Friday, April 28, 2006
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Candid morning
When I came to my computer this morning, a cold bowl of rice and a near-full Dr Pepper made me realize that when I left at 7:45 Tuesday night because Marty wanted me to look at a possible sticker or bug bite, I never came back in here. And I discovered when I went to make tea that I had never gone back up to the kitchen.
By the time the tea was done, it looked much better. I was thinking, as I cleaned up, of how quiet the house was. It was 7:55 and the sun was shining. Keith had left for work at 6:00, and Marty at 6:30. Holly was asleep and Kirby was... I panicked a little bit, because I thought he was supposed to be at work at 8:00, but I checked the handy-dandy kitchen calendar and today was a 9:00 day at the fine pizza establishment at which he is employed.
So it was still quiet, and I wasn't worried anymore. The stillness was nice.
I remember thousands of mornings with various combinations of little kids up and busy and messy and loud much earlier than that. And now there are times of various combinations of teenagers here being busy, messy and loud, but it's a peaceful noise.
Yesterday was busy and stressful for me and several around me. Kirby called me on his way to karate wanting advice on how to gracefully get out of his commitment there. I found out only later than his computer had been dead in the water when he left and he had been frustrated to the limit before he realized it was past time to leave to teach karate, and he was late. Keith had been with him for that part. I got the phone call elsewhere. But when he got home he felt better, having arranged for a karate-free May, and he found that his computer's video card was just loose from being carried back and forth from his friend's house. All was better. He had a frustration spike with a peaceful ending within just a couple of hours. I wish all such panics could be so easily diffused and defused as mine this morning and Kirby's yesterday afternoon.
There's a wish for all of you. May your panics dissolve into peaceful solutions.
By the time the tea was done, it looked much better. I was thinking, as I cleaned up, of how quiet the house was. It was 7:55 and the sun was shining. Keith had left for work at 6:00, and Marty at 6:30. Holly was asleep and Kirby was... I panicked a little bit, because I thought he was supposed to be at work at 8:00, but I checked the handy-dandy kitchen calendar and today was a 9:00 day at the fine pizza establishment at which he is employed.
So it was still quiet, and I wasn't worried anymore. The stillness was nice.
I remember thousands of mornings with various combinations of little kids up and busy and messy and loud much earlier than that. And now there are times of various combinations of teenagers here being busy, messy and loud, but it's a peaceful noise.
Yesterday was busy and stressful for me and several around me. Kirby called me on his way to karate wanting advice on how to gracefully get out of his commitment there. I found out only later than his computer had been dead in the water when he left and he had been frustrated to the limit before he realized it was past time to leave to teach karate, and he was late. Keith had been with him for that part. I got the phone call elsewhere. But when he got home he felt better, having arranged for a karate-free May, and he found that his computer's video card was just loose from being carried back and forth from his friend's house. All was better. He had a frustration spike with a peaceful ending within just a couple of hours. I wish all such panics could be so easily diffused and defused as mine this morning and Kirby's yesterday afternoon.
There's a wish for all of you. May your panics dissolve into peaceful solutions.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Ninja Turtles in the yard
I should post more, but after I write at UnschoolingDiscussion and AlwaysLearning, all my writing energy is spent. This morning they're quiet, so I came here. Also I had this photo to deposit in public. I thought it would be easy to find with google image, but didn't find one. Maybe someone needing it in the future can find it now. It's here and also at Late Night Learning. I took it off the wall in Kirby's room, cleaned the dust off, and photographed it on top of the hot tub. He came home and noticed it missing and was worried. It's back on his turtle museum wall again.
Yesterday Keith and I played in the yard a lot. I would say "yardwork," but it was fun. Marty did the hard stuff—climbing up ladders to put plastic net so that moonflowers and morning glories can climb up in new places. Where the morning glories used to be, though, I'm putting in "real" vines—Virginia creeper (which was already here and is going north instead of south, and I'll try to redirect it) and honeysuckle. Our nextdoor neighbor wanted some of our Virginia creeper because it reminded him of his childhood, but his wife didn't want any. Keith and I put a few near his porch but I'm not sure if it lived. So I'm going to put it up the fence between our house and theirs so he can share it that way.
(For the benefit of anyone wanting to find that art, it's Ninja Turtles as Renaissance artists, and I hope google image can help them find it. Here's more help: TMNT plastic wallhanging Donatello Michelangelo Raphael Leonardo paintbrushes easel palette)
Kirby housesat at the dojo again earlier this month, while his sensei was out of town. His friends joke that it's part of his training to stay there alone and protect it from Ninjas. The first time he was going to do that, I was worried. It's a bad neighborhood, and he would be there all alone. Keith, who wasn't worried, reminded me it was basically a fortress full of weapons and Kirby knows how to use most of them. Not the least powerful is the phone, too.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Mountains out the window
The Sandia Mountains, April 1, 2006.
