After having a crazy-busy week, and a pretty ambitious list of weekend projects - I don't even know where to start. Spring is disorienting (Sun? Green?) enough but there are so many seasonal tasks to complete in a relatively short time. Today was mostly knocking down the remains of last year's garden, raking, etc. Bob is working on a raised bed for strawberries. Might even plant a few blueberry bushes.
As I write this, Bob's talking to a landscape expert because we're in over our head. When we were newly in the house, there was nothing - so doing something looked pretty good, as improvements go. And we used to have a lot more time to garden.
Our neighborhood program gave grants for block clubs to get together, rent tillers and sodbusters, put in soil and compost, and lots and lots of plants for boulevard gardens. Quite a few families took part; working together was fun and I was glad for the help. (Especially since I was pregnant, and limited to glowing, pointing, and fetching lemonade for the sweaty masses.) That living memory up and down the street, and the awesome block parties remind me why I love living here. We may be in a small house, but we live big in our community.
We've since expanded our gardens up front, on either side of the walk, and onto the side boulevard. I doubled the size of the front bed, and planted hydrangea, arborvitae, and way way way too many lilies. We also have ferns and hosta along the shady side of our house. Lots of prairie natives, which have done very well, some ornamental grass, a few peony bushes, etc. Right now the Grecian windflowers and Siberian squill are in bloom. No crocuses yet; they may have gotten eaten by those pesky squirrels, along with all our tulips and hyacinths.
One of the rites of spring around here involves doing too much too early, and getting caught by a cold spell. It's been quite tempting this week of lovely warm days and mild nights. We've got another 3-4 weeks before you can put out the "tender" annuals and perennials.
Obviously, there will be expense involved here. The expenditure depends on what the gardening pro tells us, and how much willpower I have. Buying plants is a hopeful activity, part creative endeavor, and part meditation opportunity - pull weeds, breathe, repeat. The Friends School Plant Sale is more like a rush to Filene's Basement, but with a bunch of green-thumbed persons. I do try to swap plants and seeds with neighbors as much as possible, to keep the costs low. And I'm not sure if buying plants is "cheating" as it's like any other consumable that I've given a pass to: food, health and beauty stuff, and the like.
I did indulge today in a few pansies because they are so darned cheerful, and a lavender that I will most likely kill in short order. Hope springs eternal...
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Happy Easter Everybunny!
The kids are jacked up on sugar and fighting over their piles and sneaking treats just like Nov. 1st. Easter has become the new Halloween, methinks.
For awhile it seemed that Halloween was becoming more restrained, but it's really just more diversified. Instead of Snickers or 3 Musketeers, we now have OPTIONS. Healthy snacks: pretzels, Goldfish, fruit thingys made with actual fruit. And toys: silly teeth, spiders, pencils (that are mostly decorative as I find them impossible to sharpen), other goofy plastic stuff.
Choices are good, right? But for some reason, the more options, the bigger tendency to get one of each, so it seems you wind up with larger total quantities of stuff.
Although I applaud the lower sugar snacks and the toys for what they are trying to do - namely limit the candy footprint - it seems to not be making much of a dent in the average Halloween haul. And as evil as fun-size candy bars are, at least they disappear. Quickly. Usually starting with the Take 5 and Almond Joys. (I'm so selfless to protect my kids from all this by taking the hit myself. Now... where is my feed bag?) The toys - linger, break, still linger on. And the amount of plastic is overwhelming. Less stuff means more sugar; there really isn't a good alternative here.
Note the conspicuous absence of any discussion of the contemporary role of Parent as Wet Blanket. That deserves an entry all its own.
Here are some neat Easter ideas, heard on the playground:
Choose useful items such as sand pails for the Easter basket - that way they have a second life around the house.
Goodwill always has zillions of used baskets so each year it can be 'new' to your kids.
If you don't want to buy new baskets each year, tell the kids the Easter bunny needs to know where to leave the loot, so they need to choose their own basket to put out. Like a Christmas stocking, sort of.
