Fear

There happened to be a field trip that coincided with my birthday this year (February 23rd). It was to iFly Adventures on the peninsula, and I had actually read up on it last year - it was started by a guy who left HP at about the same time I did. It seemed like a really interesting idea, to create a wind tunnel that people can free fall in - the effect of skydiving without the airplane.

I signed us up. Ben - my cliffhanging, No Fear child - was so excited he could hardly hold still in the car. Tanner - my sweet, amiable analytical - got quiet. I - driver that I am, and natural program manager - tossed all of the risks around in my head for 25 freeway miles.

Here is a synopsis of my fear-induced mental game:

I'm over 40, hell, I don't need to prove anything to anyone. Why am I doing this?
What if I pass out in the tunnel?
What if I barf in the tunnel?
What if I pee my pants in the tunnel with that silly jumpsuit on?
What if I barf in the CAR? Can I turn around and go home?

By the time we arrived, all spit was gone from my mouth, seemingly never to return. I sat through the educational seminar, helped kids get suited up, got my own goggles on good and tight. Sat in line a good long time watching other people do this (mostly kids, of 25 people only 4 parents flew), what went well, what went wrong. My blood pressure was not what I would call stabilized. My chances for any kind of control were slim, but I had this: I could tell the instructor exactly what I was and wasn't willing to do.

When he finally came to bring me into the tunnel, I gave him this dictate:
1. I do NOT want to fly up into that cone.
2. Do NOT let go of me.

We're good, he said, through the roar.

As soon as I was aloft, all fear drained. I arched my back, held my head up high, and it was one of the most wonderful, exhilarating moments ever. I am, after all, a fairy; flying should be natural. I would happily go back again, and no risk planning necessary.

Tanner, on the other hand, clawed to get out, gave the guy a real run for his money, and will never be talked into going back.

Ben was Superman.

The Lottery

I read the boys The Lottery by Shirley Jackson tonight.

They were transfixed. Why didn't she throw a rock back? Tanner (who turns 7 tomorrow) asks. Why would you want to live there? Why wouldn't you just leave? Ben asks. Why indeed.

There will come a time in your life when you will need to stand up against a crowd who believes something different than you do - will you be able to do it? Yes, I could said Ben. But Ben, of all the people I know, craves social acceptance the most - it will be hard to resist group pressure.

But if I find a story that shakes them by the heels and drops them on their heads, I have succeeded.

Next, it's Metamorphosis (Kafka) and The Tell-Tale Heart (Poe). Shaken, not stirred.

Snoopy and the Destiny of Reading

Well, it finally happened.

Yesterday we had a big Friends of the Library book sale, where I help set up and tally and - well, everything that needs to be done. The monkeys came with me, and helped sort kids' books and run boxes and - well, everything they were asked to do. Prizes for young helpers are 5 books (or movies or whatever) of their choosing.

Toward the end of the sale there is generally a "bag sale", where you can purchase a shopping bag for $4 and just load it up with books. I don't usually do this, as this house is already swimming in books, but yesterday the monkeys insisted - and Ben was willing to split a bag with me, while Tanner insisted on buying his own (his $5 bill from losing both front teeth in one day still burning a hole in his pocket). I finally relented, with dreams of suffocation by books brewing in my subconscious.

Last night, after they had strewn the bags of books all over the living room floor (akin to the much-awaited sorting event on Halloween night), I read to them from Magic Tree House #33, then they were off to bed while I went back to canning peaches. I agreed to let them read in bed, which I could hear Tanner doing, a sort of halting running monologue of the words of Snoopy. Tanner is a collector (gosh, I wonder where he got that tendency), and yesterday he got five Snoopy books as the beginning of a new collection (to add to the Magic Tree House and Boxcar Children collections).

I noticed that his reading was becoming smoother as he went along, and then I could hear him come out of his bedroom and take up position on the living room sofa, still reading. He asked for clarification on a couple of words, which I gave him, then I politely stated, "I thought you were supposed to be in bed." "Yeah, but Ben just wants me to turn off the light," was his reply. He was counting the pages he had read, in competition with Ben's declared page tally.