That's the view out our library window. Some people swear by an aquarium for a slowly-moving, soothing thing to see, but I like the clouds and shadows on the mountains out that window.
Friday, March 31, 2006
A Hobo for Holly
Doesn't that sound like a creepy little-kids' book title?
Holly posted this somewhere.
Things to do when I get my braces off:
1. Have corn on the cob like all the time
2. Go to Shoney's and get like a ton of gum from their really cool 25¢ gum machine
3. Eat carrots until my skin turns orange
4. Mess with big Wax lips without getting nasty red on my braces
Who I'd like to meet:
A hobo that's actually jumped at least one train.
And maybe a robot with lavender hair named Simon.
She had the first part, up to the carrots a couple of weeks. Her braces do come off in April. But that's not why I brought it over here. She posted on Tuesday night that she would like to meet a hobo who'd jumped a train. (I believe "hopped a train" is the technical term, the idiomatically proper phrase, but...)
Wednesday night my troublesome younger half-brother, born when I was old enough to use birth control responsibly and my mother was not, called me from Buda, Texas. Last time he called he was either in Alaska or Montana. He changed his story partway through because sometimes it's hard to keep the lie straight. But now he's in Texas, and one of the stories he had to tell was that he was trying to get to New Orleans and was arrested for riding in a box car and put in jail in Del Rio or some such place. I was thinking maybe two days. No, he served 45 days of a 90 day sentence. He sweet-talked and guilted a female judge to let him out early.
So I'm telling Holly what Justin said, and she got big eyes because she had JUST posted less than 24 hours before that she wanted to meet someone who had hobo-fied a train ride. Ta-daaa.
My mom had an uncle who died, during The Depression, jumping out of a boxcar before it quite stopped, as they were wont to do, we understand. My granny said once that he was probably pushed because he had done it too much not to be able to do it right.
Holly posted this somewhere.
Things to do when I get my braces off:
1. Have corn on the cob like all the time
2. Go to Shoney's and get like a ton of gum from their really cool 25¢ gum machine
3. Eat carrots until my skin turns orange
4. Mess with big Wax lips without getting nasty red on my braces
Who I'd like to meet:
A hobo that's actually jumped at least one train.
And maybe a robot with lavender hair named Simon.
She had the first part, up to the carrots a couple of weeks. Her braces do come off in April. But that's not why I brought it over here. She posted on Tuesday night that she would like to meet a hobo who'd jumped a train. (I believe "hopped a train" is the technical term, the idiomatically proper phrase, but...)
Wednesday night my troublesome younger half-brother, born when I was old enough to use birth control responsibly and my mother was not, called me from Buda, Texas. Last time he called he was either in Alaska or Montana. He changed his story partway through because sometimes it's hard to keep the lie straight. But now he's in Texas, and one of the stories he had to tell was that he was trying to get to New Orleans and was arrested for riding in a box car and put in jail in Del Rio or some such place. I was thinking maybe two days. No, he served 45 days of a 90 day sentence. He sweet-talked and guilted a female judge to let him out early.
So I'm telling Holly what Justin said, and she got big eyes because she had JUST posted less than 24 hours before that she wanted to meet someone who had hobo-fied a train ride. Ta-daaa.
My mom had an uncle who died, during The Depression, jumping out of a boxcar before it quite stopped, as they were wont to do, we understand. My granny said once that he was probably pushed because he had done it too much not to be able to do it right.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
I got a job
An job inquiry/offer came casually into my mailbox, on a Mac users group. After looking at the potential employer's website, I responded and said if someone younger and more enthusiastic didn't show up, I'd like to be considered.
So... it seems someone younger and more enthusiastic did show up, but thought it would be insufficiently stimulating.
I HAVE intellectual and artistic stimulation in my normal unschooling life. I wouldn't mind some monotony. But so far (seven hours over two days), no monotony. It's about a mile away, and involves mostly clerical stuff, for a lawyer, performed as contract labor. It's not in a walk-in office, so I don't need to dress up. I'll end up doing most stuff from home anyway, after a while.
But that's not the good part. The work involves something very commendable, which is mediated divorce. The emphasis is on what's best for the kids, with a first pass of trying to avoid the divorce in the first place, and a bottom line of not going to court. Pretty cool. http://www.nmfamilylaw.com/more.html
"[Collaborative Law] encourages the parties to resolve present and future disputes in a manner that will contribute to the future well being of their children."
