Finding Time for Family Portraits

          My mom had always made arrangements for family portraits each year – not that big of a deal when we were living at home.  But after my first brother got married and started having children of his own, and mom’s grown children all had jobs – the portrait scheduling thing became more of a challenge while trying to work it around everybody’s personal schedule.

          It’s funny – because I don’t recall any family photos with mom or dad’s siblings and their posterity – though we attempted at least a few times on my dad’s side.  I think there are at least two photographs – but I have no idea whose possession they ended up being in.  I haven’t actually seen them since the years they were taken. 

          I don’t know when it was that I took over the scheduling of trying to get everybody at the same location at the same time.  Not that I did a terribly great job.  The last time that we did a family picture with my sibs and our posterity was a week before Jenna turned one. 

          I used to keep the photo by the door of our old house.  Everytime Bill (my brother-in-law/photographer that I mention here) would say that we were long overdue for an updated portrait.  Well yeah.

          That’s just my side of the family.  Six weeks after the family photo with my sibs and posterity, we went back east to see Roland’s brother get married.  Roland and all three sisters were there, and we did get a shot of mom and her five children – but that was the extent of it.  We hadn’t tried posing the entire family clan – not that the entire clan was present.

          We did get pictures of a bunch of us when we went to Tucson for his mother’s birthday mentioned in this post but still not the entire gang was there.  I haven’t actually met all of his family.

          Most of the family photos we have are of my family.  They are the ones in all the wedding photos and any additional family portraits we may have taken.

          The last intermediate family picture we had taken was when Jenna was four.  It was taken less than a week before Tony left for Brazil.  The following year Randy left for Portugal.  And now I have a nephew serving in Canada (all LDS missions by the way)

          So this week I have all three of the boys  in Utah and still found myself working around schedules in order to get some pictures done and asked Bill if he’d be able to take family pictures this morning before my first granddaughter (first grandchild) was blessed.  We were still missing three from my extended family.  My nephew (though his family had a large cut out of Mitt Romney with my nephew’s face glued over Mitt’s), my brother Corey and his spouse.  (Wish I would have thought of getting cut outs for them).

          I realized that not only is it harder to schedule, but to actually position everybody and keep them laughing though the position is causing them pain or the baby is getting heavy or running out of shot or what have you.  I am so grateful for my brother-in-law’s willingness to take the time to take our photos – unfortunately he was not in many of them because of trying to get the perfect expressions from our rather large group. There were eighteen of us plus the cut out plus the two that may be photo shopped in with us.  That would be awesome. 

          That’s still not as large as mom’sneighbors (our second family)  who have roughly 35 individuals to work with.  That’s a lot of people.  A lot more schedules to work around.  I don’t know how long it’s been since their last family portrait.  I don’t think they actually are able to get their entire clan together each year – but I could be wrong. 

          I’m grateful to be able to preserve memories through photographs and for the love and support my family has shown one another and working with me to make it possible.  Thank you all.  And thank you Bill!

The Big Red Hen and the Tired Blue Cat

          Roland and his boss purchased some property years ago – the idea was to flip the house, make money – but the location of it all became a great nightmare for all of us.  I referred to the project as “The Nightmare on Oak Street”

          At the time I referred to Roland as the Big Red Hen because of his attempts to involve our three boys in his house fixing project.  Meanwhile, I was attempting to get them to help me around the house that we actually lived in.  I was not as aggressive as Roland and had a toddler who wore me out.

          Though the sharing this story with the boys did not produce the results we were hoping for, Jenna is totally amused with hearing it today – and thought I should share it on my blog.  So here goes:

The story of the

Big Red Hen and

the Tired Blue Cat

“Who will help me clean a house?” asked the Big Red Hen.

‘I’ll go,” said the Tired Blue Cat, “but I’ll need to find a sitter for my sunshine.”

They worked along side a Friendly Orange Rooster.  There were items that were heavy, lots of hazardous waste, lots of dirt. The Tired Blue Cat didn’t feel like she was pulling her weight because the Big Red Hen and the Friendly Orange Rooster were both so much stronger.

