Five Minute Update, 14 October 2014

This morning has been full since school drop-off, including a brisk walk with a friend and a rehearsal with another friend for a wedding gig this weekend.  My thought had been to hit the grocery store after rehearsal before having to turn around and pick up the boys from school--you know it's time for a grocery run when you don't have bread, milk, tortillas, or microwave popcorn--but I was having such a good time singing and chatting with my friend that shopping will have to wait.  (I had two microwaved hot dogs--bunless--for lunch.  Don't judge.)

So with the 25 minutes or so I have left, I thought I'd pop in and post some updates!  Yesterday I realized I didn't write a single post in September, which I will attribute to the following reasons:

1. I've been working my bum off during my morning kidless times on home projects (posts about those to follow)
2. those projects and life in general tire me out, so I spend the kids' afternoon video game time napping (don't judge)
3. with G in 4th grade and Z in 1st, post-dinner times are filled with homeschool work
4. by time the boys are in bed, Jay and I want time together, and I'm too brain-dead to write anyway
5. I feel insecure writing about my home improvement projects because I'm not a famous home blogger a la "Young House Love"

But I miss writing and I am pretty excited to share what I've been working on around here.  So check in over the next day or seven as I get this thing updated!  :-)

A Penny Saved Is a Penny Earned, 27 August 2014

Today I had a job that paid $100 an hour!  Read on to find out how (or skip to the very bottom if you're a punchline person).

When Jay and I bought our house in 2010, there were two--count them, two--sliding glass doors in the master bedroom.  One of them looked out onto a wall.

(Don't worry; we painted the walls/ceiling and replaced the carpet and ceiling fan.)  About two years ago, we hired a friend to take out the superfluous door and frame in the space.  He put in the drywall and we left it at that, deciding that someday "soon" we'd hire someone to texture the drywall to match the rest of the room.

Meanwhile, Jay and I stuccoed the exterior wall ourselves after hearing an exorbitant quote for having someone else do it.  This wall, too, lay unpainted.

As you can see, we're not pros at the whole matching stucco thing. Eh. No one sees this wall anyway.

Last month, I decided I was tired of looking at bare drywall every day, so I got a quote from a paint company to texture it.  Not including the painting afterward, they asked for $450.00.  I hemmed and hawed and thought about it but didn't commit.

Now this week, both boys started class, which means that I now have 16--count them, 16!--hours per week while my kids are at school.  On Monday I did a lot of praying and list-making and thinking about those weekly 16 hours, and one of the things I've decided to do is pursue making my home visually and logistically more peaceful.  I have a loooooooooooooooong list of things I'd like to do, from re-landscaping the front yard to painting furniture.

What I don't have, however, is a money tree, and it's funny how all these projects add up when it's $450 here and $450 there.  But what I do have is time.

So, bada bing bada boom, after a little internet research I decided to take on this texturing project myself!

This morning I started by spackling all the shrunken joint compound around the edges and screws.  I also resolved not to stress about making the wall look absolutely seamless, because I knew that would be impossible for me to do.  I just wanted it to be better than it was.

Then I read the back of the spackle bucket and saw that it could take five hours to dry if it was put on thickly...which it was.  So for the next five hours I...

...paid some bills

...checked Facebook (but only for a couple minutes, I promise)

...spackled the cracks around the patched stucco on the exterior side of the wall

...patched a small hole in the drywall of our hallway by a new thermostat

...did the dishes

...ran a load of laundry

...ate lunch

...picked the kids up from school (yup, my four kid-free hours were done, but they cozied up with some video games so I still had unfettered time)

...prepped a make-ahead dinner

...and read from some special books.

Now the mud was finally dry enough to sand it down, so I put together my brand new little toy and made a ridiculous amount of dust all over my bedroom.  But it had a little catching bag thingy!  Why so much dust?!?  Ah well.  Sanders will be sanders.  We'll sleep in the guest bedroom tonight and I'll clean it up tomorrow.

Like my floral drop cloth? :-)

Naturally, I didn't spread drop cloths over the bed and all of Jay's clothes and all my furniture. So much dust...

My next step was going to be to wipe the dust off the wall where I'd be spraying the texture.  But I forgot.  Oops.  Moving right along...

I used pre-mixed spray cans, practicing on a couple cardboard boxes in the back yard until I figured I'd set the spray volume close enough to match my wall.  The texturing itself went really fast and was actually kinda fun!

Not that it looks much different from this distance. There's only supposed to be about 70% coverage.

