Tippy Toes and Tantrums

Skating Through January

It's farther into January than I thought. Everything is somehow being balanced, and while I want to credit the calmness of our January schedule, there is so much going on right now, that calling January calm would be wrong. We only have one weekend sport - basketball - and Rocket's games are at 9 a.m., which is early, but still leaves open the weekend. That is probably why January feels calm.

* Watching Rocket progress in basketball has been awesome. This Saturday is his last game, and he'll be sad when it's over. He made his first basket last weekend. He's normally quick to pass the ball away, if he ever gets it, but this time he got the ball in the key and we all screamed, "SHOOT!" He did, the ball hit the top of the rim, and tipped down on the inside, scoring a basket. We had friends visiting with us, and we all went wild when he scored.

* Rocket is a little man. He needed a new helmet for skateboarding as he'd grown out of his last. He was fitted and tried on a few until we found the one that worked. In the car I saw the size: men's small. Sunrise, sunset...

* Skateboarding class is awesome. No one has to be dragged there, unlike piano lessons.

* Rocket is begging for a skateboard ramp. We live on a hill near a blind curve, but he had a solution: since we are doing a remodel, we should add on a room for skate ramps. Like they have at his skate school.

* Later, he asked if there are homes with bowling alleys in them.

* Our remodel is going to disappoint Rocket.

Letting a Sleeping Dog Lie

This photo is for my sister, who acts like I am Michael Vick, and for people who are shocked to find out we have a dog.

This is Maddie, the neurotic pug. I came home the other day to find her sleeping on my sweater, which had fallen from where I'd left it. I rolled my eyes, and even though I wasn't happy with her new bed, I let it go, allowing her to hibernate on. The only thing that will get her up from a deep winter slumber, is the gardener, and he wasn't coming by for four days, so this could be a long stay. Maddie slept for a few hours, and the moment she got up and walked away, the sweater went straight into the hamper. But the point here is that I let her sleep on my clothes, uninterrupted, earning myself a badge in compassion.

Maddie has always been crazy, but now, at nearly 11 and a half, she's old lady crazy, and I'm treating her as such. She barks at the wind, she cannot hear, she's pushy in the kitchen, and she complains through grunts if someone has blocked access to one of her two beds. (Two beds! Living in luxury!)

We met with our architect on Friday, who asked if Kevin and I wanted any special pet considerations in a mudroom as we fine tune our renovation plans. One of us snorted, and the other laughed. I see the mudrooms with dog baths on Pinterest or the built in dog bowl trays on kitchen islands, but that is not where we are as pet owners. We had planned on keeping the carpets until Maddie passed on, but those are going too, because I'm tired of looking at the awful carpets, then at the dog, then at the calender. Hard wood it is. Maddie doesn't care, as long as there is sunlight, two beds, and a gardener to bark at.

Pagoda the Turtle is a different story. Pagoda's needs are simple, except that he needs to tan more than Pauly from Jersey Shore. Finding a home for his aquarium is not so hard, but finding a spot for his aquarium, plus his heat lamp is a burden. When talking about theoretical fire evacuation last night, Rocket said it was sure going to be hard to carry the big aquarium to safety. I told him that we would grab Pagoda and run. Rocket said, "I hope he goes into his shell and waits it out there." Of course, last night as I tried to go to sleep, my last thought was of me standing in the dark, across the street from our burning house, with Kevin, two kids, a senile dog, and a snapping turtle in my hands. I'm knocking on wood to make sure it never comes to this.

My Week of Guilt-Free Indulgence

Sad Snowman, deliberately droopy, as designed by Rocket

No surprise, I was hit with the post-Christmas Ebola. I knew that the race to get everything just right for the holidays would leave me totally drained on Dec. 26, but I didn't expect to have an awful cold and sore throat too. In a small way, it was fine because while I'd rather not have been sick, it forced me to do nothing. I took a nap, I moved from family room to the bedroom and back, and I watched TV, all without guilt, which was great.

