It looks like the ice storm is over - we ended up with about an inch of ice. Just enough to be pretty and not hurt the trees to bad. The main roads have been treated, and the kids are home from school along with hubby!
We have until early afternoon to get ready for round 2, which is 8-18 inches of snow! And here I apologized yesterday for taking a wrong turn - and getting the wrong weather. Geez, almost like a real weatherman!
Hubby has decided that we don't have enough bread for 4 days (or 5, 6 or 7) so we must venture out in the ice and cold to get it. He just wants to go out. Get a feel for the storm as they say.
He'll be pushing snow tomorrow. His boss's brother owns a trucking company and asked if he'd pushed snow for him. Heck yeah! When you're choices are staying home, couped up with the wife and kiddies or out playing in the snow? Hmmmmm, I wonder what he'll pick? Course he'll say he's doing it for the money, one for the gipper, all for one and one for all kind of thing. Yadda, yadda, yadda. I know the real reason is to be out in the snow. He loves it. He'd rather play in the snow year round then work in the horrible heat and humidity. His reasoning is he can always get warm, but there are days you just can't get cool.
I have a big pot of ham and beans on already and fixin's for a batch of cornbread at the helm so I can sit back, watch the storm and relax. My job here is done.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Upgrade
Apparently when I did my Indian weather dance, I took a wrong turn. The NWS has now issued an "ice storm warning" with significant ice accumulation expected. No snow. Just ice. For this I apologize.
Winter Watch
Our local weathermen have put our area under a winter watch! I LOVE winter storms! Okay, okay – I only LOVE it for two days, and then it’s all brown and dirty and icky and needs to go away. (The drivers around here really are bad in the snow and ice…and rain…and hail…..and clouds in general just really mess them up).
Growing up, we used to get those monster (giggle) snow storms with totals of 6, 8, 10, 12 inches of snow all winter long in this area. It was great! Now we get that one time a year or every other year. Global warming? El Nina?
But, I miss those types of storms! The excitement of an unexpected day off from school, the bucking up of the tears when your sled hits the tree and you don’t want your siblings or friends to see you cry, the hot chocolate (with mini marshmellows) waiting at home along with your mom yelling at you to get your dripping wet clothes off and into the dryer.
But the best, the absolute best thing about these types of snow is the sound of the silence. After it finally stops snowing and you step outside on your way to garage to start up the old snow blower, you stop and listen. The silence is so incredibly LOUD! You can almost feel it! You look around at this pure white blanket of untouched snow, watch a squirrel head back to it’s nest, you notice that the snow is taller than the bird bath and make a mental note to check the bird feeder too, and all the while you can’t get over how deafening the silence is. Almost like the town has been abandoned. (Reminds me a show that I saw as a little girl on “the Twilight Zone”. Cool show - but that’s another blog.)
Anyway, it just doesn’t get any better than a huge snow storm so bring it on! I already went to the grocery store so we’re good to go for 4 days, 5 if we stretch it, 6 if we have tuna and 7 if we have a meatless dinner! So bring it on!
Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!!!!
Growing up, we used to get those monster (giggle) snow storms with totals of 6, 8, 10, 12 inches of snow all winter long in this area. It was great! Now we get that one time a year or every other year. Global warming? El Nina?
But, I miss those types of storms! The excitement of an unexpected day off from school, the bucking up of the tears when your sled hits the tree and you don’t want your siblings or friends to see you cry, the hot chocolate (with mini marshmellows) waiting at home along with your mom yelling at you to get your dripping wet clothes off and into the dryer.
But the best, the absolute best thing about these types of snow is the sound of the silence. After it finally stops snowing and you step outside on your way to garage to start up the old snow blower, you stop and listen. The silence is so incredibly LOUD! You can almost feel it! You look around at this pure white blanket of untouched snow, watch a squirrel head back to it’s nest, you notice that the snow is taller than the bird bath and make a mental note to check the bird feeder too, and all the while you can’t get over how deafening the silence is. Almost like the town has been abandoned. (Reminds me a show that I saw as a little girl on “the Twilight Zone”. Cool show - but that’s another blog.)
Anyway, it just doesn’t get any better than a huge snow storm so bring it on! I already went to the grocery store so we’re good to go for 4 days, 5 if we stretch it, 6 if we have tuna and 7 if we have a meatless dinner! So bring it on!
Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!!!!