While it dried, I popped the casserole in the oven and put on my Teacher Hat for some homework with the boys.  There were some tears (not mine), but before a complete breakdown happened, Jay arrived home from work and soothed the troubled waters.  I love Jay.

Then we ate dinner.  I love one-dish meals.

I primed the wall.

Then I primed the exterior wall, which was no fun at all because I really needed a roller with, like, 6-inch nap to actually get into the crazy stucco job--which I didn't have.  So I rolled and then jammed the bristles of a large paint brush into as many of the low spots as I could.  I'll figure out how to paint it tomorrow (yes, I know a sprayer would be ideal, but I don't have one).

The exterior priming took longer than I thought it would, but when I was finished with that I could go back in the house and paint the opposite side.  I love paint!  Notice I didn't say that I love painting; but a flat, rectangular piece of wall that doesn't need any cutting-in is pretty straightforward.

Two coats of paint and voila!  Done!

The perimeter of where the door used to be is still visible, but at least half of it will be obscured by furniture, and in lower lighting the seams really don't glare out.  And you know what?  It's good enough for me!

I added up my labor hours of this texturing deal (minus all the other projects) and it amounted to about four and a half.  Which means that I spent four and a half hours of my time today to save $450.00, which means that I basically earned $450.00, which works out to $100.00 an hour.

Boom, baby!

Now I'd better go make up the guest bed.  Aaaaaand take a couple ibuprofen.  'Night!

Happy Mommy Moments, 27 May 2014

Today I'm a happy mama.

Nothing particularly huge happened today--unless we count G giving his first-ever speech in front of his 2nd grade class--but I felt delighted at a number of little moments.

I arrived at the kids' school early enough to catch G's oral report on the common hippo (I'll refrain from quoting the whole thing right here, although I could probably do it from memory myself), and as I walked through the center common room on my way to his classroom, a little Kindergartner from Z's class walked past me on the way back from the restroom.  His face lit up in recognition when he saw me.  "Hi, Z's Mom!" he grinned.  At that moment I realized I love being known as Z's Mom.

And known as G's Mom too, as the 2nd grade kids refer to me!  I'm not gonna lie, I burst a few buttons as my darling 7 year old presented his research on the animal he'd chosen for his year-end project.  He remembered everything we'd practiced!  Deep breath to start, feet rooted to the floor, talk slowly, glance down at the cue cards and then look up and speak to the class with eye contact.  For this project, which included a multi-page written report, a diorama, and the speech, we were handed blank grading rubrics along with the assignment.  When I saw those, I gulped.  We're in the big leagues now, I thought, with rubrics and bibliographies and clay-baked sculptures.

G insisted on reading through the rubrics ahead of time to see what he'd need to do for the full 4 points per element.  He didn't want to mess around with 2- or 3-point quality work.  "Mommy, I want to get 4 points on everything," he declared.  We haven't gotten his grade for the written report or the diorama yet, but immediately after finishing his speech today, he turned to his teacher and asked, "Do I get 4 points??"

She chuckled, and that's all the grade he's gotten so-far.

But it sure seemed like a 4-point presentation to me!  His diorama is pretty cute too, and I'm especially proud because it's the the first time we've done baked clay for anything.

Presenting a common hippo and her calf wading somewhere in Central Africa.  I should have photographed this before taping the plastic wrap on it.  G told his class he'd used "assilic" paint.

Another absolutely precious little thing warmed my heart today.  I'll be revealing something about my age when I say that I grew up on the show Reading Rainbow, hosted by LeVar Burton, and I recently discovered that our instant-streaming video provider carries the old episodes.  Naturally, I have been eager to watch through every episode myself share the show with my kids.  It turns out that Z's Kindergarten teacher has shown his class a couple of episodes too, so he's already a little familiar with it.  (I have to admit, it takes the wind out of my sails a bit to hear, "Oh, I've seen this one.")

As the two boys and I sat on the couch tonight, taking an inside-tour of the Library of Congress and getting up close and personal with the Statue of Liberty, I couldn't have been more full of warm fuzzies.  That is, I thought I didn't have room for more fuzzies...until the final credits and the reprise of the theme song--when Z started signing along.

My sweet little boy in his wandering soprano voice, singing a theme song that was heard in my childhood home almost every school day?  That is a happy feeling.

