Showing posts with label NaBloPoMo 2007. Show all posts
Showing posts with label NaBloPoMo 2007. Show all posts

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Unconscious Mutterings



I say ... And You Think:

1.  Freezing :: Cold
2.  Bikers :: Harleys 
3.  Infrequently :: Seldom
4.  Mickey :: Mouse
5.  School :: Teach
6.  Textile :: Fabric
7.  Obstinate :: Stubborn
8.  Guard :: Hark, Who Goes There?
9.  Release :: Catch and
10. Authentic :: Real 


Been awhile, eh?  It has been so long I nearly forgot about my muttering friends.  Sadly, my answers are less than interesting or inspiring.  It almost seemed like some of the prompt words were more like response words.  Why?  I don't know.  Most of the answers I originally thought of tended to be paragraphs rather than words, so I had to work to condense it down to a manageable size.

In my world, how do these words relate?  The weather today is much closer to freezing than it was yesterday.  It made me very glad that gutters were cleaned yesterday and storm windows were put in yesterday.  Usually storm windows in guarantees a heat wave.  Maybe I guessed right this year.  "Bikers" made me think of the not self-propelled kind.  I infrequently watched the Mickey Mouse club, that is, if infrequently means never.  There were too many choices that went with "school" -- job, home, building, prison... the list goes on and on.  I wondered how many people would know what a textile is, I think "obstinate" is a great word, and sadly, every time I think of guards, I time-warp back to the Brady Bunch.

Hark!!  Who goes there?



Unconscious Mutterings



I say ... And You Think:

1.  Freezing :: Cold
2.  Bikers :: Harleys 
3.  Infrequently :: Seldom
4.  Mickey :: Mouse
5.  School :: Teach
6.  Textile :: Fabric
7.  Obstinate :: Stubborn
8.  Guard :: Hark, Who Goes There?
9.  Release :: Catch and
10. Authentic :: Real 


Been awhile, eh?  It has been so long I nearly forgot about my muttering friends.  Sadly, my answers are less than interesting or inspiring.  It almost seemed like some of the prompt words were more like response words.  Why?  I don't know.  Most of the answers I originally thought of tended to be paragraphs rather than words, so I had to work to condense it down to a manageable size.

In my world, how do these words relate?  The weather today is much closer to freezing than it was yesterday.  It made me very glad that gutters were cleaned yesterday and storm windows were put in yesterday.  Usually storm windows in guarantees a heat wave.  Maybe I guessed right this year.  "Bikers" made me think of the not self-propelled kind.  I infrequently watched the Mickey Mouse club, that is, if infrequently means never.  There were too many choices that went with "school" -- job, home, building, prison... the list goes on and on.  I wondered how many people would know what a textile is, I think "obstinate" is a great word, and sadly, every time I think of guards, I time-warp back to the Brady Bunch.

Hark!!  Who goes there?



Thursday, November 29, 2007

Practice, Practice, Practice

You'll be glad to know that I refrained from wearing my crazy clothes this morning out of respect for my teenaged daughter and her middle school neuroses. I have to admit though, the stripes, plaids, and beanies with propellers were singing a siren song.

I didn't wear matching socks, though, because I didn't wear socks! I wore a skirt. And a very conservative one at that. TeenTuna approved my outfit that morning, and I looked very respectable, thank you.

Our rehearsal went quite well, and after we went through it once, the conductor left to find the Principal. She came back, with both Principal and Brand New School Superintendant in tow. The Super recognized TeenTuna, and complimented her on her performance as Mrs. Peacock in the school musical, Clue. TeenTuna, bless her everliving heart, executed a perfect combination of grace and humility. She thanked the Superintedant appropriately and then pointed to her friend in the violin section and said, "And there's Miss Scarlett!"

All I could think was, "that was AWESOME."

With the honored guests in attendance, we ran the duet again. All were duly impressed, and in her own middle school way, I know TeenTuna was eating this up. I had great fun, and only got the clench-teethed MOM! twice. Once for humming (I looked at her and said, it's my warmup), and once when we finished and I clunked her on the head with my music and said, "Good job." I suppose out of respect for TeenTuna I should rethink music head clunking in the future.

Maybe I'll just replace it with crazy clothes.

Practice, Practice, Practice

You'll be glad to know that I refrained from wearing my crazy clothes this morning out of respect for my teenaged daughter and her middle school neuroses. I have to admit though, the stripes, plaids, and beanies with propellers were singing a siren song.

I didn't wear matching socks, though, because I didn't wear socks! I wore a skirt. And a very conservative one at that. TeenTuna approved my outfit that morning, and I looked very respectable, thank you.

Our rehearsal went quite well, and after we went through it once, the conductor left to find the Principal. She came back, with both Principal and Brand New School Superintendant in tow. The Super recognized TeenTuna, and complimented her on her performance as Mrs. Peacock in the school musical, Clue. TeenTuna, bless her everliving heart, executed a perfect combination of grace and humility. She thanked the Superintedant appropriately and then pointed to her friend in the violin section and said, "And there's Miss Scarlett!"