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
The Curse
My father was a member of the National Guard ever since I can remember and then some. When I was little he used to go away every summer for two weeks to “summer camp”. I think they call it annual training now. Away, every year it seemed like when he went away something always happened. Something caught on fire, someone got sick and had to go to the hospital, the car broke down, etc etc. “ The curse” is what it has become known as.
My Dearly Beloved is an avid hunter. Or he tries to be. We’ve even nicknamed him Rambo during “the season” just to make him feel like a real hunter. Now, when he was single, he claims to have killed any and all deer that moved. His freezers were full. It was the only meat he ate. Since we’ve been married however, he has partaken to “trophy hunting only” status - or at least that what he claims. And by the look of our freezer every winter – he’s obviously telling the truth.
The very first year we were married and hunting season came around, I ended up with double pneumonia. He went hunting. Yep, you heard me right. He went hunting. (He pays for that little mistake every day….trust me.)
Ever since then, something has always happened. “The curse” - that lovely little tradition has now been passed down to my family. Unfortunately, I am usually the recipient of the particular demise of the year. Twice now I’ve been hospitalized with pneumonia during rifle season. Last year my doctor actually suggested I get the pneumonia vaccine. Yeah, right. And miss the wonderful guilt trip my DB goes through every year?!? And right before Christmas?!? I may be sickly in the fall but I’m not stupid.
However, if it’s not me – it’s someone or something. This years’ rifle season began and it was my youngest that had been chosen. I had my usual cold but it was better but my little one (ok – he’s not that little – but he’s still my baby) had gotten a stomach flu virus. Of course it ran the full gambit: fever, aches, pains, and my favorite – hurling groceries.
He managed to sleep most of the day, which was a good thing and a bad thing. Good because he needed the rest, and bad because I couldn’t get fluids into him while he’s sleeping so he became a little dehydrated. When the dry heaves came the poor thing starts spitting up blood. Hence the call to the doctor – and one to Dad to come home.
The curse had arrived.
P.S. The man-child survived and Rambo killed 2 deer.
My Dearly Beloved is an avid hunter. Or he tries to be. We’ve even nicknamed him Rambo during “the season” just to make him feel like a real hunter. Now, when he was single, he claims to have killed any and all deer that moved. His freezers were full. It was the only meat he ate. Since we’ve been married however, he has partaken to “trophy hunting only” status - or at least that what he claims. And by the look of our freezer every winter – he’s obviously telling the truth.
The very first year we were married and hunting season came around, I ended up with double pneumonia. He went hunting. Yep, you heard me right. He went hunting. (He pays for that little mistake every day….trust me.)
Ever since then, something has always happened. “The curse” - that lovely little tradition has now been passed down to my family. Unfortunately, I am usually the recipient of the particular demise of the year. Twice now I’ve been hospitalized with pneumonia during rifle season. Last year my doctor actually suggested I get the pneumonia vaccine. Yeah, right. And miss the wonderful guilt trip my DB goes through every year?!? And right before Christmas?!? I may be sickly in the fall but I’m not stupid.
However, if it’s not me – it’s someone or something. This years’ rifle season began and it was my youngest that had been chosen. I had my usual cold but it was better but my little one (ok – he’s not that little – but he’s still my baby) had gotten a stomach flu virus. Of course it ran the full gambit: fever, aches, pains, and my favorite – hurling groceries.
He managed to sleep most of the day, which was a good thing and a bad thing. Good because he needed the rest, and bad because I couldn’t get fluids into him while he’s sleeping so he became a little dehydrated. When the dry heaves came the poor thing starts spitting up blood. Hence the call to the doctor – and one to Dad to come home.
The curse had arrived.
P.S. The man-child survived and Rambo killed 2 deer.
Monday, November 27, 2006
A (rotten) Apple for the Teacher
Mid-term reports came out here at our local school. Generally, this is not cause for concern. This, however, was not one of those times and not necessarily because of grades either.
As with any profession, there is good and there is evil, right or wrong, good or bad – however you want to put it. Teachers aren’t any different. I have had the pleasure of meeting some of the most ethical, caring, professional educators one could ever hope to know. Within this same district, I have met a few people (and I use that term loosely) who I wouldn’t let teach my dead dog. I’ve even put this in writing to one particular school when discussing the class placement of one of my children. I don’t kiss and tell but if they were to read this blog – they’d know exactly who I’m referring too.
