The Cinderella Diaries

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To follow up on yesterday’s post, one of the activities that Princess S did, to entertain herself while mama was trying to clean, was to write in her diary.   Mind you, she just turned 3, and she doesn’t know how to write.  But, she took this very seriously and got out her pen, her glue, scissors, and stickers.  Because, really, all those things are necessary, all the time.  

I watched her sit down at her little table with pen in hand and scribble in her diary as she dictated her daily life out-loud: “daddy went to work… Mama breakfast… Savvy pre-school…”  She was genuinely talking about her life and day and writing it down as best as she knew how.

And then Mama continued to nag her to pick up her things until we finally all mopped together.  A little while after that she sat back down to continue ‘writing’ in her diary and with pen in hand the scribbles began again in earnest.  This time, all I heard her saying was “Clean, clean, clean, clean….” in her little voice.  I am a little concerned that she is taking this Cinderella thing seriously...

"Clean, clean, clean, clean"

Just Give Me This Moment

Yes, the couch and chair are lined with piles of clothes and we can’t sit down.  Yes, the kid’s beds are unmade, and their floor is so littered with toys that it is difficult to walk without stepping on a sharp-pointed car or dull-headed baby doll.  Yes, it’s true that for every ten minutes that I get to clean, it is first preceded by a half-hour of kids needs.  Yes, the bathroom needs cleaning and don’t even mention the kitchen stove.  Yes, almost every carpeted surface has a towel lying on it because that’s where my daughter insists on having her pull-up/diaper changed as she also refuses to use the toilet.  Yes, there is a constant battle with ants that have become so smart that they only show up in groups of ten and they don’t reveal where they come from.  Yes, we do have an aging cat who is starting to lose track of where her litterbox is.  Yes, we even have fleas that seem to train with the ants and come from nowhere, and travel sparsely, but never go away.  Yes, my house is a mess. 

But, on Tuesday, I made it my mission that I would sweep and mop at least one room.   I mean the kind of sweeping and mopping that requires you to move furniture.  So, I pushed my clothes-laden couch and chair out of the way, and I began.  Ten minutes here, thirty minutes with kids, ten minutes back – always trying to convince my kids, encourage my kids, nag (but ever so slightly), beg, and pester my kids, to pick up all of their things off the floor so that I could in fact sweep.   Finally the floor was clear, and I began to mop.  They were downstairs playing when I started, but came up shortly thereafter and suddenly, I had my Tom Sawyer moment.  “I want to mop!” my 3-year old shouted (while wearing her Princess dress of course), so I gave her the toy mop, showed her the bucket and let her go.  “I want to mop too!” shouted my 5-year old so I handed over my mop to him.

Yes, they have no idea how to mop.  Yes, there were additional puddles of water on the floor. Yes, I pretty much had to re-do all the places they mopped first. BUT, they were so happy!  And I was so happy they were helping!  They even got on their hands and knees with rags to dry the floor after that.  And, when I told them I was going to mop the laundry room next (where the litterbox is) they shouted, “WE WANT TO MOP THE LAUNDRY ROOM!!”.  As they mopped, I told myself that I needed to remember this moment. 

The kids were being helpful, the house was getting cleaned bit by bit, and at this pace … we might be done by Christmas.

Cinderella drying the floor with a rag. (Please note the dress is on backwards for the full effect)

Who knew mopping the laundry room could be so fun?

Employed!

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I got a job!  Of sorts.   As of about two weeks ago I am employed again, and I am very pleased to report that I just turned in my first invoice for a grand total of nine hours worked.  Wait, what was that?  Nine hours in two weeks you may wonder… what kind of a “job” is that??     

Through an alignment of the stars, an old client of mine needed some project support and reached out to me at the same time as I had reached out to them just to see how they were doing because, through the years, we had become friends.    It all happened very quickly.   My friend put me in touch with her boss and we had a twenty minute conversation about all of the upcoming projects they have, after which he said, “Okay.. well, I think the next step is for you to provide us with a Statement of Work, and we’ll see where we want to go from there.”  While I kept very cool and professional on the call, inside a hundred questions were going through my head…”A Statement of Work for what exactly?  What is it they want me to do? How do I present this to them? How much do I charge them? I hope I have a week to work on this…”   “Can you give it to me in the next two days?” he asked, “Sure! [crap]”.     

So, for the next two evenings, after the kids were in bed and I finally had time to think quietly I put on my old work hat and drafted out a Statement of Work (SOW).   This is something I had done for my previous employer, so it wasn’t completely foreign to me, but in all honesty, it was one of the functions of the job I liked the least. I searched on the ‘interwebs’ for a template and did a little research on a few type of things to include, and then I thought back to my interactions with this old client to reflect on what services I thought they had always needed – only then, they weren’t paying me directly.    In the end, I had a five page document and at the top was “Meghan Ingle, Independent Consultant”.   My feeling when I finished that document was one of pride.  “I can do this” I thought.  “I hope they think I can do this” I thought next.