“Who will help me clean a house?” the Big Red Hen asked again.

“Not I,” said the Pumped Up Tiger.  “I’ve made plans to go to the gym. Today’s the day that I build the muscles in my chest.”

“Not I,” said the Free Loading Chipmunk. “I’m going to be hanging out with my friend, Mikey.”

“Oh, I would if I could,” said the Lazy Con Monkey, “but I have to clean my already immaculate room. Why can’t the tiger or the chipmunk do it?”

The Big Red Hen did not accept their lame excuses and dragged them to the house kicking and screaming.. The tiger and the chipmunk complained the entire time.

The monkey believed he had found rare treasures and constantly asked, “Can I have this? Can I have that?” For the most part neither the Rooster nor the Hen cared what the Monkey took.

“Who will do the dishes and mop the floor?” asked the Tired Blue Cat. 

“Not I,” said the Pumped Up Tiger.  “I’ve made plans to go to the gym. Today’s the day that I build the muscles in my legs.”

“Not I,” said the Free Loading Chipmunk. “I’ve done them the last two nights. I need some new shoes”

“I already vacuumed and did the bathroom and took out the garbage and washed a load of towels,” said the Lazy Con Monkey. “Why can’t the tiger or the chipmunk do it?”

“Who will help me tear down some walls in the house?” asked the Big Red Hen.

 “Not I,” said the Pumped Up Tiger. “I’ve made plans to go to the gym. Today’s the day that I build the muscles in my arms.”

 “Not I,” said the Free Loading Chipmunk. “I feel like drawing something. I need some new markers”

“Oh, I would if I could,” said the Lazy Con Monkey, “But I have to fix my bike”

The Big Red Hen did not accept their lame excuses and dragged them to the house kicking and screaming.. The monkey and the chipmunk complained the entire time. The tiger learned that wrecking walls was pretty fun and he was still getting a workout in his arms.

“Who will pick up all the towels off  the laundry room floor?” asked the Tired Blue Cat

“Not I,” said the Pumped Up Tiger. “I did three towels last week with my personal laundry which is still on top of the dryer”

“Not I,” said the Free Loading Chipmunk. “I have too much homework. I need a new binder.”

“Not I,” said the Lazy Con Monkey. “I left my bike over at Stephano’s house and I was just leaving to go and get it. Why can’t the tiger or the chipmunk do it?”

“All three of you should be able to do it,.” said the Tired Blue Cat. “All three of you pass the laundry room everyday – I would say at least four times a day.”

“Okay, I’ll do it,” whined the Free Loading Chipmunk. And he did.  And he was still able to do his homework.

“Who will help me build the house?” asked the Big Red Hen. 

“Not I,” said the Pumped Up Tiger. “I’ve made plans to go to the gym. Today’s the day that I build the muscles in my back.”

 “Not I,” said the Free Loading Chipmunk. “I’ve got to run an additional 20 miles just for fun.”

 “Oh, I would if I could,” said the Monkey, “but I was just going to K-Mart to buy a patch kit so that I can fix my bike . Why can’t the tiger or the chipmunk do it?”

“I’ll go,” said the Tired Blue Cat, “but I’ll need to find a sitter for my sunshine.”

And so the Big Hen took the Blue Cat.  Once again the Blue Cat felt like she wasn’t pulling her weight and soon had to leave when she heard her sunshine was acting up. And so the Big Red Hen and the Friendly Orange Rooster started to build.

“Who will clean the tub?” asked the Tired Blue Cat.

“Not I,” said the Pumped Up Tiger. “I’ve made plans to go to the gym. Today’s the day that I build the muscles in my abs”

“Not I,” said the Free Loading Chipmunk. “My legs hurt. Do we have any ebsom salt?”

 “Not I.” said the Lazy Con Monkey, “I was just leaving the house to go to the library to meet my friend Stephano. Why can’t the Chipmunk or the Tiger do it?”

 “Who will help me mow the lawn?” asked the Big Red Hen. 

“Not I,” said the Pumped Up Tiger. “I have to go mow somebody else’s lawn”

“What do you intend to use as a lawn mower?”  asked the Big Red Hen. 

