So my husband and I have sort of an ongoing joke with our middle child. Don't get me wrong, Will is a really awesome, bright kid, who I adore. However, he's not always the most observant one in our family. For example: we were on vacation in June and it had been raining pretty hard for at least 20 minutes. Will looks up and says, "it's raining?" Another example: yesterday, Tom went to work actually OUT of the house, and in the afternoon we were playing outside and I see Tom coming down the street. I say, "Look, here comes Dad." Meredith starts yelling "Da! Da! Da!" over and over while Tom is driving down the street (probably 10-15 seconds worth). Tom pulls in the driveway and Will says, "Mom! Dad's home! Dad's home!" Really? I hadn't noticed.
Will is constantly unaware of what day it is, whether it's a school day or the weekend, what season it might be (I joked with him the other day and said, "it's Christmas!" He replied with "Really?!"). I just don't know whether he's just really unaware or just THAT trusting.
So today, TJ comes downstairs with his school calculator that I had asked him to find (in a strange, out of body experience of being TOTALLY un-Jen yesterday, I went out and got most of the school supplies and put them all in the kids' new backpacks so it would be DONE. Will kept telling me, "Mom, I think we have more than enough time to do this later. We have almost a month.") so we wouldn't have to think about it any more. When I told TJ to just put it in his new backpack with his other school supplies, Will says, "Is today the first day of school?" Of course I immediately said no, but Tom suggested that I should have said yes, just to screw with him. I KNOW that his reply would have been "NOOOOOOO!!!".
I guess I LIKE the fact that he's always asking questions, but I just don't get how he can't seem to ever have any concept of what's actually happening. I know there are other kids out there that are the same way, I have friends that have told me as much. Maybe it's a middle child thing? All the kids I can think of that are like this are middle kids. I'm just afraid of that one day when I won't be the source of the answer to his questions. Sigh.
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened...
Perhaps that should be the underlying theme of my always faltering blogging experience... but seriously:
I was lying in bed this evening thinking about the past. I'm not a "glory days" kind of person, I rather enjoy the present. But there are times when I find myself really wishing that there were some things that I could go back and do-over. Not that I would do them any differently, just do them over for the sake of being able to have that experience again. I started thinking of this the other day when I was listening to an Amtrak pull into the La Grange Road station and all of a sudden I was a kid waiting at the Joliet train station with my mom waiting for the train to go to my grandparents' house in Bloomington (we didn't always take the train down, but it was something I always enjoyed doing).
But this got me to thinking: why is this? On my anniversary, I don't necessarily think about my wedding day, but I think about my marriage now... so different, so much better than that first day of my husband's and my life together. So why is it that when I hear the locusts sing in the late summer, I wish I was at Bortell's Ranch, the summer camp that I went to every summer from 1984-1992? This camp was the highlight of my YEAR as a kid. We didn't go on too many family vacations, and I don't feel that I missed out on that sort of thing, because I so loved going to camp each summer.
Bortell's doesn't exist anymore, which makes me very sad. I wish that I could give my kids the opportunity to go away to this wonderful place where we would go horseback riding every morning for an hour or so, with the likes of horses named "Triple Tanny" (my horse for several years) or "Pepper" (my horse for only one year, my first, and it's amazing that a 9 year old kid would actually want to get back on a horse after dealing with Pepper's antics, but I digress...). I almost remember the schedule at camp like I went last week, not almost 20 years ago (yikes!): we would get up at 7 (unless you were a horse catcher, then you got up at 6:30), then ate breakfast, went back up to the bunkhouse and cleaned and made your bunk. At 8 you would go down for flag raising and be on your way to horses, crafts, and sports/free time. There would be "bank" in the morning, when you could get a snack, then at noon, lunch was served. There were awards daily for the cleanest bunkhouse, the one would went to sleep first the night before... and the food was AWESOME. I actually have a Bortell's Ranch cookbook (not that I've ever made anything out of it, but...) In the afternoon there would be rest period, then swim time, then "bank", then afternoon "free" time, which, now that I think about it, doesn't really seem all that free, because you had to pick from a select few activities offered that day. After free time there was dinner, then night activities, then showers, then bank, then flag lowering, then songs and bed at 9pm. A full day. An awesome day. What I wouldn't give to be able to go back there and do that again. Or at least have my kids have the chance to do it. But Bortell's closed and is now some camp for underprivileged kids. I'm sure it's a great experience for those kids now, but not nearly the same.
