop threatening the kids with “getting on yellow” and be more kind. She was very adamant about this, as I think she wanted to save her former classmates from the trauma of the green light, yellow light, red light system of school discipline. I asked her if she’d like to write about it. I hope her new school next year follows a different system.

Belief
Allen and I constantly try to shift our kids’ thinking away from stuck patterns of thought that seem to be consistent with the traditional paradigm of Christianity they are getting in their schools. I challenge them to try to think in different ways. It’s working. When I gave Kelsey “fairy kisses” on her cheek at goodnight time, and she responded “Fairies aren’t real,” she quickly edited her response to, instead, “It’s opinion that fairies aren’t real,” which, believe me, is a big step. I think it’s working to keep them a little shaken up, so that they don’t equate the things they’re learning with “truth” or what is “real.” Progress is being made to grow children who honor everyone’s beliefs and treat them with respect. Yay us!

Winning and losing
With thanks to K’s soccer coach, we now talk about how one wins at something, and how one loses. We don’t want to go the uber froo froo route of saying “everyone wins, and no one loses,” because, well, competitive sports begin at this age, and I think they are healthy. When she gets mad because she lost at tag (when she plays with the big kids), and I say to her, “Kelsey, how do you win at this game?” her reply is “By having fun. And I lose when I’m NOT having fun.” This lesson is helping in many phases of parenting Kelsey, a competitive child who is also highly emotional. And, really, it’s a good lesson for the overly motivational soccer parents on the sidelines, too.

I think I might do this more often. Some amazing conversations have passed between us, and I want to record them to remember K, version 6.01.

I can’t believe I just said those words.

And to all the moms and dads out there who do (or did) this single parenting thing full-time, all the time: you are amazing. *salutes you* (Yes, Mom, I include you in this, so you can lay off the guilt trip in the comments section)

I am an extrovert. It’s who I am. I can do the taking care of my children, the long hours of keeping myself occupied by housecleaning, packing, reading a book, doing laundry. I am extremely competent, reliable, responsible, and independent. But my brain needs feeding. I haven’t had a conversation that didn’t involve either poop or washable crayons for DAYS. I am almost to the point of stopping strangers on the side of the road to strike up a conversation. Pretty much anyone over 46 pounds will do.

My neighbor just ran from me in the midst of a somewhat inane conversation I was struggling to prolong, saying over her shoulder that she was letting me go so I could make dinner for my kids.

“Kids?” I say, the note of desperation bordering on creepy. “They don’t need dinner. I have granola bars. Would you like some Cabernet? I have …cake???”

The morning routine does not go well. Both girls fight getting out of bed like ferocious nocturnal things. I had to drag kids fighting and crying down the stairs to breakfast, coerce and threaten them into dressing, including forcing a skirt on my younger child’s body, who is enraged that the skirt is not a sun dress. It’s 35 degrees out. Tights and long sleeves today. She hits me. I scream at her. Because I don’t hit. I compromise on a wardrobe piece, and we move on to the next challenge: shoe choice. *sigh*

It takes the older child 10 minutes to slip on jeans and shirt. And 5 more to get socks and shoes on.

Meanwhile, I am taking the dog out, feeding her, getting my computer ready to go, making lunches, cleaning up breakfast, making sure the house looks nice in case they bring people to look at the house today, getting jackets and shoes, packing the car with our stuff, grabbing something for myself to eat on the way out.

The girls are ordered out the door. They slowly do so.

The fight continues in the front yard, where I have to comb my older child’s hair, as the only comb is in the car. She whines and fights and cries that she is cold. SHE had refused to put on her coat, and she was dealing with the consequences. Or rather, I was. I finally finish, get both kids in the car, get older kid to school. I find out when we get there, 20 minutes later, that the younger child was not buckled in the entire trip. She decides to tell me once we’re there. I thank all that is holy that I was driving in the right lane when that guy slammed on his brakes in front of me. Because if I had been in the left lane, I would have a very hurt preschooler. I berate myself internally to the point of tears while waiting for my children to get out of the car.

The older child is the opposite of speed to do anything this morning. It seriously takes her 5 minutes to get out of the car. I get to cry quietly to myself for 5 minutes without anyone seeing me, so go me.

We’re 4 minutes late for school.

I snuggle clingy older child, get her to join circle time, and dash out, carrying reticent younger child. Bring younger child to school. I place her in the classroom, pry off her fingers, turn to dash, and she jumps at me like a cougar, clutching at my sweater and hair as though I were a limb and she were a … drowning cougar. Teacher behind her grabs her and then, inexplicably, lets her go, to almost send me flying, and resulting in my child bashing her head on the door frame. I request a cold compress for the goose egg popping up on her forehead, and I sit in the hall at school, applying cold to the swelling. I try again to separate from her, but there is no one to help me transition her, and she is beside herself with sadness. “But if you leave, I’ll be all alone” she says.

I take her home.

Happy husband jumps online from his new job 800 miles away to tell me he’s happy, with exclamation points!

I want to break something with a hammer.

I don’t play favoritism. I charge for it. I take cash only, as you just can’t trust the credit of kids these days. My children will always know that the only true way to be a favorite in my heart is to pay me.

The real reason there are more photos of my wee one than my older one? Because the little one moves slower than the older one. Yep. That’s it. But why, besides shorter legs, does she move so slowly? Perhaps because she was held too much as a baby. Maybe her mother neglected her development by carrying her around in a sling 24 hours a day. It’s that whole attachment parenting thing, isn’t it? Yeah, you’ve been waiting with your Itoldyousos, haven’t you?

Well, we took L to the physical therapist to see if we could figure out why this child doesn’t like running much, and why she falls on her face whenever she tries. Lots of people tried to tell me that it’s just a lack of grace. I mean, genetically, she didn’t ever stand much of a chance, did she? Her father can fall over just by standing still.

We found out that our younger child has one leg that is 1/8 inch shorter than the other leg. And so, running puts her off balance, and she goes sprawling onto her face. It’s just not something I ever even considered. Yet, there it is. The physical therapist showed me the difference in length, and I felt like a complete fool. Of course. So that’s why she has that weird, jaunty little jog! Poor kid is off-kilter!

Yes, there is something we can do about it. She will be getting *inserts in her shoes very soon to take care of the imbalance and the pronation. The physical therapist thinks this may have happened as a result of the great tibia fracture of 2005. It was a key developmental time for growth, and what grows bones, you ask? Compression. And since she was favoring the leg (and in a cast for 2 months), compression didn’t happen, so the other leg got all the work and did all the growing. With the inserts, she should feel more confident in running and should fall less. Her next big growth spurt (around age 6/7) should take care of the problem. And, it’s not like she’ll live a less amazing life if it doesn’t. Do we really need to be graceful runners to have a full life?

I think I’ll sign her up for swim classes.

*The inserts issue deserves its own post, which I will write soon.