The water problem in my house is fixed. Well, at least the water is not coming in my house anymore. I also cannot say it was fun to see a trench in my crawl space with water and wetness in it. Maybe it wasn't a river, but it was a tiny creek.
The water proofer was a wonderful man. Not to big of a guy. He had an accent and was determined to fix the problem. He was always dressed comfortable with work clothes(and crocks)which I took to give him a little flair. When everything was done and I was inspecting the work. I got to see my new sump pump run. Naturally the other one is still going also. My water proofer friend was really hoping the first pump would run less after he put the second one in. I told him not to worry, they can now help each other out. He laughed and said with his accent, "yeah, they are buddies." I told him I would name them so they could be good friends.
I gave it some thought. I think I will name our first pump. Ernie (as in Ernie and Bert) He is shorter, lower on the ground, much noisier, and in the past has been known to cause trouble. The second pump is named Bert. I can tell it really wants to do the right thing. It has a particular place and a clear job to do. It is already working hard in a no nonsense way. It is deeper in depth (so taller than Ernie) and much quieter. He doesn't seem to want to cause a commotion. I hope Ernie and Bert have fun together and don't get tired working hard. Just like the original Ernie and Bert, I am sure they will be together a LONG time.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Children are like Orgres and Onions, they have layers
This title is from the movie Shrek. My children are of an age that they LOVED Shrek. I watched it ALOT. I knew and still know lots of lines. Yesterday was a fairly typical day in my current life. It was actually kind of quiet. I got to walk the dog and there was only one event that the mom shuttle service needed to get to and from, karate. We return home from karate, and even in the van, storm clouds are brewing. My older daughter is starting an argument with my younger daughter. I step in to keep some order. The fight then moves to me.
The point of upset seemed to be that my older daughter takes issue with my younger daughter getting so many "rewards" at school. It is bribery, it is not fair. After awhile I explain that if the teacher's system upsets her so much she can take it up with Jenny's teacher. Then the first layer is exposed. She does not really care about rewards but is upset that Jenny ALWAYS has the nice teachers. She wants ME to go and get Jenny's teacher switched. I won't do that, so she wants assurances that she will get a nice teacher next year. I point out that next year she will have many teachers in middle school, that with probability alone, she should get someone nice. Still not good enough. I need to "fix" it for her. She gives examples of other moms she KNOWS changed things for their children. I tell her no. That I won't do that now or ever. I can't follow her around the rest of her life, demanding her bosses be responsible and nice. She does not have to like her teachers, she does not, (and in all likelihood, may not) like her boss when she grows up. That is life. There are different kinds of teachers, moms, and bosses. We all do things differently. The tears continue. Why is it like that?, she wails. I reply, it is the "Circle of Life" Not a perfect metaphor, but my breaking into the song gets some levity into the situation.
Finally things calm down. But there is yet another layer coming. My daughter explains how she was wronged in karate about her place in line. Where you stand in karate is a BIG thing. It is rank order by belt and then age. Melissa was pushed out of her spot by a couple of other girls who then covered for each other. I am not sure the exact story. I do know there are more tears from my child. Sometimes her exact place in line bothers her sometimes it doesn't.(I was also informed she usually did not mess with the boys about it because it is more of a pain) I tell her to stick up for herself if it bothers her. The other children in this tale are younger than her (although same rank) and are friends. I am not so sure if it was a battle over rank or them wanting to stand together and Melissa was in the way.
We finally have reached out end of upset. I get to make dinner and move forward to bedtime. Later, I know I will be hungry and want something sweet. I am thinking, a parfait. It has layers and everyone loves parfaits!
The point of upset seemed to be that my older daughter takes issue with my younger daughter getting so many "rewards" at school. It is bribery, it is not fair. After awhile I explain that if the teacher's system upsets her so much she can take it up with Jenny's teacher. Then the first layer is exposed. She does not really care about rewards but is upset that Jenny ALWAYS has the nice teachers. She wants ME to go and get Jenny's teacher switched. I won't do that, so she wants assurances that she will get a nice teacher next year. I point out that next year she will have many teachers in middle school, that with probability alone, she should get someone nice. Still not good enough. I need to "fix" it for her. She gives examples of other moms she KNOWS changed things for their children. I tell her no. That I won't do that now or ever. I can't follow her around the rest of her life, demanding her bosses be responsible and nice. She does not have to like her teachers, she does not, (and in all likelihood, may not) like her boss when she grows up. That is life. There are different kinds of teachers, moms, and bosses. We all do things differently. The tears continue. Why is it like that?, she wails. I reply, it is the "Circle of Life" Not a perfect metaphor, but my breaking into the song gets some levity into the situation.
