So, we are in the middle of a huge war. I received a call from the principal today that Collin was accepted for kindergarten this year. I told G, and he immediately started on his tirade about his horrible childhood. He claims he was an outcast and had no friends, and was beaten up daily. Perhaps he had a hard time for a while, but I just don't believe that was the case for his entire childhood. Additionally, who knows how much of that was personality based picking versus stature picking. Nevertheless, I stand by my opinion that he is projecting his past experiences on his child. I stand by all the things I've already said, as well as those of the psychologists and the doctor...not to mention my friends and family. His reasoning is invalid, to me, because it's just not reasonable. He has one con, and no pros. He has no other sides to the situation-just his one feeling...that my son is short for his age, so we should hold him back a year. I have already asked him if he will insist on holding the younger boy back-he will not. He claims it's simply because his birthday is three months earlier in the year. I said, well, that negates your whole theory then, because three months won't make a bit of difference in either of their heights. Both of them are always going to be short, until the day they die.
G is also is like a used car salesman. He has a retort and an excuse for everything. It makes me want to put a fork in my eye. He talks and twist things well out of proportion. Additionally, he's not as straightforward as I once believed him to be. To put it lightly, I take everything he says with a grain of salt. And he always has his own agenda.
So, he gave his ultimatum. I keep Collin home a year, or he will go to the school and tell them that he doesn't want him to attend. He said we could put him into a Montessori school (someone obviously put the bug in his ear about that), but that's just another excuse, because there is no way we can afford it...not to mention that pre-k is not the stimulation that he needs. The thing I hate the most about this is that he's telling my son that he's got something wrong with him. Collin has no problem with himself--if he were so concerned, why would he jeapardize that?!
I'm going to the school tomorrow to turn in the rest of my paperwork and be briefed on the test results. It makes me crazy that he's not on the same page as me. He will not listen to reason, and he doesn't respect what I have to say. He doesn't accept that raising these kids has been my job for the past 9 years, and I've been mostly responsible for everything in their lives. Why should he throw a wrench into what I feel is best now? I have lost even more respect for him. I honestly don't know where we're going to go from here.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Monday, June 23, 2008
Kissin' Wears Out...
"Kissin' wears out. Cookin' don't." So goes the Pennsylvania Dutch saying. It's true, sadly. Today is the eleventh anniversary of our first kiss (mine and G's, of course). I don't know why I remember stupid stuff like that, but I do. Before he left to go to his meeting tonight, I told him that I wished kissing didn't wear out. He said, "You don't like to kiss me anymore, anyway," and left. Hmph. I'd like to be kissing somebody. It's just a shame, when two people can't figure out how to make that last. I feel like I've done a relatively good job of it, on my part. I mean, I know that things will cool off, and there's a lot more to marriage than how it all began...but if we can't find little bits of that magic from time to time, what are we doing?! It's pretty sad, and I'm not happy about it. But, you can't make someone else feel a certain way about you.
I had another ultrasound today, and the baby wiggled the whole time. I always wonder if their movement and activity habits in utero are any indication of what the future holds. If so, let's just say I've got my work cut out for me. Everything looks good, and although the bloodwork part of my nuchal translucency test was botched due to a computer error, it looks like I'm at a pretty low risk for the major chromosomal defects (like Down's Syndrome & Trisomy 18/13. The baby's limbs are a little longer now, so he/she doesn't look like a gummy bear anymore. I can't wait until the 18-20 week ultrasound, when we can see the anatomy more clearly, and hopefully determine the gender.
I made a chicken pot pie for dinner. I can't wait to eat it. It has taken significantly longer than it was supposed to have taken. That's the case a lot of the time that I cook. On the other hand, I'm not into crunchy veggies in my pot pie, so longer is better.