This is very therapeutic, to put this all on paper (ok, so this isn't paper, but you know what I mean)... I'm not sure the last time I talked at length about my camp experience. My camp experience is probably the biggest reason that I chose to go to college in Iowa. And probably why, at some point in my life, I would love to go back and live in Iowa on a horse farm that had Great Danes running around, gravel hills to climb up and down, lakes to swim and fish in, archery and riflery (to do at least once), trails to ride and friends to make, even if I ended up never seeing them again. Even if it would just be for a week in July.
So I'll end with this little ditty that we sung every night at songs at camp (and why I can remember this song after so many years but NOT the thing that I went to the basement to get beats the heck out of me):
Friends, I will remember you, think of you, pray for you
and when another day is through, I'll still be friends with you.
Remember the fun we've had here, remember when you're away.
Remember the friends you've made here, and don't forget to come back some day.
Remember the blazing campfires, the fun and frolic too...
'Cuz you kids belong to Bortells' and Bortells' belongs to you.
I was lying in bed this evening thinking about the past. I'm not a "glory days" kind of person, I rather enjoy the present. But there are times when I find myself really wishing that there were some things that I could go back and do-over. Not that I would do them any differently, just do them over for the sake of being able to have that experience again. I started thinking of this the other day when I was listening to an Amtrak pull into the La Grange Road station and all of a sudden I was a kid waiting at the Joliet train station with my mom waiting for the train to go to my grandparents' house in Bloomington (we didn't always take the train down, but it was something I always enjoyed doing).
But this got me to thinking: why is this? On my anniversary, I don't necessarily think about my wedding day, but I think about my marriage now... so different, so much better than that first day of my husband's and my life together. So why is it that when I hear the locusts sing in the late summer, I wish I was at Bortell's Ranch, the summer camp that I went to every summer from 1984-1992? This camp was the highlight of my YEAR as a kid. We didn't go on too many family vacations, and I don't feel that I missed out on that sort of thing, because I so loved going to camp each summer.
Bortell's doesn't exist anymore, which makes me very sad. I wish that I could give my kids the opportunity to go away to this wonderful place where we would go horseback riding every morning for an hour or so, with the likes of horses named "Triple Tanny" (my horse for several years) or "Pepper" (my horse for only one year, my first, and it's amazing that a 9 year old kid would actually want to get back on a horse after dealing with Pepper's antics, but I digress...). I almost remember the schedule at camp like I went last week, not almost 20 years ago (yikes!): we would get up at 7 (unless you were a horse catcher, then you got up at 6:30), then ate breakfast, went back up to the bunkhouse and cleaned and made your bunk. At 8 you would go down for flag raising and be on your way to horses, crafts, and sports/free time. There would be "bank" in the morning, when you could get a snack, then at noon, lunch was served. There were awards daily for the cleanest bunkhouse, the one would went to sleep first the night before... and the food was AWESOME. I actually have a Bortell's Ranch cookbook (not that I've ever made anything out of it, but...) In the afternoon there would be rest period, then swim time, then "bank", then afternoon "free" time, which, now that I think about it, doesn't really seem all that free, because you had to pick from a select few activities offered that day. After free time there was dinner, then night activities, then showers, then bank, then flag lowering, then songs and bed at 9pm. A full day. An awesome day. What I wouldn't give to be able to go back there and do that again. Or at least have my kids have the chance to do it. But Bortell's closed and is now some camp for underprivileged kids. I'm sure it's a great experience for those kids now, but not nearly the same.