All I could think was, "that was AWESOME."

With the honored guests in attendance, we ran the duet again. All were duly impressed, and in her own middle school way, I know TeenTuna was eating this up. I had great fun, and only got the clench-teethed MOM! twice. Once for humming (I looked at her and said, it's my warmup), and once when we finished and I clunked her on the head with my music and said, "Good job." I suppose out of respect for TeenTuna I should rethink music head clunking in the future.

Maybe I'll just replace it with crazy clothes.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Dash to the Finish

It's Hell Month that wonderfully joyous holiday season again. As TeenTuna and I travel to school each morning we comment on blindingly tacky festively merry decorations on lawns and trees. Our favorite train wrecks objets d'art include three demon trees and a house that looks as if half-deflated winter figurines were regurgitated all over the lawn. Yesterday the snowman looked a little wilted. Today? Penguin was doing his leaning tower of Pisa act. If a saggy flightless arctic bird doesn't say Ho! Ho! Ho! I don't know what does.

Actually, I do know what does.
ANYTHING ELSE.

I'm not being Scroogy. It's just that December in musician-land is hands down, the worst month in the calendar year. From last Sunday (November 25th) someone in our household has either a rehearsal or performance every single day until ... December 21st. No kidding. It's like I want to look up into the heavens and yell, "OK, Baby G -- Just be BORN ALREADY!"

Five Gold Rings!

Tomorrow's schedule, for example is typical in that it is anything but. At 9am, I will be traveling to the Middle School to rehearse with the 8th grade orchestra where TeenTuna and I will be singing a duet -- French Grand Opera, if you must know -- accompanied by children who cannot play in five sharps, so it must be transposed up a half step which means High C's for EVERYONE! (Or just me)

Cinq anneaux d'or!

TeenTuna hemmed and hawed tonight about our upcoming rehearsal at school and ever-so-gingerly asked me that tomorrow....you know...if I couldn't...uh...

and then she started gesturing at my clothes.

"GET DRESSED UP?" I asked.
"Well, yeah," she said.
"I was planning on wearing a skirt. Is that ok?"
"Yeah. You know I want you to look...uh...."
"NICE?"
"Well, yeah. You know. It's school. It's all about appearances."

As she traipsed out of the room, I called out, "Remember what's more important. Is it the person or the clothes?"
"The person" she said reluctantly.
"You mean the person wearing the right clothes," I grumbled to myself.
"EXACTLY!" She yelled.
Ow.

So after our 8th grade rehearsal, I'm off to teach, and later that evening TeenTuna has a rehearsal with the University Symphony (3 hours! Night One of Three! Check your vocal cords at the door!), I have choir and then we gather each other up, head home and get ready to do much of it all over again on Friday.

Cinque anelli dell'oro!

But I have to admit, when it's all said and done, and the last concert is sung and Christmas is waving Sayonara in the rear view mirror as we are make our way East like the Kings of Old (sans camels and myrrh), we'll look back at the schedule of insanity calendar brimming with merriment and good cheer, and remember what a great time we had what a great time we had.

5 つの金の指輪

Dash to the Finish

It's Hell Month that wonderfully joyous holiday season again. As TeenTuna and I travel to school each morning we comment on blindingly tacky festively merry decorations on lawns and trees. Our favorite train wrecks objets d'art include three demon trees and a house that looks as if half-deflated winter figurines were regurgitated all over the lawn. Yesterday the snowman looked a little wilted. Today? Penguin was doing his leaning tower of Pisa act. If a saggy flightless arctic bird doesn't say Ho! Ho! Ho! I don't know what does.

Actually, I do know what does.
ANYTHING ELSE.

I'm not being Scroogy. It's just that December in musician-land is hands down, the worst month in the calendar year. From last Sunday (November 25th) someone in our household has either a rehearsal or performance every single day until ... December 21st. No kidding. It's like I want to look up into the heavens and yell, "OK, Baby G -- Just be BORN ALREADY!"

Five Gold Rings!

Tomorrow's schedule, for example is typical in that it is anything but. At 9am, I will be traveling to the Middle School to rehearse with the 8th grade orchestra where TeenTuna and I will be singing a duet -- French Grand Opera, if you must know -- accompanied by children who cannot play in five sharps, so it must be transposed up a half step which means High C's for EVERYONE! (Or just me)

Cinq anneaux d'or!

TeenTuna hemmed and hawed tonight about our upcoming rehearsal at school and ever-so-gingerly asked me that tomorrow....you know...if I couldn't...uh...

and then she started gesturing at my clothes.

"GET DRESSED UP?" I asked.
"Well, yeah," she said.
"I was planning on wearing a skirt. Is that ok?"
"Yeah. You know I want you to look...uh...."
"NICE?"
"Well, yeah. You know. It's school. It's all about appearances."

As she traipsed out of the room, I called out, "Remember what's more important. Is it the person or the clothes?"
"The person" she said reluctantly.
"You mean the person wearing the right clothes," I grumbled to myself.
"EXACTLY!" She yelled.
Ow.