I sent the SOW over to my contact and had a follow up meeting to discuss it.  I was worried he would think I quoted too long (through September), or he’d think I’d quoted to high (to remain a secret).   But, my fears were immediately squashed when he said that I had “exactly captured the spirit of what they were looking for” (Yes! Yes!) and “let’s target the end date to be Oct. 3, but if this works out, it could be a long term engagement for both of us…” (yes! Yes! Yes!)   I hadn’t even done anything yet, and he’s already imagining extending the contract out.   That was the shot in the arm of this job hunt that I needed.  He also didn’t blink at the price quoted (shoot, should I have aimed higher?).

From there things moved very rapidly.  In fact, I have never seen a SOW approved so quickly, and two weeks later I was attending my first meeting.   The only downside to this engagement is that it is not consistent hours.   I can’t be guaranteed a certain minimum each week as it’s solely depending upon the needs of the projects and the timing of activities there.  

And here’s the best part.  They are in Chicago.  But they know that I am in San Francisco and that I do not want to travel much, and they are okay with that.  That being said, I will not turn down a trip to Chicago, and am excited to go out there for a couple of days next week.

This company has already taken such good care of me and I’m so very grateful.   They have provided me a laptop in quick haste, their help desk support was immediate and they’ve been quick to respond to my queries.  Most importantly though, and I won’t feel ashamed to say this, I feel respected for my abilities.   When I was so unceremoniously escorted from the last company, and then it has been a bit rough with the job hunt, I started to doubt my abilities.   Had I just skated by?  Was my knowledge base too narrow to apply elsewhere?  Why won’t people let me in the door for an interview??   But these guys remember working with me fondly through the years, they know I can deliver and they believe in me.  They believe in ME.  Yesterday, I received the following email from one who works there “Have I told you lately how happy that I am that you are on board!”   To be honest, she had, once before, but you know what? I’ll take that compliment again and again.  Because that just makes me want to try harder to support them and make this work out for all of us.

“Independent Consultant”…that has a nice ring to it doesn’t it?

Public Pools

I hate public pools.  I really do.  Especially crowded city pools.   It feels almost blasphemous saying this since I grew up a swimmer.  From age 6 thru 17 I was on a summer swim team, and the high school team.  Later in college I played water polo.  Don’t get me wrong I love the water and I love swimming.  But public pools.. especially during free rec swim…ick.    I yearn for those days when I lived in a hot place and there were always outdoor pools.   Since I grew up on a swim team, and it wasn’t a community pool nearby my house, I don’t have memories of hanging out at the pool during rec-swim, I just have memories of lap swimming during practices.   A few friends had pools, and later my parents did, but it was always still a little hard for me just to hang out and play.  I wanted to swim. 

#tbt: 1990

Now that I have two little kids, I really want them to learn how to swim and for a while they were taking consistent swimming lessons and were learning and enjoying it.  Unfortunately we had to cut back on the lessons when I lost my job and we haven’t found a regular (and cheaper) class to replace it.   Both my kids like the water, but my daughter really loves it.   This morning I came out to find her in her swimsuit and goggles sitting on the couch.  The last time we went swimming was three weeks ago, and we had no intention of swimming today.  She just likes to wear the gear.

She and I had a free afternoon together today so I thought I would surprise her and take her swimming.  I sought out some free-swim time at a local pool and told myself to suck it up for her sake.   It’s a newer pool and nice so I thought I could handle it.   And then we got there…and it was packed with splashing bouncing kids of all ages.  And, oh… the locker rooms.  That is really the reason I hate community pools… they gross me out.  Nothing is ever clean enough and I hate hate hate seeing other people’s hair everywhere.  Ew ewe w – gagging now just thinking about it.  But again, I told myself to suck it up for my daughter and I kept my flip-flops on as much as possible.

We got into the pool and I took her to find a little space of our own near the wall so she could practice jumping in and kicking.  I couldn’t help but glare at the tween-age boys who kept splashing us.  They didn’t know what they were doing but I still was annoyed.  By the time we got to the pool there was only 35 min left of free-swim so I figured that would be plenty of time to make my daughter happy and also wear out the kid so she would nap nicely later. 

She was enjoying it and we were having fun.  We walked across the entire length of the pool (it was all shallow) so I could get her a noodle to float with.  About 10 min in we were just getting into the groove when the lifeguard blew his whistle and said “Everyone Out!!”  “What?!”  I wanted to scream.. “Do you know how hard it was to get us down here and in the pool???”  Since the building was so cavernous I couldn’t understand what he was saying as the reason for our exit.   We got out, and when he came closer I asked what happened.  “Someone threw up in the pool”.

OMG!! (btw, what did we say before ‘OMG’ became popular – because that really suits my feelings here).  OMG!!!!!  This is why I hate public pools!!!

Despite only swimming for ten minutes, she still had a good nap today.

Children for Rent

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As I’ve been looking for a new job over the last five months, and trying my best to be a stay-at-home mom, it occurs to me that I might be able to make a little money renting out my children to others.   If you are looking for a little excitement in your life for one week at a time, then I encourage you to read the below.*  We can negotiate pricing later.