The plastic eggs multiply when you're not looking. (Hello, left by a bunny? C'mon now.) Of course reusing them is the best option, provided you can locate them each year. You can also snap them shut on loops of yarn and hang them from a tree for decorations. At the preschool the kids got to pick lentils, peas, beans to put in their egg, then it was sealed up with colorful electrical tape and voila - rhythm section. Or both: hang a bunch of eggs filled with lentils on your trees and drive your neighbors nuts.
Or skip the plastic eggs altogether. When we were kids, my parents would hide foil-covered chocolate eggs all over the place. This was much more challenging. For the second year, we hid a bunch today for the kids and it took them a good twenty minutes and I still see a couple tricksy ones lurking about. Extra props if you order the eggs from www.fowlerschocolate.com, unbelievably yummy. Try the orange chocolate sponge candy. It's too wonderful to explain.
We didn't get around to dyeing Easter eggs this year. I'm the only one who eats hardboiled eggs, so it's a bit much. And to be honest, I really don't like the egg dyeing kits available. When we were kids there were bottles of dye, I think Paas - complete with bunny head stoppers - that you'd swirl around in a bowl. The dye would float on the surface, so as you dipped in your egg you got awesome multicolor streaks and swirls. Think marbled paper. They were beautiful. Of course cleanup was a nightmare and they were probably made of substances too toxic to be sold these days, but nostalgia persists. So crayons, stickers and single pastel colors... well, pale by comparison. Let the record show I actually did score an egg-decorating kit at Goodwill a couple of months ago. I squirreled it away. Maybe I'll find it in time for next year.
For awhile it seemed that Halloween was becoming more restrained, but it's really just more diversified. Instead of Snickers or 3 Musketeers, we now have OPTIONS. Healthy snacks: pretzels, Goldfish, fruit thingys made with actual fruit. And toys: silly teeth, spiders, pencils (that are mostly decorative as I find them impossible to sharpen), other goofy plastic stuff.
Choices are good, right? But for some reason, the more options, the bigger tendency to get one of each, so it seems you wind up with larger total quantities of stuff.
Although I applaud the lower sugar snacks and the toys for what they are trying to do - namely limit the candy footprint - it seems to not be making much of a dent in the average Halloween haul. And as evil as fun-size candy bars are, at least they disappear. Quickly. Usually starting with the Take 5 and Almond Joys. (I'm so selfless to protect my kids from all this by taking the hit myself. Now... where is my feed bag?) The toys - linger, break, still linger on. And the amount of plastic is overwhelming. Less stuff means more sugar; there really isn't a good alternative here.
Note the conspicuous absence of any discussion of the contemporary role of Parent as Wet Blanket. That deserves an entry all its own.
Here are some neat Easter ideas, heard on the playground:
Choose useful items such as sand pails for the Easter basket - that way they have a second life around the house.
Goodwill always has zillions of used baskets so each year it can be 'new' to your kids.
If you don't want to buy new baskets each year, tell the kids the Easter bunny needs to know where to leave the loot, so they need to choose their own basket to put out. Like a Christmas stocking, sort of.
The plastic eggs multiply when you're not looking. (Hello, left by a bunny? C'mon now.) Of course reusing them is the best option, provided you can locate them each year. You can also snap them shut on loops of yarn and hang them from a tree for decorations. At the preschool the kids got to pick lentils, peas, beans to put in their egg, then it was sealed up with colorful electrical tape and voila - rhythm section. Or both: hang a bunch of eggs filled with lentils on your trees and drive your neighbors nuts.
Or skip the plastic eggs altogether. When we were kids, my parents would hide foil-covered chocolate eggs all over the place. This was much more challenging. For the second year, we hid a bunch today for the kids and it took them a good twenty minutes and I still see a couple tricksy ones lurking about. Extra props if you order the eggs from www.fowlerschocolate.com, unbelievably yummy. Try the orange chocolate sponge candy. It's too wonderful to explain.