One pet peeve that I have when it comes to teachers is that some seem to think that just because they are the adult, their word is law. In short, the “I am God Complex”. That, heaven forbid, they (the teacher) would be wrong – it has to be “the child”.
I personally believe that a child should show a teacher respect if for no other reason than they are the adult. But being an adult doesn’t always make them right - they are human after all (or most of them are anyway).
When reports came out, my DD went to a particular teacher. She noticed that some of the points that she had earned where not on the report and thus lowered her grade. When she asked the teacher about the points, his response to her was “I don’t have to explain this to you”.
Say what?!?!?!?!?
Two things came to mind immediately:
1. My DD is/can be a lot of things but she’s not a liar, so I know she was not making this up and
2. This teacher WILL explain to her how he figured her grade.
I immediately picked up the phone and called another teacher whose capacity is similar to that of an advisor (A). We have been working closely with A for 4 years. I had to leave my name, number and a brief but to the point message with the secretary because A was already gone for the 4-day holiday weekend. Three minutes later I received a return phone call from A. They tracked her down (they obviously know me too well at that school). I explained the situation to her and I told her that I would like a meeting with the 4 of us immediately. Come hell or high water Mr. I-don’t-have-to-explain – will explain.
So, I’m left to wonder at this point: when did kids (eeewwweee! DD will be mad since I referred to her as a kid) become non-people? Are they not allowed to self-advocate? Have a vested interest in their education? If he doesn’t have to explain to her – the “owner” of the grades per se’, then who pray tell DOES he have to answer to? Who exactly is a teacher accountable to? The student? The parents? The administration? The school board? The community? All of the above?
As I said before there are a lot of very worthy teachers out there. A few rotten apples can spoil the bunch and there’s definitely something rotten here.
As with any profession, there is good and there is evil, right or wrong, good or bad – however you want to put it. Teachers aren’t any different. I have had the pleasure of meeting some of the most ethical, caring, professional educators one could ever hope to know. Within this same district, I have met a few people (and I use that term loosely) who I wouldn’t let teach my dead dog. I’ve even put this in writing to one particular school when discussing the class placement of one of my children. I don’t kiss and tell but if they were to read this blog – they’d know exactly who I’m referring too.
One pet peeve that I have when it comes to teachers is that some seem to think that just because they are the adult, their word is law. In short, the “I am God Complex”. That, heaven forbid, they (the teacher) would be wrong – it has to be “the child”.
I personally believe that a child should show a teacher respect if for no other reason than they are the adult. But being an adult doesn’t always make them right - they are human after all (or most of them are anyway).
When reports came out, my DD went to a particular teacher. She noticed that some of the points that she had earned where not on the report and thus lowered her grade. When she asked the teacher about the points, his response to her was “I don’t have to explain this to you”.
Say what?!?!?!?!?
Two things came to mind immediately:
1. My DD is/can be a lot of things but she’s not a liar, so I know she was not making this up and
2. This teacher WILL explain to her how he figured her grade.
I immediately picked up the phone and called another teacher whose capacity is similar to that of an advisor (A). We have been working closely with A for 4 years. I had to leave my name, number and a brief but to the point message with the secretary because A was already gone for the 4-day holiday weekend. Three minutes later I received a return phone call from A. They tracked her down (they obviously know me too well at that school). I explained the situation to her and I told her that I would like a meeting with the 4 of us immediately. Come hell or high water Mr. I-don’t-have-to-explain – will explain.
So, I’m left to wonder at this point: when did kids (eeewwweee! DD will be mad since I referred to her as a kid) become non-people? Are they not allowed to self-advocate? Have a vested interest in their education? If he doesn’t have to explain to her – the “owner” of the grades per se’, then who pray tell DOES he have to answer to? Who exactly is a teacher accountable to? The student? The parents? The administration? The school board? The community? All of the above?
As I said before there are a lot of very worthy teachers out there. A few rotten apples can spoil the bunch and there’s definitely something rotten here.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Black Friday
Ok – how many of you were crazy enough to go shopping Friday morning?!? I mean, you really have to like shopping or great prices (or just good in some cases) to venture out on this incredulous day!
This was my third such undertaking and sure to be my last. I went several years ago with my daughter – not a smart choice since she was younger and had no want, need or desire to stand in line for hours for a gift that she herself wasn’t getting. So the following year I took my middle son. He had never heard of “power shopping” and afterwards made it clear that he could care less if he ever did it again. Sleep was much more important and easier to obtain that the treasures I went after.
