Shopping with mom

My mother takes me shopping all the time.  Not the kind where she buys me stuff and I come home with bags of fun clothes and items to try out, but the kind where she lets me ride in the passenger seat of her car with my two kids in back as we shuttle to and fro to get the things on our lists.

This week I had perused the ads in the Sunday paper and found nothing that tickled my fancy, so I happily planned to spend the week at home cleaning bathrooms and filing bills.  So when Mom called on Monday morning and said she had a few places to go and did I want to come along? I jumped at the chance, not expecting to actually purchase anything.  She had a few specific things to get and I just went to browse.

We spent time at the Mill End Store where she returned a rug and I was chagrined with how much they wanted me to pay for music note fabric; then JoAnns (where she bought nothing and I spend $20 on a pattern, thread and material for a new dress); and finally Winco, where I ended up buying another $10 in groceries even though I'd already bought my monthly groceries LAST week.  There's thirty dollars I'll never see again.  But it wasn't like I broke the bank, so I wasn't ashamed.

Tuesday morning comes and Mom calls me up again: "I have to go to IKEA today, do you want to come?"  IKEA?  Yes!  There isn't anything I need there, but so what?

But first we stop at Home Goods to look for a rug for mom - she found nothing, but I bought something.  Then to IKEA, where, again, she bought nothing but I spent $40.  Hmm.  Then we ran in to the huge Target there at the airport (lovely.  Huge store with no customers - a dream) and I spent another $10.  Drat.  Husband will not be doing a happy dance this week.

After two days of 'helping' Mom find the things she needed to buy, she bought nothing and I bought everything.  Score two points for Mom.  I did, however, tell my mother as she dropped us back home that if she was going to any other stores this week don't call me.

Laundry, Laundry

Laundry, laundry, so good to me,
Laundry, laundry, it was all I hoped it would be
Oh laundry morning, laundry morning couldn't guarantee
That laundry evening you would still be here with me.

 Laundry, laundry, can't trust that day,
Laundry, laundry, sometimes it just turns out that way
Oh laundry morning, you gave me no warning of what was to be
Oh laundry, laundry, how you could leave and not take me.

 Every other day, every other day,
Every other day of the week is fine, yeah
But whenever laundry comes, but whenever laundry comes
You can find me cryin' all of the time

 Laundry laundry . . . . .

IEP meeting

Right after school ended on Monday I met with Boy One's 'school team' for our annual Individualized Education Program (or something like that.  I actually don't recall for certain what the initials IEP stand for.  My bad.).

This is the third year that we have held these meetings (two years of kindergarten and this year in first grade) and it's always his classroom teacher, the learning specialist, speech therapist, autism specialist, his classroom aid, and myself.  This year we were missing his occupational therapist, which is fine because he doesn't like her and has thus far refused to comply with holding the pencil the way she says to. 

I brought Girl and Boy One with me to the meeting in the first grade classroom and for the full hour and fifteen minutes they played educational games on the class computers and read books quietly to themselves.  The other team members commented as the meeting came to a close how impressed they were with how quiet and well behaved the kids were.  I wanted to gloat, but managed to bite my tongue.  After all, we had just talked for an hour about the behavioral issues my son has in class - gloating would have been a bit uncalled for self-serving unreasonable cheesy.

Things I remember from the meeting:

• Boy One will still throw himself on the floor if he doesn't get to choose the job he wants for the week.
• He has certainly surpassed the eight-words-per-utterance goal that the speech therapist set for him.  He tends to tell her "I don't want to go to speech today.  I'm not happy.  I want to stay in class.  I haven't finished my illustrating.  You already took me out of class once, that's enough.  I not happy about this."  He can be very vocal when the situation warrants it.
• Everyone agreed that Boy One is smart.  Too much so.  (He gets that from me.)  And stubborn, too.   (He gets that from his dad.)
• He is right on track with the other first graders with math, reading and writing (!).  So much so, that he no longer has to go to Resource Room everyday for tutoring.  This is FANTASTIC news, since he abhors being separated from his classmates (he's removed from class two to three times a day for individualized instruction - he hates that) and doing so causes most of his moods.  Woo-hoo!
• His internal clock is more accurate than the atomic clock - no one needs a watch as long as he's around.  This annoys his teachers to no end.
• He still doesn't want to participate in group discussions because he takes longer to process his answer than the other kids and feels lost when pushed to perform on the spot.  But that seems to be pretty common to people in general.
• Best news: Boy Two can ride the short bus to school with Boy One next year, even though he's not in a specialized program!  Boy Two swelled with pride upon hearing this.

I conveniently forgot just how long these meetings tend to run, and ended up leaving Boy Two at his kindergarten for a full fifty minutes after he was dismissed for the day.  Again, my bad. 

Good thing the school secretary likes me. 

Or, did.

We'll call it a draw

Our poor little family has had a terrible time with illness the last two weeks.