So after our 8th grade rehearsal, I'm off to teach, and later that evening TeenTuna has a rehearsal with the University Symphony (3 hours! Night One of Three! Check your vocal cords at the door!), I have choir and then we gather each other up, head home and get ready to do much of it all over again on Friday.

Cinque anelli dell'oro!

But I have to admit, when it's all said and done, and the last concert is sung and Christmas is waving Sayonara in the rear view mirror as we are make our way East like the Kings of Old (sans camels and myrrh), we'll look back at the schedule of insanity calendar brimming with merriment and good cheer, and remember what a great time we had what a great time we had.

5 つの金の指輪

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

The Purpose-Driven Routine

Life in the Tuna household revolves around the bulletin board and the sea of handouts, schedules, special notices and other important scraps that are stuck haphazardly with push pins. Towering above it all is the master Google Calendar, which lists where everybody is supposed to be at all times. We come to rely on that calendar, both on paper and online to make sure we have our schedules and our lives straight. It's a chore, but with a little bit of planning we've gotten it down to a fairly smooth routine.

I would never describe our life as routine. Routinely insane, yes. But amid our seemingly frantic pace, we try to keep as much consistency in our day to day routine as is humanly possible. It's better for everyone that way, and it keeps the pace down to a manageable level.

When TeenTuna was just a TinyTuna, routine was a critical component of daily existence. In fact, part of her morning routine was to sit down and go over the plan. Without a daily briefing of the plan life would pretty much be 24-hour disaster from start to finish. Over the years her ability to cope with the unplanned has improved, and I'm pleased to report that now she is much more of a go-with-the-flow kind of teenager.

From comforting to mind-numbing drudgery, routines come in all different flavors. But the hardest ones to swallow are those routines that seem to be pointless. Walking the treadmill that goes nowhere, it's easy to ask HOW LONG, LORD? The answer isn't necessarily easy.

The trick with routines --particularly the pointless ones -- is focusing on the bigger goal, which in and of itself can be hard to accept. Sometimes it's hard to recognize what the bigger goal even is, and sometimes the desired results don't turn out just the way you'd like or on your preferred time schedule. Spend a few minutes pondering all those unknown and potentially undesirable results and you find yourself faced with a fairly compelling argument to get off the treadmill altogether.

Sometimes though, it's worth it to keep walking. A little bit farther. Just to see what happens. It never hurts to take a few more steps in the name of faith. And who knows? The time may just come in this purpose-driven routine when you find yourself going somewhere.

The Purpose-Driven Routine

Life in the Tuna household revolves around the bulletin board and the sea of handouts, schedules, special notices and other important scraps that are stuck haphazardly with push pins. Towering above it all is the master Google Calendar, which lists where everybody is supposed to be at all times. We come to rely on that calendar, both on paper and online to make sure we have our schedules and our lives straight. It's a chore, but with a little bit of planning we've gotten it down to a fairly smooth routine.

I would never describe our life as routine. Routinely insane, yes. But amid our seemingly frantic pace, we try to keep as much consistency in our day to day routine as is humanly possible. It's better for everyone that way, and it keeps the pace down to a manageable level.

When TeenTuna was just a TinyTuna, routine was a critical component of daily existence. In fact, part of her morning routine was to sit down and go over the plan. Without a daily briefing of the plan life would pretty much be 24-hour disaster from start to finish. Over the years her ability to cope with the unplanned has improved, and I'm pleased to report that now she is much more of a go-with-the-flow kind of teenager.

From comforting to mind-numbing drudgery, routines come in all different flavors. But the hardest ones to swallow are those routines that seem to be pointless. Walking the treadmill that goes nowhere, it's easy to ask HOW LONG, LORD? The answer isn't necessarily easy.

The trick with routines --particularly the pointless ones -- is focusing on the bigger goal, which in and of itself can be hard to accept. Sometimes it's hard to recognize what the bigger goal even is, and sometimes the desired results don't turn out just the way you'd like or on your preferred time schedule. Spend a few minutes pondering all those unknown and potentially undesirable results and you find yourself faced with a fairly compelling argument to get off the treadmill altogether.

Sometimes though, it's worth it to keep walking. A little bit farther. Just to see what happens. It never hurts to take a few more steps in the name of faith. And who knows? The time may just come in this purpose-driven routine when you find yourself going somewhere.

Saturday, November 24, 2007

A Non-Rockwellian Evening

Although the following conversations were most certainly NOT a part of the idyllic Thanksgiving Celebration depicted above, they were a part of mine. However, the jury is still out on the guy peering into the picture from the lower right hand corner. Don't you think he has that look that asks, "Did you fart?"