So just fine. I quit shopping on Black Friday. It’s not that I don’t like to shop alone or I need someone to carry my bags or any thing like that. It just makes more sense. The more the merrier and better chances at success. A “battle plan” can be a good thing in this particular situation. The public is generally a polite, happy and talkative society (ok – with a shove or two here and there) so the wait times in line go by quickly.
This year however, was different. First, I went shopping with my husband. The fact that he went – and did it cheerfully (well, he wasn’t complaining anyway) was indeed a holiday miracle. Our plan was the “swoop and scoop”. He’d drop me off at the designated store’s front door and I’d call him when I was checking out. He’d then swoop in, scoop me up at the door and off we’d go to in search of the next “got to have” item on my list. We thought we were the cat’s meow and had it all figured out.
I could write out the entire adventure for you (I already did butit was so long that I deleted it) but I can sum it up with one word: horrendous.For example, when we parked at the first store, we were sitting in our vehicle watching a young man maneuver through the parking lot, peeking into a car here and there, trying a door a couple of times. He turned and saw us watching him and continued on like it was the order for the day! He did manage to move on through the lot away from us pretty quickly. Then the store employees acted shocked that they had so many customers and the people were just awful! Crabby, rude and down right mean! And this was just the first store! WOW! Where did the holiday spirit go? Did it even come out?
We did manage to obtain 2 out of the 4 items we were after so we felt lucky in that respect. We talked about it on the way home however, and decided that there wasn’t anything that we needed or wanted to give that badly to justify going through the entire experience again. It was a learning experience and we learned we don’t like it!
We were home just as the littlest one was getting up for the day so we all had breakfast and started putting up Christmas decorations. It turned out to be a wonderful day all around - heck - even the weather cooperated!
‘Tis the Season!
This was my third such undertaking and sure to be my last. I went several years ago with my daughter – not a smart choice since she was younger and had no want, need or desire to stand in line for hours for a gift that she herself wasn’t getting. So the following year I took my middle son. He had never heard of “power shopping” and afterwards made it clear that he could care less if he ever did it again. Sleep was much more important and easier to obtain that the treasures I went after.
So just fine. I quit shopping on Black Friday. It’s not that I don’t like to shop alone or I need someone to carry my bags or any thing like that. It just makes more sense. The more the merrier and better chances at success. A “battle plan” can be a good thing in this particular situation. The public is generally a polite, happy and talkative society (ok – with a shove or two here and there) so the wait times in line go by quickly.
This year however, was different. First, I went shopping with my husband. The fact that he went – and did it cheerfully (well, he wasn’t complaining anyway) was indeed a holiday miracle. Our plan was the “swoop and scoop”. He’d drop me off at the designated store’s front door and I’d call him when I was checking out. He’d then swoop in, scoop me up at the door and off we’d go to in search of the next “got to have” item on my list. We thought we were the cat’s meow and had it all figured out.
I could write out the entire adventure for you (I already did butit was so long that I deleted it) but I can sum it up with one word: horrendous.For example, when we parked at the first store, we were sitting in our vehicle watching a young man maneuver through the parking lot, peeking into a car here and there, trying a door a couple of times. He turned and saw us watching him and continued on like it was the order for the day! He did manage to move on through the lot away from us pretty quickly. Then the store employees acted shocked that they had so many customers and the people were just awful! Crabby, rude and down right mean! And this was just the first store! WOW! Where did the holiday spirit go? Did it even come out?
We did manage to obtain 2 out of the 4 items we were after so we felt lucky in that respect. We talked about it on the way home however, and decided that there wasn’t anything that we needed or wanted to give that badly to justify going through the entire experience again. It was a learning experience and we learned we don’t like it!
We were home just as the littlest one was getting up for the day so we all had breakfast and started putting up Christmas decorations. It turned out to be a wonderful day all around - heck - even the weather cooperated!
‘Tis the Season!
Thursday, November 23, 2006
It's today!!
I wish you and yours a day filled with peace, love, and of course lots of food! Happy Thanksgiving!
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
The Curse
My father was a member of the National Guard ever since I can remember and then some. When I was little he used to go away every summer for two weeks to “summer camp”. I think they call it annual training now. Away, every year it seemed like when he went away something always happened. Something caught on fire, someone got sick and had to go to the hospital, the car broke down, etc etc.