When you rent my children, you will be guaranteed the following benefits for the week:

• A free daily wake-up call
• Learn to juggle (demands, not balls)
• You will be on kept your toes with stimulating brain activity
• You get to hear your name spoken, shouted and yelled - almost like having your name in lights
• A chance to challenge yourself, become a master multi-tasker!
• Exercise!
• You can catch up on all your favorite kids television shows
• Hugs at random times, it doesn't matter if your arms are full of groceries, if you are changing a poopy diaper, or carrying a knife - they aren't afraid!
• You can learn all the words to the entire Frozen soundtrack
• You can enjoy all the food you used to think fantastic as a child, twice over, since they don't like the same things as each other
• You can wake up super early to enjoy your quiet time alone
• You can stay up super late to enjoy your quiet time alone
• You might be able to take one nap
• You can learn how to type with one hand while fending little fingers off the computer
• You will develop a whole new appreciation for clutter, laundry and poop
• You never have to go to the toilet in private
• You’ll be forced to watch your language
• You won't need to talk on the phone to anyone all week (because you couldn't hear them anyway)
• You can play
• You can play again
• You can play some more
• You can goto parks to play
• You can play in their room
• You can play while you are cooking
• You can play while you are going to the bathroom
• You can play the moment you sit down
• You can play the moment they are done eating
• You can play when you are done playing
• You can work on your improvisation skills as you answer the same questions many different times
• You can play with toys you wished you had as a child
• You can read lots of (childrens) books
• You can create new and inventive knock knock jokes and puns
• You can explain what 'puns' means
• You can interpret their puns and knock knock jokes
• You can improve your vocabulary (please be prepared to define 'raffle’, ‘reputation’, and ‘tomorrow’)
• You can get into deep metaphysical discussions on why balloons pop and stickers get ruined when they get wet
• You can become the master of 'spin'
• You can laugh at mispronunciations and misuse of words
• You live everyday like it is Groundhog Day - doing the same thing, only differently
• You can appreciate the things that seem easy to you, so you will never take them for granted again. (For example: getting dressed, eating with a fork and a spoon, putting on socks, brushing hair, drinking without spilling…)

If interested, please contact me directly and send your resume and any other supporting documentation to prove that you are truly ready for this.  Payment in advance will be necessary.

*Not recommended for those considering having children of their own.  Your children will not be my children, and you will experience new and different joys than you would if you rented my kids.

All Packed Up and Ready to Ship

The Sad Truth

When I posted “The Family Audition” and wrote about our family traditions, a few friends commented on Facebook that we should have mentioned the Donut Friday tradition.  But, you see, that is MY tradition, and sadly, my kids do not share in the same donut joy as I do.  No matter how hard I try to convince them of the sweet bready goodness, they just won’t get as excited as I do.   Oh sure...I may post pictures on FB that make it look like my family and I eat our donuts regularly in blissful harmony, but that is Facebook lore.  Yes, my friends it's true...not everything is at it seems online.

This morning is a case in point.   My husband had left for work and when he got to the BART station he realized that his wallet was at home.  The kids and I hopped in the car (as fast as one “hops” with little kids in tow) to take his wallet to him.  Since we were out early AND it was a Friday, I couldn’t help but think that it might be good to stop by the donut shop on the way home.

“Hey kids, would you mind if we stop for donuts on the way home?” I asked.  And, I have to actually add “YOU don’t have to get one, it’s for me.”

“I want a smoothie!!” shouts my daughter (who doesn’t actually eat smoothies). “No! I want a bagel! A Bagel!!”   This is a result of another day’s adventure where we went to a Noah’s Bagels, which was right next to a Jamba Juice (aren’t they all?) and I got a smoothie.  They both scoffed at the time and said they wanted a bagel next door.  And then salivated the whole time I ate my smoothie.  My daughter has wanted one since.

Anyway, so I explain that this place does not have all those things.  It just has donuts, and if it’s going to be such a big deal we don’t have to go (but secretly, I was heartbroken).   Then my daughter pipes up “I’ll have a donut!”.   I knew she would come around, but it’s less than satisfactory because she only enjoys the donut because of sprinkles.  She doesn’t love them like I do.

Meanwhile my son of five has already mastered the sort of scoff, hoity-toity view of those who eat junk food. “I don’t LIKE donuts.” “I don’t LIKE cake.” “I don’t LIKE ice cream.” And, when with me, he knows he doesn’t have to keep reminding me, so he’s taken to just looking down his nose in disgust dare I suggest such sweetness.   (To be fair, I adopt that same look of disgust when someone tells me they like sugar in their coffee.)

So, I drag my poor poor kids to the donut shop.  Get two for me and one with sprinkles for my daughter and head home to make them eggs.   I ate one donut in their presence, and after I had dropped them off for the morning, I made myself a fresh cup of coffee and enjoyed my second donut in peaceful silence.    Ahhh….

If anything, the crazy pleas that I have to make just to get the kids to the donut shop with me are the family tradition...

This is what my daughter's donut looks like when she's done with it. It looks like she murdered it.

