Homework

With the return of fall, homework is upon us once again.  I’m 41 years old and I still hate homework.  How is that possible?  And it seems like its harder now than it ever was.  Zoe came home last night with two books on bottlenose dolphins and said that she needed to do a report.  When I asked a few more questions I realized that she actually WANTED to do the report - it was not assigned, she just wanted to do it. Huh.

Max is a totally different story.  He had math homework last night that was just plain unbelievable.  I’m not sure who was more frustrated – him or me (although based on his screaming and writhing on the floor I'll assume it was him).  I have never liked math and I’ve never been good at it.  Unfortunately, Max ended up with that “bad at math” gene.  Last night’s homework was weights and measures.  Seriously?   My mind just does not comprehend that stuff nor do I see a real need for it. I mean really, we all have calculators now right?  We even have solar calculators so we won’t be lost during a power outage.  Not sure why I’d need to do calculations during a power outage but the fact remains that I could.

The night before Max brought home his math homework and it was all story problems.  I could feel all the breath whoosh out of me when he set it down in front of me.  “Mom, I just don’t get any of these", he said.  I turned the paper towards me, took a deep breath and started making crap up.  Really I wasn’t making it up so much as forcing him to figure it out by “pretending” that I didn’t understand it.  My pretending is VERY convincing, by the way.  Last week he asked for help with his math homework and it was fractions.  My absolute nemesis. Who does anything with fractions anymore?  If I ever have the need to utilize fractions it’s for cooking or baking and I can usually add ½ + ½ pretty well.  I actually had to Google “common denominators” and “fraction tutoring”.  Not exactly a show of confidence for a kid who is struggling.

Now my beloved husband, who is actually good at math, was no better with the homework.  You either get math or you don’t.  He does and I don’t.  Putting those two types of people together is a BAD idea.  I asked him to help Max the other night and when I came back to check on them he was yelling at Max, “HOW MANY TIMES DOES 42 GO INTO 53?  HOW MANY TIMES DOES 42 GO INTO 53?  How can you not get that???” 

Much like speaking to someone who doesn’t speak your language, speaking more loudly truly doesn’t help.

Is That a SPOT?

Ah the first day of school. Excitement is high, parents are relieved and everyone is packed and ready to go.  Zoe took the time to lay out her outfit the night before the first day of school.  She had the shirt, the pants, the socks, the shoes and even the hair accessories.  Max simply shoved a pair of shorts in my face and said, “Do these stink?”

In the morning all was going according to plan until… I heard a shriek coming from the bathroom and instinctively ran towards it thinking that someone was hurt. Upon entering the bathroom I found Zoe, near tears, staring at her shirt. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Don’t you see it??” she asked, incredulous.

“See what, sweetie?”

“My shirt!!! It has a spot on it!” She was creeping ever closer to hysteria at this point so I leaned in to take a closer look at the nefarious spot that was threatening to ruin our day.

“Honey? Sweetie? It looks kind of like a water spot to me.”

“I know” she cried, “what am I going to do??”

“Ummm, well, just throwing this out there, but we could dry it.”

“Why bother?? It’s ruined!!” and she stomped off to change her shirt.

Ok, wow. You’d think that someone had covered the kid from head to toe in boiling acid.  She freaked out over a WATER spot?  Are you kidding me??  I’ve left the house with far worse spots than that and haven’t given it a second thought.

Today we had a clothing issue (which actually began last night and continued this morning) about which shoes would be most appropriate with the outfit that she had laid out for the day. Down to the shoelaces - “Sparkly or purple, which do you think looks better?” OMG

By contrast, Max came home wearing his shirt inside out the other day. When I asked why his shirt was inside out he said, “Oh, I had to wear it for gym class and it got kind of sweaty so I just flipped it.” That’s my boy.

Swim. Bike. Run (or walk...)

I ran a triathlon yesterday. Well, it was a mini triathlon, but that still counts. The fact is that I swam, biked and ran consecutively for a good long while so that qualifies. Honestly, I never ever thought I would be able to say that I had done it. I wasn’t really even sure that I could do it. I kept asking, “What if you can’t finish?” My sister Kelly, ever the avid supporter kept replying, “You can’t quit.”

In fact, that turns out to be a lie. You can quit. Like if your bike tire explodes or you trip during the run. Halfway through the 10.7 mile bike ride I was wishing my tire would explode so I could just end the thing. I tried to be strong for the volunteers who were there to cheer us on and direct us but by the time I got to the last volunteers I was only able to gasp out “How much farther?”  I think they were a little taken aback…

The swim part was also a little trickier than I expected. There is definitely a moment of panic at the beginning of it all. Lots of arms and legs and bodies everywhere make it difficult to get your bearings. Plus, I’m a crappy swimmer. Luckily, there were rescue boats in the water you could cling to if you needed a break. Yeah, I stopped at the first one, so what? Actually, there were about 5 of us who stopped at the first boat and the poor guy in the boat looked a little nervous. We all grabbed one end and probably could’ve sunk the thing in our panicked state. I had visions of the guy hitting us over the head with the oars and screaming, “Let go!!”