“Well couldn’t you let me use the lawn mower to mow my yard before you do the yard at your house?” asked the Pumped Up Tiger.

“Why didn’t you use the lawn mower last night or yesterday afternoon?” asked the Big Red Hen who was quite annoyed.  He had worked his tail off the day and night before and could not make the time to use the lawn mower.  But the Pumped Up Tiger was not very good at prioritizing his time could have made the time. But it’s not like he had a great example to follow, either.

“Who will mop the floor?” asked the Tired Blue Cat..

“Not I,” said the Pumped Up Tiger. “I cleaned the counters and the table and finally got around to cleaning the stove and the microwave which you asked me to do the other day; the Lazy Monkey hasn’t done anything except for be lazy.”

She couldn’t ask the Chipmunk as he was out of town – otherwise they probably would have gotten it done. The Free Loading Chipmunk had actually done more chores than the Pumped Up Tiger and Lazy Con Monkey put together.

 “Oh, I would if I could,” said the Monkey, “but I just dumped the garbage and I split my finger open where the stitches were.”

 “Why aren’t the dishes done?” the Tired Blue Cat asked the Lazy Con Monkey.

“I’ve been cleaning the back room!” he exclaimed.  And he had.  And he had done a wonderful job. The Tiger had obviously not seen the back room.

“Who will help me paint the house?” asked the Big Red Hen. 

The Pumped Up Tiger did not answer because he was at the gym.

“Not I,” said the Free Loading Chipmunk. “I have too much homework.  And my legs hurt.”

 “Oh, I would if I could,” said the Monkey, “but I was just leaving to visit my friend Stephano; we are making a seat for the dirt bike that I found.”

“I’ll go,” said the Tired Blue Cat, “but I’ll need to find a sitter for my sunshine.”

But the Blue Cat could not always find a sitter and so sometimes the Big Red Hen had to do it by himself.  Or sometimes the Rooster would do it by himself. They couldn’t seem to get together at the same time anymore.

The tiger and chipmunk and monkey (not to mention the Tired Blue Cat) all got to hate the house.  And they especially hated it when the Big Red Hen would order them to stay home so that they could work on the house.  And sometimes they would spend hours waiting for the Big Red Hen to pick them up – one might think that they would be able to assist the Tired Blue Cat while they were waiting.  And many times the Free Loading Chipmunk would.  He preferred staying with the Tired Blue Cat and doing chores around her house than working at the Big Red Hen’s house investment.  The Lazy Con Monkey also made that claim saying that he would rather do chores for the Tired Blue Cat than go to the house with the Big Red Hen – but it was just talk as usual.

The monkey would always horn in on whatever was being said to the tiger or the chipmunk – but seemed to have a problem listening to whatever actually concerned him however. He was notorious for asking “What about the Tiger?  What about the Chipmunk” What about the tiger and chipmunk?  What about them?

The monkey had many talents.  He was a very quick learner. He enjoyed building things. He was very creative about making things.  And he was very charismatic and a very good actor. He was also very cunning, enjoyed telling stupid jokes and was lazy about labor and with his study habits. He actually had the potential for becoming a politician.

None of the animals knew how to prioritize.  The free loading chipmunk was willing to work for his money – unless Mikey called.  The Blue Cat had given the chipmunk permission to hang out with him So he didn’t think he was available to do one more chore that the Big Red Hen had invented – mainly for the Monkey and Tiger’s benefit.  The Blue Cat was upset about his lack of rationalization.

If the exotic bird from Thailand had been living with the other animals in America, he would have gone willingly and things would have gotten finished a lot quicker. But alas, he was no longer in the states.

The Big Red Hen’s house eventually got sold – and there was a small profit that was so not worth the labor.  The Tiger and Chipmunk and Monkey have all grown up.  The Chipmunk and Monkey are both married and living in apartments. The Chipmunk now has a baby chipmunk of his own. The Tiger still spends much of his time at the gym.  He should really put care and concern into keeping his room and house as clean and tidy as he tries to keep his body.

