W-W-W-Wednesday

So, if you send me an email forward with cutesy pictures or one of those damn internet hoaxes I just might hate you.

Okay, not really hate you but if it's a hoax thing I'll find it on Snopes.com and email you the link debunking your dreams of thousands of dollars from microsoft or good luck for the next ten years.

I'm thoughtful like that.



The kids joined the summer reading program at the library. Remember yesterday, when I was talking about the mini golf passes they are desperate for? Yeah, well, no passes this year. Will I tell the kids? Um, no. At least not until August.

See how nice I am??


No? You don't see? Well, neither will they if they find out I was wise to the whole 'no pass' thing.


Oh, and if you're going to share the info about contraband fireworks with someone at work, it's probably best to remember that the Fire Chief sits in the office next to yours.

Overheard Yesterday:

Can't we go swimming??!?! It's been like, ten or seventy minutes since we've been to the pond.
*whiny voiced daughter who has a very limited grasp of time*

I love money more than you.
*crying daughter, in a pale imitation of Mr. Crabs, after being told that we weren't going swimming again until AFTER supper* Oh, the horror.

Momma, I'm so sorry. I love you more than money. Because I'm poor, I only have eleven dollars. If I was rich I'd love money more. But I'm not *sob* I'm poooooooor.
*crying daughter, in a tearful hearfelt apology*

Basically, the schedule for the summer is this:

Wake up, watch Spongebob, swim.
Get dressed, go somewhere or stay home, swim.
Cook dinner while still wet, eat, swim.
Pajamas, game or a movie, sleep.

Later, rinse, repeat.

The water level in the pond though, is up about five+ feet and the steps that usually get you in are underwater. Way underwater. And now you have to take one horribly gooey step into the mud before you get to the steps. Ew. Or, you take just take a run and cannonball off the neighbor's dock. Which is a nice option.

We bought a TON of illegal fireworks this weekend. Well, a ton for us. Which isn't much at all in the truly hick world of fireworks purchasing. I'm wanting to set them off just so they won't be stored in the house, not for fear of a middle of the night raid by the town fireworks gestapo but because I'm convinced they will spontaneously combust in the cellar, blowing us all sky high.

The kids want to sign up for the summer reading program at the town library. They give out free passes to stuff you never want to visit. Except for the coveted "Free Round of Mini Golf", that's the one they work toward. Last year, they read like little fools, marking their progress on the charts they give out. They earned the mini golf fairly early on and then promptly quit reading. I almost, almost want to just take them to mini golf and forego the entire thing. The library visits, the charts, the overdue fines. ugh. But I won't, because I'm a sucker for kids that want to read.

P.S. I love this site.

P.P.S. And the Red Sox.

I'm TWO!

I just had to re-sign in to blogger and they have all of these.."blogs updated most recently" things. I remember when I used to click on those and maybe, just maybe I'd be rewarded with a new site to bookmark...

It was all so new. SO new. And in these parts, these New Englandy parts, it still is. Dooce? That's french for two, right?

And now, two years has gone by. TWO YEARS. And here I still am. Not with as much vigor as when I first started, with the posting every day. But still, TWO Freaking YEARS. For me this is kind of big. I've never kept a diary for more than a week or so and that was back in the days of padlocks and pastel covers. Now I look through my archives to find out when my TV last shit the bed so I can be sure to tell the repairman.

What bums me out is the comments, apparently this Haloscan creep deletes them after there's about one hundred, so all of your comments from days of old...they're gone. But not forgotten! Only, it looks like no one ever visited me until about one hundred comments ago. *sigh*

Funnily enough, I didn't remember it was the two year dealio until after I typed that first paragraph...



Tomorrow is the first official day of Summer Vacation, with both of my kids out, out, out of school. We have no plans. Nothing to get up early for, no lunches to make, no schedule...

bliss.


So, yeah. The girlie with the puking, me with the not puking but constant nausea...lots o fun.

But the day in between, was for most people, nothing more than a trip to the mall. But really, with a good friend, does it matter where you go?

Watching her try on those too ugly for words, but too comfortable to resist croc type sandals. And then talking myself right out of the same pair. And then ending up jealous because they are really THAT comfortable.

And a note: If you're going to *sample* the lotion at Williams Sonoma...don't pump the bottle three times to show your friend that she must be too wimpy to get it to work and then get yourself caught rubbing your arms and shoulders down with the super greasy lotion by the saleslady. I'm just sayin'.