This is very therapeutic, to put this all on paper (ok, so this isn't paper, but you know what I mean)... I'm not sure the last time I talked at length about my camp experience. My camp experience is probably the biggest reason that I chose to go to college in Iowa. And probably why, at some point in my life, I would love to go back and live in Iowa on a horse farm that had Great Danes running around, gravel hills to climb up and down, lakes to swim and fish in, archery and riflery (to do at least once), trails to ride and friends to make, even if I ended up never seeing them again. Even if it would just be for a week in July.
So I'll end with this little ditty that we sung every night at songs at camp (and why I can remember this song after so many years but NOT the thing that I went to the basement to get beats the heck out of me):
Friends, I will remember you, think of you, pray for you
and when another day is through, I'll still be friends with you.
Remember the fun we've had here, remember when you're away.
Remember the friends you've made here, and don't forget to come back some day.
Remember the blazing campfires, the fun and frolic too...
'Cuz you kids belong to Bortells' and Bortells' belongs to you.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Four martinis with the principal
So the title is true, but not what this post is about... sorry. Bait and switch, I know.
The question of the day is how do I get my daughter to keep things in her hair? She's looking like a little ragamuffin. Have I used that term in the last 25 years? Doubt it. I don't really want to have to go get her a haircut, but she's got an interesting 'do, that's for sure. It's really long in the back (when it gets wet), but curls up to just below her ears when it's dry. On top, there's all sorts of a party going on, but it's all kinda still that baby curl stuff. But of course, she won't let me put anything in her hair for any amount of time at all... no little silicone bands, no clips, nothing.
And I know this is partially my fault: she didn't have very much hair for the longest time, so I didn't bother. I'm not really a frilly person (shocking, that, I know), and I'm not gong to buy some hairband with a GIANT FLOWER (or the like) on it like some people do. There was one girl who came into the store one day with what looked like a small ballerina on her head, it had sooooo much tulle on it.
I hope I'm not raising a daughter who ends up having short hair because I can't get my act together enough to figure out how to do someone else's hair (thanks, Mother). Maybe that's why I was blessed with 2 boys and a girl instead of 2 or 3 girls.
The question of the day is how do I get my daughter to keep things in her hair? She's looking like a little ragamuffin. Have I used that term in the last 25 years? Doubt it. I don't really want to have to go get her a haircut, but she's got an interesting 'do, that's for sure. It's really long in the back (when it gets wet), but curls up to just below her ears when it's dry. On top, there's all sorts of a party going on, but it's all kinda still that baby curl stuff. But of course, she won't let me put anything in her hair for any amount of time at all... no little silicone bands, no clips, nothing.
And I know this is partially my fault: she didn't have very much hair for the longest time, so I didn't bother. I'm not really a frilly person (shocking, that, I know), and I'm not gong to buy some hairband with a GIANT FLOWER (or the like) on it like some people do. There was one girl who came into the store one day with what looked like a small ballerina on her head, it had sooooo much tulle on it.
I hope I'm not raising a daughter who ends up having short hair because I can't get my act together enough to figure out how to do someone else's hair (thanks, Mother). Maybe that's why I was blessed with 2 boys and a girl instead of 2 or 3 girls.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Me, according to Will
So while I posted all the things that TJ told me about myself, I didn't tell the things that Will told me about myself (his answers are put in quotes)... so (thanks for the idea, Natalie), here goes nothing:
-What I know about my Mom: My mom is very "funny and smrt" (off to a good start here!). She is "46" inches tall. She weighs "100" pounds (just a little off). She has "blue" eyes. She has "brown" hair. Her favorite color is "rainbow".
-My Mom's favorite food is "pan caks", but she doesn't like "brnt pan caks" (who would?).
-She spends most of her time doing "Tels me to clein the basmint."
-The thing my Mom likes to do for fun is "watch twi lit." (see attached picture... makes it all the better!)