We didn't get around to dyeing Easter eggs this year. I'm the only one who eats hardboiled eggs, so it's a bit much. And to be honest, I really don't like the egg dyeing kits available. When we were kids there were bottles of dye, I think Paas - complete with bunny head stoppers - that you'd swirl around in a bowl. The dye would float on the surface, so as you dipped in your egg you got awesome multicolor streaks and swirls. Think marbled paper. They were beautiful. Of course cleanup was a nightmare and they were probably made of substances too toxic to be sold these days, but nostalgia persists. So crayons, stickers and single pastel colors... well, pale by comparison. Let the record show I actually did score an egg-decorating kit at Goodwill a couple of months ago. I squirreled it away. Maybe I'll find it in time for next year.
Urban Legends
I struggle to get adequate exercise into my routine, as apparently chasing kids isn't aerobic enough. And, oh yeah, there are about a zillion things I'd rather be doing. Exercise has always been a 'should' complete with attendant shame, but recently I've been noticing that I really do feel better on the days I exercise. There's also what I call the Placebo Poundage Effect, where even if you look no different than the previous week, you feel thinner, just on virtue of having made a valiant attempt. And some days, that's enough.
We recently dropped our Y membership, so I'm down to walking/biking/rollerblading - which I prefer to be kid-free experiences, preferably in decent weather. If that's not possible, I have an eliptical strider in the basement. Bob surprised me with it two summers ago (free from the postings at work), and the shelf for the DVD player is quite handy. Basically I hop on (generally without shoes or stretching - I know, I know) pop in a DVD, and get thru 45 - 60 minutes. For a while those Netflix picks were around an awfully long time, but now I can get thru a perfectly forgettable movie I don't even remember ordering in 2 or 3 workouts. Which is a good week for me.
We've never had cable so I've missed a lot of pop culture and happily, Netflix supplies me with the films and shows I've missed out on. I loved Deadwood, and Six Feet Under. And my guilty pleasure: Nip/Tuck. But lately, I'm all about the MythBusters. Or as X refers to "that show where the guys blow stuff up. Alot."
It's a pretty cool premise to take on urban legends and folklore, and scientifically test them out by rigging up similar conditions - usually requiring some sort of bizarre contraptions - and comparing results to label the myth as confirmed, busted, or plausible. It's always interesting how the projects take shape and the hosts are really mechanically inclined and ingenious. The show I watched this morning was all about how they find the assorted props and equipment to make it all happen - shopping for everything from a plane fuselage to pig stomachs. They are based in the SF Bay area so generally they go to quirky surplus dealers, junk yards, and the like. One of the hosts has a bit of a hoarding problem - house full of things with a high "gee whiz" factor being slightly out-numbered by the WTF? category. Perhaps he and the Clean Sweep guy should have a crossover episode...
This seemed as good a time as any to put in a plug for our local, quirky surplus store: Ax Man.
They have several metro locations now, but the mothership is the St. Paul store, on University Ave. 2 blocks west of Snelling. They have a bizarre assortment of electronic pieces/parts, office supply, some military, lab equipment, and usually some cool toys, marbles, beads, etc. Emphasis on the etc. as you truly never know what they're going to have, and sometimes staring at the goofy signage and the bizarre items - you still don't know what they have! Most of the stuff is used/discarded so you feel like you're recycling. But Ax Man has the power to make you walk the aisles, suddenly inspired in by a few postal tubes, copper sheeting, ductwork and old golf balls to make some cool Rube Goldberg contraption. The staff and patrons may have taken Industrial Arts in high school, and they're not letting it go. I know folks who are banned from shopping there by their spouses. The kids love it - more like a museum where you get to explore and touch stuff than a mere store.
The best finds I've scored in recent memory: rocket balloons (which they no longer carry!), giant scary pinking shears, nice wooden boxes for the kids to decorate as treasure chests, and the entire inventory of a geology unit with lots of boxes containing all sorts of samples of various rocks. And most of the time, the prices are very reasonable. There is also a Blue Sky Guide coupon to use, and if you're buying things for a preschool or school project, they'll usually give you 10% off.
Since we call my son X-Man, he thinks it's his store. And a cool one at that.
Here's a link: www.ax-man.com. But you didn't hear it from me.