We went to see Thomas the Tank Engine in Strasburg, Pa this weekend. We had a good time. We stayed at a Travelodge, which I'll be writing a review about on the travel websites. I forked over the extra $40 (and then an extra $10 on top of that) for the king suite and the rollaway bed, so that G and I could have "our" room, and the kids could have thair own room (and therefore we wouldn't have to go to bed at 9:00). Well, that was a nice idea, but didn't happen. The pull-out sofa was supposed to sleep two. Two infants, maybe. Then there was the rollaway, but we had no pillows for it or the pull-out. I called the front desk twice, letting it ring for ages, and no one answered. Finally, I got my shoes back on and trekked down there, only to find the clerk on the phone with his friend. Nice. This was the same clerk who had kicked us out of the pool after we had been swimming for only 2 minutes. I know it was time for them to close and all, but man, have a little mercy. On the other hand, the pool was probably 60 degrees, so it wasn't exactly fun. Anyway, I asked for ANOTHER rollaway (at which point he demanded to know how many people I had in my room), and some pillows. He seemed irritatd, but I was much more irritated, so he obliged. Did I mention that the suite didn't have a door between rooms? So, I sat there in the dark, occasionally threatening the children, until they finally went to sleep. It was more than an hour later. Just when I thought they would never go to sleep, fireworks started across the street. They must have gone on for 45 minutes! And that's when they fell asleep-right in the middle of the show. I have no idea how they slept through that. Note to self-make sure there's a door. And sufficient bedding. SIGH. Anyway, the train rides were cool. The PA Dutch cooking was good. I like to experience that pastoral culture sometimes. It's such a more relaxed, simple way of living. We need to immerse ourselves in that from time to time. It's good for the soul. I would really love to live in an area less congested and less hectic than this. Maybe someday.
I had another ultrasound today, and the baby wiggled the whole time. I always wonder if their movement and activity habits in utero are any indication of what the future holds. If so, let's just say I've got my work cut out for me. Everything looks good, and although the bloodwork part of my nuchal translucency test was botched due to a computer error, it looks like I'm at a pretty low risk for the major chromosomal defects (like Down's Syndrome & Trisomy 18/13. The baby's limbs are a little longer now, so he/she doesn't look like a gummy bear anymore. I can't wait until the 18-20 week ultrasound, when we can see the anatomy more clearly, and hopefully determine the gender.
I made a chicken pot pie for dinner. I can't wait to eat it. It has taken significantly longer than it was supposed to have taken. That's the case a lot of the time that I cook. On the other hand, I'm not into crunchy veggies in my pot pie, so longer is better.
We went to see Thomas the Tank Engine in Strasburg, Pa this weekend. We had a good time. We stayed at a Travelodge, which I'll be writing a review about on the travel websites. I forked over the extra $40 (and then an extra $10 on top of that) for the king suite and the rollaway bed, so that G and I could have "our" room, and the kids could have thair own room (and therefore we wouldn't have to go to bed at 9:00). Well, that was a nice idea, but didn't happen. The pull-out sofa was supposed to sleep two. Two infants, maybe. Then there was the rollaway, but we had no pillows for it or the pull-out. I called the front desk twice, letting it ring for ages, and no one answered. Finally, I got my shoes back on and trekked down there, only to find the clerk on the phone with his friend. Nice. This was the same clerk who had kicked us out of the pool after we had been swimming for only 2 minutes. I know it was time for them to close and all, but man, have a little mercy. On the other hand, the pool was probably 60 degrees, so it wasn't exactly fun. Anyway, I asked for ANOTHER rollaway (at which point he demanded to know how many people I had in my room), and some pillows. He seemed irritatd, but I was much more irritated, so he obliged. Did I mention that the suite didn't have a door between rooms? So, I sat there in the dark, occasionally threatening the children, until they finally went to sleep. It was more than an hour later. Just when I thought they would never go to sleep, fireworks started across the street. They must have gone on for 45 minutes! And that's when they fell asleep-right in the middle of the show. I have no idea how they slept through that. Note to self-make sure there's a door. And sufficient bedding. SIGH. Anyway, the train rides were cool. The PA Dutch cooking was good. I like to experience that pastoral culture sometimes. It's such a more relaxed, simple way of living. We need to immerse ourselves in that from time to time. It's good for the soul. I would really love to live in an area less congested and less hectic than this. Maybe someday.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
A Day in the Life Kinda Thing
I just read my horoscope for today, and it said that in everything I do today, my enthusiasm will bubble up and influence everyone around me. HAH! First of all, let me say that I don't live my life by my horoscope, but I do look at it for entertainment purposes. I like to see if, after the fact, it's had any correlation to reality, mostly. Anyway, I've been sitting on the couch. All day. I watched Noah push around his overflowing toy shopping cart full of other toys, looking for all the world like a bag lady. I commenced daytime potty training-which means we abandon diapers during the day, and park the potty in the middle of the living room. I hate a kids' potty. It's the most revolting thing ever. That may be the hormonally nauseated me speaking. I watched the older two tie eachother, and various other neighbor kids, up to the tree with jumpropes. Other than screaming at the dog for barking nonstop, I'd say I was pretty much a bystander in life today, rather than bubbling over with enthusiasm.