While we're on the subject of nostalgia combined with literacy, I recently brought out my copy of Heidi, on which is penned the inscription, "To Rachel, on her 7th birthday.  With love, Mom and Dad."  I could have handed the book to G to read, but I love reading aloud to my kids.  (Plus, I don't want him to crinkle the pages.)  Reading aloud, I get to use my college drama skills which don't see the light of day very often!  So for the last couple weeks, whenever the boys and I have some downtime, we sit together and I read about the little Swiss girl in the Alps who eats toasted cheese on bread (Z's new favorite breakfast) and delights in the beauty she finds in wildflowers, goats, glaciers, fir trees, and old grandmothers.

P.S. I'm ready to move to Switzerland.  Now.

Both boys love the story, although I think Z enjoyed The Secret Garden (which I read a few months ago) more.  Maybe something to do with the ratio of girl:boy characters?  [Teacher Note: It is way cool to do a compare/contrast with Heidi and The Secret Garden.  I hadn't realized how many similar themes they have until re-reading them so close together.  The kids and I had a great conversation about this during breakfast at a buffet this weekend.  SPOILER ALERT  And we haven't even gotten to the part where Klara starts walking yet!]

A couple days ago I finished reading a couple chapters and left the room to go work on something.  Thirty minutes later, I noticed it was still pretty quiet in the living room.  I could hear Z talking to himself a bit as he played with toys, but G seemed to have dropped out of sight.  Did he fall asleep? I wondered incredulously.  But his bed was empty.  Not seeing his fuzzy head peeping over the back of the couch either, I walked around to the front of it to see if he had lied down.  He hadn't.  He was kneeling on the floor, Heidi spread out on the couch in front of him, reading ahead from where we'd left off.

Talk about simultaneous horror of "He'll find out what's coming!!" and immense gratitude of "He cares about this story enough to read it himself!!"

The latter feeling has definitely won out.  And--thanks to those drama skills coming in handy--he's not bored listening to me read the parts he's already seen.

I'm not bored either.  In fact, reading this story again as an adult, I'm astounded to rediscover the incredibly strong theme of redemption in this story.  I choked up, right on the living room couch, reading the Grandfather's break-through moments after hearing Heidi tell him the story of the Prodigal Son.  And I again had to clear mist from my eyes when the story revealed that the darkness Heidi had experienced during a hard period of her life directly brought light to the heart of the Grandmother--a woman whose blind eyes saw nothing but blackness.

It's a good book, people.

But I've digressed from refraining to give you a report on the common hippo to giving you a report on Heidi.  That wasn't my intent!  I just wanted to take some time tonight to share a few ways that I'm loving being Mom to my boys.  There's been so much sadness and darkness in my adult life...I'm so thankful for these beautiful moments of recognition that all is not dark.  There can be light in my heart.

With that, in the iconic words of LeVar, I'll see ya' next time!

School for Two, 13 August 2013

Today was a momentous day!  G started second grade...and Z started Kindergarten.

Seriously, this morning Z looked like a mostly-four-year-old, five in name only.  But this evening, guiding him through homework, before my very eyes he transformed into a full-fledged five-year-old in all its school-age glory.

(Note: Our kids are enrolled in a charter public school that is about 70% in-class learning and 30% homeschool.  Teachers send a packet of work home at the beginning of the week and the parents guide the kids through it.  Today was the first day of homeschool; classes won't start until the end of August.)

Z's first order of business was to trace his first name on a page his teacher printed for him.  I pessimistically expected him to balk when I told him I had a thing for him to do, but he practically ran to the kitchen table, eagerly taking up the pencil and bending over the page.  He traced his name (and it's a long name) once, and I planned to let him move on to something else, saving the other lines of tracing for another day.  But he had other ideas.  "I'm going to trace the next one!" he declared happily.

Then a shadow crossed his face and I braced myself for the expected complaint.  For the last two years, Z has sat with G and me during homeschool time, and I waited for him to echo G's idea that this thing called "homework" is to be dreaded like the Pirate Roberts.  I wasn't wrong.

"Mommy," a whine crept in, "when I'm done tracing, do I have to do homework?"

My darling boy!  Delight swept over me and I grinned.  "Z, I'm going to tell you a secret: You already are doing homework!"

His whine disappeared into a giggle and he enthusiastically announced, "I'm going to surprise my teacher and trace all of the lines right now!"  Which he did.  There's no way his classroom teacher is going to be more surprised by his industriousness than I was!

G also showed growth today.  After a nice long summer of having no required paperwork, I was ready for a barrage of protest when I handed him three sheets of homework this evening.  But all I got was a mild, "Do I have to?" and when assured that he did, G worked through the papers without another complaint.

Giving him a hug later, I told G I was proud of him for doing his work without complaining tonight.  "Yeah," he said, "thanks Mommy.  I was complaining a lot in my head though."  Hey, that's still progress and I'll take it!

