Month: September 2011

And the Award for Most Original Gutterball Goes To . . .

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I’ve been scrounging up little videos of the kids that we took over the summer.  This one was filmed by Kathryn during our trip to Cedar City.  While Brian and I went to see a production of “Noises Off,” the grandparents took the kidlets bowling.  Or perhaps I should say (air quotes) “bowling” since they used bumpers and a little metal slide for the balls.  The entire bowling experience was whittled down to pushing a ball down a slide, so I guess you can’t blame Eleanor for getting creative.

What’s really impressive, I guess, is that despite all this, she still gets a gutterball.  Genius.

Letters From Camp

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Did I mention that Eleanor is a Daisy Girl Scout?

Well, kind of.  She’s troopless.  I’ve tried for the past many, many months to start a troop, but I can’t find anybody to run it with me (you need two leaders to have a troop).  Most of my good friends live too far away to make it practical, and those who live close by don’t have daughters Ellie’s age.  So, she’s a “Juliette,” which is a class of rogue Girl Scout.

But she still gets to go to camp!  Which is what she did with her grandma this past weekend.  It was a one-night minicamp for kids with an adult.  Very fun stuff.

They slept in the Trefoil Lodge, up Provo Canyon.  Eleanor turned herself into a Sleeping Bag Monster . . .

. . . and got piggy-back rides from lots of new friends.  The camp had a “cowgirl round-up theme, in case you’re wondering about the hats.

On the first day, the campers went hiking and found a nest of baby garter snakes.  They cooked “brown bears” over a campfire (cinnamon-sugar-dipped biscuit dough toasted on a stick), sang silly camp songs, and looked at the stars with a local astronomer and her telescope.

The next morning they learned some country dance steps.  I think Eleanor and her grandma performed particularly well:

And if that wasn’t exhausting-sounding enough, the girls then spent the rest of the day doing arts and crafts: dipping candles, painting picture frames, and tie-dyeing shirts.  Eleanor’s candle is pleasingly funky:

And did I mention MORE brown bears before lunch?  Taaaaasty.  Kathryn was so impressed with the camp that she’s already asking to take Eleanor on the next one in January (they get to go snowshoeing!).  If I didn’t have a little nursing one at home, I’d take Ellie myself.  Thank goodness for grandmas who can stand in for me when duty calls!

15 Minutes

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Those of you long-time blog readers are aware that I’ve been trying to write a novel for the past 2 1/2 years.  Nothing ambitious, more of a “let’s learn how to write a novel” project.  I really love the story, so it gives me a lot of satisfaction when I’m able to get the revisions churned out.

When I can’t get the revisions churned out, life is very, very frustrating.  Right now it is almost unbearably so.  The big kids are back in school, and William’s in preschool every morning.  I was under the impression that Back to School time would mean Back to Writing time for me.  I had a mental goal of getting the book ready for test-readers sometime soon.

But — oh.  What did I forget?  That’s right, Katie.  My big, delicious, very sweet yet very demanding eight-month-old.  She especially likes smacking people in the face.  See?

Before:

After:

William’s preschool is 3 hours long. That’s 3 hours of potential writing time.

Take away 20 minutes for walking back and forth to school: 2 hrs 40 minutes.

Katie needs a nurse right when we get home: 2 hrs. 10 minutes

Katie needs another nurse at the end of the three hour block: 1 hour 40 minutes.

That’s just the basic Katie requirements — and you’ll notice that my writing time is already halved.  Add to this mix a few diaper changes (5 minutes each) a situation where Katie will only take a nap on my lap (20 minutes) a moment when Katie bumps her head and needs a cuddle to stop crying (10-15 minutes) or is simply bored and wants to be held (20 unbearably frustrating minutes) and the time is whittled down even more.

And heaven help us if I even need to do anything like answer the phone, change a load of laundry, or use the bathroom. Every morning I keep trying to get back to my Word files, like a dog tugging on a leash.

Every morning, I spend three hours doing 15 minutes of work.

(How was I able to write this blog post today?  I’m typing while eating, that’s how.  Really.)

I try to type one-handed when I’m nursing, but that’s really frustrating — especially considering that I’m doing heavy revisions, which requires a lot of juggling between different word files, dragging blocks of text here and there, and other tasks that are much easier with two hands.  (One-armed novelists of the world, I salute you!)

The worst part of it all is when someone asks “What did you do today?” or “How did your day go?”  Most young mothers agree: this is about the worst question in the world, because the answer is usually “What did I do?  Nothing,” followed by a torrent of tears.  (Mentally, anyway.  I usually just say “Fine” and sigh.)

A better thing would be to ignore the unfolded laundry, dirty dishes, the scattered toys untouched since yesterday, and say, “Hey, I’m home!  And the kids are safe and healthy, their homework is done, and the baby’s thriving!  You must have had a very productive day!  I am so impressed and proud of you!  Did I also mention that you look fabulous?”

Not-So-Urban Legends

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Sometimes the things Jeffrey says requires a bit of digging to understand.

JEFF: “I need a notebook that flips around!  So I can keep track of the birds!”  STATUS: True.  Turns out he had a field trip to a bird refuge.

JEFF: “We need to collect our recycling so I can write an opera!”  STATUS: True.  The third grade is, indeed, writing an opera about recycling.