I did take my son to the doctor this morning, and he was strangely excited about his check-up. He obviously doesn't remember all the shots he got last time. He didn't need any this time, either, so he was just as happy when he left. He's right there with my other two, in only the 10th percentile for height. Ah, well, there is nothing to be done about genetics. I also talked with the ped about my older son going to kindergarten "early" this year. He misses the cut-off by only eight days, so I requested that he be tested for "early" admission. It turns out that he scored really high on the cognitive part of the tests, although admittedly 5 points away from the county's guideline score. He scored in the 97th percentile for the academic portion. The school psychologist, gifted & talented coordinator, principal, and area director all recommended him for early admission. Now we await the final answer from the Board [of Education]. What's the problem, you ask? G. G is the problem. He thinks we should hold him back, because he is shorter than average. Even though my husband is a know-it-all devil's advocate, this even stunned me. My immediate thought was, what if he was taller than average? Would you insist he be placed in the second grade?! It just makes no sense. For someone who has so often said otherwise, it's amazing to me that G is focusing solely on the child's genetics, about which we can do nothing. The psychologist's report clearly says that he will need advanced math and reading in his curriculum in order to be stimulated. Hello?! What does that tell you? Now, G's concern is not unfounded. He remembers being teased for being short. Know what? I remember being teased because I wore a dress. Because my last name was Badger. Because I liked to read. Because I wore a brace on my back. Because I rode the bus. My point, obviously is that children of all ages will tease other children for ANY reason, difference, or ability that they observe. Besides, what are we teaching our son if we tell him that we didn't give him ability-appropriate training because of the way he looks?! Additionally, I'm sick to death of people generalizing and saying that boys are behind girls...that is not always the case, nor is it always that cut and dried. They may be somewhat emotionally behind girls, but generally, their academic abilities are equal if not greater. Why do we continue to sell our sons short? I spoke to the pediatrician today, knowing that he is a developmentally concerned, but also a somewhat neutral party. He feels the same way that I do. He said that he totally understands why G feels the way he does, but we have to instill confidence in our son that we can do nothing about genetics, but we can make the most of our abilities...and we deal with our inabilities. He says that especially considering he missed the cutoff by a mere eight days, and clearly qualifies, he needs the stimulation and we should enroll him. We'll see what G has to say about it.