BigSister Tuna: Did you see that commercial for Happy Crack?
GreenTuna: WHAT?
BSTuna: Yeah. Happy crack. He's a cartoon guy and he's happy.
GreenTuna: Why?
BSTuna: It's a cement commercial. He was sad because he had wet crack but now he has dry crack and he's happy.
GreenTuna: Dry Crack? Is this a cement commercial or a toilet paper commercial?
NephewTuna: DRY CRACK!! TOILET PAPER!! HAHAHAHAHAHA
BigBrotherTuna: I better NOT hear this coming back from school!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BigBrotherTuna: First and goal.
NephewTuna: Goat?
GramTuna: (from the kitchen) I'M NOT SERVING ANY GOATS!
GreenTuna: Aw, no goats.
GreenTuna and BSTuna: They've been Baaaaaaaaad!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NephewTuna: THIRD OVERTIME!!
TallGuyTuna: They HAVE to go for two (extra points) in the third overtime.
GreenTuna: Really? I didn't know that.
BigBrotherTuna: Yeah. By this time they're trying to wrap things up.
GreenTuna: So what happens if it goes to a fourth overtime? Go for two and then have a spelling bee?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nephew Tuna: Dad, did you fart?
BigBrother Tuna: No I didn't. ... Did you?
Nephew Tuna: (thinking)........oh yeah, I did!!

A Non-Rockwellian Evening

Although the following conversations were most certainly NOT a part of the idyllic Thanksgiving Celebration depicted above, they were a part of mine. However, the jury is still out on the guy peering into the picture from the lower right hand corner. Don't you think he has that look that asks, "Did you fart?"

BigSister Tuna: Did you see that commercial for Happy Crack?
GreenTuna: WHAT?
BSTuna: Yeah. Happy crack. He's a cartoon guy and he's happy.
GreenTuna: Why?
BSTuna: It's a cement commercial. He was sad because he had wet crack but now he has dry crack and he's happy.
GreenTuna: Dry Crack? Is this a cement commercial or a toilet paper commercial?
NephewTuna: DRY CRACK!! TOILET PAPER!! HAHAHAHAHAHA
BigBrotherTuna: I better NOT hear this coming back from school!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BigBrotherTuna: First and goal.
NephewTuna: Goat?
GramTuna: (from the kitchen) I'M NOT SERVING ANY GOATS!
GreenTuna: Aw, no goats.
GreenTuna and BSTuna: They've been Baaaaaaaaad!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NephewTuna: THIRD OVERTIME!!
TallGuyTuna: They HAVE to go for two (extra points) in the third overtime.
GreenTuna: Really? I didn't know that.
BigBrotherTuna: Yeah. By this time they're trying to wrap things up.
GreenTuna: So what happens if it goes to a fourth overtime? Go for two and then have a spelling bee?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nephew Tuna: Dad, did you fart?
BigBrother Tuna: No I didn't. ... Did you?
Nephew Tuna: (thinking)........oh yeah, I did!!

Friday, November 23, 2007

The Gospel of Black Friday

Unless you live in a cave, you're probably aware of the fact that today is Black Friday meaning all the rest of the crayons in the box are thrown away and you're stuck drawing pictures of the insides of cows and all those channels on TV you wish you got, if only your cave got any reception.

OK, that might not be terribly accurate.

Black Friday is the opening day of the holiday shopping season. The holiday, of course, is the one and only Christmas which celebrates the birth of the big guy, Baby Jesus ("Baby G" for short). Yes, I know that Hanukkah and Kwanzaa also falls into the December/January mix, but with eight presents to buy for Hanukkah they just aren't of the scope we're talking about today, and as for Kwanzaa, it's only about 40 years old, so according to the gift-giving list, we're only talking paper or tin or cotton or something.

Today's newspaper boasted -- yes, BOASTED -- over 800 pages of ads, with five pages of actual news thrown in for the purists, much of which talked about the amazing 800 pages of ads. But fear not, by close examination of the colorful newspaper, there can be much to learn about the upcoming holidays and the birthday boy. With a little interpretive help from yours truly (you're welcome!)

  1. Baby G wants a TV.
  2. Baby G wants a big TV.
  3. Baby G would prefer an HDTV because he's cutting edge.
  4. Baby G doesn't want a Wii because he knows there is a shortage so he isn't even going to ask.
  5. Baby G will take a washer and dryer, but you must realize this would be a last resort kind of present, because they are always on the last two pages of the Gospel According to Big Box, following all the pages of big screen HDTVs.
  6. Baby G DOES NOT WANT exercise equipment. That is a January-only gift, and even if it is on page one of the sporting goods circular, it's only for overachievers or people who do not understand the natural progression of holidays (Mini Snickers -- Turkey -- COOKIES -- Treadmill).
  7. Baby G says he already has a cell phone, thanks.
  8. Baby G REALLY wants a GPS system, but not for himself. He'd pass it along to the Kings, who took their own sweet time showing up with the goods. Maybe what they need is an annoyed voice keeping them on the straight and narrow. Recalculating... Recalculating... Recalculating..
  9. Baby G thinks ottomans with hidden storage are the sweet because you could totally hide loaves and fishes in there and impress your friends.
  10. Baby G wonders why he is still subjected to Circuit City ads, for lo, they packed up and left last year.
  11. Baby G says you couldn't pay him enough money to walk into a furniture store because pushy doesn't even begin to describe them.
  12. Baby G thinks power tools are pretty cool, but isn't interested in pressure washers. It's like getting socks and underwear.
  13. Baby G wonders about ads that are thicker than the entire Book of Job. Of course, enduring some of those stores would be right up there with everything else Job had to go through, so maybe it all comes out even in the end.
  14. Baby G wonders if anybody has ever bought a Kitchen-Aid Stand mixer at full price.
  15. Baby G hints cashmere is a HUGE improvement over hay. Just sayin'...
  16. Baby G says Brown + Zune = Lame. Even at 60% off, it's 100% LAME.
  17. Baby G knows he would kick ass playing Guitar Hero III.
  18. Baby G wonders if anybody who plays tennis wears a tennis bracelet while playing tennis.
  19. Baby G thinks buying presents at the drug store is just tacky.
  20. Baby G scoffs at the idea of doorbusters because once you've torn down the temple, everything else is a distant second.