The run part was fine because it was in the woods where no one could see you so I just walked it. Of course, I was able to pull it together and run the last 100 yards or so to cross the finish line but that was just for show. They had a water station in the woods where you’re supposed to run by and grab one of the waters that are being held out for you. I mastered the grabbing part but couldn’t drink it because I was moving and it was all running down the front of my shirt. Well of course, in hindsight, it occurred to me that I could have stopped.

I think the hardest part of the race though might have been the transition from swimming to biking. Imagine that you’re all wet from swimming, you’re exhausted and you’ve still got a LONG way to go, people are all around you watching, yelling and cheering and you’re trying to put on bike shorts. With wet legs. That is something I would rarely attempt in the privacy of my own bedroom but here I was fighting the good fight in public. I suppose though, there comes a time in every gal’s life where you just have to do what you have to do. And I did.

Summer Softball

I have signed up to coach my daughter’s summer softball team. I did not sign up to coach because I’m an excellent softball coach with years of experience and vast amounts of softball knowledge. No. I signed up because no one else did. I’m cool with that.

Our first game (a double header, no less) was last night. Great fun really. I ended up with a team of kids whose parents are AWESOME! Everyone was ready to jump in and help out. Fantastic! Especially since I have no idea what I’m doing.

When our girls were on the field I kept yelling out “Throw it to first base”. Joe called me over to the fence and discreetly whispered “The play isn’t at first. You want them to force an out at second or third base to stop the run.” Oh. Ok. Well then, I guess I know even less than I thought I knew. How is that even possible?? Still, I feel that the point was slightly moot since we don’t even keep score…

The kids were so darn cute. Trying to remember all of their names – no so much. Everyone kind of looks the same in a pink shirt and a batting helmet. Luckily the parents were on the sidelines cheering for whoever was nearest the ball, which helped with name recognition immensely.

In the 2.5 hours we were on the field, my daughter took 3 bathroom breaks. I’d look out to right field, where I’d put her, and she was gone. Then I’d see her standing in line at the porta potti. Note to self – fewer water breaks.

All in all, I think it went well. I doubt very much that I’ll be coaching the big leagues anytime soon but I did at least recruit a parent to send around a snack sheet. My work here is done.

To My Beloved Followers

Who am I kidding? Mom and Dad, thanks for still checking in with my blog even though I haven't posted for months. Geesh. The chaos of summer has gotten the best of me already and its only just begun.  But ok, buckling down now.

The kids are officially out of school and I'm midway through a REALLY packed week-end. Went to see "Cats" at the Wharton Center today, which ended with a fire alarm going off and us evacuating the theater and then on to a graduation party. Just getting home with Zoe who is now sick to her stomach. That's kind of what happens when your dinner consists of 14 brownies and a carrot. Of course bouncing all night on the trampoline didn't help much either.

Regardless, we're home, she's in bed, and I'm sorry to have been such a slacker on my blog. More to come in a few days. Thanks for hanging in there with me.

Happy Summer!

Julie

The Family that Travels Together....

See how I'm kind of "fake" smiling in this picture...

I think that taking a trip as a family gives you a very good picture of how your family works together as a team.  We’ve just arrived back after four days in Chicago and I’ve kind of been thinking about that ever since.  Every person seems to have a different response to being in a strange place.  Max gets (really) excited, Zoe gets nervous, Joe takes control and I start looking for bathrooms.  Seriously, where are all the damn bathrooms in Chicago???

We arrived at the hotel on Sunday and the kids immediately wanted to go swimming at the hotel pool.  Joe and I, of course, were ready to go explore the city and find great food.  Joe and I won.  Before we left home Joe got this new App on his Iphone which was super cool.  You can punch in where you want to go and it will give you walking, driving and bus directions to get there.  He was all over it.  He’d figure out where we were headed and then he’d find the nearest bus to take us there.  To be fair, it wasn’t always entirely accurate which prompted some pretty vocal complaints from the kids, of course.  (Surely you didn’t think I was doing any complaining…) Still, it got us where we needed to go most times so that was good.

Max loved the bus system.  He loved to stand up and hold onto the straps above for balance – even when there was a seat available.  Mostly he just hung on them like a monkey at the zoo.  His favorite part, I think, was the time we let him sit in the back of the bus.  There were a bunch of “20 somethings” back there and the language was pretty darn colorful.  He LOVED it.