Like any year, I know this one is going to have expected--and unexpected--ups and downs, but I think we're ready to start the semester...taking things one day at a time.

Boyfriend? 04 October 2012

Today my husband had a deposition with a police sergeant and a district attorney, and my six-year old confessed that he kissed a girl.  Just a normal day, right?

As strange and heavy as it is to be involved in a murder trial, it's the kissing story that's making me reel a bit, to be honest.  Yesterday, when I picked up G from school, his teacher pulled me aside to tell me that G had been talking about kissing girls during recess.  When I broached the subject with him, he cringed and refused to talk about it.

But--O miracle of having a two-parent family--Jay was able to coax the story out of him during dinner tonight by first asking G if he was embarrassed to talk about it (he said he was) and assuring him that we wouldn't think "bad-silly" thoughts about him.  Then G smiled and said there was a girl at school who "hated him" but that he liked.  (!!!!)  And he kissed her.  !!!! "What did she do?" Jay prompted casually.  "She pulled away her arm."  This here mom breathed a sigh of relief that it was only an arm kiss, at least.  G continued, "She didn't like it because her daddy said she couldn't have a boyfriend."  !!!!!!!

He continued that sometimes she liked being around him and sometimes she didn't.  Like when they participated in a learning station during class, she enjoyed being with him, and they cuddled.  (I wanted to interrogate, "What do you mean, cuddled???" but I kept my mouth shut.)  But later she didn't want to be around him.

Jay talked about why he could kiss me--"because we're married"--and I piped up that it might make the girl nervous if G talked about kissing with her.  "It doesn't make her nervous," G retorted confidently.  "She just doesn't like me."  Then Jay led a discussion that every little and big boy should hear, and suggested that maybe G should find out what kinds of things she likes and then do those things.  My eyes widened a bit when G rattled off what kinds of things she likes to eat and how she plays, but I'll choose to perceive this as him innocently inheriting my gift of observation, rather than being a stalker in the making.

I have to admit, G was awfully cute as he smiled and talked about this girl, and as he giggled about the things he did around her.  And to be perfectly honest, I remember pretending about kissing boys when I was his age, but I certainly didn't try to kiss any of them for reals!  Come to think of it, I deliberately avoided the occasional affectionate advance.  But I had no qualms about chasing said boys around the lawn.  I better quit before I bare too many quasi-embarrassing facts.

My take-away from this is that it's good to know I have a little boy who participates in his social environments, who feels safe talking about his feelings and actions around his family, and is willing to listen to suggestions about behavior changes.  Yes, those are good things.

One last Mommy thing to add:  Little Girl who spurns my charming son's playful affection, someday you're going to look back and say wistfully, "I really liked that boy G."

Monday Madness, 27 August 2012

Today is one for the books.  I may be the only sober woman in the history of the world to sleep through her alarm on her First Grader's first day of class.  In fact, the only reason I woke up when I did is because a pajama-clad five-year-old stood in my bedroom door and called out, "Mommy, I thought you said we were getting up early today!"

Yes, son, I sure did.  The plan was not to have 15 minutes in which to dress, make a lunch, pack a backpack, and eat breakfast.  For those of you who hate suspense, I will end your angst by telling you that we did arrive--fed and dressed--to class only two minutes late, just in time for G to grab a quick hug and find his place in line before the kids went inside.

This was obviously not how I pictured the first day of sending my child to school.  Let me tell you how it happened.

It all started two years ago when my mom died.  I'm not being dramatic here; Mom's death, and the following death of my mother-in-law, created pockets of time during which I become mentally and physically overwhelmed with grief.  The last week or so has been tough as we begin to anticipate the fall trial for my MIL, but Saturday and Sunday were brutal.  By "brutal" I mean lots of crying, wakeful nights, sad dreams when I sleep, anger at being abandoned by my moms, and a dread of anyone asking "How are you?"

So last night I went to bed early, knowing the alarm would go off sooner than I wanted it to.  This would give the kids and me plenty of time to make a healthy breakfast, dress with care, and arrive at school a respectable ten minutes early.  Maybe I could even snap a couple adorable pictures of G in his backpack.  The plan was all well and good, but my early bedtime didn't prevent hours of lying awake in the dark with gnawing heartache.  Trying to fight, I listened to comforting music, prayed, listened to chapters of Psalms, fluffed my pillows, and kept my eyes squeezed closed.

