I'm a lazy housekeeper. I have been all my life.
I'm not one of those naturally organized people; you know, the ones whose houses are picture-perfect at all times? I'm not even tidy-inclined, like those folks who can have the house company-ready in under 10 minutes. I'm lazy. I wish there was a magic wand that I could wave to instantly take my home from the near-disaster it often exists in to spotless in a flash of light.
And so I have had to teach myself tricks to get my home clean, and try to keep it that way. And tricks to remember DAILY to implement those tricks to get and try to keep my home clean. And tricks to remind myself to implement the tricks that help me remember to implement the tricks to get and try to keep my home clean. Are you noticing a pattern here?
Monday, 4 April 2016
10 Day Writing Challenge - Day 10
* Note: This was in my draft folder from almost two years ago, and it occurred to me that in not finishing it, I was not honouring myself or my readers with my truth. In posting this, I am doing just that; honouring myself with being open, and honouring you by giving you my authentic self. I have also notd that Day 9 was never published; this shall be rectified in short order.
Day 10: One Confession
This is, I think, the hardest post of the series. Not because I have such a vast collection of skeletons rattling in my closet, but rather, quite the opposite problem.
Oh, there are things about me that only a precious few know. Those things are private and the people who have that information are the ones that need to know it.
But by and large, I am an open book. I don't feel there is anything to be gained by trying to maintain an aura of mystery about myself; I present the real me to the world. If you like what I have to offer, that's wonderful, and if you don't like it, well, that's on you. Non simeus meus est.
So when it comes time for me to make a confession, I guess I have to confess that there isn't much to confess. Convoluted enough for you? Heh. Anyway...
Something that I've been largely keeping to myself and those very close to me is that I exhibit some of the markers for Asperger's syndrome, which is on the Autism spectrum. The only reason this even showed up on my radar is because of someone close to me.
Primus had been having difficulty with interpersonal relationships at school from the start, and our dear friend Uncle J, who shared a house with us at the time, and is himself an Aspie, mentioned that Primus was showing markers for it. We brushed it off for a number of years; and if I'm really being honest with myself, it's mainly because I didn't want to have what others might call a "special needs" child. An autistic child.
SO many years of societal programming, my own experience and observations with special needs kids in school - and how they were treated by other students, my decade of work as a special needs caregiver for adults and preschoolers combined to make me fearful to admit that my child wasn't perfect. But what the hell is perfect, anyway? Primus is remarkably intelligent, capable, musically inclined, and considerate (when allergies aren't interfering with his ability to think clearly). He does what's asked of him around the house with nary an eye-roll (something we really expect to see more of now that he's a teenager), and is wonderfully patient with Tertius and Secunda, despite the 7 and 8 year age gaps. He likes to cook, and still asks to spend one-on-one time with me. And he still hugs his parents.This kid is amazing.
It took Hubby and I about 3 years to really come around to the idea, and I'm glad we did, because SO MUCH of what perplexed us about his behaviour makes so much more sense now. And in learning this about him, it better equips me to help him find strategies to work around the few limitations that ASD presents. Hubby has had more trouble in finding (and understanding the need for) these "work-arounds" than I have; and one day, he looked at me and said, "Bee, I think you have markers for Asperger's." And he was right.
I joined an Aspie Adults group on the Book of Faces, and in reading these people's experiences, I saw so very much of myself in a lot of what they were saying. This gave me not only a deeper understanding of Primus, but perhaps more importantly, of myself.
So Primus comes by it honestly; some of it comes from me.
Day 10: One Confession
This is, I think, the hardest post of the series. Not because I have such a vast collection of skeletons rattling in my closet, but rather, quite the opposite problem.
Oh, there are things about me that only a precious few know. Those things are private and the people who have that information are the ones that need to know it.
But by and large, I am an open book. I don't feel there is anything to be gained by trying to maintain an aura of mystery about myself; I present the real me to the world. If you like what I have to offer, that's wonderful, and if you don't like it, well, that's on you. Non simeus meus est.