We recently dropped our Y membership, so I'm down to walking/biking/rollerblading - which I prefer to be kid-free experiences, preferably in decent weather. If that's not possible, I have an eliptical strider in the basement. Bob surprised me with it two summers ago (free from the postings at work), and the shelf for the DVD player is quite handy. Basically I hop on (generally without shoes or stretching - I know, I know) pop in a DVD, and get thru 45 - 60 minutes. For a while those Netflix picks were around an awfully long time, but now I can get thru a perfectly forgettable movie I don't even remember ordering in 2 or 3 workouts. Which is a good week for me.
We've never had cable so I've missed a lot of pop culture and happily, Netflix supplies me with the films and shows I've missed out on. I loved Deadwood, and Six Feet Under. And my guilty pleasure: Nip/Tuck. But lately, I'm all about the MythBusters. Or as X refers to "that show where the guys blow stuff up. Alot."
It's a pretty cool premise to take on urban legends and folklore, and scientifically test them out by rigging up similar conditions - usually requiring some sort of bizarre contraptions - and comparing results to label the myth as confirmed, busted, or plausible. It's always interesting how the projects take shape and the hosts are really mechanically inclined and ingenious. The show I watched this morning was all about how they find the assorted props and equipment to make it all happen - shopping for everything from a plane fuselage to pig stomachs. They are based in the SF Bay area so generally they go to quirky surplus dealers, junk yards, and the like. One of the hosts has a bit of a hoarding problem - house full of things with a high "gee whiz" factor being slightly out-numbered by the WTF? category. Perhaps he and the Clean Sweep guy should have a crossover episode...
This seemed as good a time as any to put in a plug for our local, quirky surplus store: Ax Man.
They have several metro locations now, but the mothership is the St. Paul store, on University Ave. 2 blocks west of Snelling. They have a bizarre assortment of electronic pieces/parts, office supply, some military, lab equipment, and usually some cool toys, marbles, beads, etc. Emphasis on the etc. as you truly never know what they're going to have, and sometimes staring at the goofy signage and the bizarre items - you still don't know what they have! Most of the stuff is used/discarded so you feel like you're recycling. But Ax Man has the power to make you walk the aisles, suddenly inspired in by a few postal tubes, copper sheeting, ductwork and old golf balls to make some cool Rube Goldberg contraption. The staff and patrons may have taken Industrial Arts in high school, and they're not letting it go. I know folks who are banned from shopping there by their spouses. The kids love it - more like a museum where you get to explore and touch stuff than a mere store.
The best finds I've scored in recent memory: rocket balloons (which they no longer carry!), giant scary pinking shears, nice wooden boxes for the kids to decorate as treasure chests, and the entire inventory of a geology unit with lots of boxes containing all sorts of samples of various rocks. And most of the time, the prices are very reasonable. There is also a Blue Sky Guide coupon to use, and if you're buying things for a preschool or school project, they'll usually give you 10% off.
Since we call my son X-Man, he thinks it's his store. And a cool one at that.
Here's a link: www.ax-man.com. But you didn't hear it from me.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Lost n found
Much of yesterday was lost to a migraine. Either that or a seizure/brain tumor/CVA/meningitis combo. (Ask Dr. Neurotic - no symptom too small...). While lying down in the dark, whimpering, waiting for the meds to kick in it was brought to my attention for the zillionth time that we are all ultimately powerless, and the only thing that helps you pretend to ride it out is the strength of your friends. Many thanks to my dear friends Tracey and Greg for helping out in a pinch, but well beyond the call of duty... I owe you big time! I really don't know what I would have done to keep my head from splitting open, with whiny children underfoot. Bob had a recording session that they scheduled months ago, so we were really in a bind. I rarely am that incapacitated by anything, but I still have my gift for timing.
I'm not sure if it's common post-migraine, but today things look .... different. My perspective is off, things seem closer, brighter, surreal. Sort of like when you're a kid on vacation then you go home after a couple of weeks and the counters are a weird height and the cat seems unfamiliar.