The exotic bird has gone back to Thiland and is now pursuing a career and relationship with a gorgeous parakeet.  Sunshine continues to grow.  There are many chores that she enjoys doing – but several that she does not.  When the Big Red Hen or Tired Blue Cat (who by the way is not nearly as tired anymore) remind her of something she doesn’t want to do, she whines and often throws a tantrum.  She seems to complain more than did the Tiger, Chipmunk and Monkey combind. Hopefully it’s just a stage.

                                                                                                                      kfralc

Back to the Bus

         Today is the last day of second grade for Jenna. It is also the last day that I’ll be driving the car for a while.  But I’m at the point where I actually don’t trust it anymore.  Plus there is a ton of construction happening just outside of my husband’s work.  Not having a car also means no dealing with construction.

          There is still the matter of visiting my mom.  On Wednesdays Jaime and I will walk to the TRAX station and purchase an all day pass.  We can go see mom and take the bus to the high school for her theatre class. 

          She has three parts.  Only Dorothy is in the first scene.  But she will be a munchkin for the next two.  She’ll be a tree in scene four and will enter as the lion on scene five and remain on stage as the cowardly lion.

          I think it’s exciting that she gets to play more than one role.  I hope she understands that as well.  My brother, Corey, may appear in many scenes – but he is usually cast as ensemble – sometimes a given name – and even as an understudy.  And though it may not seem significant to the performer, it does make a difference to the production itself. 

          I did not pursue a career in acting for several reasons.  One was because I simply don’t have the patience for it.  Rehearse, block, off stage, let’s do that scene again, take it from the top, off stage, let’s try it this way, rehearse, off stage . . .  too much time – for me personally. 

          Corey is really good at it.  Knows how to utilize his time and prioritize, etc.  Can’t say the same for all the people that he has ever worked with during his life time.  I’m certain that there have been situations (hopefully all in the past) that it has felt like junior high as some co-workers have been quite immature or amateur whether in their performance or following direction or being able to get along or present a civil personality while off stage.  One might as well be teaching junior high school.

          But then I’ve never dealt with the professionalism that he does currently.  But I know he puts in long hours that I’d just assume not have to deal with.

          I need to meet my husband in about an hour.  We are planning on driving to my daughter’s school to pick her up.  Roland will drop us off at home.  And he will have the car for the rest of the summer – except for certain occasions when I’ll need to go shopping or will have to move things.  For example, I would like to record the final production of “The Wizard of Oz” and I would also like to pick up mom so that she can go with us.  Don’t care to do the camera or mom on the bus however.

          Hopefully we’ll be able to get another car before the summer ends.  Meanwhile, I am grateful that I do at least have other options.

From the Catalogue of Ugly Dresses

In an earlier post  I had proposed the question, “What’s up with bridesmaid dresses anyway?”  Why are Bridesmaid and Choir Dresses always so ugly? Well, maybe not Always.  But more often than not.

Neither of my daughters-in-law wasted money on needless dresses – nor did my sister or I.  No bridesmaids.  No ugly dresses.

I had once heard someone describe the purposely made ugly dresses allows the bride to shine (Roz Doyle on Frazier)

          I love the movie 27 dresses.  Roland purchased the DVD one year and gave it to me for my birthday.  The movie came with a humorous book called "101 Uses for a Bridesmaid Dress" by Cindy Walker.  It provided ways to recycle. There were suggestions such as cutting the dress up into squares and washing your car.  Or throwing the dress over the car to protect it from the elements.

How glorious it would have been to own 30 plus years ago.  For one of the suggestions was to cut up the dress and make diapers for the first born of the bride who was responsible for dressing you in something so hideous. How cute my cousin would have looked in his great supply of lavender diapers, perhaps not as cute as my niece would have looked and how comfortable she would have been in pink taffeta diapers.  Oh, the joys of trying to wash them.

          The lavender dress – I kid you not – must have included one yard of fabric just for each sleeve.  My aunt was trying to get something that would work on all nine of her bridesmaid (count them, nine, plus two flower girls) as they were all assorted lengths and sizes.  It was a lot of fabric.  A LOT – we could have dressed a small nation with all that fabric.