The Gospel of Black Friday

Unless you live in a cave, you're probably aware of the fact that today is Black Friday meaning all the rest of the crayons in the box are thrown away and you're stuck drawing pictures of the insides of cows and all those channels on TV you wish you got, if only your cave got any reception.

OK, that might not be terribly accurate.

Black Friday is the opening day of the holiday shopping season. The holiday, of course, is the one and only Christmas which celebrates the birth of the big guy, Baby Jesus ("Baby G" for short). Yes, I know that Hanukkah and Kwanzaa also falls into the December/January mix, but with eight presents to buy for Hanukkah they just aren't of the scope we're talking about today, and as for Kwanzaa, it's only about 40 years old, so according to the gift-giving list, we're only talking paper or tin or cotton or something.

Today's newspaper boasted -- yes, BOASTED -- over 800 pages of ads, with five pages of actual news thrown in for the purists, much of which talked about the amazing 800 pages of ads. But fear not, by close examination of the colorful newspaper, there can be much to learn about the upcoming holidays and the birthday boy. With a little interpretive help from yours truly (you're welcome!)

  1. Baby G wants a TV.
  2. Baby G wants a big TV.
  3. Baby G would prefer an HDTV because he's cutting edge.
  4. Baby G doesn't want a Wii because he knows there is a shortage so he isn't even going to ask.
  5. Baby G will take a washer and dryer, but you must realize this would be a last resort kind of present, because they are always on the last two pages of the Gospel According to Big Box, following all the pages of big screen HDTVs.
  6. Baby G DOES NOT WANT exercise equipment. That is a January-only gift, and even if it is on page one of the sporting goods circular, it's only for overachievers or people who do not understand the natural progression of holidays (Mini Snickers -- Turkey -- COOKIES -- Treadmill).
  7. Baby G says he already has a cell phone, thanks.
  8. Baby G REALLY wants a GPS system, but not for himself. He'd pass it along to the Kings, who took their own sweet time showing up with the goods. Maybe what they need is an annoyed voice keeping them on the straight and narrow. Recalculating... Recalculating... Recalculating..
  9. Baby G thinks ottomans with hidden storage are the sweet because you could totally hide loaves and fishes in there and impress your friends.
  10. Baby G wonders why he is still subjected to Circuit City ads, for lo, they packed up and left last year.
  11. Baby G says you couldn't pay him enough money to walk into a furniture store because pushy doesn't even begin to describe them.
  12. Baby G thinks power tools are pretty cool, but isn't interested in pressure washers. It's like getting socks and underwear.
  13. Baby G wonders about ads that are thicker than the entire Book of Job. Of course, enduring some of those stores would be right up there with everything else Job had to go through, so maybe it all comes out even in the end.
  14. Baby G wonders if anybody has ever bought a Kitchen-Aid Stand mixer at full price.
  15. Baby G hints cashmere is a HUGE improvement over hay. Just sayin'...
  16. Baby G says Brown + Zune = Lame. Even at 60% off, it's 100% LAME.
  17. Baby G knows he would kick ass playing Guitar Hero III.
  18. Baby G wonders if anybody who plays tennis wears a tennis bracelet while playing tennis.
  19. Baby G thinks buying presents at the drug store is just tacky.
  20. Baby G scoffs at the idea of doorbusters because once you've torn down the temple, everything else is a distant second.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Pulling a Parental Picasso

Parent. To parent. The be involved in the act of parenting. It seems so simple. Many of us are a parent, and live that role every single day. But let me tell you, it's hard. It is SO incredibly hard. Sure, there are the wonderful warm and squishy times when your child is endless blog fodder with their cute sayings and quirky antics and chocolate covered kisses. And thank God for those times, because without them, every single parent in this world would be curled up in the fetal position in some sort of asylum.

It's hard to parent, because to do it right, or well, or even just barely good enough so your kid doesn't grow up to be tonight's $1000 reward on Crimestoppers, you have to be the heavy. And if you're a single parent, there are no days off. No time for good behavior. Forget having an chance to play good cop while the other parent plays bad cop. There's only one sheriff in town, and that's you, all day, every day, world without end, Amen.