My Dearly Beloved is an avid hunter. Or he tries to be. We’ve even nicknamed him Rambo during “the season” just to make him feel like a real hunter. Now, when he was single, he killed any and all deer that moved. His freezers were full. It was the only meat he ate. Since we’ve been married however, he has partaken to “trophy hunting only” status - or at least that what he claims. And by the look of our freezer every winter – he’s obviously telling the truth.
The very first year we were married and hunting season came around, I ended up with double pneumonia. He went hunting. Yep, you heard me right. He went hunting. (He pays for that little mistake every day….trust me.)
Ever since then, something has always happened. It’s “the curse”. That lovely little tradition has now been passed down to my family. Unfortunately, I am usually the recipient of the particular demise of the year. Twice now I’ve been hospitalized with pneumonia during rifle season. Last year my doctor actually suggested I get the pneumonia vaccine. Yeah, right. And miss the wonderful guilt trip my DB goes through every year?!? And right before Christmas?!? I may be sickly in the fall but I’m not stupid.
However, if it’s not me – it’s someone or something. This years’ rifle season began and it was my youngest that had been chosen. I have my usual cold but it’s doing much better now (thanks for askin’) but my little one (ok – he’s not that little – but he’s still my baby) had gotten a stomach flu virus. Of course it ran the full gambit: fever, aches, pains, and my favorite – hurling groceries.
He managed to sleep most of the day, which was a good thing and a bad thing. Good because he needed the rest, and bad because I couldn’t get fluids into him while he’s sleeping so he became a little dehydrated. When the dry heaves came the poor thing starts spitting up blood. Hence the call to the doctor – and one to Dad to come home.
The curse had arrived.
P.S. The man-child survived and Rambo killed 2 deer. Whooo hoooo!
My Dearly Beloved is an avid hunter. Or he tries to be. We’ve even nicknamed him Rambo during “the season” just to make him feel like a real hunter. Now, when he was single, he killed any and all deer that moved. His freezers were full. It was the only meat he ate. Since we’ve been married however, he has partaken to “trophy hunting only” status - or at least that what he claims. And by the look of our freezer every winter – he’s obviously telling the truth.
The very first year we were married and hunting season came around, I ended up with double pneumonia. He went hunting. Yep, you heard me right. He went hunting. (He pays for that little mistake every day….trust me.)
Ever since then, something has always happened. It’s “the curse”. That lovely little tradition has now been passed down to my family. Unfortunately, I am usually the recipient of the particular demise of the year. Twice now I’ve been hospitalized with pneumonia during rifle season. Last year my doctor actually suggested I get the pneumonia vaccine. Yeah, right. And miss the wonderful guilt trip my DB goes through every year?!? And right before Christmas?!? I may be sickly in the fall but I’m not stupid.
However, if it’s not me – it’s someone or something. This years’ rifle season began and it was my youngest that had been chosen. I have my usual cold but it’s doing much better now (thanks for askin’) but my little one (ok – he’s not that little – but he’s still my baby) had gotten a stomach flu virus. Of course it ran the full gambit: fever, aches, pains, and my favorite – hurling groceries.
He managed to sleep most of the day, which was a good thing and a bad thing. Good because he needed the rest, and bad because I couldn’t get fluids into him while he’s sleeping so he became a little dehydrated. When the dry heaves came the poor thing starts spitting up blood. Hence the call to the doctor – and one to Dad to come home.
The curse had arrived.
P.S. The man-child survived and Rambo killed 2 deer. Whooo hoooo!
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Alligator Tears
My daughter’s senior pictures were taken on Sunday. This was quite the experience - for both of us. She had several outfit changes as well as locations and I left the details (hair/hand placement, lint removal, lighting) up to her and the photographer. I just watched (with only a comment here or there…well, ok, maybe more than a comment). While I stayed behind the scenes (as much as physically possible for me) I found myself wondering back to her first day of school.
It was something she had dreamed about for a long time. Years went by as she watched her brothers leave to go to the “big kids’ school” and now it was finally her turn. We shopped for the perfect first day outfit, bought enough supplies for her and a third world country (ran my sharpie pen dry marking everything with her name) and scrubbed behind her ears.
At that time, kindergarten was still only a half day long. DD (darling daughter) was in the afternoon class. She was dressed in her pink and white dress with white bobby socks, white patent leather shoes and her hair was pulled up into a pony tail with a pink ribbon. Cute as a button!