The Gift That Keeps on Giving

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When I was five or six years old I received a box of wood for Christmas.   The disappointment I felt when opening that gift was almost equal to, but not nearly the same, as the disappointment I felt the year Santa brought me a box of material (later to be made into a dress by my grandma).   It turned out that the wood was a make-it-yourself doll-house kit and it became something much grander then just slats of wood which lasted a lifetime (the dress might have lasted a year).  The money to purchase the kit originally came from my Grandpa but the people who spent the most time working on the dollhouse through the years were my Grandma, Mom and Pop, and sometimes me.  For someone who seems to have kept everything, I cannot find any photos from those early days of building the dollhouse.   But I have many memories of the process, so we must have worked on it quite a lot.

This dollhouse was a classic and it had everything.  Three floors, 4 bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen and a main dining/living room.  First, my mom and dad worked together to build it, and I played with it in its raw un-painted state for a few years.  Then, my Grandma got involved and took it to the next level over the next many years.  Once we painted it, the house was blue, the roof a darker blue and the balconies and windows were all white.  I recall picking out these colors.  Through the years my grandmother helped to decorate it by making a lot of the bedding and curtains.  Once the house was built I remember working with Grandma and Mom to put up wallpaper and install carpet.  Every single holiday following the box of wood, I received dollhouse accessories.  Furniture, food, people –    It was literally a showpiece, and in the house that I lived in from ages 8 to 20, it was on display in the front room.  People might recall the blue house that sat to the left of the TV if they ever visited.  Unfortunately, by the time it was fully complete and decorated, I was getting too old to really be into dollhouses.  I appreciated the novelty and uniqueness of it, and I enjoyed decorating it each Christmas time with it’s own miniature version of a Christmas tree, lights and wreaths, but I wasn’t at an age where I would spend any length of time making up imaginary tales for the family that lived there. And yet still, we held onto it. 

When my mom sold my childhood home, she took the dollhouse with her and it remained in storage at her house for years.  We would talk about it occasionally all those years I was single... “what do you want to do with it?”  “I don’t know, but I’m not ready to get rid of it.”  We talked about it when I got married (and kids were a vague distant thought).  “what do you want to do with it?” “I don’t know, but I’m not ready to get rid of it.”  Then my son was born.  “What do you want to do with it?”  “I don’t know.. let’s see if Jingle might like it later….”.    And then two things happened 1) We bought a house that had storage, and 2) we had a daughter.  I’m not sure which one my mom may have been more excited about – the fact that she was having a granddaughter, or the fact that she could finally unload this dollhouse on me.

And, for the last three years, it sat in a closet downstairs.  Miraculously never found by either of my children.   The box of furniture and accessories was stored under the house.  I hadn’t looked in that box, nor studied the dollhouse since I was around 20 and my childhood home was sold.

Then, last week, for my daughter’s third birthday, we decided to clean it up, pull out all the furniture, and give it to her.  I had spent weeks cleaning up the downstairs in order to turn it into a playroom so that there was space to hold such a large piece.  My mom came over on Savvy’s birthday (while she was out of the house) and spent hours cleaning and decorating the dollhouse with everything.  It was a true walk down memory lane seeing all of these miniature pieces that I hadn’t seen in twenty years.   I had temporarily forgotten all of the love, attention and detail that had gone into the house.   The people were still dressed in their 70’s clothing.  The furniture in the front room looks like it was literally shrunk down from the furniture we used to have in our cabin in the late 70s, early 80s.   There is a sewing machine and a rotary phone.  There are bunk-beds, a crib, and even a tiny Monopoly board.  I decided that rather than place all of those tiny accessories into the house it would be fun to let my son do it, so that he could feel a part of the gift too.

When our kids got home that day, we called them downstairs for their surprise.   They were so happy to see the dollhouse.  My son even registered the fact that it used to belong to me.  They know it’s special.  They have also already broken some items, but I can’t let myself be concerned about it.   Because, after 35 years, since receiving a box of wood one Christmas, the dollhouse is actually being played with, as it was intended.    The look of happiness on the kids’ faces that day was only out-measured by the look of love and pride on my mom’s face when she saw their reaction to it.  And, we both couldn’t help but think of my Grandma who made the house a home.

The dollhouse master and her onlooking admirers

A Day of Noise and Silence

It is eerily quiet in my house right now.  Both of my kids are asleep, and I too just got up from a little nap.  How did this happen??  This is not a complaint or a worry mind you… it is a question of, how can I repeat this daily??  