By Tuesday, I started to feel better, but my outlook had shifted. Maybe this is the one week out of the year that I could do as close to nothing as possible...without any guilt. A week-long vacation during other times of the year are relaxing, but life is going on like normal all around, keeping up the reminder of what is being missed or what still needs to be done. But this week is different because so many people are off work that a week of eating leftover Christmas cookies, catching up of sewing projects, and indulging in daytime television are all perfectly fine ways to pass the time. I slept in until 9 a.m. yesterday, which is a huge milestone because Kevin was by my side. Neither one of us had to get up to entertain or feed a child. Both kids slept in and then did their own quiet thing - minus the time I thought Rocket was ringing a bell. It turns out, it wasn't Rocket daintily ringing a little silver bell with his pinkie in the air, waiting to be served, but he turned his alarm clock on by accident. (Him, "I turned it to 'no!'" Me under my breath, "Is he dyslexic? It's o-n, not n-o.")

Our Christmas decorations typically stay up until about Jan. 2, but this year, the boxes are out and much is packed away. I'm ready for 2012. The list of books on the side of this blog hasn't been neglected; those are the only books I read this year. So, so sad. I didn't even read one book a month, but I pledge to change that next year. We went to the library tonight, allowing me to get a head start. A little less time on Twitter, and a little more reading actual literature. Dream big.

This week my goal is lofty: the free myself from syndicated sitcoms that I have only just discovered, to set goals for 2012. I like to have a plan, and even more, I like one that involves procrastination. No guilt until Jan. 1, and that's a holiday (Sunday football day), which means Jan. 2 is really the start of my year. That gives me a few more days of playing video games and sleeping in. Tuesday is going to be hell.

UPDATE: I read a book! I purposefully picked the shortest book I grabbed at the library, to increase my chance of success. Within about two hours, the book was read, plus I added a book by my friend Lisa, which is awesome (I read it during winter break in February, but didn't write about it because I am not awesome, even though the book has sat right next to my monitor for 11 months, taunting me and making me feel guilty), leaving 12 books are on my sidebar, averaging one a month, and suddenly I am back in this reading game. Take that, illiteracy!

Cell Phones, Ollies, and Diego

I had the unfortunate experience of having to attend two funerals within a week. Here is what I learned from being surrounded many older people: they have cell phones; they turn up the volume on their cell phones so they can hear the ringer; they do not turn off cell phones or ringers, even in churches; when their cell phones ring in church, they either can't hear their cranked up ring or they believe that if they ignore it, it will end. Two funerals, three cell phones ringing, all belonging to old people. Not one was answered.

In other news, determined by what's on my iPhone:


My kids started skateboard camp. First, it was only Rocket, but when Clover saw his cute new skateboard, she developed a desire to ollie. This is the girl who is still scared of ice skating and bikes over 12 inches high, but we sighed, told her she'd have to stand on the skateboard not lie down, then forked over the money to add her to camp. Giant surprise: she loves it. She's no threat to Tony Hawk, but she's conquered a fear, which is especially awesome considering she is the only girl in a camp full of boys.

Kevin and I spent the day in San Francisco this weekend, walking around the Mission, stopping at Renegade Craft Fair, and loading up on pirate supplies. It was awesome.

Now I am experiencing the joy of listening to a nine year old dissect the intellectual gaps in Go Diego, Go! Clover: This is obvious! Duh! Did they have too little money for special effects? This is horrible! Obviously ice is slippery! Those bobos aren't really sorry, they just said they were sorry. First the blanket was on the llama's neck, then on her back, then on her neck. A llama can't move her own blanket, so how did it move? Are we supposed to believe this is magic? This is weird and stupid. Rocket (to everything said by his sister): Yeah! Oh holiday vacation, you test my patience.