The boys and Girl came down with a stomach flu (Boy Two brought it home from school, wasn't that thoughtful?), but it was pretty mild with them.  Then Daddy and I came down with it and it wiped us out.  For five days I couldn't eat anything, and just the smells from the kitchen were enough to make me nauseous.  It was like being pregnant, without the benefit of having a baby to show for it.  I lolled around on the couch Friday through Tuesday and was grateful for my sweet kids: Boy One took charge of making meals for his siblings, while Boy Two and Girl brought beverages and blankets to Daddy and I and gave us kisses. 

If you have to be sick, its much nicer to be sick when your kids are old enough to take care of you.

Then Tuesday through Friday Daddy was out of town (well, away from home).  He drove out to a client site in Boardman, then drove back to downtown Portland for work supplies, then back to Boardman, then got trapped in Hood River due to the Bad Drivers creating havoc in the Bad Weather, etc., etc.

While he was gone Girl was feeling worse and worse due to complications from her stomach flu and the colds that all the children were warding off.  On Wednesday night after I put the kids to bed I remembered that Girl had asked to sleep upstairs in my bed the next time Daddy was out of town.  She was still awake and amenable to the idea when I went to her room to check on her, so we gathered her Strawberry Shortcake blanket, Dolly, Fauna, princess pillow, cup of water and flower night light (whew!) and lugged them upstairs.

Now, I was a little selfish and reluctant to share my bed because, frankly, my best nights' sleep are when Husband is out of town and I have the bed to myself.  Finally, no one is hogging the blankets or snoring, there are no alarms waking me up at 3:30am or repeated midnight phone calls from frustrated employees or clients.  But I chivalrously gave up my coveted solitude and shared with my daughter.

What a great decision!  I don't usually go to sleep at 7:30pm, but I made an exception.  She watched me slather my hands with my favorite Lemon Cream lotion (a regular nighttime ritual) and I offered to put it on her hands, too, which she loved.  I also rubbed it on her feet, something I've never done before.  Then we laid in the dark and I sang 'her' song to her (Just A Closer Walk With Thee) and a few more hymns, like I sometimes do during the day while I work.  That led to some good conversation about God and Mama's usual Wednesday night Sabbath routine.  I find that of the three, Girl is the most sensitive of our children to our faith, and I'm always trying to exploit that.  Finally, she fell asleep telling me a very long, rambling, involved story the gist of which I don't remember in the slightest. 

I have to remember to do this again.  The children really enjoy the undivided attention when they get it, which isn't often enough.

Daddy finally came home late Friday night and was home Saturday morning (before heading back to Boardman), during which time he took Girl to the doctor's and she was diagnosed with a UTI.  Ick.  But at last, after three fulls days of antibiotics, she seems to be back to normal. **huge sigh of relief**

The best part of the last ten horrendous days was going grocery shopping yesterday and seeing the aisles, mounds, mountains of bulk Easter candy just waiting to be purchased and brought home and displayed in little glass jars to tempt and discourage us.  I restrained myself and only bought six kinds.  I'll get the rest next month.

Snow . . . . or something like it

Finally, finally, our area received some snow this winter.  Even thought our home is at the top of the rise here in town, it's still considered 'valley floor' ground.  And we're a few miles south of all of the snow storms and freezing gusts that blow through the Portland area, so our chances of being excused from school for bad weather is exceptionally rare.

But today, success!  With no snow on the roads and almost a quarter inch on the ground, the school district canceled school for the entire day.

7:45am - the outside temperature begins to warm and the kids are begging to play in the snow.  We gather our  gear and dress.
8:00am - lots of complaining about "I can't find the gloves I want" and "My boots don't fit" and "Obe says we should wear two coats when we play outside."
8:05am - leave the house, throw a few snow balls at each other in the driveway, take some pictures.

8:10am - Girl needs to go inside, having forgotten to answer nature's call before we left like Mama reminded.  She then decides to stay indoors.
8:14am - Boy Two needs new gloves, as his are wet and cold (huh, who knew?).
8:17am - boys and I throw snowballs out front with a neighbor girl who goes to school with my kids.
8:25am - Boy Two gets snow on his face, thereby causing him to break down in inconsolable tears and throws a temper tantrum as he returns to the house to work on his attitude.
8:31am - Boy One, the neighbor girl and I have used all available snow in the yard/drive and scraped all the cars of their snow burdens.  Boy One decides he is finished for the day.  Mama apologizes to neighbor girl for her children's lack of fortitude and reluctantly goes back inside.

Not exactly like the hours of snow play when I was a kid, but I'm telling myself that something is better than nothing.  At least we got a little fresh air after the week we just spent indoors with the stomach flu (ick).