Just to push our luck, we went to the Minnesota Zoo today. With the entire population of Minneapolis. I can't believe there are that many people in the metro area, and every one of them was at the exhibits. I'm not big on crowds, so I was getting a tad snappish. And stayed that way. For hours. It's the unholy combo of way too many people in an enclosed space, and kids with zero appreciation for the flow of pedestrian traffic. They get caught up in eddies and currents and vanish from sight in two seconds flat... One runs, the other dawdles, and I wind up yelling for both of them. It's like herding cats. I hear myself calling them, hollering, lecturing and I just cringe. Oh my God I've turned into THAT MOM that you overhear in the grocery store, looking haggard and completely out of patience, with the unmistakable tone of voice that screams "Intervention!". The one you simultaneously feel sorry for and superior to. Yup. Judge not...
The end result: I'm exhausted and they're still bouncing off the walls.
In case you're keeping score, that's 2 weeks of spring break, complete with 2 jaunts to the zoo, 2 movies, one all-day at the waterpark, one giant playdate, 2 excursions to the sinkhole in da hood, and 3 dinner parties. Two lunches out, three forays to the cafe, four trips to the park, etc.
I wonder why I got the migraine...
Anyhow - my point is that I haven't exactly cut back on spending, and we did our share of propping up the economy for the week. But we're emphasizing the experience, rather than the souvenirs. And the only tangibles I have to show for it - a bunch of pictures to upload, a few new freckles, and two Happy Meal toys. Not a bad haul.
Not bad at all.
I'm not sure if it's common post-migraine, but today things look .... different. My perspective is off, things seem closer, brighter, surreal. Sort of like when you're a kid on vacation then you go home after a couple of weeks and the counters are a weird height and the cat seems unfamiliar.
Just to push our luck, we went to the Minnesota Zoo today. With the entire population of Minneapolis. I can't believe there are that many people in the metro area, and every one of them was at the exhibits. I'm not big on crowds, so I was getting a tad snappish. And stayed that way. For hours. It's the unholy combo of way too many people in an enclosed space, and kids with zero appreciation for the flow of pedestrian traffic. They get caught up in eddies and currents and vanish from sight in two seconds flat... One runs, the other dawdles, and I wind up yelling for both of them. It's like herding cats. I hear myself calling them, hollering, lecturing and I just cringe. Oh my God I've turned into THAT MOM that you overhear in the grocery store, looking haggard and completely out of patience, with the unmistakable tone of voice that screams "Intervention!". The one you simultaneously feel sorry for and superior to. Yup. Judge not...
The end result: I'm exhausted and they're still bouncing off the walls.
In case you're keeping score, that's 2 weeks of spring break, complete with 2 jaunts to the zoo, 2 movies, one all-day at the waterpark, one giant playdate, 2 excursions to the sinkhole in da hood, and 3 dinner parties. Two lunches out, three forays to the cafe, four trips to the park, etc.
I wonder why I got the migraine...
Anyhow - my point is that I haven't exactly cut back on spending, and we did our share of propping up the economy for the week. But we're emphasizing the experience, rather than the souvenirs. And the only tangibles I have to show for it - a bunch of pictures to upload, a few new freckles, and two Happy Meal toys. Not a bad haul.
Not bad at all.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Promises, promises
It's been a few days so I've had all sorts of little blog ideas rattling around in my brain,, but haven't had the discipline to write them down. They've since vacated the premises. Besides, I like the challenge of sitting staring at the screen and seeing what emerges in one sitting. Unfortunately, I have yet to master the "Edit" function so errors persist. I'll work on that.
Shout out to Mom! She's a first-time caller, long time fan... I'll be interested to hear what she thinks, and am hoping nothing I've already written will promote pique/embarrassment/worry.
Four months into this endeavor... wow. Weird.
The challenge remains how to fill awkward spaces in the day-to-day schedule without the default value of shopping. Molly Ellen wrote to me about this a while ago, and identified some peculiar time/space continuum abnormalities in the life of moms on the go. Here's the summary.