And then to read her site and find out that she was eyeing bags/purses/satchels the entire time and DIDN'T EVEN MENTION IT TO YOU. Especially because that's just what you could've been looking for yourself. I need a good, expensive bag for the summer, LM. Durable, with lots of pockets AND I MISSED MY CHANCE?!

The past week in review:

Sick daughter.

Fun day out.

Sick me.

Work.

The end.

See y'all tomorrow.

He was grinning from ear to ear when I picked him up at the bus stop.

Mom, I won an award.

You did? What for.

*bigger grin* Being a great student.

Wha??? ooh, oooh, ooh, what's it say? can you read it to me..

And so he reads:

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Jenny, Each year at Smalltown Elementary, a number of exiting third grade students receive awards. We are pleased to notify you that THE SON has been selected to receive the Parron Scholarship Award. He was selected for this award because of his dedication, motivation, enthusiasm and performance as viewed by the third grade teachers. On Monday, June 19, 2006 I will be honoring the award winners with a special Principal's Lunch in my office. In the fall, they all be invited to a School Committee meeting where the Committee and administration will recognize them and present them with their trophies.
We are proud of THE SON and what he has done for our school! Sincerely, The Principal

There was only one of these given out. Mom, they said it was 'The Big One'. Well, a girl did get an award for loving school but the other four were for just art, gym or music. This is for Ev-Ree-Thing. Plus I get my name on a plaque that will be in the school forever.

Teary eyed mom replies : One? To you? *insert boy's name here* you have no idea just how proud I am right now. Repeat a few more times about the proudness ;)

And spend the night making statements like:

Oh, and the Parron Scholarship Award Winner doesn't think he needs to eat his dinner, eh?

and

Bedtime for the Parron Scholarship Award Winnah!

just to see that huge grin.


Just last week, at my wit's end, it seemed like I was treading water with him. I was hoping not to seem as though I was begging for pats on the back, because I wasn't, I was just truly exhausted. And you all came to my rescue in the form of kind words and such and let me know that being strict diligent is pretty much how you all are too and that it works and is working and buck up, Jenny. And also, that soon he won't need so much parenting. Which will be both a relief and in the same breath, somewhat depressing.

And so you were right. It does work, apparently.


*note that nowhere do I mention the fact that on Sunday it took four long and loud hours for him to write ONE paragraph for a book report. And that he almost didn't live to receive the award. well, i mentioned it nowhere but here, anyway.

A-Letterboxing We Go - With Updates!

So, I had the boy ditch school on Tuesday, because it was supposed to rain for the next forty gagillion days and well, it's fun.

We spent the day, much like we did last June, letterboxing. I tell yeh, for basically the cost of gas and a blank notebook it's pretty damn good. Well, at least for us. My kids love trouncing through the woods and sometimes muck, which isn't necessary all the time but I don't live anywhere near a booming metropolis...lotsa leaves and birds and brooks and such.

Anyway, letterboxing. You grab a blank notebook, a rubber stamp (preferably homemade),inkpad & a pen. Locate your destination on the website, print a few clues and that's it, you're off. Oh, sometimes you might need a compass too, read your clue carefully before you head out. I generally pack everything into a little backpack with my camera, keys & cell phone.

In some cases the directions are purposely vague. Peh. I'm more of a direct route kind of girl and the kids have little patience for driving aimlessly while I figure out our destination based on compass points and riddles. I digress. Most clues are amazingly to the point and still provide enough of a search for the kids.

And what are we searching for? Sounds ridiculously ridiculous, but we're looking for a tupperware container that holds a rubber stamp, log book, etc (basically all of the things that you've brought with you). You use their stamp, usually handmade and sometimes pertaining to the location of the box, and inkpad in your log book and you stamp their logbook with your stamp. That's it.
We've only gone out and done this four or five times, a total of 13 boxes found, so I'm certainly no expert. Partly it's the thrill of the hunt, partly it's the fun in looking at everyone else's stamps and now we've done enough to recognize some of the stamps from other letterboxers from the area.

But I have to say, I've been living in this area for ten years and I can't believe the places I've driven by without noticing. Parks,

walking trails and

monuments.
The World's Best Italian Ices and

beachfront playgrounds we never knew existed.

All in all, a good day.