-My Mom always says "clein the basmint" (I'm sensing a pattern here...)
The End.
I need to hire someone to work on my image with my children.
No Stealing!
So here's my idea: and this will only make sense to those of us who have come to develop a NEED for coffee on a regular basis... I'm going to create a coffee delivery service. For those days when you can't get it together enough to get out of the house but YOU REALLY NEED A COFFEE. Not like a cup of whatever-you-can-brew-up-yourself coffee, but the kind that someone makes for you. Always seems to taste better to me anyways.
This won't work in places where around every corner there's a Starbucks (or something like it), and it won't work somewhere where there are a TON of drive-thru coffee shops. Nope. It will only work in places that are like the place that I live. I COULD drive a few extra minutes to get to a Starbucks with a drive thru, but #1, it's out of my way, #2, I'm not ALWAYS wanting Starbucks (hello? I enjoy Caribou more anyways, and while I do know that drive-thru Caribou's exist, there aren't any reasonably close to here) and #3, sometimes even getting all the yahoos (or even one yahoo) in the car is more work than I can handle. Bring on my coffee delivery service: "Joe Mama". Get it? NO STEALING NOW. You read it here first.
I would totally buy into this. I don't have to get dressed? I don't have to get the kids dressed? All I do is go online (easier than having to call someone) and coffee shows up at my door? Totally worth it sometimes. Now, I'll give you the fact that it's a LUXURY. But sometimes life really requires a bit of luxury. So... who wants to invest?
This won't work in places where around every corner there's a Starbucks (or something like it), and it won't work somewhere where there are a TON of drive-thru coffee shops. Nope. It will only work in places that are like the place that I live. I COULD drive a few extra minutes to get to a Starbucks with a drive thru, but #1, it's out of my way, #2, I'm not ALWAYS wanting Starbucks (hello? I enjoy Caribou more anyways, and while I do know that drive-thru Caribou's exist, there aren't any reasonably close to here) and #3, sometimes even getting all the yahoos (or even one yahoo) in the car is more work than I can handle. Bring on my coffee delivery service: "Joe Mama". Get it? NO STEALING NOW. You read it here first.
I would totally buy into this. I don't have to get dressed? I don't have to get the kids dressed? All I do is go online (easier than having to call someone) and coffee shows up at my door? Totally worth it sometimes. Now, I'll give you the fact that it's a LUXURY. But sometimes life really requires a bit of luxury. So... who wants to invest?
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
"That's our slogan!"
I'm not trying to be biased, but some people really should try harder at the English language before you go so far as to get a sign for your company truck. It's like the dopey cookie people at the mall... "It's You're Birthday", printed on a giant, takes at least a dozen people to eat it cookie. Yeah, no. If someone were to give me a cookie like that, I would really hope that they got it for free. Or at least noticed that they were telling me it's YOU ARE birthday. What the heck? This really isn't that hard.
And then we get back to the company truck. Granted, this person's first language might not be English. I get that part. But if your business (or should I say you're... aaaggghhh!!!!) is mowing the lawns of primarily English speaking suburbanites, you'd think that you could maybe get someone to do a glance over at your little (or, in this case, big) sign for your truck before someone like me rides around it and thinks, "gosh, I'm not sure I'd hire this company." Because, you know, yardwork requires perfect grammar and skills. This truck says the name of the landscaping company and "Free Estimates". Is this their company slogan? Are they not sure if it's really going to be free? But I guess that would be "free" estimates, with a little ;) at the end.
This is not me saying that everyone should speak English. This is me saying that if you're going to do something in ANY language, please make sure it's correct. Because you just might lose my business because I'm anal about that sort of thing. And I'm sure you're disappointed about that.