          We had to keep our arms down as one raise would reveal any underwear that was put on underneath.  Another aunt made the comment that we looked like purple bats. I know pictures of these outrageous dresses exist somewhere, but not in my own personal file.  I’ll have to look harder. 

          My sister-in-law had chosen two shades of pink – taffeta of all fabrics.  Seriously.  The slips had to have sleeves sewn into them as I personally felt like I had brillo pads beneath my arm pits.  I must admit that I did use the slip as a night gown, but I wore the dress only one time – and that was while I was in line at Patrick and Sunny’s wedding. Half of us looked like circus tents.

          Then there are the choir dresses.  For years and years the fabric at my high school had been green.  That was the school color after all.  I suppose they worked on some girls, but looked very awkward and out of place on others.  Most of the shades that were chosen seemed to work.  But there was one year it was decided to go with a completely different look.  (Though I don’t think having the majority of the choir appear to have jaundice was the intent)

I don’t know whose brilliant idea it was to use peach – more than half the girls appeared very sickly in appearance.  And although the pale gray suits seemed to work on many of the guys – it didn’t really make any one of them stand out.  It seemed to mask most of their facial features, I think.  But then I’m no expert.  But I don’t think the clothing selector was either.

I remember one choir that was dressed in black and blue.  The entire choir itself looked like a giant bruise. 

All choir dresses (not so much when they’re seen in a group as just with an individual) speak the language:  “I want to be noticed.  I want to stand out” and they do.  But it certainly isn’t the attention that most girls are looking for.  At least the choir dress will be worn more often than the bridesmaid dress (or so I would assume)

They can also be recycled as prom and drag queen dresses.  Bless those wise brides that don’t have bridesmaids or at least dress them in silly dresses.

So, what would you do?

          Last week my husband spotted a wallet in the parking lot of a shopping complex.  His arms were full of groceries and he asked Jenna if she would bend down and pick it up. 

Excitedly, she retrieved the wallet and announced that it must be returned.  I am so happy that it was such an automatic decision for all three of us to turn the wallet in.  Oh, and we could have so used any money it may have contained.  But I’ve been in that situation too many times where I have been the one that has lost whatever – and if the roles were reversed, it is exactly what I would want the finder to do. 

As the grocery store is the largest – it is where we ended up taking the wallet.  The owner frantically entered the store only moments after we turned it in.  We told him where it was.  With gratitude he gave Roland a half embrace.

Jenna was a little bit disappointed that there weren’t any cameras or having John Quinones pop out of the woodwork to announce that we were part of his reality show.  Roland assured her that Heavenly Father could see her actions and has His own version of “What Would You Do?” and was giving Jenna a thumbs up for she did the right thing.

I am so happy that Jenna wanted to do the right thing.  And I’m happy about her excitement for the reality show which has really taught her values.  Thank you John Quinones and the creators of that show.

Oh, my picture at the beginning of the post?  That is Jenna mimicking John Quinones.

Happy Memorial Birthday

        In addition to sharing my birth month with Mothers' Day, half of my birthdays happen to fall on Memorial Weekend - which actually bothered me as a kid (or rather when the holiday was pushed to the Monday prior to the 31st) because everything was always crowded, nothing but war movies all weekend long, and like I really have a strong desire to visit cemeteries on my birthday.

        But now that I think about it, having freedoms is a pretty awesome birthday gift.  So thank you men and women who helped fight (and continue) for this awesome gift.  What an honor it is to celebrate your day with you!  Have a good one

Journal Jars

I once attended a Relief Society enrichment meeting where we made “journal jars”.  What is a “journal jar”? you may ask.  It is a jar containing questions that will hopefully provoke thought to get written answers one may record in his or her journal. 

Questions like:

“Do you remember your grandparents?  What special memories do you have?”

          “Did you have a favorite radio or TV show as a child?”

          “Tell about the changes you have seen in your lifetime: society in general, technology, fashion, politics, laws, inventions, etc.”

          Jenna absolutely LOVES to explore these questions – or my answers rather.  Often she can answer for herself, but many ask for detail on things that she hasn’t experienced yet such as marriage, parenting, high school, dating, etc.