A Hug to Start December

Wouldn't you know, after spending yesterday writing about my Grinchy attitude toward gratitude, the first photo prompt of December is gratitude. I cannot win. I thought about being grateful for being warm and inside on a blustery day (maybe a picture of Winnie the Pooh in the leaves?) or thankful for the hard workout at the gym (maybe a photo of my shoes?), it came down to late in the evening, in the dark, when Rocket came to hug and kiss me goodnight. While this kid can raise my blood pressure with minimal effort on his part, hugging him is the best antidote. It's my favorite.

He hugged me in my office, while I was working, but didn't want to stay around for me to take a photo. I had to find him, already in bed, with my iPhone for a quick shot. It was dark, so the photo is grainy and blurred, but the upside is that I got an extra hug.

Thirty

I think about this every day. Found on Pinterest, but I couldn't locate original source.

Sometime this year - or maybe it was last - I started making a point of finding one good thing each day. My thought was to photograph the good, but soon I realized that a lot of the time, things happen while I'm driving, which isn't the safest time to snap away. I'm glad I dropped the photo idea because most of the beauty is fleeting, which is what makes it so beautiful. Taking out the camera and trying to capture it would mean I'd miss it, most of the time at least. The most surprising thing was that once I'd opened myself up to this thought, how often grace or beauty would appear.

Today it was perfectly scattered coffee beans on the top of the espresso machine at Starbucks, deeply contrasting against the silver and grey top of the machine, and fresh from our CSA, a bunch of purple kale that looked ready for a vase instead of the produce drawer.

This is why I was even more surprised this month, as I set out to be mindful of the good around me and be grateful for it every day, that things were mostly grumbly and dreary. There were good times and beautiful things, but the overall outlook of the month was blah. I don't know if it's the early darkness or the relentless pummeling of responsibility, but my god, I hope December is better. I want to pause my to-do list for awhile, especially because I've been pretty crappy at accomplishments lately. Today alone I: paid a mortgage we no longer have; failed to get a clean change of clothes to school, so after Rocket trudged through muddy water, he had to borrow bright flowered pants from a female classmate; and somehow failed to quit piano lessons for Clover without getting dinged for another month. That doesn't include the work the didn't get done, Christmas cards unordered, Christmas trees not decorated, and myriad merda.

The every day posts are not over, partially because I have a ton of stuff I am supposed to write about, but also because I'm participating in a daily holiday photo guide that will hopefully help me get my photo jojo back while appreciating the holiday details before they pass in a blur.

Rocket handed us an envelope from school on Thanksgiving that included the many things he was thankful for, and it ended with this:

Thanks to myself for being really kind to others and not punching them.

I've been kind and I haven't punched anyone either, which means maybe November was a success after all.

Twenty Seven

Both trees went up yesterday, but today they are both lit. In fairness, the front tree is fake, thus comes pre-lit. I am thankful that all of the Christmas lights, inside and out, are up.

This morning, while snuggling Rocket on the couch, I sang, "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas..." He cut me off to say, "No it's not! That tree doesn't have lights on it. It doesn't look like Christmas."

Sigh.

So the lights went up, but still not satisfied, Rocket asked if we could make cookies for Santa today. I said no, and I told him it was because I know for a fact that Santa does not like stale cookies. Or demanding children.

Seven

I'm grateful for lessons from Rocket. He is full of deep thoughts, sometimes crazy, sometimes funny, and sometimes right. What I recently learned is that there is something like a high five, but a little more aggressive. Throwing one's middle finger in the air isn't known as flipping the bird, according to Rocket. While watching football, a coach on the sideline briefly threw up his index finger, giving the No. 1 sign. Rocket saw a different finger.

Him: Mom, that guy gave the high fuckin'!

Me: Wha???

Him: (now bashful) the high...(nearly whispering)...fuckin'.

Me: You know he gave the No. 1 sign, right?

Him: (awkward silence)

Me: Did you think he gave the middle finger?

Him: (nodding)

Me: What do you call that?

Him: (tight lipped, shaking head)

Me: the high fuckin'?