Now -- just as you're wrapping your head around the notion of being the everlasting enforcer, let me assure you that parenthood isn't just about being Corporal Punishment. No, you also get to be the enthusiastic supporter of all activities at all time. School plays, extra-curricular functions, dances, field trips, rehearsals, recitals, concerts, birthday parties, classroom events -- why, it's a veritable feast of so much to do, you'll think how boring your life must have been before all this fun began while you wonder where exactly you live because Lord knows you haven't seen your house in daylight hours since school began in September.


Parenting is a very schizophrenic existence, because there are times when you have to morph from a parental Jekyll to Hyde damn near instantaneously. Or even better (or worse?) on the rare occasion, pull a Picasso and perform both roles at the same time. Let me assure you, this is no small trick. I still find it difficult to talk out of both sides of my face simultaneously, and yet there are times when it simply must be done, because, while it's important to remain supportive and encouraging, you can never stop being the law of the land.

And then there is the undoing. God help me, this may be harder than the rest combined. If you think it's hard being a parental police state, try bringing sense to the senseless and overcoming hurts that were heaped on the unprotected. Leading by example is the name of the game, even when it seems you are a lonely example of one in an otherwise uncaring, unfeeling, selfish world. You're tilting at wind mills there, Don Quixhote. Enjoy that.

It's relentless and exhausting. Or maybe more accurately put, it's relentless and I'm exhausted. There are days when it seems there is no end in sight and no break from the madness. But still you get up, take a shower and roll the daily dice. Hopefully you'll break even. Hopefully the good will outweigh the bad. Hopefully manners will be minded, rules with be obeyed, and after spending the day working for the man, there won't be a raft of permission slips, a stream of order forms, and a mountain of middle school homework all needing to be signed and completed by the morning.

There are days when parenthood is just no fun. And yes, I know that nobody said it was going to be sunshine and lollipops. Nobody said it was going to be easy. Nobody said life would be a half-hour sitcom with problems solved and life lessons learned in 22 minutes accompanied by a laugh track and previews for next week.

Nobody said any of that.
Everybody was right.

Pulling a Parental Picasso

Parent. To parent. The be involved in the act of parenting. It seems so simple. Many of us are a parent, and live that role every single day. But let me tell you, it's hard. It is SO incredibly hard. Sure, there are the wonderful warm and squishy times when your child is endless blog fodder with their cute sayings and quirky antics and chocolate covered kisses. And thank God for those times, because without them, every single parent in this world would be curled up in the fetal position in some sort of asylum.

It's hard to parent, because to do it right, or well, or even just barely good enough so your kid doesn't grow up to be tonight's $1000 reward on Crimestoppers, you have to be the heavy. And if you're a single parent, there are no days off. No time for good behavior. Forget having an chance to play good cop while the other parent plays bad cop. There's only one sheriff in town, and that's you, all day, every day, world without end, Amen.


Now -- just as you're wrapping your head around the notion of being the everlasting enforcer, let me assure you that parenthood isn't just about being Corporal Punishment. No, you also get to be the enthusiastic supporter of all activities at all time. School plays, extra-curricular functions, dances, field trips, rehearsals, recitals, concerts, birthday parties, classroom events -- why, it's a veritable feast of so much to do, you'll think how boring your life must have been before all this fun began while you wonder where exactly you live because Lord knows you haven't seen your house in daylight hours since school began in September.


Parenting is a very schizophrenic existence, because there are times when you have to morph from a parental Jekyll to Hyde damn near instantaneously. Or even better (or worse?) on the rare occasion, pull a Picasso and perform both roles at the same time. Let me assure you, this is no small trick. I still find it difficult to talk out of both sides of my face simultaneously, and yet there are times when it simply must be done, because, while it's important to remain supportive and encouraging, you can never stop being the law of the land.

And then there is the undoing. God help me, this may be harder than the rest combined. If you think it's hard being a parental police state, try bringing sense to the senseless and overcoming hurts that were heaped on the unprotected. Leading by example is the name of the game, even when it seems you are a lonely example of one in an otherwise uncaring, unfeeling, selfish world. You're tilting at wind mills there, Don Quixhote. Enjoy that.

It's relentless and exhausting. Or maybe more accurately put, it's relentless and I'm exhausted. There are days when it seems there is no end in sight and no break from the madness. But still you get up, take a shower and roll the daily dice. Hopefully you'll break even. Hopefully the good will outweigh the bad. Hopefully manners will be minded, rules with be obeyed, and after spending the day working for the man, there won't be a raft of permission slips, a stream of order forms, and a mountain of middle school homework all needing to be signed and completed by the morning.

There are days when parenthood is just no fun. And yes, I know that nobody said it was going to be sunshine and lollipops. Nobody said it was going to be easy. Nobody said life would be a half-hour sitcom with problems solved and life lessons learned in 22 minutes accompanied by a laugh track and previews for next week.