Finally things calm down. But there is yet another layer coming. My daughter explains how she was wronged in karate about her place in line. Where you stand in karate is a BIG thing. It is rank order by belt and then age. Melissa was pushed out of her spot by a couple of other girls who then covered for each other. I am not sure the exact story. I do know there are more tears from my child. Sometimes her exact place in line bothers her sometimes it doesn't.(I was also informed she usually did not mess with the boys about it because it is more of a pain) I tell her to stick up for herself if it bothers her. The other children in this tale are younger than her (although same rank) and are friends. I am not so sure if it was a battle over rank or them wanting to stand together and Melissa was in the way.
We finally have reached out end of upset. I get to make dinner and move forward to bedtime. Later, I know I will be hungry and want something sweet. I am thinking, a parfait. It has layers and everyone loves parfaits!
Monday, March 8, 2010
We Two Are One
The title of this blog comes from a Eurythmics song from long ago. I have been married almost 15 years. The time I have known my husband, is of course, longer. We met in college, at least I was still in college (he had graduated)
, we dated, and in a story to long for right now, we got married.
When I met Jack he lived in a house. He shared rent with other college types. The house itself had a title. "The Couch Museum and Heartbreak Hotel". The title eluded to the quota of a minimum of 5 couches in the home at any one time. The Heartbreak Hotel, well you know how guys are. The tales of this home are to numerous to mention and we are waiting for the book to be written by our friend Joe anyway.
The thing about couches is that you lay on them and fall asleep. Jack in particular was good at this. As our time together progressed and as we had children our thinking and similarities have grown. The children can ask a question and we will give the same answer, at the same time. I am not amazed by this, although it does annoy the children to no end. (mostly Melissa)
The reason for my current thoughts has to do with the fact that Jack is in Tennessee and I am here. Currently I am the "single parent" a good part of the time. Never fear though, the time I have known Jack has rubbed off on me. Recently on more than one occasion I have fallen asleep with the children at bedtime. (not unlike Jack and the couches)
I have also been lucky enough to surround myself with other friends who replicate Jack. While at a friends house for a sleepover, the children were playing a game using blankets. The dad in this situation explained the history of each blanket and why we should not be walking on them. As the last blanket was picked up, my children asked what was special about that blanket? (Because this blanket had not history or he could not remember I am guessing) He replied that a pattern had been established for picking up blankets and the history of this particular blanket did not really matter. My daughter replied to me when sharing this story, "He sounded just like daddy." In all honesty it was a very Jack response to the question.
These close friends of mine ( and others in my village) have been there to be the kind, rough housing person for my children through busy work phases of Jack's, grad school for Jack, and the current temporary move of my husband. Over time I have grown and blended with Jack in wonderful ways. I am blessed also to have these people to fill in any seams as Jack and forge along in life and it's changes.
, we dated, and in a story to long for right now, we got married.
When I met Jack he lived in a house. He shared rent with other college types. The house itself had a title. "The Couch Museum and Heartbreak Hotel". The title eluded to the quota of a minimum of 5 couches in the home at any one time. The Heartbreak Hotel, well you know how guys are. The tales of this home are to numerous to mention and we are waiting for the book to be written by our friend Joe anyway.
The thing about couches is that you lay on them and fall asleep. Jack in particular was good at this. As our time together progressed and as we had children our thinking and similarities have grown. The children can ask a question and we will give the same answer, at the same time. I am not amazed by this, although it does annoy the children to no end. (mostly Melissa)
The reason for my current thoughts has to do with the fact that Jack is in Tennessee and I am here. Currently I am the "single parent" a good part of the time. Never fear though, the time I have known Jack has rubbed off on me. Recently on more than one occasion I have fallen asleep with the children at bedtime. (not unlike Jack and the couches)
I have also been lucky enough to surround myself with other friends who replicate Jack. While at a friends house for a sleepover, the children were playing a game using blankets. The dad in this situation explained the history of each blanket and why we should not be walking on them. As the last blanket was picked up, my children asked what was special about that blanket? (Because this blanket had not history or he could not remember I am guessing) He replied that a pattern had been established for picking up blankets and the history of this particular blanket did not really matter. My daughter replied to me when sharing this story, "He sounded just like daddy." In all honesty it was a very Jack response to the question.