I did take my son to the doctor this morning, and he was strangely excited about his check-up. He obviously doesn't remember all the shots he got last time. He didn't need any this time, either, so he was just as happy when he left. He's right there with my other two, in only the 10th percentile for height. Ah, well, there is nothing to be done about genetics. I also talked with the ped about my older son going to kindergarten "early" this year. He misses the cut-off by only eight days, so I requested that he be tested for "early" admission. It turns out that he scored really high on the cognitive part of the tests, although admittedly 5 points away from the county's guideline score. He scored in the 97th percentile for the academic portion. The school psychologist, gifted & talented coordinator, principal, and area director all recommended him for early admission. Now we await the final answer from the Board [of Education]. What's the problem, you ask? G. G is the problem. He thinks we should hold him back, because he is shorter than average. Even though my husband is a know-it-all devil's advocate, this even stunned me. My immediate thought was, what if he was taller than average? Would you insist he be placed in the second grade?! It just makes no sense. For someone who has so often said otherwise, it's amazing to me that G is focusing solely on the child's genetics, about which we can do nothing. The psychologist's report clearly says that he will need advanced math and reading in his curriculum in order to be stimulated. Hello?! What does that tell you? Now, G's concern is not unfounded. He remembers being teased for being short. Know what? I remember being teased because I wore a dress. Because my last name was Badger. Because I liked to read. Because I wore a brace on my back. Because I rode the bus. My point, obviously is that children of all ages will tease other children for ANY reason, difference, or ability that they observe. Besides, what are we teaching our son if we tell him that we didn't give him ability-appropriate training because of the way he looks?! Additionally, I'm sick to death of people generalizing and saying that boys are behind girls...that is not always the case, nor is it always that cut and dried. They may be somewhat emotionally behind girls, but generally, their academic abilities are equal if not greater. Why do we continue to sell our sons short? I spoke to the pediatrician today, knowing that he is a developmentally concerned, but also a somewhat neutral party. He feels the same way that I do. He said that he totally understands why G feels the way he does, but we have to instill confidence in our son that we can do nothing about genetics, but we can make the most of our abilities...and we deal with our inabilities. He says that especially considering he missed the cutoff by a mere eight days, and clearly qualifies, he needs the stimulation and we should enroll him. We'll see what G has to say about it.
Friday, June 13, 2008
What Would You Do?
My yard and my neighbor's yard both have retaining walls, so the yards are higher than the driveways. Every time my neighbor mows his grass, he lets the clippings blow up the sides of whatever vehicles happen to be parked in the driveway. He's done it to G several times. G said he's said something to Bruce, who blew it off. He said it wasn't hurting anything and would rinse right off (it does not). He said he would let us know before he mowed in the future. He's never made any attempt to do that. He did it to me once...I promptly went out with paper towels and spray cleaner...but since my Tahoe is dark green, the grass cooked onto it right away. I really had to scrape and scrub to get it off. He apologized, and I asked him why he couldn't simply turn the mower the other way. He mumbled something about there being a tree close by. I fail to see his "logic".
So, this morning I heard mowing, looked out, and sure enough, he had mowed up the side of G's Jeep again. G took his motorcycle to work today...I wonder if Bruce wasn't waiting for him to do so. So, now what do I do? Do I go confront him, or just let some of the dog crap we're scooping out of our yard accidentally make it over the fence into his yard? I really hate to be vengeful and start a warring neighbors thing. That could get ugly fast. We have already had problems with him-he decided to grade his entire back yard, without a permit. He brought in a Bobcat and went to town. He actully looked like he knew what he was doing, and took precautions and so forth. However, he climbed up on the temporary retaining wall, and our yard collapsed 12 feet down into his. Needless to say, we were less than pleased. In fact, I was extremely pissed. He did build us a new retaining wall, as promised, and it's perfect--industrial strength. But still. And if we'd have reported him, he'd have been fined heavily.
So I don't know what to do. Any ideas? Do I just go over and say, Look, this is not cool. You wouldn't do that to the neighbors on the other side, so don't do it to us. I get the feeling he just sees us as kids, and he can be manipulative as he pleases.
What would you do?
So, this morning I heard mowing, looked out, and sure enough, he had mowed up the side of G's Jeep again. G took his motorcycle to work today...I wonder if Bruce wasn't waiting for him to do so. So, now what do I do? Do I go confront him, or just let some of the dog crap we're scooping out of our yard accidentally make it over the fence into his yard? I really hate to be vengeful and start a warring neighbors thing. That could get ugly fast. We have already had problems with him-he decided to grade his entire back yard, without a permit. He brought in a Bobcat and went to town. He actully looked like he knew what he was doing, and took precautions and so forth. However, he climbed up on the temporary retaining wall, and our yard collapsed 12 feet down into his. Needless to say, we were less than pleased. In fact, I was extremely pissed. He did build us a new retaining wall, as promised, and it's perfect--industrial strength. But still. And if we'd have reported him, he'd have been fined heavily.