Eight short hours ago it was not so quiet.  My daughter was having a tantrum over who knows what, while my son chattered on incessantly about who knows what.  I had been trying to get my daughter to come to the table for breakfast and this set her off the first time.  That, and the fact that her brother took the iPad from her and turned it off.  He was doing exactly as I requested, but you know how it goes… it doesn’t matter what Mama may have wanted, it was NOT what Savvy wanted.  Then, she didn’t want to come to eat and claimed she DID NOT WANT CEREAL!  I just let her cry it out on the couch and didn’t worry too much whether or not she did eat since I know she always gets breakfast again at her daycare, and usually likes their food better anyway.  So, I sat down with Jingle and we ate.  She occasionally shouted from the couch to remind us that she DID NOT WANT CEREAL.  Finally she wandered over so she could quietly remind me up close that she did not want cereal.   I said calmly, “that’s fine.  Go pick out some socks then.”  And to my surprise she did and she brought them back so I could help her get them on.  So, I thought the tantrum was behind us, and I ate her cereal.  That set off the next one “I WANTED MY CEREAL!!” She yelled.  “Well, I’m sorry, you said you didn’t so I ate it.  And now we don’t have time for a second breakfast session.” At which point she collapsed onto the ground and began crying.  Then, my son starts giving a play by play of her tantrum… why she’s having one, what she’s doing wrong, why she should stop…   Her crying sounds alone, I could handle, but his chatter layered over the crying – because he also follows me around as he announces what’s happening, and expects responses from me – was a little more noise then I could handle.   At one point I tried to pick up my daughter to carry her closer to the door and her shoes as ultimately we really did need to leave.  But, sadly, I’ve realized, she has reached that age and size, where that is not so easy anymore, especially when she plays boneless.  So, I left her where she was, and brought the shoes to her.  I DON’T WANT THOSE! (Of course not, I should have known right?  I mean she wanted them the last 5 days, so the law of averages when it comes to children’s decisions means that she would not want them today.)   Fine.. (sigh)…I continued to get myself ready and sent my son out to unlock the car as I mustered up enough energy to pick her up and haul her to the car myself, with or without shoes.  I said to Jingle, “now we have to drop you off first so you’re not late.”.  Suddenly Savvy, from across the room, stops crying. “What?” she asks, “What did you say?”.  I said that we have to drop off Jingle first.  “Oh! Does that mean I can come in too?”  (Which it does since I can’t leave her in the car).  And suddenly she’s up, grabs the shoes she so vehemently despised two minutes prior and announces, “I’m not crying anymore” sweet as can be. 

That was my morning.  But my afternoon was different.   We are having a wintery summer day here in San Francisco, which means that where I live, it’s barely 60 degrees and it’s windy and foggy.  It makes me want to hole up inside and do nothing.   I picked the kids up in the afternoon and we went to Trader Joe’s.   They had both had lunch, but I had not yet eaten, so I knew I was potentially asking for trouble.  I am known to get horrible cases of the hangrys (hungry and angry).   I told myself to keep it together in the store, but I also made sure the kids knew I was very hungry which is code for “watch out for Mama”.  Bless Trader Joe’s and their mini kid carts.  I used to hate them, but now that the kids can actually navigate them without driving into my heels, or other people, it makes shopping fun for them.   We got our things and I picked up something for lunch at home.  When we got to the car, I announced “when we get home, the first thing I am going to do is eat lunch. You guys can watch one show [so you will leave me alone while I eat] and then Savvy can take a nap.”  We did this and Savvy went off to nap.  But, I was really sleepy too, thanks to the dreary weather and full belly, so I told Jingle that I was going to lay down for a half hour and he could watch one more show on his own.  Twenty minutes into my nap he came and lay down with me.   Ten minutes after that he said he was going to lie down in his own bed.  Okay!!   And, a short while later, I had the moment of realization that both my kids were asleep in their own room.   I napped a little longer then half hour, and then forced myself out of bed to take advantage of this quiet time.  Afterall, I needed to write a blog entry.

The Family Audition

About a month ago I posted this on Facebook:  “My family and I auditioned for a reality show today about something or other. If they want to film the most boring family ever, we just might get chosen! On another note though we had a big busy day today even before the audition and nobody had a meltdown. Matthew was great.”.  

It was one of those posts that leave you hanging (for those that care for details) so I thought it might be time to follow up on what that was all about.  It all started when my husband told me “I submitted our family for an audition” and we had been called to come in person.

“oh? What for?”

“I’m not sure, some family thing, I had to submit a heart-felt story”

“What story did you tell?”

“The one where Jingle was born 5 weeks early and how he had to stay in the NICU for awhile and how friends told us they weren’t sure he’d survive.”

“Friends told you they didn’t think he’d survive???” [This was news to me – that thought had never crossed my mind.]

So, while I dwelled on the story, I also inquired as to the specifics.   What are we supposed to wear?  What are we supposed to do?  The answers were vague… they just said wear something you’re comfortable in.   I don’t know what they are going to ask us.  Oh, and by the way, the audition was the same day as Jingle’s kindergarten graduation, which was a full day at the local park for all of us, and three classes of kindergartners.  And no, we could not reschedule.

So…the audition day came… we prepped the kids as best we could…”listen, after the park, Jingle has to go back to class for a short while, Mama, Daddy, and Savvy will change clothes and we’ll bring clothes for Jingle.  Then we need to rush to BART to go downtown.”    Seriously, while intrigued that we had a family audition, the thought of dragging our tired family on a train was not at all appealing.  But, the four of us held it together, and I think we were all excited about what we were going to do.

We got to the place and waited for our turn while the kids had snacks and played games on the iPhone.  Every chance I could I asked Matt, “what are we supposed to do/say in the audition?” and every time he answered the same “I’m not sure”.  He had forwarded me the email that he received, and it was equally vague.