And so it has finally come to pass. Two years of homeschooling, a boatload of books, two years of checking out every audio book in the library, two years of season tickets to the local children's theatre and countless hours of my voice reading to them: my boys have become readers. Thank you, God. I focused on math for two years because of Ben's resistance to reading, and finally it has just seeped into their pores, like living in a superfund site. They live with the constant outgassing of every author from Shakespeare to Silverstein.

I don't believe that one day they will come to me in arms, screaming, "Mom! You TRICKED us! It was a plot to make us read all along, and we were DUPED!" Because in my heart of hearts I know that we all want to read. We want to understand the signs around us, communicate with people who are not here and now, record our lives and our thoughts, gain understanding of the history of this earth and humanity, open a work of fiction and expose ourselves to villains, protagonists, and minor characters that allow us to see a larger and different world.

You can walk through this house and find the complete works of Hemingway, Wodehouse, Doyle, McCarthy and Poe, the poetry of Sharon Olds, Billy Collins and Pablo Neruda, two complete Oxford English Dictionaries, and five translations of the Bible. That only scratches the surface of the printed works. If exposure to books were a crime (a la Fahrenheit 451), they would have incarcerated me for life.

I don't believe in the tabula rasa theory of child rearing. I don't believe they come into the world as blank slates, and whatever you write upon the slate is remembered, whatever you focus on becomes a talent. I believe in giving tools to children, and they will wield them in whatever way suits them. To my boys I give the written word and the hair-pulling experience of English phonics, the attempt to make sense of the most cross-cultural and historically rich language alive today. This is my best.

But What About Googol?

We're halfway through 3rd grade Saxon math. Which may or may not be a testament to how good the boys are in math, since Saxon math bores all three of us practically to tears. It is authored by someone who apparently belives that repetition is the basis for all learning. Gaaack. Nevertheless, both boys are good at manipulating numbers in their heads and on their fingers, coming up with alternative answers to problems, grouping numbers, and some of the basics of fractions and decimals (relating it all to money really helps, particularly with the Heir Apparent).

So, a couple of weeks ago I was showing His Highness that, with long numbers followed by lots of zeroes, we count from the right to left, and every three zeroes we add a comma.

Common mathematical parlance. No big deal.

"Then what about googol?" he asked.

My brain did a backflip. In an instant I knew what he was talking about.

"You know, you must be right," I said. I looked it up, and sure enough, googol - which is a 1 followed by 100 zeroes - is actually a number that begins with 10. Not like a thousand or million or billion or heptillion or any of those other zany bigger-than-life numbers, which all begin with 1.

Pretty good for a 7-year-old. I wonder how long I can stay ahead of him...

Appreciation

Last night we had fondue (cheese and chocolate) on a blankie on the living room rug as a way to bid adieu to 2008. We do this occasionally, and it's always lots of fun.

Before we began eating, we went around our little circle (two kids and moi) and said what we had enjoyed about the year. Both boys said they enjoyed field trips. I told them I had enjoyed field trips, our trip to Spain and being with Pat and meeting Pau and everyone else, and our time together at Meadowood, and the new friends we've made this year... welll, I went on and on, as adults often do (I also seem to have a longer term memory than 6- and 7-year-olds).

Then we were to say what we loved about the other people. Tanner said he loved Ben for cleaning up his (Tanner's) messes, which was a really nice acknowledgement (because Ben really does clean up more than his share). Ben said he loved Tanner for always sharing with him (and it's true, Tanner has always had a sharing heart). Both boys told me they love me for homeschooling them (thank you, God). I told Tanner that, of all the guys I know, he is most likely to come up and kiss me (true), and I love his affection. I told Ben that I love the way he's always willing to help me when I'm stuck and yell his name - he comes running and helps every time. Then I said grace, and we began our dipping.

Ben bawled. He sat there for about ten minutes crying. I couldn't figure it out.

When he could finally speak, he said he was crying because of what I said. I told him it was all true, he is a tremendous helper boy and I really appreciate it. Then I said that maybe I don't tell him often enough. Ben is very high on the emotional and expressive scale, hot and cold, and perhaps I need to give him more warm fuzzies.