Nobody said any of that.
Everybody was right.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

The Sound of Silence

Today is day two of Children's Book Week, a week dedicated to promoting children's literature and getting kids and adults alike to sit down and read together. Today I'm sharing a favorite book from way, way, way back when. In the spirit of full disclosure, I'm pretty sure one reason this was a favorite book was because it was long, or so it seemed to a Prekindergartener who would attempt to postpone the afternoon nap as long as possible. And actually, it wasn't that I was anti-nap, I was just always having more fun reading, playing a game or singing songs. Ahhh, the good old days.




Play with Me
by Marie Hall Ets

Like yesterday's book Frederick, Play with Me was also a Caldecott Honor Book. The Caldecott medal is an artist's award for children's picture books, and you could think of a Caldecott Honor Book as a runner-up. It's a sweet, innocent story with very gentle illustrations. A little girl goes outside and sees all sorts of animals. She wants them to play with her, but every time she runs toward them, they run away. Sadly, she sits down on an old log and wonders why nobody will play with her. One by one, the animals return until she realizes that when she was sitting very quietly and not moving, "all of them, ALL of them were playing with me."

Where are you going to find a sentiment like that anymore? Here is a book about nature and children and animals that tells a story about the wonderful things that can happen when you go outside, sit down and just be quiet and aware. I always thought it was a special story, especially at the end when a fawn came and licked my cheek.

And it's not just the coolest thing ever when you're four years old. A couple weeks ago GramTuna and I were taking a walk in the woods, and came across five or six deer. We stood and watched them watching us for a long time. I finally looked at Gram and whispered "and a fawn came and licked my cheek!"

The excitement I felt standing so very still as I watched those deer just a few feet away from me? I might as well have been four years old all over again. It was the coolest thing ever.

The Sound of Silence

Today is day two of Children's Book Week, a week dedicated to promoting children's literature and getting kids and adults alike to sit down and read together. Today I'm sharing a favorite book from way, way, way back when. In the spirit of full disclosure, I'm pretty sure one reason this was a favorite book was because it was long, or so it seemed to a Prekindergartener who would attempt to postpone the afternoon nap as long as possible. And actually, it wasn't that I was anti-nap, I was just always having more fun reading, playing a game or singing songs. Ahhh, the good old days.




Play with Me
by Marie Hall Ets

Like yesterday's book Frederick, Play with Me was also a Caldecott Honor Book. The Caldecott medal is an artist's award for children's picture books, and you could think of a Caldecott Honor Book as a runner-up. It's a sweet, innocent story with very gentle illustrations. A little girl goes outside and sees all sorts of animals. She wants them to play with her, but every time she runs toward them, they run away. Sadly, she sits down on an old log and wonders why nobody will play with her. One by one, the animals return until she realizes that when she was sitting very quietly and not moving, "all of them, ALL of them were playing with me."

Where are you going to find a sentiment like that anymore? Here is a book about nature and children and animals that tells a story about the wonderful things that can happen when you go outside, sit down and just be quiet and aware. I always thought it was a special story, especially at the end when a fawn came and licked my cheek.

And it's not just the coolest thing ever when you're four years old. A couple weeks ago GramTuna and I were taking a walk in the woods, and came across five or six deer. We stood and watched them watching us for a long time. I finally looked at Gram and whispered "and a fawn came and licked my cheek!"

The excitement I felt standing so very still as I watched those deer just a few feet away from me? I might as well have been four years old all over again. It was the coolest thing ever.

Monday, November 12, 2007

Give a Hoot, Read a Book

November 12-18 marks the 88th annual Children's Book Week designed to promote both the fun and importance of reading. According to The Children's Book Council (CBC) reading skills are slipping and only 1 in 17 high school seniors can gain information from specialized text. Reading practice needs to start at a young age, and children need to learn by word and example that reading is not only a life-long skill, it opens your heart, tickles your mind and ignites your imagination.

In the spirit of Children's Book Week (and because I own a LARGE number of children's books) I am going to highlight some of my favorite kiddy lit. Don't worry. You'll love it. Trust me.

It's rare that I can pick a favorite anything in my life, but here is a case where I actually have a hands-down, no questions asked favorite children's book.


Frederick
by Leo Lionni

Frederick was an adorable little mouse who always had his own way of doing everything. When the other mice were gathering food for the winter, it always seemed that Frederick was sitting by himself doing nothing. But Frederick always explained that he was very busy gathering other things. Frederick gathered sun rays "for the dark cold winter days." Frederick gathered colors "for the winter is gray." And Frederick gathered words, "For the winter days are long and many, and we'll run out of things to say."

Sure enough, as the winter dragged on, the mice turned to Frederick and asked him about his "supplies." And Frederick, always a little different than the rest, fed the weary, dreary depressed mice memories of hot summer days, vibrant colors of the field in springtime and a little poem about the four little field mice who bring the seasons.

It's such a simple story, but I always loved Frederick. He understood that all sorts of things in this world are important and it was just as important to feed the soul as it was to feed the body. Not bad for a little mouse.