Finally, we were called in to the room and all four of us sat on a tiny bench in front of a video camera while a lady asked us some questions.   First it was the basics… our names, the kids ages, and then Matt had to start to tell his story.   We were all so tired, the story sounded flat, and I was more nervous about Jingle hearing the part where “people thought he wouldn’t survive” then launching us into his questions of “what?? Why wouldn’t I survive? What are you talking about…?”  Luckily Matt glazed over that part and Jingle didn’t hear it.   Then the lady asked “Do you have any family traditions?”  [Blink, Blink].  ‘um’.   ‘um.’….well, we do this thing where we always joke about who the silliest person in the family is? “  [Every single meal time and it drives Mama crazy].  After that, I don’t even know what was said, but it seemed pretty bland.  We finished and left, not thinking we’d ever hear anything again.

And yet, we did!  We were asked to come back two weeks later for a Callback Audition.  This time, we had no big plans on the same day, so the kids and I were relaxed and took our time getting dressed and ‘pretty’.   Daddy still had to go to work, so he met us there.   We tried to discuss any traditions we had, but still were coming up blank.  I think the biggest tradition we have in my family is that my uncle dresses up as Santa Claus every year and comes to the house on Christmas Eve, but that’s not something you can share when the kids are sitting on your lap.

As we sat in the waiting room the second time, I was listening (eavesdropping) to others who were there who seemed to know more about this audition than we did.  I got a sense that the people in the room really wanted to hear Jingle speak more than the rest of us.  So, I took him aside and let him know that he was encouraged to speak when he wanted to and also to be confident!  At times, my son has the confidence of five people, and he certainly can talk, but at other times when he’s a little unsure, he reverts to baby talk and it’s difficult to understand him.  But, he’s already wise on the audition scene (I think he’s wiser than his Mama) and takes direction really well, so he was all over this.

We get in the room and again pile onto the tiny bench, but this time there were at least 5 other people in the room with us.  One of the men started to ask us again about Family Traditions.  We fumbled through with stories about our clock and bedtime routines, and I discussed Santa in very vague terms (which was met with a response of “oh, Santa comes to your house on Christmas Eve?” While I’m sure he was really implying “You do know many people think he comes to their house right?!”)

Jacob was talking a lot, and the more he talked, the more Savvy wanted to interject her thoughts, so the kids were doing great.  At some point we got on the subject of Grandma coming to our house weekly, and suddenly all 5 people lit up and started asking questions…”What do you do with Grandma?”   

“Fold clothes, play animals…” Jingle responds…

“What do you mean ‘play animals’?”   They inquired.

At this point I think both Matt and I knew to just shut up because we didn’t even know quite how to answer this, but Jingle did.  He told them all about his carpet that has a river, and trees and footprints and how they go on adventures with their stuffed animals.

“What makes Grandma so good at playing animals?” they asked.  And again, Matt and I stayed silent.   And, with pure innocence, Jingle thought about this carefully “ummm…” he said as he shrugged his shoulders, and then, as cutely as anyone could ever respond, said “Because she’s Grandma!!”

And…Scene.

We ultimately did not get the part, but I was so proud of the kids for how they behaved in there.  They were engaged and trying, and I felt they did far better then I did.   If something like this presents itself again, we will keep trying, not so much because we’re dying to get a gig, but just because the adventure of it was fun.  Oh, who am I kidding, it would also be fun to be cast.

When To Use a Time-Out

Last weekend when my daughter was still pretending like she may want to be potty-trained, (she gave up the thought when she realized she would not get a present each and every time she used the potty) she was sitting on the toilet when her big brother came into the room “to keep her company”.   At first she was fine with it, but then I could hear her yelling at him when I left the room.  I came back to find out what was wrong.  “Jacob needs a time out!” she says.  ‘Oh really, why is that?” I inquired… “Because he’s bothering me.” What he was in fact doing was sitting in the bathtub.  Just because.  He was fully clothed, and there was no water involved, but he just thought it was fun to sit there.  And that bothered his sister.  Technically, I don’t think he was doing anything wrong, but I did try to explain to him that some people (aka ME) would prefer to have privacy when going potty so could he please leave.   I also explained to Savvy that I could not give Jacob a time out just because he was bothering her by sitting in the bathtub.   After the talking, Jacob never left, but at least Savvy stopped yelling at him.

I was surprised by her request to give him a time-out because we don’t use that punishment too much in our house.   Not that we disagree with it, but overall they are pretty good kids, and they have to be behaving pretty badly to warrant a time out.  I chuckled at the thought of Savvy believing that Jacob deserved a time-out just because he was bothering her.  I mean, if I truly gave the kids a timeout each time they bothered me, well then, they might be in their rooms quite a lot!

“Stop shouting, I can hear you just fine. I am right HERE”  You get a time-out!

“Don’t make me ask you to set the table for a third time!” You get a time out!

“Time to wash your hands… Please go wash your hands now…GO wash your HANDS!” TIME OUT (AND GO WASH YOUR HANDS!)

“Please stop asking me what a ‘raffle’ is.  I have explained it five times before, but you won’t listen to the answer.” You get a time-out.

“If I ask you to do something for me, like get a diaper, stop asking me “why?” first. Just do it!” You get a time-out to think about why that is.