JEFF: “I need to go on a garbage hunt.  In the roundabout.”  STATUS: Unconfirmed.  Perhaps this is a Cub Scout project that we are unaware of?

JEFF: “I’m going to need glasses.  Camo glasses.”  STATUS: False.  Jeff does not need glasses.  I’m not even sure that camo-print frames exist.

JEFF [at 5:45 this morning]: “I need to go on a night garbage hunt! In the roundabout!”  STATUS: False.  Also, whaaat??

Preschool v. Cousins

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For your consideration: William on his first day of preschool!

He’s wearing an outfit that his grandmother gave him for his birthday.  Little did I know that morning that William had decided that he didn’t like this outfit, and snipped the edges of the shorts and the sleeves of the shirt with scissors.  I didn’t notice the raggedy, ruffly hems until after lunch that day.

Yes, yes, the time-out was massive.  But anyway: Preschool!  Which William loves with a passion.  This week he would prefer preschool over trips to Disneyland, I think.

In fact, he said that he wanted preschool more than a playdate at McDonald’s with his cousins — a shock indeed.  William doesn’t get to see his cousins Sarah and Abby very often since they live in Pittsburgh.  Wednesday was their last day here, so not only did we have a playdate for lunch (sorry, preschool!) but we also went up to my parents’ house that evening for an impromptu birthday/goodbye party for my sister.

Much goofiness ensued.  I made an attempt to document the action, but it was difficult.  These were taken in between bouts of jumping up and down on the guest bed upstairs:

Meanwhile, June decided to show Katie how to properly chew on a pillow:

And Jeffrey fulfilled his heart’s desire: playing Minecraft with Uncle Alex.  (Ohhhhhh, Minecraft.  Were you specifically created for Jeff to obsess over you, talk about you nonstop and do whatever amount of homework and chores is necessary to obtain permission to play you?  Because if so, mission accomplished.)

Alex made this face on purpose.  He deserves what he gets, Internet-wise.  Meanwhile, look at the worshipful gaze on Jeffrey’s face.

Insanity would have prevailed BUT for the good graces of my father:

This energy high, of course, is nothing compared to the half-naked ice cream-a-thon we had at the previous cousin meeting a week and a half earlier:

And the babies!  DON’T FORGET THE STINKIN’ CUTE BABIES!!!

My mother has a “fairy garden” in her backyard, peopled with little knicknacks she finds at thrift stores.  June and Abby were playing so sweetly with it:

And this is baby Emmaline.  What?  Have you not met?  She is cousin June’s baby sister, and in this picture she is just over 1 week old.  What a sweet baby Emmykins!

But Katie’s not about to let some other baby out-cute her:

A good time was had by all, as they say.  During my sister’s two-week visit, she crammed in three family dinners, two cousin playdates, and a trip to Yellowstone.  And that was just with our side of the family!  (Apparently there was a wedding on the other side.  Wow).

I already miss you lots, Lizzie!  Take care back in Pittsburgh.

History Face, PART DEUX

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BY THE GHOST OF GRANT’S TOMB!

JEFFREY HAS ENLISTED IN THE UNION ARMY!

It was all part of “Voices of the Civil War” day at This is the Place Heritage Park.  Jeff was in hog heaven.  He got a gunny sack and a piece of hardtack . . .

. . . and then was examined by the army physician to make sure he had all his fingers and toes.  (This was an authentic recreation of a Civil War exam.  “You can shoot a gun and trudge?  Great!”)

(By the way, the hardtack was very chewy with a pleasantly nutty flavor.)

Then he filled out a form for his paystub.  This was taken very seriously:

He later exchanged the stub for candy coins at the bank.

Jeffrey was now official!  Which was a good idea, because trouble was brewing on the main street.  Some Union calvarymen were attacked by a ragtag group of Rebel infantry out on the main street.  Shots were fired, and the Southern troops either dropped down dead or ran away.

This was pretty much the opposite outcome of every single  other Civil War recreation battle I ever saw in Virginia and Georgia.  Down there, the Northern army is the one that runs away . . . usually into an abandoned barn . . . that then explodes into fireworks.   So goes the War of Northern Aggression.

As Jeff’s mother, I think my official job was to sob, throw myself melodramatically on the floor, and beg him not to go off and abandon his family to join the Army.    At least, that’s what I’ve learned from really bad stage plays and period engravings.

Jeffrey’s head was spinning by the end of the afternoon; he adored every minute.  In some ways, Jeff is a kid born in the wrong time.  After finishing all his recruitment-related activities, he saw a woman in period costume riding sidesaddle down the street.  When she stopped at a corner, Jeff stepped up and doffed his hat to her.

“Well, I am most glad to see that there are still a few fine gentlemen in this part of the world,” she replied.  Jeff’s history face was INTENSE.

Meanwhile, Eleanor spent almost all of her time doing PIONEER CHORES!  Washboards, HUZZAH!

Brian’s mother had come along with us on this busy afternoon, and she graciously offered to stay with William and Eleanor and watch them endlessly scrub rags and beat rugs.  She’s a saint.

The other skill Eleanor’s been picking up lately is photo posing.  She took it upon herself to arrange her brothers in front of this statue, and then asked me to take the picture.  Hilarious.