Vaca... not what you think it is when you have children.
Think you are going to have some downtime to watch a movie, or read a book? Silly you - when the children are in school - that's when you race madly about (hoping you don't get a speeding ticket) with all the other mom's in town desperate to get things done before the chaos begins anew.
Alone time? HA! You will be joined even during 'bathroom' time by the family dog who is anxious as to why routine (ie, protocol) is no longer being followed.
Visions of eating whatever you want for lunch? Such a dreamer. The first time the offspring find the remnants of your dining, you will regret revealing you have a hidden stash.
So it is. The book continues to collect dust, the couch forever remains un-dented where my ass was supposed to loll the hours away and the stash never to see the light of day.
But the chaos, excitement in sharing their day and the ensuing zoo make it all worth it. Life is full, and thankfully so.
Monday, December 16, 2013
Friday, November 22, 2013
Monkey Enough
It was bound to happen. Only a matter of time. It's a right of passing, really. These are the things I'll be saying to myself over the next few weeks.
Getting into the car yesterday BW handed me a note and excitedly announced to JB - "GUESS WHAT!!! SOMEONE IN MY CLASS HAS HEAD LICE!!!"
I cringed and then shuddered. My mother escaped this milestone of child rearing, so I've personally never seen these lovely critters... But still, I've read enough to know that this is a battle I don't want to gear up for.
When we got home, the first order of business was checking to see if I would become a member of the 'nit-picking club'. While the saying is slung about with ease, it's meaning has an origin... And again, I cringe.
But, thankfully - so far at least - we can leave the mom description as "highly detail oriented" and leave off the 'nit-picky'. And, *sigh*, I'm hoping that the boy isn't so interested in bugs that he goes out of his way to collect "some specimen".
The minions are, after all, monkey enough as it is. I can't even begin to imagine what they'll be like if we have to process through that experience.
Getting into the car yesterday BW handed me a note and excitedly announced to JB - "GUESS WHAT!!! SOMEONE IN MY CLASS HAS HEAD LICE!!!"
I cringed and then shuddered. My mother escaped this milestone of child rearing, so I've personally never seen these lovely critters... But still, I've read enough to know that this is a battle I don't want to gear up for.
When we got home, the first order of business was checking to see if I would become a member of the 'nit-picking club'. While the saying is slung about with ease, it's meaning has an origin... And again, I cringe.
But, thankfully - so far at least - we can leave the mom description as "highly detail oriented" and leave off the 'nit-picky'. And, *sigh*, I'm hoping that the boy isn't so interested in bugs that he goes out of his way to collect "some specimen".
The minions are, after all, monkey enough as it is. I can't even begin to imagine what they'll be like if we have to process through that experience.
Monday, October 21, 2013
Leftovers
I'm never quite sure what I should make of some of the papers that arrive way home with random streams of consciousness noted on them.
Like this one. I'm not sure what this is or why it was important enough to record. Nor do I think I want to know.
One thing is for certain; according to whichever child wrote it, ants use leftover larvae and for some reason, it was important enough to write that fact down.
Like this one. I'm not sure what this is or why it was important enough to record. Nor do I think I want to know.
One thing is for certain; according to whichever child wrote it, ants use leftover larvae and for some reason, it was important enough to write that fact down.
Rebellion
I have been resisting the urge all day to randomly burst out (in the library or other somesort of quiet place)
Only, not with such clean language and certainly not in a 'quiet' voice.
Instead I leave my gum wrapper on the counter.
I am a quiet rebel.
"Good Morning People of Earth!"
Only, not with such clean language and certainly not in a 'quiet' voice.
Instead I leave my gum wrapper on the counter.
I am a quiet rebel.
Thursday, October 3, 2013
Wha? October!?
Life did it again. It's OCTOBER?
Last time I looked we were closing in on the end of July, back to school commercials were starting to show up on the tele, and we were all thoroughly suffering from a severe case of Cabin Fever.
Now there are candy corns everywhere, pumpkins are popping up on porches around town and leaves are falling... Christmas decorations are lining store shelves and the weatherman said snow is on its way by the end of the week.
And wow, my 'Bag of Skittles' has become a fountain. As each person and my activities are color coded on my calendar - there are weeks in which my schedule is a colorful rainbow of 'fun'.