It was to be a miserably hot August day. The temperatures were to reach 110+. The schools in this small town were still not air conditioned. For the “safety” of the students, they canceled the afternoon kindergarten session. It was heart wrenching to see her ballooned excitement deflate. The alligator tears were almost more than I could bear.
Fast-forward 12 years. She stands in front of me, in cap and gown. Fighting back the alligator tears - only now they were coming from me! I had this mental slide show going on in my head: her first pulled tooth, little league softball, the cutting of her hair for Locks of Love, lying on the couch reading Harry Potter, her first crush, the death of her pet frog, earning the Silver Award, holding her drivers permit up like a trophy, Prom. I’m thinking “where the hell did the time go”? And how did it go so fast? Here is this beautiful, energetic, witty young woman standing before me, who, for the last 18 years has been in my life on a daily basis. What’s it going to be like when she moves on?
I’m thinking all of these deep thoughts with this slide show thing going on and in the background I hear “Mom – where’s my lip gloss? Mom, should I wear my hair up or down with this outfit? Mom, should I smile or be serious in this shot? Mom? Mom? MOM!?!”Ahhhh, yes. It’s gonna be quiet for sure!
It was something she had dreamed about for a long time. Years went by as she watched her brothers leave to go to the “big kids’ school” and now it was finally her turn. We shopped for the perfect first day outfit, bought enough supplies for her and a third world country (ran my sharpie pen dry marking everything with her name) and scrubbed behind her ears.
At that time, kindergarten was still only a half day long. DD (darling daughter) was in the afternoon class. She was dressed in her pink and white dress with white bobby socks, white patent leather shoes and her hair was pulled up into a pony tail with a pink ribbon. Cute as a button!
It was to be a miserably hot August day. The temperatures were to reach 110+. The schools in this small town were still not air conditioned. For the “safety” of the students, they canceled the afternoon kindergarten session. It was heart wrenching to see her ballooned excitement deflate. The alligator tears were almost more than I could bear.
Fast-forward 12 years. She stands in front of me, in cap and gown. Fighting back the alligator tears - only now they were coming from me! I had this mental slide show going on in my head: her first pulled tooth, little league softball, the cutting of her hair for Locks of Love, lying on the couch reading Harry Potter, her first crush, the death of her pet frog, earning the Silver Award, holding her drivers permit up like a trophy, Prom. I’m thinking “where the hell did the time go”? And how did it go so fast? Here is this beautiful, energetic, witty young woman standing before me, who, for the last 18 years has been in my life on a daily basis. What’s it going to be like when she moves on?
I’m thinking all of these deep thoughts with this slide show thing going on and in the background I hear “Mom – where’s my lip gloss? Mom, should I wear my hair up or down with this outfit? Mom, should I smile or be serious in this shot? Mom? Mom? MOM!?!”Ahhhh, yes. It’s gonna be quiet for sure!
Monday, November 20, 2006
It Is Good...
How many times have you heard a teen say, “my parent’s think they are so smart” or “my parents think they know everything” or my personal favorite, “I know what I’m doing”?
I love reciting that mantra over and over again with that high pitched shrill only a parent can get when they are in total control. Let me explain.
Several years ago, I took my preteen Girl Scout troop camping. We were at a private site that had permatents. (A permatent has a wooden floor, roof and three sides with a canvas tarp for the front.) We had cots on which to throw our sleeping bags, and our campsite came with a fire-ring, cut wood and latrines. Not the Hilton but we had camped before under more difficult circumstances. I would like to mention that the latrines were not of the flushing variety so that was our “roughing it” part of the trip.
Three adults (myself, my assistant leader and a leader of another troop) all bunked together with the girls divided out into the other permatents.
The reason for the camping trip was for the girls - for them to have nothing but pure fun and relaxation. They could do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted (within reason – safety always came first). Being an “older” Girl Scout meant a lot of service – be it to the community, the younger Girl Scouts or themselves so it was important that these girls got a chance to unwind.
After we had arrived and set up camp we went about the start of our weekend doing the things that we just do. Shortly before bedtime, the three adults decided to get our things ready for bed. Imagine our surprise when we got to our permatent – only to find it had been TP’d! Those silly rotten little girls had used the entire camp’s toilet paper on the inside of our tent! There was so much paper hanging from the rafters – you couldn’t see to the back of the tent. Once we had stopped laughing and admiring the ingenuity of the girls, we pulled paper down, picked it off of our beds (folding it neatly) and then we sat down to figure out HOW to get even.