Zoe and I made it to the American Girl doll store.  Ugh.  The women in there are CRAZY. You’d see a mom completely decked out in heels, full make-up, perfect outfit and perfect hair marching along in front of her daughters who looked like little “mini-me’s”.  Some of the mom’s seemed more excited to be there than their kids. Weird.  I overheard a couple that was riding behind me on the escalator.

Husband:   “That’s it.  I’ve already spent over a thousand dollars in here and I’m not spending a penny more.  We need to leave now.”

Wife:   “Honey, it’s not like we come here every day.  Gracie has been so excited about this trip because of this store.  Let’s just finish shopping on the lower level and then we’ll go.”

To my astonishment, he agreed.  Meanwhile I was trying to pry a pair of $22 slippers out of Zoe's clinging hands.  I ended up spending $40 and I felt THAT was excessive!

This is not to say that the trip was without it’s trials.  On our final day, we went to the Lincoln Park Zoo.  The issue started right inside the gate.  Joe wanted to get his hands on a map right away.  I thought we could just wander around and look at stuff.  (“Look kids – seals!”)  He was adamant and we began our march towards the gift shop (though I did stop and look at the seals…).  I was being a bit of a smart *ss because it was the end of the trip and I wanted to do things my way.  Within earshot of Joe (and in a very childish way) I started saying to Max, “Well, some people believe that life is all about the destination.  Myself, well, I think the journey is far more important.”

Joe, overhearing this, shot back “That’s cool as long as you don’t mind arriving at the destination without all your stuff.”  A blatant reference to the fact that I had misplaced (more likely thrown away) all of our cell phone and Ipod chargers somewhere between the train and the hotel.

Well.  That turned the worm for sure.  By the time we arrived at the penguin exhibit, we were not speaking.  At one point I said to the kids, “Look at that cute penguin over there! I think he’s going to jump in the water!”  When they went to investigate I turned to Joe and said, through clenched teeth, “You’d better just knock it off.  Do you honestly think that I don’t feel bad enough about the stupid chargers without you rubbing it in?”  I was able to get the smile plastered back on my face just as the kids arrived.  To Joe’s credit, he apologized to me in the botanical garden house a little bit later.

All in all another great trip to Chicago with lots of fun memories.

Is Nutella Poisonous to Dogs?

The kids are on a new lunch kick. They want me to send in these “snack wraps” that are made out of a flour tortilla which is then filled with peanut butter and jelly or peanut butter and Nutella. Truth be told I only came up with it when I went to pack lunches one morning and found that we were out of bread. So I tried to put an international spin on things and push the wraps. Anyway, they bought it and they love them.

So yesterday they came home from school and asked for snacks. Naturally, I made a few wraps and passed them out. About ½ an hour later Zoe appeared in the kitchen holding a half chewed and kind of drooly looking wrap. “I found this on my floor,” she said with disgust.  “I think Sugar (the miniature schnauzer) got into it”.

Then Joe walked in. He really did used to love the dog. Seriously, when we first got her he was never without her, sometimes even carrying her in the pocket of his overalls while working outside. It was adorable. But now he doesn’t like her. I’m not sure what happened – he complains that she’s too fat and she’s always lurking around the kitchen (to which I take personal offense…) – but he’s just not that fond of her.

Let me preface this event by saying that I was about ¾ of the way into a pretty elaborate dinner preparation and I was very focused. As I was stirring something and sautéing something else, Zoe entered with her proclamation of blame on the dog. Joe took the half eaten wrap and was walking towards Sugar with it in a menacing way– not unlike walking towards a dog with a rolled up newspaper but, you know,  with Nutella. He was saying “SUGAR. Bad Dog. What did you do?”

As this point she came over to me because I am her protector from all things great and small. Whether it’s a feisty chicken or a thunderstorm, she can count on me to protect her. So she was huddled behind me while I was trying to tend to the stovetop and tell Joe to leave her alone.  At that point, Max entered the room and thrust the phone into my hands.  I answered the phone and it was my mother in law asking if I’ve had a chance to check my email and show the kids a new game she had sent.

A gal can only do so much. With the phone tucked under my chin I shifted things on the stovetop and turned to Joe. “Knock it off. She gets it, ok?”  But he loves to tease her and see her get upset so he continued to harangue her. My poor mother in law had to witness the whole mess on the phone. Zoe upset over the loss of her wrap, Joe harassing the dog and me trying desperately not to burn dinner. Max was probably up to something interesting as well but I didn’t have time to check.  Sometimes I just feel like one, big, flailing mess, you know?