So I don't know what to do. Any ideas? Do I just go over and say, Look, this is not cool. You wouldn't do that to the neighbors on the other side, so don't do it to us. I get the feeling he just sees us as kids, and he can be manipulative as he pleases.
What would you do?
Monday, May 19, 2008
TMI Sensitivity or Weak Stomach? Stop Reading Right Now! Seriously.
After my youngest son was born, I decided to get an IUD as birth control. If you're not savvy, it is a tiny device, inserted into the uterus so that implantation (of a fertilized egg) cannot take place. For me, it was the perfect solution for several reasons: it's a one-time deal...no pills to remember, nothing to fool with in the heat of the moment; it is 99.6% effective; it lasts 10 years; there are no hormones involved; it's not permanent. The bad part was that I had to pay out-of-pocket for it, because my insurance company does not cover IUDs. Anyway, it was placed , and I nursed my son for quite a while, so I also didn't have a period for a long time. Then, this month, something was amiss. The date came and went-no period. I had no idea what was about to go through, but I knew what had happened. I knew, just like I knew my father had died. Just like I knew my baby had died. Just like I knew the other four test would be positive. I knew this one would be, too. It was. I stood there, shaking, in the Target bathroom, wondering what in the hell I am going to do with myself, and my other three children. I wonder how many other people do that-purchase a test, and just stop by the store restroom because they cannot possibly wait until they get home.
There started my rollercoaster ride, and it's not over yet. Today, I had the IUD removed laparoscopically. It turns out that it wasn't in my uterus at all...it was between my uterus and my bladder. That means that it probably perforated my uterus and went right through it when it was placed. Meaning, it never was where it belonged. On the ultrasounds, the IUD looked just like a straight line-not the T-shape it should be once it springs open after proper insertion...another hint consistent with perforation. The doctor went in through my belly button as well as another small incision on the left lower side of my belly and retrieved the wayward IUD, a procedure that only took about 15 minutes, I'm told. However, start to finish, I was at the hospital for about six hours. Before I left, they did an ultrasound. We saw the baby, and the heartbeat was fine (as it was Friday). Only time will tell, now. There is an increased risk that I will miscarry because of the surgery. I had to tell my children--they have been worried about my multiple doctor visits, bloodwork trips, and ultrasound appointments, not to mention all the times I threatened them to be quiet while I was on the phone with doctors and nurses. I guess it will be beneficial to them either way-they might as well learn that babies' lives are not in the hands of their parents. We don't always get to bring them home from the hospital in a nice new blanket.
I have talked on several occasions about my desire to have "just one more"...but when I looked at that plus sign on the stick, I nearly died. I realized that I was quite content with life with three. I also realized another thing: while I might look back on my baby days wistfully, I don't want to be pregnant again. It may be due to my recent severe anxiety. It may be due to my age. It may be that I really do have clarity about what I want. This is it. I dare say that I might feel differently if the outcome is poor. I'm known to change my mind like that. When my first baby was stillborn, I immediately wanted another child, despite previously swearing that he would be my only. This time, I honestly think that no matter what, this is our last child.
So, it's kind of exciting, thinking about having another new baby. It will be neat to see my older kids with the baby. The sleepless nights and incessant nursing? Eh. In fact, I'm pretty much dreading it. And I have no idea where we're going to put it. We have a four bedroom house, so they're all full. The rooms are relatively small, so someone is going to be forced to share...and they're probably not going to like it. Good thing we got that minivan, I guess. Then there's the money. Or lack of it. It's already hard enough, living with three. The diapers...my Lord. My youngest is still in them. G joked that if this baby is a girl, she will likely be using the potty before he is. We'll make it, I know we will. It just might be harder than it has been. There are so many what-ifs, so many variables...sometimes it's just hard to keep it all in perspective and recognize it for the immense blessing that it is. Some people would kill for this opportunity. Some people never have this opportunity. When I consider the odds of what happened, combined with the normal odds of achieving pregnancy, it's astounding. It's clear that this baby is a miracle, and it's clear that it was meant to be. You can be as scientific about it as you like; I know that it was meant to be.