These close friends of mine ( and others in my village) have been there to be the kind, rough housing person for my children through busy work phases of Jack's, grad school for Jack, and the current temporary move of my husband. Over time I have grown and blended with Jack in wonderful ways. I am blessed also to have these people to fill in any seams as Jack and forge along in life and it's changes.
Just Say No to Drugs
Good Old Nancy Reagan right? The slogan that just keeps on going. In our house we do make an attempt to use drugs as needed and for a specific purpose instead of a multi - symptom solution. My biggest isuse is my children won't take pills. They are now old enough to dislike liquid "Kids" medicine. But they still will not choke down a sudafed.
Thank goodness Big Pharma provides me with chewable, meltaways, and gummys! yum! Recently however, Melissa needed chewable Motrin. Orange, NOT Grape flavor, or you may as well come home empty handed. I went to 3 stores and found no Motrin. ANYWHERE! As I said, we don't use this stuff often so I begin to get that, maybe they stopped making feeling in my stomach. Trying one more store seemed easier than getting my child to actually swallow a pill so off I go.
It seems, Motrin has been recalled. That is the bad news. The really bad news is who knows when it will be back on the market? I have been making my children drink the Motrin. I give it to them in the mini plastic shot glass it comes with instead of syringe to make them feel more grown up.
The other drug story is about my mom. Mom had surgery and they gave her pain killers. Apparently as we all know, narcotic, pain killers can do strange things. Mom got dehydrated and hyped up on pain meds. She pulled out her IV and began to leave the hospital. (PULLED out the IV!, they were REALLY good pain meds, OUCH!)
She wandered into the hall where a kind nurse, asked, "Where do you think your going Mrs. Strommen?" My mom calmly replied she was done with her surgery and it was time to go home. She also did not take kindly to going back to bed. Thankfully my dad and sisters were able to keep tabs on her until she was hydrated and feeling better, although there was a lot of grumbling, and hrumphing from my mom apparently.
The reason this story is so amusing to me is the juxtaposition of my mom the go getter and feisty transformed into the more fiery and fierce. I am glad she is feeling better. My conversations have been pleasant and she did not bark at me once. I can only take that sort of thing from my pre - teen daughter, I don't need it from both sides!
Thank goodness Big Pharma provides me with chewable, meltaways, and gummys! yum! Recently however, Melissa needed chewable Motrin. Orange, NOT Grape flavor, or you may as well come home empty handed. I went to 3 stores and found no Motrin. ANYWHERE! As I said, we don't use this stuff often so I begin to get that, maybe they stopped making feeling in my stomach. Trying one more store seemed easier than getting my child to actually swallow a pill so off I go.
It seems, Motrin has been recalled. That is the bad news. The really bad news is who knows when it will be back on the market? I have been making my children drink the Motrin. I give it to them in the mini plastic shot glass it comes with instead of syringe to make them feel more grown up.
The other drug story is about my mom. Mom had surgery and they gave her pain killers. Apparently as we all know, narcotic, pain killers can do strange things. Mom got dehydrated and hyped up on pain meds. She pulled out her IV and began to leave the hospital. (PULLED out the IV!, they were REALLY good pain meds, OUCH!)
She wandered into the hall where a kind nurse, asked, "Where do you think your going Mrs. Strommen?" My mom calmly replied she was done with her surgery and it was time to go home. She also did not take kindly to going back to bed. Thankfully my dad and sisters were able to keep tabs on her until she was hydrated and feeling better, although there was a lot of grumbling, and hrumphing from my mom apparently.
The reason this story is so amusing to me is the juxtaposition of my mom the go getter and feisty transformed into the more fiery and fierce. I am glad she is feeling better. My conversations have been pleasant and she did not bark at me once. I can only take that sort of thing from my pre - teen daughter, I don't need it from both sides!
Thursday, March 4, 2010
No Van is an Island
I am a woman, mother, teacher, and wife. As such, I am also a multi - tasker. I am often doing many things at the same time. One of my favorite gifts from my husband is my phone head set. I get to TALK on the phone (Chatty Cathy) AND dust, sweep, do dishes, cook dinner, or even pay bills. It is great!
One of the only places I do not like to multi - task is the car. I don't often talk on the phone in the car. I don't text. (I am not sure of those who do, HOW they do that?) I just need to drive and focus on driving. You need to remember, I do not have the greatest sense of direction and to this day I still need to think about where I am going and why. If I go on auto pilot, I am usually auto piloting to gymnastics when I NEED to be going to karate.