We had been brainstorming for about 30 minutes (stopping a few times to listen to the giggles outside our tent) and still could not come up with the ideal plan. And then it fell into our laps with a loud thud (actually that was me falling over with laughter).
I had gotten up and told all the girls to get ready for bed. They went about their business of spreading out their sleeping bags, getting their pjs, toothbrushes, and wash cloths. They all went and stood in line at the latrines when they realized the position they were in. They didn’t know what to do and begun whispering amongst themselves, while we sat in our tent and smiled. Once they got their nerve up and came and ASKED for some toilet paper, the other leader smiled brightly at the girls and began telling them about “low impact” camping, all the while she tore off (one square at a time) paper and handed each girl a sheet. The look on their faces was priceless.
Ahhhh yes, it’s good to be queen.
I love reciting that mantra over and over again with that high pitched shrill only a parent can get when they are in total control. Let me explain.
Several years ago, I took my preteen Girl Scout troop camping. We were at a private site that had permatents. (A permatent has a wooden floor, roof and three sides with a canvas tarp for the front.) We had cots on which to throw our sleeping bags, and our campsite came with a fire-ring, cut wood and latrines. Not the Hilton but we had camped before under more difficult circumstances. I would like to mention that the latrines were not of the flushing variety so that was our “roughing it” part of the trip.
Three adults (myself, my assistant leader and a leader of another troop) all bunked together with the girls divided out into the other permatents.
The reason for the camping trip was for the girls - for them to have nothing but pure fun and relaxation. They could do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted (within reason – safety always came first). Being an “older” Girl Scout meant a lot of service – be it to the community, the younger Girl Scouts or themselves so it was important that these girls got a chance to unwind.
After we had arrived and set up camp we went about the start of our weekend doing the things that we just do. Shortly before bedtime, the three adults decided to get our things ready for bed. Imagine our surprise when we got to our permatent – only to find it had been TP’d! Those silly rotten little girls had used the entire camp’s toilet paper on the inside of our tent! There was so much paper hanging from the rafters – you couldn’t see to the back of the tent. Once we had stopped laughing and admiring the ingenuity of the girls, we pulled paper down, picked it off of our beds (folding it neatly) and then we sat down to figure out HOW to get even.
We had been brainstorming for about 30 minutes (stopping a few times to listen to the giggles outside our tent) and still could not come up with the ideal plan. And then it fell into our laps with a loud thud (actually that was me falling over with laughter).
I had gotten up and told all the girls to get ready for bed. They went about their business of spreading out their sleeping bags, getting their pjs, toothbrushes, and wash cloths. They all went and stood in line at the latrines when they realized the position they were in. They didn’t know what to do and begun whispering amongst themselves, while we sat in our tent and smiled. Once they got their nerve up and came and ASKED for some toilet paper, the other leader smiled brightly at the girls and began telling them about “low impact” camping, all the while she tore off (one square at a time) paper and handed each girl a sheet. The look on their faces was priceless.
Ahhhh yes, it’s good to be queen.
Friday, November 17, 2006
Where Did T-Day Go?
I have been in the process of remodeling/redecorating a few rooms in my house. This has been going on since January and I’m in the final stages – finally. One of the rooms I’m working on is our family room. I’m putting together a lodge/hunting/rustic type of décor for it, at the same time trying to keep it balanced out with the rest of the house. I’m happy to say I’m pleased with it to this point. I’ve been carefully selecting fabrics for furniture, draperies, and carpet. The walls are paneled so that was an easy check off my list.
I thought this would be the perfect time of year to shop for the accents (floral, afghans, knickknacks, etc) since the colors are of a rustic, fall-ish nature (get it? Hahahaha).
Anyway, I’m out shopping the DAY after Halloween. November 1. Pre-Thanksgiving - by weeks even. Everything I find is already picked through. Clearanced out. Which, on the one hand is a good thing since everything I do buy is 50-70% off, but trying to FIND what I want, in the quantity that I want, is next to impossible. Anything that isn’t Christmas – diappeared.
I asked a sales associate at my favorite craft center where all the Thanksgiving stuff went. Gone she says. Have to get it before Halloween or it’s gone. We go straight into Christmas Nov. 1 (keep in mind that this particular store has a “Christmas section” all year long for those crafty crafters). The stores load up for Halloween (it’s apparently becoming big money now) and throw a little Thanksgiving in with it. That’s it. That’s what Thanksgiving has been reduced to. A throw in. An extra. A few pilgrim paper plates with matching napkins.