So, only time will tell. My problems right now are my anxiety, which I cannot mask pharmaceutically, and my pain, for which I don't care to take a narcotic. Tylenol does little, and has never done much for me. I'm not supposed to be alone with my children for a week...meaning, I'm supposed to take it that easy for a week. Not sure how that's going to happen. I'm trying not to worry about it. I'm trying to take it one step at a time. For now, I'm just thirsty and my throat hurts from the breathing tube.
There started my rollercoaster ride, and it's not over yet. Today, I had the IUD removed laparoscopically. It turns out that it wasn't in my uterus at all...it was between my uterus and my bladder. That means that it probably perforated my uterus and went right through it when it was placed. Meaning, it never was where it belonged. On the ultrasounds, the IUD looked just like a straight line-not the T-shape it should be once it springs open after proper insertion...another hint consistent with perforation. The doctor went in through my belly button as well as another small incision on the left lower side of my belly and retrieved the wayward IUD, a procedure that only took about 15 minutes, I'm told. However, start to finish, I was at the hospital for about six hours. Before I left, they did an ultrasound. We saw the baby, and the heartbeat was fine (as it was Friday). Only time will tell, now. There is an increased risk that I will miscarry because of the surgery. I had to tell my children--they have been worried about my multiple doctor visits, bloodwork trips, and ultrasound appointments, not to mention all the times I threatened them to be quiet while I was on the phone with doctors and nurses. I guess it will be beneficial to them either way-they might as well learn that babies' lives are not in the hands of their parents. We don't always get to bring them home from the hospital in a nice new blanket.
I have talked on several occasions about my desire to have "just one more"...but when I looked at that plus sign on the stick, I nearly died. I realized that I was quite content with life with three. I also realized another thing: while I might look back on my baby days wistfully, I don't want to be pregnant again. It may be due to my recent severe anxiety. It may be due to my age. It may be that I really do have clarity about what I want. This is it. I dare say that I might feel differently if the outcome is poor. I'm known to change my mind like that. When my first baby was stillborn, I immediately wanted another child, despite previously swearing that he would be my only. This time, I honestly think that no matter what, this is our last child.
So, it's kind of exciting, thinking about having another new baby. It will be neat to see my older kids with the baby. The sleepless nights and incessant nursing? Eh. In fact, I'm pretty much dreading it. And I have no idea where we're going to put it. We have a four bedroom house, so they're all full. The rooms are relatively small, so someone is going to be forced to share...and they're probably not going to like it. Good thing we got that minivan, I guess. Then there's the money. Or lack of it. It's already hard enough, living with three. The diapers...my Lord. My youngest is still in them. G joked that if this baby is a girl, she will likely be using the potty before he is. We'll make it, I know we will. It just might be harder than it has been. There are so many what-ifs, so many variables...sometimes it's just hard to keep it all in perspective and recognize it for the immense blessing that it is. Some people would kill for this opportunity. Some people never have this opportunity. When I consider the odds of what happened, combined with the normal odds of achieving pregnancy, it's astounding. It's clear that this baby is a miracle, and it's clear that it was meant to be. You can be as scientific about it as you like; I know that it was meant to be.
So, only time will tell. My problems right now are my anxiety, which I cannot mask pharmaceutically, and my pain, for which I don't care to take a narcotic. Tylenol does little, and has never done much for me. I'm not supposed to be alone with my children for a week...meaning, I'm supposed to take it that easy for a week. Not sure how that's going to happen. I'm trying not to worry about it. I'm trying to take it one step at a time. For now, I'm just thirsty and my throat hurts from the breathing tube.