I listened to a webcast the other day about how we need to learn to honestly tell people how much we appreciate them - it can be so good for everyone involved. I never thought I had been shorting my own kids in telling them just how much I appreciate all they do. It is a truism that my life would not be the same without them; I also consider them to be the best-behaved kids I know their age.

So we will begin doing our appreciation circle every week. No sense in keeping it till year end.

The Hole of Lust

Yesterday afternoon, as I was finishing my last garment of the year (a traditional Shetland cardigan with wool that I overdyed, don't ask me how long this one has been in process, I'm not even sure both boys were BORN when I started it), the boys were creating some sort of secret game in their room that involved tape (no ask, no tell). When I had the bread on the rise they asked me to come see their room, and the "HOLE OF LUST" sign was posted prominently on their bedroom door.

One must always attempt to not be an alarmist when raising boys (kids in general? I don't know, I only got boys), and I know spelling isn't their strong suit, so I calmly and without facial tics asked them what the sign said. "It's the Hall of Justice, from the Justice League of America", they said. Well, thank God for that. We need someone promoting justice and trouncing crime in this country, whether they can spell or not (no Presidential names mentioned).

I was led into a room that has TOP SECRET signs all over the closet door now. I was impressed. I think they might be a year or two ahead of their time in the concept of keeping everything hush hush and labeling their privacy. I know it happens between girls (because I have an older sister), and I know there's a stage in our lives when we want our sibs to be hands off our stuff (does that ever end?).

They wanted me to open their closet door. "No way", I said. "It's top secret."

"There's nothing in there", they said. Oops, they're still not clear on the practice. It's the IDEA that you MIGHT have something private and don't want others messing with it that is so important. The last thing you'd want to do is tell someone that it's all a sham.

But they'll catch on. I just know it.

Ooeys and Trogs

The heir apparent wasn't catching on to the idea of carrying in math. I showed him on paper, I put coins in piles, he got that cloudy look (with which I'm quite familiar, as I'm told I exhibit the same symptoms when people talk bits and bites and router configurations to me. I was at one point a VB programmer, but that was purely accidental and geek is not one of my natural languages), he scratched at his eyes, he turned away and found something else to do. Something interesting.

OK. There must be another way.

So I lay in bed one morning at 0400 hours (I'm a yogi, you would think by now I would have learned how to stop that monkey in my head) and it dawned on me: I have boys. I need monsters and violence.

Once upon a time, there were little red monsters called Ooeys. There were also larger orange monsters called Trogs. And there were much bigger, yellow monsters called Hawgs.
The Ooeys liked to get into groups and play. When they got into a large group and there were at least 10 of them, they were compelled to form a circle, run at the center, and BAM! the ten Ooeys would become one Trog. They would then join the Trogs group. If there had been more than 10 Ooeys, the others had to remain Ooeys until there were at least ten, then the circle formed again...

Similarly, when 10 Trogs got together, they always formed into a circle, then ran at the center as one and WHAM! the ten Trogs would become one Hawg. The Hawg joined the Hawgs group. Any remaining Trogs had to stay Trogs until there was a crowd of at least 10.

This worked. No fussing, no complaining, no faraway look, and pretty good results the first time he carried ones into the tens column.

When Ben can complete a page of any two-digit numbers being added to any other two-digit numbers, his reward is a round of golf at Golfland. His success rate must be at least 80%. He is getting close. I believe that carrying is a pretty big milestone for a first grader, so we have a special goal established for this.

Look for us on the links!

I am so grateful for a brain that can come up with alternatives, and for such wonderful children.

Tooth Fairy Time

Ben (the heir apparent) will be seven in the end of March. Today I yanked his first baby tooth, and I warned him: he's my first child, I haven't done this before. We had several tries (it was an itty bitty tooth and really hard to get a good grip on), but finally I just used the brute force method, and out it came.

I believe this is a rite of passage for both of us. I feel so adult! And he's so excited about having the tooth fairy bring him money in exchange for his tooth tonight. What a wonderful time of life.

A week to myself

What would you do with a week all to yourself?

That is what I have once per year, when my husband takes the kids to his annual family reunion in Pend Oreille, Idaho. I think I attended this for about 7 years, but honestly I'd rather be working at Meadowood in August if I have one free week.