So when it comes time for me to make a confession, I guess I have to confess that there isn't much to confess. Convoluted enough for you? Heh. Anyway...
Something that I've been largely keeping to myself and those very close to me is that I exhibit some of the markers for Asperger's syndrome, which is on the Autism spectrum. The only reason this even showed up on my radar is because of someone close to me.
Primus had been having difficulty with interpersonal relationships at school from the start, and our dear friend Uncle J, who shared a house with us at the time, and is himself an Aspie, mentioned that Primus was showing markers for it. We brushed it off for a number of years; and if I'm really being honest with myself, it's mainly because I didn't want to have what others might call a "special needs" child. An autistic child.
SO many years of societal programming, my own experience and observations with special needs kids in school - and how they were treated by other students, my decade of work as a special needs caregiver for adults and preschoolers combined to make me fearful to admit that my child wasn't perfect. But what the hell is perfect, anyway? Primus is remarkably intelligent, capable, musically inclined, and considerate (when allergies aren't interfering with his ability to think clearly). He does what's asked of him around the house with nary an eye-roll (something we really expect to see more of now that he's a teenager), and is wonderfully patient with Tertius and Secunda, despite the 7 and 8 year age gaps. He likes to cook, and still asks to spend one-on-one time with me. And he still hugs his parents.This kid is amazing.
It took Hubby and I about 3 years to really come around to the idea, and I'm glad we did, because SO MUCH of what perplexed us about his behaviour makes so much more sense now. And in learning this about him, it better equips me to help him find strategies to work around the few limitations that ASD presents. Hubby has had more trouble in finding (and understanding the need for) these "work-arounds" than I have; and one day, he looked at me and said, "Bee, I think you have markers for Asperger's." And he was right.
I joined an Aspie Adults group on the Book of Faces, and in reading these people's experiences, I saw so very much of myself in a lot of what they were saying. This gave me not only a deeper understanding of Primus, but perhaps more importantly, of myself.
So Primus comes by it honestly; some of it comes from me.
Thursday, 10 March 2016
There's A Kind Of Hush
NB: Let me just say up front that I am also struck by the sheer irony of writing on my laptop about the overuse of electronics for publication on the internet. But I still think it's a conversation worth having.
We are in the middle of a windstorm right now, the kind that serves to make you feel like Judy Garland filming the great twister scene at the beginning of The Wizard of Oz, and makes brushing your hair completely pointless. And, as sometimes happens, things are blowing this way and that on the street, neighbors' belongings are tumbling into each others' yards, and the tops of the trees are bending in a way that we think happens only with a good CGI budget.
So it was really no surprise to me when we lost power. Actually, what surprised me was that within seconds, it was back on. The wind was still howling outside, and I could hear the branches of my rose bush slapping against the craft room window, and a pop can skittering across the road. But I also noticed something palpable; the quiet. Not because the kids aren't here, or that the kettle was suddenly not working the water up into a frenzy, but the hush of electronics; it was the sheer absence of sound that struck me. And it occurred to me that we have grown so accustomed to the sound of electronic devices that it has become part of our subconscious soundtrack for life, and I wonder how that has affected our brain function, our moods, and our interpersonal relations in the last 40 years. I know, deep thoughts of a suburban housewife and all that... ;)
I sat here for a few minutes, trying to hearken back to my childhood, and straining to remember what the ambient noise level was like in the home I shared with my parents and older brother. Now, remember, dear Reader, that I am a child of the 70s; I grew up as one of the first kids in my neighborhood with an Atari 2600, and a TRS-80. My dad loved being on the cusp of new, easily obtainable technology, so we were often the first house on the block to get the new shiny thing from Radio Shack (granted, the Atari was purchased from Simpson-Sears while on vacation in Honolulu, but that's another blog post entirely).