Marty and Kirby go to work every morning, and Holly sleeps until 1:00 or 2:00, and now I can be support personnel for some right livelihood. Whether the work lasts just a while or for a long time, it's fine with me.
So... it seems someone younger and more enthusiastic did show up, but thought it would be insufficiently stimulating.
I HAVE intellectual and artistic stimulation in my normal unschooling life. I wouldn't mind some monotony. But so far (seven hours over two days), no monotony. It's about a mile away, and involves mostly clerical stuff, for a lawyer, performed as contract labor. It's not in a walk-in office, so I don't need to dress up. I'll end up doing most stuff from home anyway, after a while.
But that's not the good part. The work involves something very commendable, which is mediated divorce. The emphasis is on what's best for the kids, with a first pass of trying to avoid the divorce in the first place, and a bottom line of not going to court. Pretty cool. http://www.nmfamilylaw.com/more.html
"[Collaborative Law] encourages the parties to resolve present and future disputes in a manner that will contribute to the future well being of their children."
Marty and Kirby go to work every morning, and Holly sleeps until 1:00 or 2:00, and now I can be support personnel for some right livelihood. Whether the work lasts just a while or for a long time, it's fine with me.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
Bad Dreams
I haven't slept well three of the past four nights, which will probably pass on its own, but last night (meaning in the past three hours, because I got up at 5:15) I had three bad dreams. They weren't nightmares, but were scary stories involving not being able to sleep, being separated from my kids, one was losing a little Marty (who was half my half-brother, when he was little, or some made-up kid, because dreams can be that way) and another little boy I didn't even know who was just following me around. We were in Taos. Fantasy, irritating Taos, but still. I came in on a bike and left in a station wagon. Or would have left, but I was separated from these two boys, one who was mine and one whose name I didn't even know. And it was nighttime. And I knew no one.
One involved teenage intruders, three, youngish, female leader, didn't know if they had weapons. They walked right in with me looking at them. Keith's arm is hurt (was in the dream) so I didn't want to go and get him. Kirby was on it, but Marty was reticent (they were both awake too, in the dream).
All dreams ended unresolved, but I would fall asleep only long enough to have an all new disturbing dream of me wandering in the scary dark separated from other people and afraid. Bummer. The emotions weren't fright, but were nervous uncertainty, fear at a manageable level, and guilt.
So I got up, wishing for the days when we all slept in one room, or two adjoining rooms, when checking on kids was just listening, or reaching out, or looking around, and went to check the house. I looked at Marty; he's in his bed. The front door was unlocked, which isn't unusual, but was a factor in the one dream. I went out and made sure all the cars were there (oh... four dreams, one about me parking one car in the neighbor's unused driveway and commenting to Holly that Keith might think it had been stolen, but we could park more in our driveway). All the cars are there. The doors of the rooms where Holly, Kirby and Brett sleep are closed.
Still, though this isn't a "good morning," I'm still aware and grateful that it could be so much worse. I do know where my kids are, and I didn't have heart-pounding nightmares. There are many worse things than losing sleep, and when the kids were babies, I was sleep deprived for many years straight. Maybe it's one of those "exceptions that proves the rule" situations. My nights are usually sleepy and peaceful, and I'm rarely feeling uncertain, afraid or guilty. That's good!
One involved teenage intruders, three, youngish, female leader, didn't know if they had weapons. They walked right in with me looking at them. Keith's arm is hurt (was in the dream) so I didn't want to go and get him. Kirby was on it, but Marty was reticent (they were both awake too, in the dream).
All dreams ended unresolved, but I would fall asleep only long enough to have an all new disturbing dream of me wandering in the scary dark separated from other people and afraid. Bummer. The emotions weren't fright, but were nervous uncertainty, fear at a manageable level, and guilt.
So I got up, wishing for the days when we all slept in one room, or two adjoining rooms, when checking on kids was just listening, or reaching out, or looking around, and went to check the house. I looked at Marty; he's in his bed. The front door was unlocked, which isn't unusual, but was a factor in the one dream. I went out and made sure all the cars were there (oh... four dreams, one about me parking one car in the neighbor's unused driveway and commenting to Holly that Keith might think it had been stolen, but we could park more in our driveway). All the cars are there. The doors of the rooms where Holly, Kirby and Brett sleep are closed.
Still, though this isn't a "good morning," I'm still aware and grateful that it could be so much worse. I do know where my kids are, and I didn't have heart-pounding nightmares. There are many worse things than losing sleep, and when the kids were babies, I was sleep deprived for many years straight. Maybe it's one of those "exceptions that proves the rule" situations. My nights are usually sleepy and peaceful, and I'm rarely feeling uncertain, afraid or guilty. That's good!
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