And now I'm going to press publish and cross my fingers because blogger is driving me batty.


UPDATE: Here are some pictures of my homemade stamp. I feel all exposed showing my true uncraftiness like this...
I used a white vinyl eraser and an Exacto knife. Sadly, this took me awhile to do. Just a note: Remember to carve the mirror image of the what you want the stamped image to look like...because carving it twice...not as much fun.

In Which My Camera Takes a Field Trip

I carry my camera just about everywhere with me. Generally the batteries are dead or two pictures away from dead but still, it's in the purse. I'd love to have a fancy schmancy camera but I know my limitations. Those things break. My little Sony Cybershot? Does not. It is dented, chipped and scratched, has fallen out of my purse onto the pavement more times than I care to remember, been covered in snow, rain and now...has been away without me.
To an bald eagle banding. Our local eagle guru couldn't find her digital camera and so I offered mine. I should've made some 'I have to accompany this camera' stipulation but did not, every year more and more folks are tagging along with the fisheries and wildlife guys and the guru is distressed by this so I didn't push my luck.

Some guy climbs to the top of a very tall pine at a remote, lakeside location and takes the babe (or babes in yesterday's case) from the nest, while the mama circles and swoops and squaks at him. Nerves of steel it must take, those birds are BIG. He puts the little guy in a burlap bag and lowers him down for a checkup and banding.

I think the eaglets are between six and eight weeks old, but honestly I don't have a clue. They're not all that attractive and nation's symbol looking at this point but that beak scares the hell out of me.

And today? We're hookeying.

The boy is, by most accounts, a really good kid. He is. His teachers love him, parents complement me, he's got alot of friends but all I wonder is...when do I get to lay off? I feel like there's so much parenting - too much parenting him and not enough enjoying him.

My husband has accused me of never being satisfied. Not to say I'm a perfectionist, because I'm not but I always feel like I'm missing out, that I want more. I appreciate what I have, most of the time, but I spend far too much time wanting what I don't have. Or can't have. And probably don't even need. It's a crappy way to be. It's not just a material thing either.

Because I project it onto the kids. Far too much. I was going to cancel the hooky day tomorrow just because instead of reading before bed he spent the time sorting his baseball cards. Granted, as he went upstairs it was with a snide comment (another marvelous trait of mine) but he had already done his homework, finished up his book report book, made up a word search and helped his dad pick up roof shingles from the eldery neighbor's roofing job? Does he really HAVE to read, why did I insist on reading? what the hell is wrong with sorting baseball cards? I guess it's more the snide comment that frosted my ass but is that nuts? To cancel an entire day of fun because of one sentence? Why do I always feel like his behavior/attitude or whatever should be better? How can I let 10 minutes of bickering with his sister set the tone for the rest of the day?

He says I'm the strictest mom he knows. I tell him I'm diligent. He doesn't have the computer/tv/video game freedom that most of his friends have. He has an early bedtime, doesn't freak when I tell him he can't have Coke to drink while his cousin smirks in his face and gulps down a can, and still cuddles up with me on the couch to watch Frontier House. The rational side of me knows he's off to a fine start, but when will I let myself actually believe it?

Link Me Up

Looking for a new summer salad recipe that's pathetically easy? Look no further.

I'll find out Tuesday if I'll be needing a new one of these

Am looking forward to a day of hooky so that we can do this.

This is what the son wants to be when he grows up (this month, anyway)...and he's wanting to go to a camp this summer that's having a mini course on the subject.

I've never, ever been into one of these.

I bit into one of these and thought....'ugh, plain. too plain. where's the salt?' and then I read the label and found out they make them with way less salt on purpose. I mean, chips with less salt? what's the point?

Furniture I could live without

Poppy wants to see our least favorite/most hated piece of furniture for the Show and Tell. I was genuinely at a loss. I couldn't think of one piece of furniture that I don't like.

And then I went to put my daughter's pajamas away.

See the misaligned drawers? Well, they don't open or close all that well or all that easily for that matter. The husband has replaced all of the hardware. Twice. It doesn't matter, within weeks it's back to being all wobbly broken tracked drawers again. It's as if it likes it this way. It's sabotaging my furniture happiness.

This bland-o-bureau was mine at one point, bought at the unfinished furniture store and in my husband's first and last stab at decorating...stained and left handleless.

At one point I was going to paint it now I'm thinking kindling.