If you're like most families, the car is too convenient to consider giving up. So a way to conserve is to plan your trips for maximum fuel efficiency - longest destination first, group errands together, all those logistics. We're quite fortunate that everything is pretty close. It's the schedules that get kind of tricky. For instance: school drop-off and pick-up times are not arbitrary in the least, but the errands around them are endlessly variable. Grocery shopping can take 10 minutes or an hour, depending on the list and the competence of the cashiers. The library doesn't open until 10 or noon most days. The zoo and conservatory open at 10; ditto the art galleries and museum. The way it plays out is you have time increments too small to fit anything useful in, but too large to "waste". Doing nothing is really hard for me.
A typical morning starts with a 7:45 drop L at school, back to the house by 8:05 depending on how long I visit with the other parents. X and company need rides to preschool at 8:45, done 9ish - again, depending on how long I linger. The usual errands include dropping off books at the library (still closed), post office, grocery store. (I used to have the option of going to the YWCA but we finally let our membership go. Note I didn't say I actually ever went to said Y, hence the non-renewal.) Quick trip to Target, the bakery, the store that sells our favorite Peace Coffee - all within just a few blocks of the preschool. It's marvelous to run errands solo - quicker, less frustrating for all, pure luxury - and it satisfies part of my R.D.A. for peace and quiet. All these tasks can eat up the majority of a morning, but there's always a spare 20 to 40 minutes to kill. And Target and Savers and the dollar store are nearby and tempting.... It's nice to see what's for sale -especially clearance stuff. I stalk the endcaps looking for something too good to pass up, regardless of actual function or necessity. But it's hard to walk out with nothing. I swear Target should charge a $40 admission fee, just to be up front about it.
It's easier now that the weather isn't horrid to just sit in my car and read, take a quick walk, or window shop. When it's 20 below all your forays are strategic and furtive, at best. I have been going to a coffee shop often enough they know me, in a Cheers! kinda way.
But when I have a kid or two to amuse for a short period of time in inclement weather is really the time I miss recreational shopping the most. This week Monday X and I went to the local coffee shop which is our favorite - they have great hot chocolate, some reasonably health snack choices, and a well-stocked and easy-to-monitor playroom. Over the course of about an hour, I spent $8 plus tip and got halfway thru a paper I was editing.
I came to a conclusion that seemed momentous at the time: X needs rainboots and all reasonable used options have been exhausted. And he's a puddle-magnet. Begging for clemency en route to Target, I reminded X that we were looking for boots only - no toys! We make a casual sweep thru the store (I miss the days strapping him into a shopping cart. It's a control thing.) and to the shoe aisles - where they have exactly one kind of boot for boys (Lightning McQueen) and one for girls (Hello Kitty) - but the annoying cartoon-only footwear is a non-issue, as none of the pairs are in X's size. But they had lots of summer sandals! The time to buy puddle boots was apparently two months ago when there were no actual puddles because everything was freakin' FROZEN SOLID. Aaaargh.
I guess I'll be checking out Ebay and Craigslist next, in the search for the un-holey grail of rainboots.
It's ironic, though - first trip to purchase something new and necessary - and .... nada. Although as we were leaving X asked if we could get just a little toy that we could then hide from Dad... More on that theme next time.
Shout out to Mom! She's a first-time caller, long time fan... I'll be interested to hear what she thinks, and am hoping nothing I've already written will promote pique/embarrassment/worry.
Four months into this endeavor... wow. Weird.
The challenge remains how to fill awkward spaces in the day-to-day schedule without the default value of shopping. Molly Ellen wrote to me about this a while ago, and identified some peculiar time/space continuum abnormalities in the life of moms on the go. Here's the summary.
If you're like most families, the car is too convenient to consider giving up. So a way to conserve is to plan your trips for maximum fuel efficiency - longest destination first, group errands together, all those logistics. We're quite fortunate that everything is pretty close. It's the schedules that get kind of tricky. For instance: school drop-off and pick-up times are not arbitrary in the least, but the errands around them are endlessly variable. Grocery shopping can take 10 minutes or an hour, depending on the list and the competence of the cashiers. The library doesn't open until 10 or noon most days. The zoo and conservatory open at 10; ditto the art galleries and museum. The way it plays out is you have time increments too small to fit anything useful in, but too large to "waste". Doing nothing is really hard for me.