Imagining a summer day is the best, I think, as it eliminates my absence from the home for several hours to attend school, and gives a broader understanding of a typical day in the late 1970s.
I'd have woken up on my own, as I didn't yet have an alarm clock. I'd probably hear Mumsy in the kitchen, or perhaps putting a load of laundry on downstairs. Maybe she'd just be sitting quietly with a coffee, knitting or reading. That was the sum total of noise in the house. If we needed to do dishes, she would haul our nifty avocado green dishwasher across the kitchen and over to the sink to hook it up, and we'd hear the whir-swish-thump of it while we enjoyed having this hand-me-down modern convenience. I remember having chores, fishing sticklebacks out of the slough, and watching Mr. Yakishiro taking his dog, Fuji, for a walk - this largely consisted of him tying Fuji's leash to the handlebars of his bike and yelling, "Fuji, GO!". I remember playing street hockey and cops and robbers and freeze tag with the other kids on our street, trying to avoid the Fletcher boys, dressing up dolls with my friend Tracy from across the street, and writing and performing plays in our backyard, charging folks on our street 5¢ apiece for the privilege of watching the dreck we thought up, though in retrospect, the monster kidnapping story starring my brother as the monster (who won the role by virtue of the drawstring hood on his puffy winter coat, obscuring his face) was pretty good.
But I don't remember watching much TV; I do remember Sci-Fi Theatre, though I'm fuzzy on when it aired, but it was either on Saturday mornings, or Sunday afternoons, or both (KVOS-TV, airing out of Bellingham). I remember having 13 WHOLE CHANNELS, and having to walk over to the TV and turn the dial to change the channel, probably the job of most 70s kids in their houses. And I remember that most TV viewing was done in the evening. I also don't remember the stereo being on much outside of parties my parents would have. Oh, but there was this one time that my brother and I decided we wanted to have a sleepover in the rec room downstairs, and my dad (who had hooked up his Hi-Fi to speakers in the rec room) pulling out the microphone, turning the volume up to full, and doing his best evil mastermind laugh into it, sending my brother and I screaming up the stairs for him to save us - jerk :P
In thinking about it, I realise that there was a lot less noise present in our house when I was a child. And I have to wonder if this higher level of ambient noise is negatively impacting mood, attention spans, and how well we deal with others.
I think we, as a society, are less patient. We're all so focused on our own stuff - our job, our errands, our needs - that we no longer take the time to notice what's going on around us, or the people who are likewise trying to go about their day. We smile less, we speak to strangers less, we don't nod, and most certainly, if it infringes on our ability to get where we need to go and do what we need to do, we don't look at other people. That might invite them to engage us, and that would make us late. We can't have that.
In the last few years, as I've noticed we leave the Wii and PS3 on 24/7 (it makes accessing Netflix SO much easier), I've noticed a decline in my ability to retain information, and to stay on track without resorting to making lists for everything from chores to outings, to reminders to eat and hydrate. I always had a very sharp mind, and now I seem to rely on these lists more and more, and feel increasingly scattered. Now, I realise that I'm in my 40s, and memory starts to go at a certain point, but this feels more pervasive than simply getting older. Our kids have a very basic set of jobs after school (put backpack away, get lunchbag out and pick snacks for the next day, do homework, do a household chore), and it is a daily struggle to keep them on track without having either a verbal or visual reminder for them.
Primus has significant environmental allergies, his biggest allergens being grass and trees. I've asked him what it's like when his allergies are bugging him, and he likens the experience to having a low-grade buzzing in his head all the time. This results in him being terse, even grumpy, and he is given to being short-tempered for very little cause. Low-grade buzzing. Huh. Maybe there's something to that? I know that when I'm tired, or hungry, or otherwise not functioning within acceptable parameters, I get short-tempered, too. And I think the constant low-volume buzzing of electronics is exacerbating it. And if it's making it worse for me, could it be doing the same thing for everyone else?