          The idea of the journal jar is to record memories.  But Jenna loves to use it as a conversation piece or in place of playing games.  And I like that she likes it.

Heavenly and Sinful (at the same time)

          I know that I mentioned in an earlier post – perhaps several – that cooking is really not my forte.  Roland, on the other hand, enjoys cooking and baking but does not have the time or opportunity that he used to, and so I have had to put together more of the meals and frankly, I’m just not that good at it.

          I can follow a recipe but it’s got to be exact.  Roland has told me a few times (probably) that I need to cover dishes when baking in order to maintain moisture – I haven’t committed that to memory however.  If the recipe had instructed me to cover the dish, I would have done so, but it didn’t – needless to say the lasagna I made was a little dry.

          The other day I went to the office to meet Roland for lunch.  He was on the phone and pointed to his lunch bag and said he had something for me.  Inside were what appeared to be two muffins – although I didn’t know what kind.  I bit into one and oh . . . what heavenly pleasure . . . the taste buds came to life on my tongue as I enjoyed the succulence sensation of  cookie and  brownie surrounding the surprise taste of melted peanut butter cup.  It was delicious!  Sinfully delicious.  Heavenly and sinful at the same time!

Though my tongue was quite pleased with the vivacious wonderment – the rest of my body must have experienced some kind of resentment. I did not eat them both.  I saved the second to give to Jenna when she returned from school.  I knew she would agree with me about the wonderfulness of it all.  And she did.  We both wanted more.

          My family is having a BBQ on Memorial Day – and Roland decided we would make this awesome treat, and so last night we had a practice round. They still taste sinful – unfortunately this particular batch also looks like – well, it looks like I made them.  It gives me comfort when Roland’s food doesn’t always turn out quite right – not that I want to gloat in it.  But I feel like such a failure in the kitchen, it’s nice to know that he’s not kitchen perfect either.

All I can say is that it’s a good thing we did a test run.  I suppose we’ll try it again later on today.  Meanwhile Jenna and I will somehow manage to force ourselves to eat the mistakes.

Racked Nerves

          I am usually not pressed for time – but on those few days that I do need to leave – well, those are the days my mom would like me to stay.  And it would be all well and good if I actually lived closer – or with her.  But I don’t.

          We’re down to one functional car – and even that has been questionable. 

          Since Roland works late on Wednesdays, he drove the car in and so I borrowed my son’s car in order to get out to mom’s.  Talk about nerve racking.

         

          First off, it has a quirkiness to it that anybody but Biff might not get – and the fact that other people have trouble turning on the ignition is actually a great feature in Biff’s opinion.  I was just about to give up, when I actually got it to turn.  I don’t know how.  But then I worried – if I did make it all the way to mom’s and it was time to leave, would I be able to start it again?

Biff’s car would make clicky sounds – even when I hadn’t put on the turn signal.  I was only part way to my destination when it dawned on me that I didn’t think Biff has car insurance.  Oh, great!  As if I wasn’t already neurotic about the whole thing.

          And then, I parked across the street from my mother’s driveway (as there was a van in her driveway) and pulled out the keys from the car and the radio continued to play.  I didn’t know if that was normal for Biff’s car.  I turned it off so that the battery wouldn’t run down.

Mom’s air conditioner was being worked on – a good portion of the day – I might add.  She was hungry.  She wasn’t satisfied with anything in her fridge and asked the worker how much longer he’d be.  At least another hour.  She told him that she was going to go get lunch and that she’d return before he left, but if not, he could just lock up.  Just a few years back, that would have been so out of character for my mom to do that.

We went to a drive-in just at the end of her street.  And we did return before he was finished.  (I think they should have sent two guys instead of just one) and I actually had to leave before he did – although he was packed up and ready.  Biff left for work shortly after I returned.

          I noticed a luggage tag fastened to mom’s purse.  Corey had posted some personal information on a bright pink card.  It may let others know her medical situation and contact information in case she gets lost again. I don’t like this “old timers” mental state at all. It is more irritating than Biff’s car.