Him: (panicked!)

Me: I'm not going to be mad, I'm trying to understand. You think that's called the high...

Him: Fuckin'! Yes! It is!

Me: (freaking out in my head)

Did I mention Kevin is from Philadelphia?

Five

Today marked the end of Clover's soccer season, for which I am grateful. Sadly, it may be the end of her soccer career too. She's liked soccer, but never loved it, and a losing season (one win, countless losses) hasn't helped. One person noted on Facebook that it's not whether you win or lose, but whether you have fun. It turns out, having your ass handed to you each week is no fun.

The same fun matters most sentiment was said by a dad on Rocket's team at the start of the season, after about only their third loss. If this were a sitcom, we'd flash ahead to a game about two weeks ago where, judging by his sideline coaching, the dad did not appear to be having any fun watching yet another loss. Rocket's team has yet to win a game, and with next week's game the last of the season, they are likely to have a 0-10 (? I've lost count) season. If this were the NFL, we'd be thrilled because they'd be first in line to draft Andrew Luck. But this isn't the NFL, so what you have instead is a group of beleaguered boys, including my son, who flipped the double bird a few weeks ago when an opponent scored yet another goal. Thankfully there are no penalties for poor sportsmanship in U6 soccer.

The upside is that Rocket scored a goal this week and headed two balls, which wowed the crowd. The best news of the day is that after next Saturday, the weekends are once again mine.

Beat Up By a Kindergartner and Other Mishaps

My favorite photo from the pumpkin patch: he claimed Clover pushed him, but evidence shows he tripped on his own.

Transitioning into kindergarten is killing me, and I'm not the one at school. Rocket is much like a crazy person off his meds, cycling through malaise, anger, crying, spazing out, and faking illness. He is totally unpredictable when he used to be very predictable. I've talked to his teachers and to his preschool teacher and all have assured me that this is a normal part of the process, and that it takes some kids until late November to adjust, but in the meantime, I'm over it. I want my happy-go-lucky, confident, sound-sleeping kid back. I'm optimistic my sanity will return with the old Rocket. One can dream.

The other day he said he was too sick to go to school, and that instead, he wanted to stay home to draw. I felt his head, which was normal, but he told me to touch his tummy because his tummy was warm, and that meant he was sick. I told him that meant he needed to dress in fewer layers, but I still offered him a mental health day, yet when his sister reminded him of what he'd miss at school, he jumped up, full of life, ready to go. Soon after he left, I found a pink ribbon and a cellophane bag in his room and noticed a cake pop was missing. If you sneak a cake pop at 6:30 a.m., it turns out either your tummy - or the guilt - will get you. All I really need to know, I learned in kindergarten, right?

I feel like I am failing life on all fronts right now. Everything is being done half-assed and I am easily distracted by shiny things. Oh, look! Glitter!

Yesterday I rushed off in such a hurry for the gym that I forgot to pack underwear. I wear my swimsuit there (under my clothes, of course, I am not nearly confident enough to march in with only my suit on) on my pool days, and it wasn't until after I showered and was getting dressed that I realized I would have to go home commando. I felt like notifying all of the people around me. "I forgot my underwear! This isn't my thing...going commando and all. I love granny panties! Normally I am all covered up. But I forgot! Tomorrow I will wear two pairs!" I made it home before a lunch meeting to put on some underwear, making myself all proper, but then I showed up at the meeting without business cards. When I realized I forgot my cards in another bag (the cards I bought specifically to keep in my car for moments like this), I wanted to assure everyone at the lunch that I was wearing underwear, and really, that alone was a huge victory for me. Cards be damned, I would have been remembered as the uptight underwear lady.

It went better this morning because I only forgot shower shoes for the gym. I may die from gangrene picked up while barefoot in the shower, but I will be wearing underwear when wheeled into the ER.

Now, just like when he was a baby, if Rocket and I could take a long afternoon nap, things would get better.