A typical morning starts with a 7:45 drop L at school, back to the house by 8:05 depending on how long I visit with the other parents. X and company need rides to preschool at 8:45, done 9ish - again, depending on how long I linger. The usual errands include dropping off books at the library (still closed), post office, grocery store. (I used to have the option of going to the YWCA but we finally let our membership go. Note I didn't say I actually ever went to said Y, hence the non-renewal.) Quick trip to Target, the bakery, the store that sells our favorite Peace Coffee - all within just a few blocks of the preschool. It's marvelous to run errands solo - quicker, less frustrating for all, pure luxury - and it satisfies part of my R.D.A. for peace and quiet. All these tasks can eat up the majority of a morning, but there's always a spare 20 to 40 minutes to kill. And Target and Savers and the dollar store are nearby and tempting.... It's nice to see what's for sale -especially clearance stuff. I stalk the endcaps looking for something too good to pass up, regardless of actual function or necessity. But it's hard to walk out with nothing. I swear Target should charge a $40 admission fee, just to be up front about it.
It's easier now that the weather isn't horrid to just sit in my car and read, take a quick walk, or window shop. When it's 20 below all your forays are strategic and furtive, at best. I have been going to a coffee shop often enough they know me, in a Cheers! kinda way.
But when I have a kid or two to amuse for a short period of time in inclement weather is really the time I miss recreational shopping the most. This week Monday X and I went to the local coffee shop which is our favorite - they have great hot chocolate, some reasonably health snack choices, and a well-stocked and easy-to-monitor playroom. Over the course of about an hour, I spent $8 plus tip and got halfway thru a paper I was editing.
I came to a conclusion that seemed momentous at the time: X needs rainboots and all reasonable used options have been exhausted. And he's a puddle-magnet. Begging for clemency en route to Target, I reminded X that we were looking for boots only - no toys! We make a casual sweep thru the store (I miss the days strapping him into a shopping cart. It's a control thing.) and to the shoe aisles - where they have exactly one kind of boot for boys (Lightning McQueen) and one for girls (Hello Kitty) - but the annoying cartoon-only footwear is a non-issue, as none of the pairs are in X's size. But they had lots of summer sandals! The time to buy puddle boots was apparently two months ago when there were no actual puddles because everything was freakin' FROZEN SOLID. Aaaargh.
I guess I'll be checking out Ebay and Craigslist next, in the search for the un-holey grail of rainboots.
It's ironic, though - first trip to purchase something new and necessary - and .... nada. Although as we were leaving X asked if we could get just a little toy that we could then hide from Dad... More on that theme next time.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Thanks, now what?
I think I'll start a support group for Parents with Playmobil Hangups. It's nice to know I'm not alone. My sistahs in struggle are everywhere. It's funny how we identify ourselves to each other, in confiding whispers, at the edges of otherwise respectable playdates & preschools. Props to my friend Alice for sending me this item, about a German priest who uses Playmobil items for rather graphic portrayals of Biblical scenes. http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/n/a/2009/04/02/international/i091354D87.DTL&tsp=1
Apparently the Playmobil folks are not amused - because of the mutilations involved to bring Bible stories to life. Let the record show I did, in fact, purchase one Playmobil nativity set last Christmas. It was the best $17 I've spent in some time, at least in the category of Whimsical But Useless Plastic Crap. It beat out several hundred entrants in the category. And although we are church-goin' folk, it was not without a healthy sense of irony.
Which raises the question, once it's yours, can't you do what you want with it???
Okay, I get that mutilating trademarked items and posting them online might bother the sensibilities, but what about when gifts are given and you feel ... obligated to the item, if only because of who gave it to you. As in - "Where's the lovely collectible _________ we gave you for your third anniversary?" So a generous, thoughtful gift becomes an intractable obligation. And I'm not just talking about the bane of thank you notes. Which I should be writing instead of this. Anyways -
This is where sentimental and sensible start a bar brawl. The stakes: the available space of every horizontal surface in your home.