The blessing and curse of Delaware is that you can't really get lost, stay on any road long enough and you will come to another road you know. (in which case I would turn the the wrong direction) The curse is that so many roads connect there is often 7 different ways to get somewhere. So you can pick one way and take 15 extra minutes to get there as you morph your choice of path on the way.
My other problem in the car is that it is sometimes relaxing to focus on the driving. You may be surprised at what children talk about. When my daughter starts discussing who ate what at lunch, how gross it was, who trade who for what treat. I will admit I start to tune out. Inevitably comes a question and I am doomed. "Ummm," I say, "can you repeat that?" I can sometimes cop out with the, " I'm sorry honey, I was listening to that story on NPR." During this time on my own as temporary single parent I spend a lot of time in the car. I never knew how it would become a island of single task escape. I think I will continue to relish it as I can.
One of the only places I do not like to multi - task is the car. I don't often talk on the phone in the car. I don't text. (I am not sure of those who do, HOW they do that?) I just need to drive and focus on driving. You need to remember, I do not have the greatest sense of direction and to this day I still need to think about where I am going and why. If I go on auto pilot, I am usually auto piloting to gymnastics when I NEED to be going to karate.
The blessing and curse of Delaware is that you can't really get lost, stay on any road long enough and you will come to another road you know. (in which case I would turn the the wrong direction) The curse is that so many roads connect there is often 7 different ways to get somewhere. So you can pick one way and take 15 extra minutes to get there as you morph your choice of path on the way.
My other problem in the car is that it is sometimes relaxing to focus on the driving. You may be surprised at what children talk about. When my daughter starts discussing who ate what at lunch, how gross it was, who trade who for what treat. I will admit I start to tune out. Inevitably comes a question and I am doomed. "Ummm," I say, "can you repeat that?" I can sometimes cop out with the, " I'm sorry honey, I was listening to that story on NPR." During this time on my own as temporary single parent I spend a lot of time in the car. I never knew how it would become a island of single task escape. I think I will continue to relish it as I can.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Proud Parenting Moment #23 - The Chair
Do you ever have those days when you know you are in trouble? A situation comes up, you make mistakes, lose your temper. do things not quite the way you would like? I call those "Proud Parenting Moments". Everyone has them and we all need to share them so we don't feel alone.
The other day my children decided to fight about a chair. Or rather who gets to sit in "The Chair". This chair is one of the oldest in our house. It was the recliner used in the nursery. It has more spit up and other waste on it that I am shocked anyone wants to sit on it.
My children decide during a stressful day, or rather week, of mine to fight about who gets to sit in this chair to do homework. There are tears and anger, over A CHAIR. (It is not like no other POSSIBLE seats exist in the house) I try to understand and explain that it is only a chair. There is still much upset. One won't give it up and the other is upset. The older girl argues the younger is just crying to get her way and it is not fair. I feel myself begin to lose it. I call Jack. My lovely husband can tell there is trouble by the tone in my voice. I say, "Are you busy? Can you talk?" He replies, " I am in a meeting but I can step out."
This of course makes me feel even worse. Now my husband is missing work because his children may not be alive when he comes home over a chair and I can't handle the situation calmly. I speak to him. He tells me not to worry and calms me down. I myself do not want to be upset over a chair and I begin to lose it. The girls, HATE IT when I lose it and begin to get more upset. I banish all children from the chair for today and the REST of the WEEK.
Thoughts race in my head about how I will put police tape on the chair to make sure they don't sit on it. I think about making a sign to hang on the chair, "Children in this house ARE NOT ALLOWED to sit in this chair due to fighting." I want to leave it there for house showings. The children continue to fuss. I pull out the big guns. This chair does not need to move to Tennessee, I say. Now the girls are really in tears.
We have 20 minutes of discussion about a chair and who gets to sit in it. I give up and do some cleaning. My older daughter comes to me upset. (adding 10 more minutes to the chair discussion and issue) Toward the end, my upset daughter apologizes for not giving up the chair. We discuss how it is just a chair. She says, "I know that, but sometimes, I just can't give up, I want to win."
What do you do with that? I am not happy with raising my voice and fussing at the kids for fighting over a chair. I am not perfect. My daughter admits she is not perfect and is upset. I just want to hug her and move on. How I acted did not make me so proud, but her admission, that made a proud parenting moment.
The other day my children decided to fight about a chair. Or rather who gets to sit in "The Chair". This chair is one of the oldest in our house. It was the recliner used in the nursery. It has more spit up and other waste on it that I am shocked anyone wants to sit on it.