More tomorrow. But in the meantime, I want to know, what's your favorite children's book?

Give a Hoot, Read a Book

November 12-18 marks the 88th annual Children's Book Week designed to promote both the fun and importance of reading. According to The Children's Book Council (CBC) reading skills are slipping and only 1 in 17 high school seniors can gain information from specialized text. Reading practice needs to start at a young age, and children need to learn by word and example that reading is not only a life-long skill, it opens your heart, tickles your mind and ignites your imagination.

In the spirit of Children's Book Week (and because I own a LARGE number of children's books) I am going to highlight some of my favorite kiddy lit. Don't worry. You'll love it. Trust me.

It's rare that I can pick a favorite anything in my life, but here is a case where I actually have a hands-down, no questions asked favorite children's book.


Frederick
by Leo Lionni

Frederick was an adorable little mouse who always had his own way of doing everything. When the other mice were gathering food for the winter, it always seemed that Frederick was sitting by himself doing nothing. But Frederick always explained that he was very busy gathering other things. Frederick gathered sun rays "for the dark cold winter days." Frederick gathered colors "for the winter is gray." And Frederick gathered words, "For the winter days are long and many, and we'll run out of things to say."

Sure enough, as the winter dragged on, the mice turned to Frederick and asked him about his "supplies." And Frederick, always a little different than the rest, fed the weary, dreary depressed mice memories of hot summer days, vibrant colors of the field in springtime and a little poem about the four little field mice who bring the seasons.

It's such a simple story, but I always loved Frederick. He understood that all sorts of things in this world are important and it was just as important to feed the soul as it was to feed the body. Not bad for a little mouse.

More tomorrow. But in the meantime, I want to know, what's your favorite children's book?

Saturday, November 10, 2007

Take Two


Your flower is waiting, and your home is near.
The stars that shine on you are shining here.
They'll help you find all that you left behind.
Their silver song is all you need to learn.
Trust your heart and you will soon return.
Far though you roam, starlight will shine you home.
~~The Little Prince.

About a year ago I tried tried tried to read and understand The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. I succeeded in the reading part and failed miserably in the understanding part. I just kept saying what? what? huh? the entire time, and by the end I got frustrated and figured I just wasn't meant to understand the greater depth of the story.

I'm trying again.

The Little Prince and I crossed paths again recently courtesy of my iPod shuffle function. It was made into an opera back in 2003, and TinyTuna (she was officially tiny back then) wanted it on the iPod, so on it went. With more songs than sense on my portable Victrola, all sorts of songs take me by surprise, and this was no exception.

What spoke to me initially about this song wasn't the text. In fact, I was having some difficulty grabbing all the words. What spoke to me was the music. Without turning into an embarrassingly super geeky music nerd, let me just say that certain chord progressions, melodic phrases and rhythmic conventions grab my emotional attention and speak to me in a way that nothing else can. I really can't explain it, but if you're ever around me, you can see it when it hits.

So after living with the music for several days, I found the CD so I could get the text. And there it was. Trust your heart and you will soon return ... far though you roam, starlight will shine you home. This is the last track on the CD, and this, I finally understood.

So I had to hunt down the copy that I had practically thrown over my shoulder in disgust last go-round. I found it and brought it back upstairs to the current reading pile. I'm hoping I'll be able to make sense of the entire story from beginning to end. This time I have a little music to aid in the translation. It's my own personal starlight.

Shine me home.

Take Two


Your flower is waiting, and your home is near.
The stars that shine on you are shining here.
They'll help you find all that you left behind.
Their silver song is all you need to learn.
Trust your heart and you will soon return.
Far though you roam, starlight will shine you home.
~~The Little Prince.

About a year ago I tried tried tried to read and understand The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupery. I succeeded in the reading part and failed miserably in the understanding part. I just kept saying what? what? huh? the entire time, and by the end I got frustrated and figured I just wasn't meant to understand the greater depth of the story.

I'm trying again.

The Little Prince and I crossed paths again recently courtesy of my iPod shuffle function. It was made into an opera back in 2003, and TinyTuna (she was officially tiny back then) wanted it on the iPod, so on it went. With more songs than sense on my portable Victrola, all sorts of songs take me by surprise, and this was no exception.

What spoke to me initially about this song wasn't the text. In fact, I was having some difficulty grabbing all the words. What spoke to me was the music. Without turning into an embarrassingly super geeky music nerd, let me just say that certain chord progressions, melodic phrases and rhythmic conventions grab my emotional attention and speak to me in a way that nothing else can. I really can't explain it, but if you're ever around me, you can see it when it hits.

So after living with the music for several days, I found the CD so I could get the text. And there it was. Trust your heart and you will soon return ... far though you roam, starlight will shine you home. This is the last track on the CD, and this, I finally understood.

So I had to hunt down the copy that I had practically thrown over my shoulder in disgust last go-round. I found it and brought it back upstairs to the current reading pile. I'm hoping I'll be able to make sense of the entire story from beginning to end. This time I have a little music to aid in the translation. It's my own personal starlight.

Shine me home.