So please, the next time you find yourself feeling fuzzy-headed or forgetful, or on edge for some unknown reason, stop for a moment and really notice what's going on around you. Are you hungry? Tired? Sore? Is there ambient noise you were previously unaware of? Is that noise actually bothering you after all? And if so, does turning it off make things better? I challenge you to try it, and let me know the results here.
We are in the middle of a windstorm right now, the kind that serves to make you feel like Judy Garland filming the great twister scene at the beginning of The Wizard of Oz, and makes brushing your hair completely pointless. And, as sometimes happens, things are blowing this way and that on the street, neighbors' belongings are tumbling into each others' yards, and the tops of the trees are bending in a way that we think happens only with a good CGI budget.
So it was really no surprise to me when we lost power. Actually, what surprised me was that within seconds, it was back on. The wind was still howling outside, and I could hear the branches of my rose bush slapping against the craft room window, and a pop can skittering across the road. But I also noticed something palpable; the quiet. Not because the kids aren't here, or that the kettle was suddenly not working the water up into a frenzy, but the hush of electronics; it was the sheer absence of sound that struck me. And it occurred to me that we have grown so accustomed to the sound of electronic devices that it has become part of our subconscious soundtrack for life, and I wonder how that has affected our brain function, our moods, and our interpersonal relations in the last 40 years. I know, deep thoughts of a suburban housewife and all that... ;)
I sat here for a few minutes, trying to hearken back to my childhood, and straining to remember what the ambient noise level was like in the home I shared with my parents and older brother. Now, remember, dear Reader, that I am a child of the 70s; I grew up as one of the first kids in my neighborhood with an Atari 2600, and a TRS-80. My dad loved being on the cusp of new, easily obtainable technology, so we were often the first house on the block to get the new shiny thing from Radio Shack (granted, the Atari was purchased from Simpson-Sears while on vacation in Honolulu, but that's another blog post entirely).
Imagining a summer day is the best, I think, as it eliminates my absence from the home for several hours to attend school, and gives a broader understanding of a typical day in the late 1970s.
I'd have woken up on my own, as I didn't yet have an alarm clock. I'd probably hear Mumsy in the kitchen, or perhaps putting a load of laundry on downstairs. Maybe she'd just be sitting quietly with a coffee, knitting or reading. That was the sum total of noise in the house. If we needed to do dishes, she would haul our nifty avocado green dishwasher across the kitchen and over to the sink to hook it up, and we'd hear the whir-swish-thump of it while we enjoyed having this hand-me-down modern convenience. I remember having chores, fishing sticklebacks out of the slough, and watching Mr. Yakishiro taking his dog, Fuji, for a walk - this largely consisted of him tying Fuji's leash to the handlebars of his bike and yelling, "Fuji, GO!". I remember playing street hockey and cops and robbers and freeze tag with the other kids on our street, trying to avoid the Fletcher boys, dressing up dolls with my friend Tracy from across the street, and writing and performing plays in our backyard, charging folks on our street 5¢ apiece for the privilege of watching the dreck we thought up, though in retrospect, the monster kidnapping story starring my brother as the monster (who won the role by virtue of the drawstring hood on his puffy winter coat, obscuring his face) was pretty good.
But I don't remember watching much TV; I do remember Sci-Fi Theatre, though I'm fuzzy on when it aired, but it was either on Saturday mornings, or Sunday afternoons, or both (KVOS-TV, airing out of Bellingham). I remember having 13 WHOLE CHANNELS, and having to walk over to the TV and turn the dial to change the channel, probably the job of most 70s kids in their houses. And I remember that most TV viewing was done in the evening. I also don't remember the stereo being on much outside of parties my parents would have. Oh, but there was this one time that my brother and I decided we wanted to have a sleepover in the rec room downstairs, and my dad (who had hooked up his Hi-Fi to speakers in the rec room) pulling out the microphone, turning the volume up to full, and doing his best evil mastermind laugh into it, sending my brother and I screaming up the stairs for him to save us - jerk :P
In thinking about it, I realise that there was a lot less noise present in our house when I was a child. And I have to wonder if this higher level of ambient noise is negatively impacting mood, attention spans, and how well we deal with others.