It's been an awfully colorful fall! Now that we are six weeks into the semester, things have finally settled down enough that I have been able to carve out a few minutes each week to put pen to paper... I hope, who knows, in the Olson's household, sometimes we are surfing the wave of chaos and holding on tight until the weekend.
It's moments of realization like this that I realize that a 'pause' button would be nice and I'm ever so thankful for coffee!
Last time I looked we were closing in on the end of July, back to school commercials were starting to show up on the tele, and we were all thoroughly suffering from a severe case of Cabin Fever.
Now there are candy corns everywhere, pumpkins are popping up on porches around town and leaves are falling... Christmas decorations are lining store shelves and the weatherman said snow is on its way by the end of the week.
And wow, my 'Bag of Skittles' has become a fountain. As each person and my activities are color coded on my calendar - there are weeks in which my schedule is a colorful rainbow of 'fun'.
It's been an awfully colorful fall! Now that we are six weeks into the semester, things have finally settled down enough that I have been able to carve out a few minutes each week to put pen to paper... I hope, who knows, in the Olson's household, sometimes we are surfing the wave of chaos and holding on tight until the weekend.
It's moments of realization like this that I realize that a 'pause' button would be nice and I'm ever so thankful for coffee!
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Princesses, Princesses
From the moment she was able to talk and bratty behavior made it's appearance by way of stomping feet, and ear-piercing screeching "NO!" I would stop mid-whatever it was and gently correct her by saying "Darling, I love you... but I'm sorry, we do not have princesses in our house... we have ladies. If you choose to be a lady, that's awesome. If you choose to continue to act like a princess, the door to the back yard is right there. Use it."
Ladies are kind, brave, strong, loving and warm-hearted. (Think Cinderella)
Princesses are selfish, demanding and bratty. (Think Cinderella's step-sisters)
Ladies don't mind an honest days work, getting their hands dirty because they need to, or because it is FUN!
Princesses don't.
Ladies enjoy science, bugs, the night sky and all things that fly.
Princesses... not so much.
She's never been a fan of Disney or the Princesses they portray (until along came Brave, and we made some adjustments) and I overheard her tell one of her mates that she would rather be a lady any day of the week.
Little by little words do shape our kids.
Ladies are kind, brave, strong, loving and warm-hearted. (Think Cinderella)
Princesses are selfish, demanding and bratty. (Think Cinderella's step-sisters)
Ladies don't mind an honest days work, getting their hands dirty because they need to, or because it is FUN!
Princesses don't.
Ladies enjoy science, bugs, the night sky and all things that fly.
Princesses... not so much.
She's never been a fan of Disney or the Princesses they portray (until along came Brave, and we made some adjustments) and I overheard her tell one of her mates that she would rather be a lady any day of the week.
Little by little words do shape our kids.
Monday, July 29, 2013
A Bagful of Skittles
It was during my Stay @ Home Mom Days (or S@hM days, the 'h' is silent) that the dare came about.
BW and JB were both active toddlers and as the days grew longer and the temperature rose that the challenge of being home all day with little to no adult interaction bean to wear upon my soul. Working through a serious case of Post-Partum Depression didn't help either, but it was the lack of stimulating conversation that haunted me most.
Charles had recently finished his Masters degree and now with the extra time that he normally spent working on his thesis was complete, he used the extra time to pursue the hobbies and interests that he had put on hold while his few free hours off of work and Dad duty was spent programming and finishing his educational and professional goals.
It was during one especially challenging week that culminated into the perfect storm of frustration.
Charles' father and grandfather were scheduled to arrive in a day or two for a couple of weeks and my days were spent trying to prepare the house for guests, keep up with the daily chores while also meeting the needs of the topplers.
The week that his father was to arrive coincided with several invitations from various camping, hiking and cycling buddies, and without realizing the confluence of events ~ he'd said yes to all of them, and I'd agreed that he should go and have fun.
The week had been a peaceful one, which should have been a hint at the ensuing storm... The day before grand and great grand fathers were to arrive, Charles's was invited to hike a 14er. We had been tempting fate, and by accepting the invitation to clime a mountain, Mother Nature must have felt as though she was being mocked.
The morning he left, the house was filled with nervous energy. Bickering, battles of wills involving both children, a sick dog and a literal glass of spilled milk filled the day, and not nearly enough work was completed.
It was the spilled milk that did me in. Flailing toddler arms in the midst of a temper tantrum resulted in a half a gallon of milk flying as though in slow motion in the air, across the dining room and pouring the entirety of it's contents into the carpet.