Even some discount stores are open on Thanksgiving Day now and have early, early bird specials just for the occasion. If it wasn’t for the fact that most stores have to close in order to stock for the day after Thanksgiving sales – there would be now reason to have Thanksgiving anymore. The retailers have made it as such. A non-holiday. There’s no money in so it’s gone way-side.
Gobble Gobble
I thought this would be the perfect time of year to shop for the accents (floral, afghans, knickknacks, etc) since the colors are of a rustic, fall-ish nature (get it? Hahahaha).
Anyway, I’m out shopping the DAY after Halloween. November 1. Pre-Thanksgiving - by weeks even. Everything I find is already picked through. Clearanced out. Which, on the one hand is a good thing since everything I do buy is 50-70% off, but trying to FIND what I want, in the quantity that I want, is next to impossible. Anything that isn’t Christmas – diappeared.
I asked a sales associate at my favorite craft center where all the Thanksgiving stuff went. Gone she says. Have to get it before Halloween or it’s gone. We go straight into Christmas Nov. 1 (keep in mind that this particular store has a “Christmas section” all year long for those crafty crafters). The stores load up for Halloween (it’s apparently becoming big money now) and throw a little Thanksgiving in with it. That’s it. That’s what Thanksgiving has been reduced to. A throw in. An extra. A few pilgrim paper plates with matching napkins.
Even some discount stores are open on Thanksgiving Day now and have early, early bird specials just for the occasion. If it wasn’t for the fact that most stores have to close in order to stock for the day after Thanksgiving sales – there would be now reason to have Thanksgiving anymore. The retailers have made it as such. A non-holiday. There’s no money in so it’s gone way-side.
Gobble Gobble
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Because I Can
The phrase “Children should be seen and not heard” was obviously made by someone who has never truly raised children.
Even when you can’t see the little buggers their essence is everywhere. Just look down the hallway. Three feet above the floor and about a hands-width wide is a dirt mark all the way down the wall. Why do they drag their hand down the wall enough times to leave a permanent mark? Because they can.
Then there’s the moments when you’re trying to peek in on them while they’re sleeping – just to remind yourself that they DO have an angelic side - and you end up stepping on a lego (or Barbie head) and doing the “new version” of disco.
Or how about (and sorry if you’re the queasy type) that distinct smell of the dirty diaper. What parent hasn’t asked themselves, “what did I feed that kid”?
As they get older they just wear more clothes, eat more food and basically just cost more. The only difference being is that you don’t have to haul half your house with you for a quick trip to the store and the phrase “because I said so” will end a conversation.
I’ve been blessed (or cursed depending on the moment at hand) of having more than one child. Just when the sleeping through the night, teething, and potty training became a thing of the past, I brought another angel into this world. Why you ask? Because I could.
Seriously, I have been mothered or a mother all my life. I can honestly say it’s been the most challenging, yet rewarding things I’ve ever done.
I’m looking forward to becoming a grandmother some day. I can spoil the children rotten, do all the things I wanted to do but couldn’t and then send the little buggers home when I need a nap. Why?
Because I can
Even when you can’t see the little buggers their essence is everywhere. Just look down the hallway. Three feet above the floor and about a hands-width wide is a dirt mark all the way down the wall. Why do they drag their hand down the wall enough times to leave a permanent mark? Because they can.
Then there’s the moments when you’re trying to peek in on them while they’re sleeping – just to remind yourself that they DO have an angelic side - and you end up stepping on a lego (or Barbie head) and doing the “new version” of disco.
Or how about (and sorry if you’re the queasy type) that distinct smell of the dirty diaper. What parent hasn’t asked themselves, “what did I feed that kid”?
As they get older they just wear more clothes, eat more food and basically just cost more. The only difference being is that you don’t have to haul half your house with you for a quick trip to the store and the phrase “because I said so” will end a conversation.
I’ve been blessed (or cursed depending on the moment at hand) of having more than one child. Just when the sleeping through the night, teething, and potty training became a thing of the past, I brought another angel into this world. Why you ask? Because I could.
Seriously, I have been mothered or a mother all my life. I can honestly say it’s been the most challenging, yet rewarding things I’ve ever done.
I’m looking forward to becoming a grandmother some day. I can spoil the children rotten, do all the things I wanted to do but couldn’t and then send the little buggers home when I need a nap. Why?
Because I can
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