“Stop repeating yourself over and over.  I heard you the first time.” You get a time out. You get a time out. You get a time out. You get a time out. You get a time out. You get a time out.

“Stop following me into the bathroom. Please shut the door on your way out. Shut the  door.  SHUT THE DOOR.” Time out.

You know, just saying “Time Out!!” in my head when I’m annoyed is making me feel better already! 

Summer, Day 1

So, this is what summer is like.

I am still home full time, and last Friday my son ‘graduated’ from kindergarten.  That means he is home full time now too .  At least this week.  Starting next week, I have him in half-day camps so that I can still use the mornings to search for work.  My daughter has half-time care for June, but after that our situation is a bit up in the air, and I’m not yet sure what July will look like.  But, after today, I think I need to get a job STAT.   Man, I love my kids, but they are exhausting!

This morning started off with a very unusual situation.  For Mother’s Day, my husband had given me a gift of a mother-daughter photo shoot.   This came about because he had a father-son photo shoot almost a year ago which turned out great.  I was really excited and had our outfits all planned out.  This photo shoot is unique because it was to resemble old-time pictures.  Not the kind where you dress up in cowboy outfits and hold guns in sepia-toned photos, but the kind that are kind of a stern old fashioned look.  I tried to get my daughter excited about it and tried to get my son to get my daughter excited about it but she would have none of it.  For two hours we traipsed around Stern Grove trying to get her to 1) stay still, 2) look at the camera and 3) either smile if Mama was smiling or look serious if Mama looked serious.   As the pictures progressed, I just became more and more miserable and it showed in the photos.   Savvy wouldn’t look at the camera unless it was to grimace and Jacob was bouncing around behind the photographer yelling “Mama! Mama! Mama!...Mama!”   [This was half hour into the miserable shoot]

“WHAT IS IT?!”

“I finished my apple!”

“Then throw it away!!!!”

“What did Jacob want?” asked Savvy

[Oh.. now she chooses to engage…]

Jacob wasn’t supposed to be part of the shoot, but once I knew he was to be joining us, I didn’t want him to feel totally left out so he got dressed up too and took a couple photos.  The best one of the day is of the two of them together.  So much for mother-daughter…

I tried bribing Savvy with snacks, with flowers, with the promise of going to a park afterwards.. but nothing worked.  Finally we called it quits.

Back home to eat lunch.  Then back out again to a park with a playground.  My intention was to wear them out so hopefully they might nap in the afternoon.  Yeah, right.  We worked out a deal that they would stay in their room and play quietly or read for one hour.  Within the first half hour they’d both come out  three times.  By 40 minutes, Savvy was downstairs sitting on my lap in front of the computer.

I currently have them parked on the couch watching a show.  I’ve been looking for work a bit online, but realizing that this is not going to be easy.  Not only will it be a challenge to find quiet time at the computer for any length of time this summer, but the house will forever be messy because we are here all the time!  I have not proven to be very effective at house cleaning since I lost my job, and I’m afraid that will only go downhill from here…

And, on top of this.. our summer weather has hit.   Where I live,  that means it is a permanent overcast sixty to seventy degree day.  I HATE having to wear coats to the park in summertime!

Okay, rant over.  I’ll give it some time.  We all need a chance to settle in. 

Here’s the photo that inspired us to do a mother-daughter shoot.  

And here's a hint of the photos we took today:

 

#tbt: Poems from the Past

Oh, the things I have kept.... 

During my senior year of college I lived in Washington D.C. for a quarter where I had an internship at an esteemed institute which shall not be named and I was bored out of my mind.  To quote a letter I sent to my friend Katie back then "The reason I'm typing your letter is because I'm at work and when people walk by it sounds like I'm busy.  ...I have a lot of time to kill right now.   I'm sure I could keep myself busy by researching in the library downstairs but I can't stand to do that ALL the time.  I work in a freezer box for a scatter-brained professor....he doesn't arrive until at least 11am everyday (I'm here by 8:15)...I get peace and quiet and I can do whatever I want because my office is around the corner and no one even knows I'm here half the time."    Please keep in mind that this was my first full time "real" job...

So, apparently to fill this time void, I wrote nonsensical poems to my roommates back home.  One of the poems below was written by someone else, but I have a feeling she won't mind that I share (plus it's probably the best one).

Oct 20, 1995
From: Meg
To: KW

How'd you like that poem?
What's up at home?
Hows' Dan the Cat?
Did he catch a rat?
We have those here,
oh dear, oh dear.
When on the street
It's easy to meet 
A rat, a bum or a man/
Yes I choose the guy 
Who catches my eye.
This peom never ends
But oh how it lends
to my entertainment here.
Now I'll go have a beer!

----------------------------------
From: Meg
To: KB

I sent one to Lori
It was a short story
I sent one to Weim
cause I had the time.
I send one to you
Cause your time is due.
So, what's new?

I'm on a bus going home
I am all alone
But that's alright with me
Cause I can write poems -- oh gee!
I got one from Scott
Although he is not
The one that I like
And neither is Mike (?)
a guy that I know!
I want cookie dough
Ice cream to eat,
Oh, what a treat!
...