We have wonderful relatives who get to travel to fabulous parts of the globe and pick up various and sundry cool items from all over the globe, which are then gifted to those less fortunate who don't get anywhere. Witness my buffet, which is crammed full, and is spilling out into the windowsills. I have started an informal rotation of items, as displaying them simultaneously makes my head hurt.
Now it's more difficult, because of the kids. Not only do they like to make precious art projects of their own, they have developed object constancy. So when objects go missing (even temporarily) moments after entering the room, out ring the calls of "Where's the dragon Grampa brought me from Honk Honk?" Apparently, we use our incredible memories to connect with stuff, and early. Challenge any 4 year old to the card game of Memory or Concentration. You will lose.
Apparently the Playmobil folks are not amused - because of the mutilations involved to bring Bible stories to life. Let the record show I did, in fact, purchase one Playmobil nativity set last Christmas. It was the best $17 I've spent in some time, at least in the category of Whimsical But Useless Plastic Crap. It beat out several hundred entrants in the category. And although we are church-goin' folk, it was not without a healthy sense of irony.
Which raises the question, once it's yours, can't you do what you want with it???
Okay, I get that mutilating trademarked items and posting them online might bother the sensibilities, but what about when gifts are given and you feel ... obligated to the item, if only because of who gave it to you. As in - "Where's the lovely collectible _________ we gave you for your third anniversary?" So a generous, thoughtful gift becomes an intractable obligation. And I'm not just talking about the bane of thank you notes. Which I should be writing instead of this. Anyways -
This is where sentimental and sensible start a bar brawl. The stakes: the available space of every horizontal surface in your home.
We have wonderful relatives who get to travel to fabulous parts of the globe and pick up various and sundry cool items from all over the globe, which are then gifted to those less fortunate who don't get anywhere. Witness my buffet, which is crammed full, and is spilling out into the windowsills. I have started an informal rotation of items, as displaying them simultaneously makes my head hurt.
Now it's more difficult, because of the kids. Not only do they like to make precious art projects of their own, they have developed object constancy. So when objects go missing (even temporarily) moments after entering the room, out ring the calls of "Where's the dragon Grampa brought me from Honk Honk?" Apparently, we use our incredible memories to connect with stuff, and early. Challenge any 4 year old to the card game of Memory or Concentration. You will lose.
I apparently reached some sort of breaking point the other day, and hit upon the idea of displaying glassy things in a dust-free environment, still in view.
Namely, the fishtank.
It's been a conversation piece, and so far the fish don't mind.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Spring Breakdown
Poof! Another week just plain gone. Because X and L are in different schools, we have different spring breaks. L is off this week, X next week. And we've been busy trying to sneak in lots of fun adventures. Monday was the Minnesota Zoo, which is always a hit. Tuesday shopping and playdates, Wednesday was all day at the Waterpark o' America, today trying to fit work in between playdates. I am sore, short on patience, and utterly exhausted - not in the mood for much thoughtful writing.
Take inspiration from what is around you, the sage writers encourage.
Okay...
Bob is burning dinner (his first foray out of bed since the stomach flu on Tuesday morning), X is playing piano in my ear as the computer is handily equipped with a fullsize synth for Bob's composing, L is lamenting the need for violin practice, and in case this wasn't all intrusive enough, X just crawled on my lap and announced "My butt is really itchy" in between begging me to read a book to him.
At least I know when I've been bested. Rematch, hopefully tomorrow.
Take inspiration from what is around you, the sage writers encourage.
Okay...
Bob is burning dinner (his first foray out of bed since the stomach flu on Tuesday morning), X is playing piano in my ear as the computer is handily equipped with a fullsize synth for Bob's composing, L is lamenting the need for violin practice, and in case this wasn't all intrusive enough, X just crawled on my lap and announced "My butt is really itchy" in between begging me to read a book to him.
At least I know when I've been bested. Rematch, hopefully tomorrow.
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