I think we, as a society, are less patient. We're all so focused on our own stuff - our job, our errands, our needs - that we no longer take the time to notice what's going on around us, or the people who are likewise trying to go about their day. We smile less, we speak to strangers less, we don't nod, and most certainly, if it infringes on our ability to get where we need to go and do what we need to do, we don't look at other people. That might invite them to engage us, and that would make us late. We can't have that.
In the last few years, as I've noticed we leave the Wii and PS3 on 24/7 (it makes accessing Netflix SO much easier), I've noticed a decline in my ability to retain information, and to stay on track without resorting to making lists for everything from chores to outings, to reminders to eat and hydrate. I always had a very sharp mind, and now I seem to rely on these lists more and more, and feel increasingly scattered. Now, I realise that I'm in my 40s, and memory starts to go at a certain point, but this feels more pervasive than simply getting older. Our kids have a very basic set of jobs after school (put backpack away, get lunchbag out and pick snacks for the next day, do homework, do a household chore), and it is a daily struggle to keep them on track without having either a verbal or visual reminder for them.
Primus has significant environmental allergies, his biggest allergens being grass and trees. I've asked him what it's like when his allergies are bugging him, and he likens the experience to having a low-grade buzzing in his head all the time. This results in him being terse, even grumpy, and he is given to being short-tempered for very little cause. Low-grade buzzing. Huh. Maybe there's something to that? I know that when I'm tired, or hungry, or otherwise not functioning within acceptable parameters, I get short-tempered, too. And I think the constant low-volume buzzing of electronics is exacerbating it. And if it's making it worse for me, could it be doing the same thing for everyone else?
So please, the next time you find yourself feeling fuzzy-headed or forgetful, or on edge for some unknown reason, stop for a moment and really notice what's going on around you. Are you hungry? Tired? Sore? Is there ambient noise you were previously unaware of? Is that noise actually bothering you after all? And if so, does turning it off make things better? I challenge you to try it, and let me know the results here.
Wednesday, 13 January 2016
Life in the Sick House
What a month! Here I am, trying to write something pithy and relevant with three kids home sick, and the accompanying chorus of sniffles, phlegmy coughs and bickering over the tablet usage (carefully metered out by me).
It seems that at some point for the last five weeks, someone has been sick every day. When you stop to think about it, we've got 5 people in three different schools, so I suppose the odds of one of them bringing home a virus are pretty high. But this has created an awful cycle of infection, mutation and re-infection that has Tertius and Quarta missing their fourth day of school in a row, and has even laid out Secunda, who would rather eat lava than miss school. It's even affected Primus, who normally has Wolverine-like restorative powers*.
Through almost all of it, Hubby has been trucking along, working all but one day where he really hit the wall and took a day to rest. The tricky part of his job is, you kind of need to be a bit psychic: to know far enough in advance that you're feeling sick enough to miss a day so that you can write up TOC (Teacher On Call) notes for the person filling in for you, ensure the resources are prepped, and have it ready for them at the school office, or on your desk for the following day. What often ends up happening is that Hubby works on the day he feels the worst, spending extra time after school prepping for the TOC before he can come home and collapse into bed, exhausted. On top of that, taking more than one sick day at a time can negatively impact his lesson plans, putting the students behind where they should be. In a semestered school, this has even more impact. This does not exactly set him up to get better quickly; rather, it puts him into a position of going back to work before he actually feels better, and having a further compromised immune system to work with. The end result is that he is more susceptible to subsequent viruses, and functions at a low-grade sick level with periodic flare-ups for the rest of the winter.
The kids are snot factories, coughing without a care for where their little "sick particles" land. I feel like I'm constantly reminding them to cover their coughs and sneezes; the words, "Please don't cough into my face/tea/food" are uttered more than I'd like.