I drove them to the airport yesterday afternoon. I have until the 12th at 1:30pm.

So I spent a short time at Home Depot yesterday, where a very helpful woman loaded me up with the appropriate solvent and gloves to take about 30 years of adhesives off the beautiful tongue-in-groove oak in the foyer in the Sunnyvale house (I removed the 30+ year old tiles in December; the rest of the job has awaited me). I then spent 3-1/2 hours applying solvent, waiting, scraping, mopping, and ultimately using a 1/2" chisel to take off the layers of goo. My right hand was practically shaking when I was done (I tried switching hands, but alas I am surely right dominant, and tended to divot the oak when using my left), but the floor is ready for The Sander (which I will have to borrow from my neighbor in Aptos).

Last night I met a friend at a restaurant, which is the only way I can stop myself from becoming a perfectionist and removing every visible scrap of glue and trashing my wrist for the next week. She will come over and talk to Atticus, our beautiful, social white cat, while I'm gone.

This morning I did my breathing and a little yoga to help unstick my shoulders after last night's scraping orgy, made a huge batch of chai, watered the front yard and baby plants (I'm accumulating plants awaiting a place to live until I get my soil test results back from Timberleaf labs - which should be in another week or so - as I know I need amendments, but don't know which ones, both in Sunnyvale and at Meadowood). I now have a THREE-POUND LOAF of bread on the rise - one of those spiteful recipes that shows a beautiful, round, artisan loaf, and midway through the recipe has the statement, "resist the urge to add more flour". This means that it is a STICKY, GOOEY MESS all over my hands, implements and board, and I once would be near tears when faced with this. But since yoga and since knowing and baking bread with Peter Beckman, I now simply ask, "What would Peter do?" Which drove me to dumping the whole sticky mess into the KitchenAid mixer and adding as much flour as needed to get it to start showing signs of stringy bonds. I will not be undone by a lump of bread dough.

I have promised to read fairy stories to three little neighbor girls while I'm there, so must pack all my fairy gear. I will include a photo of my fairyness when I get the chance to download.

Now I need to figure out how to get my black lab (Sadie), clothes for a week, food for a week, knitting projects, books on homeschooling, fairy wings (four feet long), and fairy dress into my little blue Mazda Protege hatchback (it's small - my cars get 25mpg or I don't buy them). Something will have to stay. Since I can't leave Sadie here (she would be so sad and so hot) and she takes up the entire hatchback, it will be an exercise in stuffing. I suspect it will be the food (they DO sell food in Aptos, after all). Of course, I'll bring my chai and bread :-).

Oh, my plans, yes, I nearly forgot: tree work. A friend who is a professional tree man will be walking the property with me on Monday to show me which trees I'll need to thin; I'll be hiring a handyman for three days to help me buck up fallen trees on the property (I think there were seven at last count); one day a friend and I will be installing gates for the citrus garden, stone fruit garden, and vineyard; I will fertilize all of my baby citrus trees; and clear fairy circles. If I get half the chance, I'll finish the new roof on the outdoor shower (I just need to cut all the roof braces and nail up the currogated, transparent sheeting). I will do yoga every day to help my shoulders out. I will begin a beautiful new shawl design, which I now have the beads for. I might start on a man's sweater. I'll read fairy stories to little girls. I'll load up the bookshelves with paper and homeschool books. I will borrow showers from friends, and sleep every night on the dance floor.

And I promise to SIP my wine :-).

Nearly three weeks...

Things have been a bit hectic.

• First day, the boys and I painted the front fence, as per my List. Wow, what an experience! I probably have the first 4-year-old with white hair. Oh, yeah, it washes out.
• Second day, I drove up to Mendocino County to take a day tour of the Ecology Action gardens in Willits. I am considering becoming certified so that I can teach others how to do this intensive method of organic gardening. There is a 3-day course in October.
• By June 15th, I had painted the master bathroom, with the help of a hired hand (no pun intended). So much for two major things on my Master List.
• On the 12th, I also signed up for the month-long intensive yoga training. It started last Friday, and is every day, in Capitola/Santa Cruz. So I've been staying at Meadowood and sleeping on the dance floor (for the uninitiated, when Mike and I had our wedding reception in May of 1999, he had built a raised "dance floor" of plywood for the event. A friend had suggested that we keep it even after the event, which to date has been a great piece of advice. I sleep on the dance floor with a portable mattress, sleeping bag, and optional bug netting nearly every month of the year). I hope to specialize in teaching seniors and children this fun, flowing form of yoga. It has done such wonderful things for me in the past 3-1/2 years, and with the right instruction I think it has something for nearly everyone.