At 5 a.m., feeling sleepy at last, I checked the volume on my iPod to make sure it was good and loud so I'd hear the alarm at 6:45.  This has always worked.  Until today of course.

The good news is, I didn't have any time to feel sorry for myself as I launched out of bed at 7:30 and threw clothes at the boys.  (As it turns out, I didn't have time to check my hair in the mirror, either.  Hopefully the first grade teacher didn't pay too much attention to me.)  I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry hysterically while slamming together G's sandwich and repeatedly asking a small naked child to forget about matching socks and put on a shirt and pants, but there wasn't really time to have an emotional breakdown.  There also wasn't time to make oatmeal, which was the only breakfast we had in the cupboards.

Throwing the dice that traffic would be smooth and the McDonald's drive-thru would be speedy, I announced to the kids that we were having a special breakfast treat on this first day of school, and the three of us ran out the door: One adult wearing bed hair and no make-up, one boy wearing one small white sock and one long red sock, and one very grown-up boy beaming with a full backpack and a semi-matching outfit.

Mickey D's was not the quickest it could have been, but it could have been worse.  The boys were thrilled with their $1 sausage muffins, at least!  I did have a moment of panic when the on-ramp was backed up, but it cleared up sooner rather than later, and as I said earlier we made it to school more-or-less on time.

What I would now like to do more than anything else is call my mom on the phone and tell her about G's first day of school.  But at this point, all I really feel like saying is, "Gee, thanks Mom for not being here and making me so sad that I can't even enjoy a normal thing like driving my kid to school on his first day.  Thanks a lot."

I realize it's not Mom's fault for not being here, but since she's not around to defend herself or feel stung, I'm not worrying too much about it.  And eventually the anger will pass, as will this wonky day.  G can take as much time as he wants on the drive home to tell me all about class, and we can always have oatmeal for breakfast tomorrow.

***UPDATE***
I checked my iPod this afternoon and discovered that my alarm had never been set.  I distinctly remember walking over to it last night in order to set it, but in my haze I apparently got distracted.  At least I know the volume button isn't to blame!

Balance Schmalance, 01 August 2012

Today's theme is "off-balance."  If I'd been watching gymnastics this week I could probably insert some kind of joke about losing balance, but that's not the kind of balance I mean.  I mean that I have felt a decrease of emotional equilibrium today.  (Try saying that five times fast.)


It started with making a list of back-to-school supplies for G, who will start first grade in two weeks.  Millions upon millions of parents have done this many, many times, but today was the first time for me.  Even while growing up, the first time I did my own "back to school" shopping was when I was getting ready to leave for college, and that included things like nail clippers and microwaves.  Before that, I was homeschooled by an extremely organized mom, and the cabinets were always stocked with paper and markers and binders, while loaded backpacks were hardly necessary on a day-to-day basis.


Last year, G's schooling was done mostly at home; the only things he needed to take with him to his twice-a-week class was a backpack with a small lunch box.  But he'll be in class four days a week this year (there is still a homeschooling component to the program) and his teacher posted a list of things I've never bought for a child before: small whiteboard, ruler, thermal lunch bag, 3-ring binders, and so-on.


Looking at the list from his teacher, I thought about just how many life changes this school year will involve.  First of all--and again, I know this is routine for scores of parents by the time their child is two years old--I've never had to pack a daily lunch for my kid before.  I've never left him at a class by himself for four hours before.  Z and I haven't had so much one-on-one time since I left the hospital with him at birth!  And the planner in me wonders: What'll it be like?  Will we all enjoy it?  What challenges will this create?  Will G thrive?  How will Z's personality develop as he spends time away from the shadow of his brother?  How will my personality develop as I only have one child at home during the day?


Wait a second.  One child at home during the day.  !!!!!!  I think I need to pause and do a little jig.


Then again, will I feel guilty that I don't have as many "kid" tasks during the day?  What will I do with my rearranged time?  Will I be resentful that another woman is teaching G during the day, or feel guilty about it, or want to kiss her feet, or somewhere in between?


All I know is, last year was hard.  With a violent death and three weddings and a baby and two crazy kids and other major stuff, our first year of homeschooling was NOT ideal.  Not that any year is, necessarily.  The point is, even with all of the logistical and emotional changes this next year will involve, I think school this year will be easier than the last.


Notice I say "school this year" will be easier; I am not counting on other external circumstances being easier.  Life is too unexpected to plan that.  But I can plan on whiteboards, rulers, and lunch bags, even if the need for them makes my feelings a little topsy-turvy.  At least topsy-turvy is a part of parenthood that's expected!