---------------------------------------------
From: KB
To: Meg

Meggie,
You are a freak,
I know I shouldn't speak,
I know this poem reeks,
but not as bad as a TKE!

Noah says hi,
Katie wants you to die,
cause in your last note you left her out,
so now all she does is pout.

I'm going to keeping writing more,
so hold on if you think this is a bore,
we want you to stay away from whores,
and by the way,
have you met Al Gore?

okay, okay, enough is enough,
I'm getting tired of writing such fluff,
maybe I should try study or write
that paper that was due last night!
Nah, why would I do that,
instead Katie and I can harass the cat!!!

-----------------------------------------------------
From: Meg
To: Katie [Notice how I came full circle to the Katie mentioned above? huh? huh?]

What's up Katie D.?
Are you mad at me?
I left you out 
but please don't shout!
You got a long note
That I personally wrote.
Do your remember Doll?
Cause I recall
That I wrote you..
Did you write me too?
Ah but that's cheap
And I'm a creep
Cause you called
And I was enthralled!


Sometimes I wish I could get another boring job so I could just write silly stuff all day long...

#tbt: November 2000 - My Plane Crash Experience

I recalled the following memory vividly while I was writing up yesterday’s blog so I thought I would pull this one out of the archives for re-publishing.  During the fall of 2000 I had finished teaching English in Osaka, and traveled for about a month prior to returning to the States.  My travels first took me to Thailand, where I travelled by myself, then to Australia, where I stayed with friends, and then to Vietnam where I met with some friends for that leg of the trip.  When we left Vietnam, I was on a separate flight that took me back to Osaka by way of Bangkok, Thailand.  Upon landing in Bangkok, my flight crash-landed.  

Fortunately, it was not the type of crash where the plane broke apart, or anyone was badly hurt, but it was scarier than hell.   I learned from this experience that if I fly internationally, to always keep my passport with me at all times.  Not just in the overhead, but WITH me.  When you leave the plane in an emergency you are not supposed to take anything with you.  And, not all countries may treat passengers who crash-land with as much care as the US might.   When my plane ‘landed’, we were stuck out in the field for a long while before a bus finally came to get us to take us to the airport.  Then, we had to stand in the customs line just like anyone else and we had to wait for our bags to be unloaded, which was a particular challenge, as the plane was on its nose.  We just had to wait inside the airport until the bags came.  Fortunately I had taken my backpack and my passport with me when I left the plane, so I could get through customs without issue.  There was no special treatment, nor apologies from the airline.   I had called home to my parents, concerned that they might see this incident on TV and worry about me, but it was not that newsworthy.  It was only my call that really scared them. 

 

And, now, here’s what I wrote back in 2000 in an email back to my friends and family:

Mon. November 27, 2000:

…

I was writing in my travel diary on the plane, and I wrote the following to quote: “Having no problems with flights except for waiting. (knock on wood, not home yet!)”

Not 45 minutes later, my plane crash-landed!  I’m not kidding at all – this was the scariest experience of my life.  We hit the runway hard and bounced all over, we stopped bouncing and shaking but then I saw what looked like flames and smoke coming from the side of the plane.  When the plane finally came to a halt the lights went dead and a pilot came running out with a flashlight.

“Is everyone alright??” he yelled,

“Stay in your seats!!!”

I was shaking like a leaf and frantically searching for my passport (it had flown across the aisle during the landing). [It turns out the passport had landed in someone's lap across the aisle and he was able to pass it back to me] I then heard the back doors open and the chutes inflate.

“Everybody get of the plane! Go, go, go!!”

People were panicking and pushing but not excessively so, and when I got to the back of the plane they said, “go right!”

I turned right, looked out the door at about a 30 feet drop, and I was scared.  I saw the chute [which was actually dark grey, not yellow as the pictures always show, and blended into the tarmac at night] and realized I had no choice but to jump,  I slid down quickly and was caught at the bottom and then went into the field next to the runway.  [They really mean it when they tell you to lift up your arms and point them to the sky if you ever come down those emergency chutes.  I had a small backpack in my arms and did not do this and came away with some long-lasting elbow burns.] I looked back to see what really happened: the front landing gear had collapsed and we had come to a halt by skidding in on the bottom of the front of the plane and the back wheels.  The smoke and flames (sparks) I had seen were a result of the plane’s friction on the runway.

This was the day after Thanksgiving, and let me tell you, I am Thankful.  As far as I know, no one was inured in the landing, and as for me, I left with all my luggage intact. (an hour and half later).

I didn’t enjoy my last flight from Bangkok to Osaka and really sweated the landing.  [This was the morning after the bad landing experience and I physically started to tear up and cry when we began to descend]  But, I made it home safely and Maja and George were there to meet me at the airport.  I only have one flight left and that’s to San Francisco on Dec. 5 and trust me, I will be SO happy when I land there.

To this day my palms sweat each time I land, even though I try to tell myself I’m not scared anymore.   I also feel like since I had that one horrific flying experience then it should never happen to me again.  Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself. 

This was from my scrapbook of the trip and the only picture I could capture while in the field.