By sometime this summer I should be a certified Kali Ray yoga instructor, and by next year I might be an organic garden instructor. In the fall my next two knitting classes begin (Cables and Intermediate I). Which all points to the fact that I truly enjoy teaching.

Last Tuesday I checked what felt like a small truckload of books out of the library on the topic of homeschooling, and Wednesday I was able to attend a park date with the local Memorial Park Homeschoolers group, nice women all. I feel they were tremendously brave to have ALL, to a WOMAN, declared their own homeschool (they're not in any way connected to the state school system).

So in the past few days I've learned a bit of Sanskrit (beautiful characters), a lot of history behind yoga, and a great deal about breath control. After class, in the cabin, I've also been plowing through all of the homeschool books and wondering if I'm brave enough. You never know. Maybe I'll declare our home a homeschool and bypass the state. The jury is out on that one.

I came home today to spend some time with the boys, do some laundry, and log in. We went to the library and checked out and turned in books; posted posters around town for the upcoming Friends book sale; stopped by Jamba Juice for a treat; and went to the local park. (Can small boys get tired of being around their own mother? Don't know. Plan to find out.)

My gold HP Retiree badge had arrived while I was gone this week. Big smile for that one! I had always coveted those things, and this one has my name all over it!

Two more days of work

I have two more days of working at HP, which will include finishing up one project, boxing up my stuff (which I detest, it feels like ripping roots out), wiping my hard disk and sending my laptop back to my manager. Someone please keep me from crying tomorrow.

At least we stopped at the library after dinner tonight, to turn in last month's stack of books and to schlep more home. I must have checked out a dozen books on home schooling. Maybe that will keep me from breaking down in the next two days.

I sent out my "hasta luego amigos" message to dozens of friends from HP today. At least I managed that without blubbering.

The Demolition Crew

We have two munchkins: miniature humans who go running through the house deconstructing. I call them to Demolition Crew. They both carry a Y chromosome, no mea culpa, and are thus known as Boys. The Second in Command was born very near Halloween, 2002, and the Heir Apparent was born at the end of March, 2001. They're both great kids, and of course very different. Today they weigh EXACTLY the same, and the Second in Command trails his brother by about 3/4" in height. One day (not far from now, by my predictions) he will be larger and taller than HA. This is why we have attempted to teach the Heir Apparent how to use WORDS to deal with his brother. "Because one day he'll sit on your head", I tell him. This only infuriates him further. So we wait for the day and make sure there aren't any truly dangerous weapons in the house.

I am a BIG, BIG fan of the Ooey Gooey lady, Lisa Murphy. I could be accused of hero worship here, she is VERY child- and play-centered, and has a wonderful story to tell. Her web site is www.ooeygooey.com, check it out. I think there's a photo of my Demolition Crew on her site somewhere. I've attended her summer sessions the past two years.

And now I'm considering homeschooling. I'm considering it very seriously. I'm looking for contacts who have done this with small Y-bearing creatures. Because I will be leaving the workforce at the end of the month (May 2007) and do not need to return. And I like teaching them. And they seem to enjoy learning from and with me. So it may be a win-win for all (so much for those knitting books running around in my head). I will continue to post about my search for the solution that works for us. There are SO many resources out there, it's a bit scary.

I always thought homeschooling was the purview of extremists, people who didn't want the hoi polloi touching their children, but I attended a lecture last week and found three pretty mainstream parents talking about homeschooling, with both young kids and teenagers. I had no idea. The movement is huge. I learn new stuff all the time. I am proven wrong all the time. This will not change (especially with the munchkins in my life not yet reaching teenagerhood). I think I'll be particularly wrong when they're teenagers. We shall see.