And me? I've been sick this whole time. Low-grade, not bad enough for cold meds for most of it, but in the last 5 weeks, I've had what bordered on an ear infection, swollen glands and lymph nodes, laryngitis, impacted sinuses, and most recently, blisters on the back of my throat. Unrelated, I've also been having bad flare-ups of the tendonitis in both wrists, what feels like arthritis pain in both hands, neck and shoulder strain, and a pinched sciatic nerve on one side.
I'm so ready for this to be over. I have big plans for de-cluttering our house, setting up new furniture pieces, reorganizing the master bedroom, and painting the bathroom.
* I swear, this kid gets a sniffle, sleeps for 18 hours straight, and he's fit as a fiddle!
It seems that at some point for the last five weeks, someone has been sick every day. When you stop to think about it, we've got 5 people in three different schools, so I suppose the odds of one of them bringing home a virus are pretty high. But this has created an awful cycle of infection, mutation and re-infection that has Tertius and Quarta missing their fourth day of school in a row, and has even laid out Secunda, who would rather eat lava than miss school. It's even affected Primus, who normally has Wolverine-like restorative powers*.
Through almost all of it, Hubby has been trucking along, working all but one day where he really hit the wall and took a day to rest. The tricky part of his job is, you kind of need to be a bit psychic: to know far enough in advance that you're feeling sick enough to miss a day so that you can write up TOC (Teacher On Call) notes for the person filling in for you, ensure the resources are prepped, and have it ready for them at the school office, or on your desk for the following day. What often ends up happening is that Hubby works on the day he feels the worst, spending extra time after school prepping for the TOC before he can come home and collapse into bed, exhausted. On top of that, taking more than one sick day at a time can negatively impact his lesson plans, putting the students behind where they should be. In a semestered school, this has even more impact. This does not exactly set him up to get better quickly; rather, it puts him into a position of going back to work before he actually feels better, and having a further compromised immune system to work with. The end result is that he is more susceptible to subsequent viruses, and functions at a low-grade sick level with periodic flare-ups for the rest of the winter.
The kids are snot factories, coughing without a care for where their little "sick particles" land. I feel like I'm constantly reminding them to cover their coughs and sneezes; the words, "Please don't cough into my face/tea/food" are uttered more than I'd like.
And me? I've been sick this whole time. Low-grade, not bad enough for cold meds for most of it, but in the last 5 weeks, I've had what bordered on an ear infection, swollen glands and lymph nodes, laryngitis, impacted sinuses, and most recently, blisters on the back of my throat. Unrelated, I've also been having bad flare-ups of the tendonitis in both wrists, what feels like arthritis pain in both hands, neck and shoulder strain, and a pinched sciatic nerve on one side.
I'm so ready for this to be over. I have big plans for de-cluttering our house, setting up new furniture pieces, reorganizing the master bedroom, and painting the bathroom.
* I swear, this kid gets a sniffle, sleeps for 18 hours straight, and he's fit as a fiddle!
Thursday, 7 January 2016
A Little Something For Me
I have a really annoying habit.
I like to make things, and sometimes, I even like to make things for myself. I'll start the project, and generally, at some point, I come to realize that it's not for me after all. As a result, I don't have a lot of my own work.
With that in mind, I've started knitting a hat FOR MYSELF. No, I really mean it this time! It's a beautiful slouchy beret, called Elleby, designed by Teresa Cole. It has an openwork design that looks a bit like cabling, but without the cables. I'm finished the brim and the first repeat, and it's looking fabulous! Now, I'm only two days of knitting into it, but the variegated thread is looking very nice, and if it continues like this, there's no way anyone will get it, lest they pry it from my cold, dead hands.
MINE!
I like to make things, and sometimes, I even like to make things for myself. I'll start the project, and generally, at some point, I come to realize that it's not for me after all. As a result, I don't have a lot of my own work.