The Dangerous Book for Boys

I do a lot of reading and, as a result, collect a lot of quotable materials for my own amusement and to share with others.  I recently re-discovered this one and still admired it, thus assuming others would, too.  This book explains a lot of sports and tricks that are useful for young men, and then throws in these tidbits about how to treat girls.

Advice on girls from ‘The Dangerous Book for Boys’

1. It is important to listen[to girls].  Human beings are often very self-centered and like to talk about themselves.  In addition, it’s an easy subject if someone is nervous.  It is good advice to listen closely—unless she has also been given this advice, in which case an uneasy silence could develop, like two owls sitting together.
2. Be careful with humor.  It is very common for boys to try to impress girls with a string of jokes, each one more desperate than the last.  ONE joke, perhaps, and then a long silence while she talks about herself…
3. When you are older, flowers really do work—women love them.  When you are young, however, there is a ghastly sense of being awkward rather than romantic—and she will guess your mother bought them.
4. Valentine’s Day cards.  Do NOT put your name on them.  The whole point is the excitement a girl feels, wondering who finds her attractive.  If it says “From Brian” on it, the magic isn’t really there.  This is actually quite a nice thing to do for someone you don’t think will get a card.  If you do this, it is even more important that you never say, “I sent you one because I thought you wouldn’t get any.”  Keep the cards simple.  You do not want one with fancy stuff of any kind.
5. Play a sport of some kind.  It doesn’t matter what it is, as long as it replaces the corpse-like pallor of the computer programmer with a ruddy glow.  Honestly, this is more important than you know.
6. If you see a girl in need of help—unable to lift something, for example—do not taunt her.  Approach the object and greet her with a cheerful smile, while surreptitiously testing the weight of the object.  If you find you can lift it, go ahead.  If you can’t, try sitting on it and engaging her in conversation.

Finally, make sure you are well-scrubbed, your nails are clean and your hair is washed.  Remember that girls are as nervous around you as you are around them, if you can imagine such a thing.  They think and act rather differently to you, but without them, life would be one long football locker room.  Treat them with respect.

A Good Example

Our vacuum died last August.  Now, lest you think that I haven't vacuumed the house since that time let me relieve your fears: I have.  In fact, I have been using a decent replacement called My Husband's Shop Vac.  Using a Shop Vac on your carpeted home really isn't that bad: instead of a measly little bag to fill and empty repeatedly, you have a five-gallon drum that only needs attention about every six months.  It also has a very long hose with several attachment nozzles so you can really get into corners and under couches.  Sadly, that's about where it ends.

On the down side, hauling the Shop Vac up and down stairs its much heavier than a regular vacuum (read: five gallons of dirt); the cord is only six feet long so you constantly have to unplug and replug; you really have to scrape an area to pick up the offending floor muck; and you have to bend over the entire time you are using it, which is about five times longer than use of a standard upright vacuum.

On this note, my husband agreed that it was probably best to retire the Shop Vac to the garage and buy something decent for the home (especially since it was time to empty said Shop Vac and we couldn't find the replacement bags).  And what is the best time to get a new vacuum?  Your wife's birthday!  That way you don't have to buy her a real gift!!

Therefore I found myself (sans children) on a 'date' with my husband for my birthday last Saturday.  We went to a restaurant that didn't have any gluten-free desserts so instead I watched him eat an entire piece of giant ice cream pie all by himself (happy birthday to me...).  We then went to Office Max where he looked for printer ink and a new shredder for work while I was accosted by store employees ("Are you looking for pens?  Writing instruments are my specialty...") and picked out a birthday gift for my sister-in-law, whose birthday is in August (but it was a tape dispenser shaped like a red high-heeled shoe; it was perfect for her!).  We then spent an hour at Stark Street Vacuum in Clackamas learning the differences between various models and finally settling on another Simplicity (we don't like change).  The 'date' concluded with a visit to my brother-in-law's Feed Store in Molalla where we admired the new flooring and chatted with the employees and customers that we knew before we went to pick up the kids. 

I was thinking about how familiar the day felt and for a very good reason: the day we spent on Saturday was almost identical to the dates we had for four years before we married.  Be still my heart. 

But I was ecstatic to get a new vacuum!  The salesman who helped us, Jake, was very informative and friendly and went over the pros and cons of several different brands and models, demonstrating them (and letting me vacuum weird things off the carpets -- because I don't get to do enough of that at home).  He even put the vacuum together for us, gave us a $350 discount, and dealt very calmly with an uncouth, boorish, foul-language flinging man who couldn't wait five minutes to buy vacuum bags.  Husband (whose career is all about customer service) was so impressed with this salesman that he wanted to bring his entire office staff down to the store for a demonstration of what to do/what not to do when dealing with customers. 

Good customer service people: you are noticed and appreciated!!

There is a great quote in Thomas a Kempis' The Imitation of Christ stating that if you see any good example, make yourself follow it.  In this particular post, I would apply that towards the vacuum salesman more than the date.