And then we get back to the company truck. Granted, this person's first language might not be English. I get that part. But if your business (or should I say you're... aaaggghhh!!!!) is mowing the lawns of primarily English speaking suburbanites, you'd think that you could maybe get someone to do a glance over at your little (or, in this case, big) sign for your truck before someone like me rides around it and thinks, "gosh, I'm not sure I'd hire this company." Because, you know, yardwork requires perfect grammar and skills. This truck says the name of the landscaping company and "Free Estimates". Is this their company slogan? Are they not sure if it's really going to be free? But I guess that would be "free" estimates, with a little ;) at the end.
This is not me saying that everyone should speak English. This is me saying that if you're going to do something in ANY language, please make sure it's correct. Because you just might lose my business because I'm anal about that sort of thing. And I'm sure you're disappointed about that.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Should I really be flattered?
I went clothes shopping today. Without children. That right there means that I actually went shopping, rather than just running into the store, grabbing a few things in my size, paying for them, only to try them on at home to realize that things on a size 0 mannequin in the window don't look nearly the same as they do in my size on me. Shocking, I know. But the THRILL! Shopping without having to wonder which racks the boys are playing in and without having to take a stroller into the dressing room with me? Whoa. I almost didn't know what to do with all the room in there.
So I went dress shopping. I'll confess, it was fun having a saleslady waiting on me. I actually asked her to help me put accessories with this dress... what? Really. Accessories. Not that I bought them, but it was like playing dress up. But here's the strangest part, and maybe it's just me, but... since when do stores not put mirrors INSIDE dressing rooms? So I was forced to go and look in this GIGANTIC mirror outside my fitting room. So, of course, everyone in the store could come oooh and aaaah at my feeble attempt to look fashionable. So I can't help but stand there and realize that I just can't pull off the same type of dress that I did 10 years ago. Even the sales lady said, "you're looking at your knees and arms, not yourself in the dress." And maybe she was right (ok, she was totally right). But there was still something not right about the dress (even without noticing my arms and knees).
Then I try on dress #2, which I really wouldn't have picked out from the window display, but it was a fun dress none the less. Of course, since I have to show the entire store myself in the dress because of the car-sized mirror, a woman came up to me and says, "You have great legs, Young Lady." Well, thanks! I think. Wait... this wasn't some young hot guy, or even someone close to my age... think 40 years older than me. So basically, it's like my grandma telling me I look good. Which I would HOPE that she would do, because honestly, when I'm 70-something, I KNOW that I don't usually look as good as someone half my age, and I'd be happy to tell them that they look nice.
So I don't know. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth? I should be flattered, I know... but we'll see what my kids say later. That's when the real truth comes out: "Mom, WHY are you wearing a DRESS?"
So I went dress shopping. I'll confess, it was fun having a saleslady waiting on me. I actually asked her to help me put accessories with this dress... what? Really. Accessories. Not that I bought them, but it was like playing dress up. But here's the strangest part, and maybe it's just me, but... since when do stores not put mirrors INSIDE dressing rooms? So I was forced to go and look in this GIGANTIC mirror outside my fitting room. So, of course, everyone in the store could come oooh and aaaah at my feeble attempt to look fashionable. So I can't help but stand there and realize that I just can't pull off the same type of dress that I did 10 years ago. Even the sales lady said, "you're looking at your knees and arms, not yourself in the dress." And maybe she was right (ok, she was totally right). But there was still something not right about the dress (even without noticing my arms and knees).
Then I try on dress #2, which I really wouldn't have picked out from the window display, but it was a fun dress none the less. Of course, since I have to show the entire store myself in the dress because of the car-sized mirror, a woman came up to me and says, "You have great legs, Young Lady." Well, thanks! I think. Wait... this wasn't some young hot guy, or even someone close to my age... think 40 years older than me. So basically, it's like my grandma telling me I look good. Which I would HOPE that she would do, because honestly, when I'm 70-something, I KNOW that I don't usually look as good as someone half my age, and I'd be happy to tell them that they look nice.
So I don't know. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth? I should be flattered, I know... but we'll see what my kids say later. That's when the real truth comes out: "Mom, WHY are you wearing a DRESS?"
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