My children decide during a stressful day, or rather week, of mine to fight about who gets to sit in this chair to do homework. There are tears and anger, over A CHAIR. (It is not like no other POSSIBLE seats exist in the house) I try to understand and explain that it is only a chair. There is still much upset. One won't give it up and the other is upset. The older girl argues the younger is just crying to get her way and it is not fair. I feel myself begin to lose it. I call Jack. My lovely husband can tell there is trouble by the tone in my voice. I say, "Are you busy? Can you talk?" He replies, " I am in a meeting but I can step out."
This of course makes me feel even worse. Now my husband is missing work because his children may not be alive when he comes home over a chair and I can't handle the situation calmly. I speak to him. He tells me not to worry and calms me down. I myself do not want to be upset over a chair and I begin to lose it. The girls, HATE IT when I lose it and begin to get more upset. I banish all children from the chair for today and the REST of the WEEK.
Thoughts race in my head about how I will put police tape on the chair to make sure they don't sit on it. I think about making a sign to hang on the chair, "Children in this house ARE NOT ALLOWED to sit in this chair due to fighting." I want to leave it there for house showings. The children continue to fuss. I pull out the big guns. This chair does not need to move to Tennessee, I say. Now the girls are really in tears.
We have 20 minutes of discussion about a chair and who gets to sit in it. I give up and do some cleaning. My older daughter comes to me upset. (adding 10 more minutes to the chair discussion and issue) Toward the end, my upset daughter apologizes for not giving up the chair. We discuss how it is just a chair. She says, "I know that, but sometimes, I just can't give up, I want to win."
What do you do with that? I am not happy with raising my voice and fussing at the kids for fighting over a chair. I am not perfect. My daughter admits she is not perfect and is upset. I just want to hug her and move on. How I acted did not make me so proud, but her admission, that made a proud parenting moment.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Tick Tock
I am a person who likes to be organized. I like a plan. Plans can be revised or tweaked. But without a plan, you have nothing! I also like lists. There is satisfaction in crossing things off a list. Even if you don't get it done, you can write it on tomorrows list and keep at it. I think this is a part of my personality. I have done some sort of list system for years, in high school, college, teaching, and even at home.
I have a weekly schedule which breaks the tasks and errands which need to be completed into bite size chunks. Sure, things don't get done, but for the most part they get done or at least not forgotten. To that end, I also often segment my life by a timer. How long do I have before we leave for karate?, before I need to start dinner?, to clean the bathroom?, pick up the girls from school? The timer gets set and off we go.
I have a friend who used to come over and constantly notice my timers. He always felt a bomb was ready to go off or something big was going to happen. I was ALWAYS counting down to SOMETHING. I explained my system and how I had to keep organized in order to get everything done. He would remind me that he had a key to my house and would sneak in and clear my dry/erase calender in order to give me some free time. (He struck terror in my heart)
I am not sure when this all started with me. I do have clear memories of my mother setting a timer and sitting down to eat some saltines with butter as a break. She would quietly eat and read a magazine or newspaper. In that same way, I carve out time for me to exercise, eat sweets, walk the dog, or read. So although I am always counting down, dividing my time, accounting for it, I also make time for me. This is what keeps me sane. Right now "me" time maybe a little less, but it is also relished all the more. The reduction in guilt when I sit down with that ice cream and cake almost, ALMOST, makes it all worth it.
I have a weekly schedule which breaks the tasks and errands which need to be completed into bite size chunks. Sure, things don't get done, but for the most part they get done or at least not forgotten. To that end, I also often segment my life by a timer. How long do I have before we leave for karate?, before I need to start dinner?, to clean the bathroom?, pick up the girls from school? The timer gets set and off we go.
I have a friend who used to come over and constantly notice my timers. He always felt a bomb was ready to go off or something big was going to happen. I was ALWAYS counting down to SOMETHING. I explained my system and how I had to keep organized in order to get everything done. He would remind me that he had a key to my house and would sneak in and clear my dry/erase calender in order to give me some free time. (He struck terror in my heart)
I am not sure when this all started with me. I do have clear memories of my mother setting a timer and sitting down to eat some saltines with butter as a break. She would quietly eat and read a magazine or newspaper. In that same way, I carve out time for me to exercise, eat sweets, walk the dog, or read. So although I am always counting down, dividing my time, accounting for it, I also make time for me. This is what keeps me sane. Right now "me" time maybe a little less, but it is also relished all the more. The reduction in guilt when I sit down with that ice cream and cake almost, ALMOST, makes it all worth it.
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