With that in mind, I've started knitting a hat FOR MYSELF. No, I really mean it this time! It's a beautiful slouchy beret, called Elleby, designed by Teresa Cole. It has an openwork design that looks a bit like cabling, but without the cables. I'm finished the brim and the first repeat, and it's looking fabulous! Now, I'm only two days of knitting into it, but the variegated thread is looking very nice, and if it continues like this, there's no way anyone will get it, lest they pry it from my cold, dead hands.
MINE!
Monday, 4 January 2016
New Year, New Leaf
Greetings, friends!
Here we are, at the beginning of a new year, and approaching the season of rebirth and renewal. It finds me wanting to press the re-set button on my life; re-establishing good habits, and establishing new ones.
I find that I really enjoy blogging, but I have allowed life to carry me away with it, and many things I enjoy have fallen by the wayside. So on this, my first day of building new routines, I am committing to work on my blog three times a week, and posting once every 7-10 days. If I break it down into 15 minutes at a time, I think that I'll find the process easier and more pleasant.
So, if you want to come along for the ride, read on!
Today is the first day back from Christmas Break, and despite our best efforts, we ended up getting out the door late. We began using some new routines (and continuing with some established routines) yesterday, including ensuring that the kids' lunches were made, backpacks ready and in a location convenient to the front door, clothes were laid out, keys were at the ready, etc. The goal is to prevent the bottlenecks at the top of the stairs and at the front door, and to get out of the house on time and without yelling or stress. But it went off the rails, and fast. And her name is Quarta.
Hubby wanted to be at work a little early to do some prep, so getting him out the door went seamlessly. Primus, who is 13, was left in charge while I drove Hubby, and all of the kids were awake, most of them dressed. The round trip took a total of 12 minutes, and when I returned, Quarta had not done a SINGLE THING since I had left. She wasn't listening to the instructions of her older siblings, despite being told by me that they were in charge while I was gone, and that she was to get dressed first.
I have never met a child who is equal parts intelligent and stubborn. Quarta is really testing my parenting abilities, and I am left scratching my head, wondering what to do to get compliance. But I think I may have hit on something.
We just recently were gifted with a first generation iPad (Thanks, BioDad!), and she and Tertius LOVE playing on it. So tonight, I will explain the new system to her: her access to the iPad after school hinges on her getting up and ready without complaint or delay. I imagine that a few days of no iPad will cure her of her intractability.
I'll keep you updated.
Here we are, at the beginning of a new year, and approaching the season of rebirth and renewal. It finds me wanting to press the re-set button on my life; re-establishing good habits, and establishing new ones.
I find that I really enjoy blogging, but I have allowed life to carry me away with it, and many things I enjoy have fallen by the wayside. So on this, my first day of building new routines, I am committing to work on my blog three times a week, and posting once every 7-10 days. If I break it down into 15 minutes at a time, I think that I'll find the process easier and more pleasant.
So, if you want to come along for the ride, read on!
Today is the first day back from Christmas Break, and despite our best efforts, we ended up getting out the door late. We began using some new routines (and continuing with some established routines) yesterday, including ensuring that the kids' lunches were made, backpacks ready and in a location convenient to the front door, clothes were laid out, keys were at the ready, etc. The goal is to prevent the bottlenecks at the top of the stairs and at the front door, and to get out of the house on time and without yelling or stress. But it went off the rails, and fast. And her name is Quarta.
Hubby wanted to be at work a little early to do some prep, so getting him out the door went seamlessly. Primus, who is 13, was left in charge while I drove Hubby, and all of the kids were awake, most of them dressed. The round trip took a total of 12 minutes, and when I returned, Quarta had not done a SINGLE THING since I had left. She wasn't listening to the instructions of her older siblings, despite being told by me that they were in charge while I was gone, and that she was to get dressed first.