Monday, May 5, 2008
By the Water
I finally got all three of my kids to the beach (that's the local beach at Downs Park, of course) at the same time. They had so much fun, and were so busy. They ran back and forth a million times, collecting sticks, building stick "houses". Cameron met a girl from Germany who had eczema worse than she does. We were free and carefree, the way it should be...at least most of the time. I used to feel like that a lot with them, at various stages in my life. Sometimes when it was only Cameron, sometimes when it was just Cameron and Collin, and finally all three after Noah was born. I don't know what happened after that-I lost some of that sense of communion with my children, and I certainly didn't often feel a great four-way connection with them. Saturday, I felt like it was me and them in the world, and nothing else mattered. There is freedom in that feeling, and happiness and peace, too.
There must have been a small craft advisory in effect, because the bay was so choppy. The tide was so high that we couldn't pass the way we usually do to get to the beach, nor could we sit in our usual spot. It was windy, and as soon as the sun started to dip, it became chilly, too. The children were beautiful, in that almost-sunset light, and their hair blowing. I watched the bay change colors from minute to minute, and felt beautiful myself...simply because of my feelings and surroundings.
The littlest boy showed signs of needing to leave first. I think he's hypoglycemic or something. He dug through my insulated bag, which contained only drinks, insisting that I give him something to eat. I assured him there was no food in the bag. A couple of times, he even picked up a few pieces of trash off the beach, asking if he could eat them. I took the opportunity to fill two sand pails full of trash from the beach for us to carry out. I don't know if it was because of the weekend and increased traffic, or the high tide depositing more than a normal amount of trash, or what...but I know that I don't want to see it next time we go.
Anyway, so we went to Pastore's-I was thinking maybe we could eat dinner for the $15 I had in my pocket. Did I ever find a deal! You can actually get an 18" 1 topping pizza for $7.99! Of course, the drinks were like $2 each, but the boys could share and I didn't want one because I had water in the car. Ah, but then the children saw the case of cannolis, tiramisu, and cakes. How can you say no to that? Actually, our dessert cost more than our dinner. It was worth it, though, and I didn't have to cook late in the evening.
I see many more days like that in our future this summer. I see many dinners being eaten there on that beach-cold sandwiches, or maybe some chicken made ahead of time. It's a shame they don't like salads. Maybe they will learn what I know to be true...everything tastes better when you're outside, especially by the water.
Friday, May 2, 2008
Peaceful Surroundings
I went to the park today, because I had to. I could not sit in this house, and didn't have the will to try to contain my children. It's funny how as soon as I hear the bay's little baby-waves, my blood pressure drops and I feel my muscles relax. Collin especially was missing Nanay, G's grandmother who is in the Philippines for three weeks. She has been going to the park with us, and we have lunch together. Despite having recently eaten breakfast, the laying down of the mat was signal enough to the boys to want to eat lunch. They didn't eat much, of course, before they were off and running...fighting over who could put sand in whose bucket, who had which shovel. Mostly, Noah causes the problem, because, well, he's still two, and does what he wants. Once in a while, though, Collin will get that look in his eye, and you just know he's about to do something naughty. I went on my usual comb of the beach in search of my newfound interest: sea glass. There wasn't much to be had today, as it was still very high tide. Usually we arrive later, so it has already been deposited on the sand. It's amazing how much can be found there! Sometimes I find pieces that are still sharp and shiny, and haven't been frosted by being tossed about in the waves...and I chuck them back into the water so that it can do its magic. I don't know why the little pieces of once-hazardous waste interest me, but they're pretty, and they're fairly rare, in these times of plastic.
All too soon, it was time for us to go. I had a doctor's appointment, so we had to leave earlier than we normally might. That was ok...the boys were tired by then, although at least one of them refused a nap. If we'd had a little longer ride home, they'd both have been asleep in the car.
It's nice to have a peaceful day.
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