Crossing Bridges (NOT a metephore)

One year our family was asked to host a room for Halloween.  Roland wanted to do something different from the typical activities and games that we had seen in years past.  So we ended up doing a haunted maze  (which I will provide details for as it gets closer to Halloween).  The point I was looking to make in this post was the reaction of what some considered scary while others seem to enjoy or become bored with.

Our “haunted maze” was a big hit with the teenagers – but too frightening for the majority of children under eight maybe ten.  Except for Jenna – who would laugh each time she went through.  She feared nothing at the time. 

          Over the years she has grown into some fears.  I suppose we all do.  Some we can rationalize – while others make us wonder why it has become a fear.

          Jenna LOVES crossing bridges.  There is a definite excitement about it.  I remember feeling the same exact way.  And it didn’t matter if we were walking or driving across.  Nor did it matter what the bridge was over.

I recall at a certain place downtown there were two different bridges for the freeway on and off ramps.  I thought that was the absolute coolest because at one point we’d actually be on a bridge and under a bridge at the same time. 

What a tremendous difference in my once joyful outlook to the emotions that stir up right now.

I realize that there are people who cross bridges everyday on their way to their jobs or family or whatever.  They think nothing of it.  Nor did I as a youth.  I used to walk across the intrastate on my way to work.

Somewhere along the way I completely lost my enthusiasm for bridges – well maybe not all bridges.  Just the ones that pass over the interstate or intrastate or major traffic or long drops – not water necessarily.  I can stand on bridges that are over water and pose for pictures. But just as with railroad tracks,  bridges seem to freak me out lately.  I don’t know why. There’s no rational reasoning for it. I don’t recall having any bridge collapses.  But when I see a great number of cars below me, I am definitely not as excited as I used to be.

I am grateful that I am able to cross bridges and that they are available - I just wish I could cross them with the same enthusiasm as I did before I was the driver.

the assistance of a shoehorn

This morning I was helping Jenna to get the knots out of her shoelaces and adjust the shoes back to her feet.  She tugged at the heel of the shoe and stomped on the floor in attempts to get it to fit over her own heel.  It reminded me of the convenience of the shoehorn.

          I had worked at a daycare only briefly.  The children were required to take naps.  All shoes had to be removed before naps.  After the naps, all shoes were to be returned to feet.  This was not always an easy task.  Some of those children had really tight fitting shoes over really fragile feet.  Thus  I started bringing the shoehorn to work.

          Funny about the different reactions I received from the kids.  Suddenly I had this long line of children who would wait their turn to be fitted properly into their shoes – while others would go out of their way to find another teacher so that they would not have to deal with that “scary” shoehorn.

          It is actually a great invention.  I used to have several of them.  I don’t recall ever having seen one after I got married. 

I don’t think Jenna would survive Charter School

I had looked into a Charter school while Jenna was still in kindergarten (which I referred to in this post)   She needed to be challenged, and just wasn’t getting that in our assigned public school.  I am still on the waiting list.

          If she had started APA  in the first grade, I don’t think she would have ever questioned it.  She would have loved it in all the ways that I would have not, had it been available to me when I was a youth.  But after two more years of public school?  I think she would totally freak out and hate it even more than the school I was trying to get her away from.

          Jenna is very smart academically.  But organizational skills and prioritizing is not in her nature at this time (something that we will be working on this summer) and I don’t think she will adjust well going from free spirit to uniform and structure.  She tends to misplace things – which is NOT acceptable at APA (from what I understand)

          For example: on May 15^th Jenna brought some papers into me.  They were dated for March.  One was for the talent show that I remember her telling me about – but I didn’t see the form until six weeks after the fact.

          The other was about my scheduled conference with her teachers.  I was wondering where it had been. 

          I would prefer that she was more organized and cared more about her appearance and had more respect for belongings – but such a drastic transition (should the opportunity ever occur) would only discourage her – whereas she would have not even questioned it two years ago.

          And while there are things that I really like about the charter school, there are also things that I don’t like.  I would love to have her do more with music, but in the long run I think there will be more value in having her learn a second language.