Charles was late in coming home and the clock was ticking for the relatives arrival and the milk in the carpet was beginning to sour.
I've personally never seen a 'wet hen' but I'm certain that Charles does, as that was what met him when he finally came home.
Once I'd expressed my frustration and had a chance to take a break from the little ones, we quickly readied for our guests and retired for the evening.
After the kids had been put to bed for the 29th time that night, we were sharing stories about our days. I took a moment to apologize for having been so emotional. I mentioned that it was so challenging to be with kids for so many hours in the day without the opportunity to take even a few minutes for myself. (Even the bathroom provided no relief - they sat on the other side of the door, beating it with their little hands, calling for me through the door-jam.)
Charles replied in a very un-Charles like manner.
"Well, if you did have an afternoon to yourself, what exactly would you do? It's no like you have any hobbies or anything."
The truth of his words took the breath out of my lungs and it was several days before I was able to think about what had been said without the sting of his words causing tears to spring forth.
In the time since then, I've taken up many different hobbies, returned to school, begun working full time and volunteering at the local hospital and with daughter's persistence, started a Girl Scout Brownies troop and developed several different social groups.
At the same time, BW and JB have found their own hobbies, and we have had a few weeks where we've not been able to sit down for dinner as a family for an entire week.
Not once has Charles' complained about how busy I've become, though I doubt that he would ask what I'd do if given a few free hours.
BW and JB were both active toddlers and as the days grew longer and the temperature rose that the challenge of being home all day with little to no adult interaction bean to wear upon my soul. Working through a serious case of Post-Partum Depression didn't help either, but it was the lack of stimulating conversation that haunted me most.
Charles had recently finished his Masters degree and now with the extra time that he normally spent working on his thesis was complete, he used the extra time to pursue the hobbies and interests that he had put on hold while his few free hours off of work and Dad duty was spent programming and finishing his educational and professional goals.
It was during one especially challenging week that culminated into the perfect storm of frustration.
Charles' father and grandfather were scheduled to arrive in a day or two for a couple of weeks and my days were spent trying to prepare the house for guests, keep up with the daily chores while also meeting the needs of the topplers.
The week that his father was to arrive coincided with several invitations from various camping, hiking and cycling buddies, and without realizing the confluence of events ~ he'd said yes to all of them, and I'd agreed that he should go and have fun.
The week had been a peaceful one, which should have been a hint at the ensuing storm... The day before grand and great grand fathers were to arrive, Charles's was invited to hike a 14er. We had been tempting fate, and by accepting the invitation to clime a mountain, Mother Nature must have felt as though she was being mocked.
The morning he left, the house was filled with nervous energy. Bickering, battles of wills involving both children, a sick dog and a literal glass of spilled milk filled the day, and not nearly enough work was completed.
It was the spilled milk that did me in. Flailing toddler arms in the midst of a temper tantrum resulted in a half a gallon of milk flying as though in slow motion in the air, across the dining room and pouring the entirety of it's contents into the carpet.
Charles was late in coming home and the clock was ticking for the relatives arrival and the milk in the carpet was beginning to sour.
I've personally never seen a 'wet hen' but I'm certain that Charles does, as that was what met him when he finally came home.
Once I'd expressed my frustration and had a chance to take a break from the little ones, we quickly readied for our guests and retired for the evening.
After the kids had been put to bed for the 29th time that night, we were sharing stories about our days. I took a moment to apologize for having been so emotional. I mentioned that it was so challenging to be with kids for so many hours in the day without the opportunity to take even a few minutes for myself. (Even the bathroom provided no relief - they sat on the other side of the door, beating it with their little hands, calling for me through the door-jam.)
Charles replied in a very un-Charles like manner.
"Well, if you did have an afternoon to yourself, what exactly would you do? It's no like you have any hobbies or anything."
The truth of his words took the breath out of my lungs and it was several days before I was able to think about what had been said without the sting of his words causing tears to spring forth.
In the time since then, I've taken up many different hobbies, returned to school, begun working full time and volunteering at the local hospital and with daughter's persistence, started a Girl Scout Brownies troop and developed several different social groups.
At the same time, BW and JB have found their own hobbies, and we have had a few weeks where we've not been able to sit down for dinner as a family for an entire week.
Not once has Charles' complained about how busy I've become, though I doubt that he would ask what I'd do if given a few free hours.
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