I have never met a child who is equal parts intelligent and stubborn. Quarta is really testing my parenting abilities, and I am left scratching my head, wondering what to do to get compliance. But I think I may have hit on something.
We just recently were gifted with a first generation iPad (Thanks, BioDad!), and she and Tertius LOVE playing on it. So tonight, I will explain the new system to her: her access to the iPad after school hinges on her getting up and ready without complaint or delay. I imagine that a few days of no iPad will cure her of her intractability.
I'll keep you updated.
Saturday, 5 September 2015
Teetering on the Precipice
Here it is, the Saturday evening before school begins anew, and I feel the muse pull at me, urging me to write down my thoughts.
This is my very favourite time of year, for many reasons. First and foremost, I love autumn. The crispness in the air, the smell of cold on the wind, the bright, sunny late summer days, the way the sun shines through the vividly coloured leaves as they gently drift to the ground. I love the crunch of dry leaves under my boots, the sweaters, the warm drinks, the rainy days that give me an excuse to curl up under a blanket on the couch, put on a much-loved movie, and create something with my hands. I love wrapping my hands around a warm drink, sitting down to a big bowl of stew with dumplings, or having the house cool enough to bake again. It's all about putting away the accoutrements of summer and pulling out the hand-knits and throw blankets; trading iced vanilla lattes for steaming mugs of chai or apple cider; retiring shorts in favour of my fuzzy polar fleece pajama pants.
*sigh*
It also means that my beloved husband and children will return to the routine of school. I love this for a whole host of other reasons - the house becomes more calm during the day, I get more crafts done, and my home has a chance of staying clean for more than 30 minutes at a time.
This year is different for me, because my youngest, my baby, sweet little Quarta is starting her educational journey in earnest. She will start Kindergarten on Tuesday, and I find the feeling a little bittersweet; I am both eager to have the house to myself during the day, and unsure of how I will actually feel about it when it happens. Will I miss hearing her random, "Guess what Mummy? I love you!" throughout the day? Will I feel a twinge of sadness knowing I am alone in the house - well, alone as one can be when there are two cats living there? Will I be filled with pride for my littlest hobbit, watching her take those first real steps toward independence? I have a feeling that I'll be a mix of all of it, all jumbled together in a messy, tear-streamed, smiling package.
So bring it on, autumn - I'm ready for you.
This is my very favourite time of year, for many reasons. First and foremost, I love autumn. The crispness in the air, the smell of cold on the wind, the bright, sunny late summer days, the way the sun shines through the vividly coloured leaves as they gently drift to the ground. I love the crunch of dry leaves under my boots, the sweaters, the warm drinks, the rainy days that give me an excuse to curl up under a blanket on the couch, put on a much-loved movie, and create something with my hands. I love wrapping my hands around a warm drink, sitting down to a big bowl of stew with dumplings, or having the house cool enough to bake again. It's all about putting away the accoutrements of summer and pulling out the hand-knits and throw blankets; trading iced vanilla lattes for steaming mugs of chai or apple cider; retiring shorts in favour of my fuzzy polar fleece pajama pants.
*sigh*
It also means that my beloved husband and children will return to the routine of school. I love this for a whole host of other reasons - the house becomes more calm during the day, I get more crafts done, and my home has a chance of staying clean for more than 30 minutes at a time.
This year is different for me, because my youngest, my baby, sweet little Quarta is starting her educational journey in earnest. She will start Kindergarten on Tuesday, and I find the feeling a little bittersweet; I am both eager to have the house to myself during the day, and unsure of how I will actually feel about it when it happens. Will I miss hearing her random, "Guess what Mummy? I love you!" throughout the day? Will I feel a twinge of sadness knowing I am alone in the house - well, alone as one can be when there are two cats living there? Will I be filled with pride for my littlest hobbit, watching her take those first real steps toward independence? I have a feeling that I'll be a mix of all of it, all jumbled together in a messy, tear-streamed, smiling package.
So bring it on, autumn - I'm ready for you.
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