Triple F - Forced Family Fun

This bumper sticker on the back of an RV put us in hysterics in the front seat of our truck. We had obviously already been on the road too long.

Modern children seem not to realize how little control they actually have in their own worlds. Parents create the illusion. In some cases, the parents honestly give them the power. Having witnessed a few power struggles in my local Walmart, I am guessing parents do give their children too much power, at least now and then.

Okay, I do it too. Or, at least, I must. My kids occasionally mistake their own voices as being the source for decisions.

Sitting in an F-150 truck for a couple of thousand miles (5500 miles by the end) brings out these kinds of errors in thinking. I brought a lot of very fun activities for the kids to do with (and with some relief) without me.
Andrew’s smart mouth quickly won him hundreds of miserable miles.

It started before we left. I had asked Andrew to do something for me. Honestly, the original assignment may have come from his father. Either way, we asked him to finish it before we left. We told him that if he didn’t finish it, he would have PLENTY of time in the car to put effort into it.

He didn’t put in much effort before we left.

Once we departed, the smart mouth began. The hole he dug became deeper and deeper. Fortunately, I had also brought good quality activities for him to do that he didn’t like very much. Parenting can be ugly business.

We also had fun. Jay made bets with Andrew on how fast he could finish parts of his assignment (not ALL of his miles were miserable - just hundreds of them!). Gladys taught George how to read and write (or so it seemed from the front seat). We ticked off the states and found ALL of the license plates, including the large Canadian provinces.

This is the "Gateway to the West" on I-80 near Fort Kearney, Nebraska. I missed the Nebraska sign.

Our children travel remarkably well, especially once they realize they have no choice anyway. When traveling across northern Montana (later in the trip), we stopped for lunch around noon. Five hours later, Gladys mentioned that she was getting hungry.

“We just stopped,” Jay said with disbelief.

“We’ll find something soon,” I told Gladys, sure my husband was kidding.

He wasn’t. The kids had been so good and we had been having such a relaxing time enjoying the view and playing games, he seriously thought we had only just stopped.

Who has that much fun in the car?

Well after sunset, about 1200 miles into the trip, we found the best accommodations ever invented (in a “my glass is half-full” dollar-for-value kind of way).

Welcome to the 5-star Cenex Station in Western Nebraska.

They’ll leave the light on for you.

Epic Journey 2011

I like this picture because it is just as blurry as how I remember that first evening. We left around 5pm or so. Was it 5pm? It was raining. It wasn’t just a little, soft rain. It was the kind of rain that soaks you before you get in the car in your own driveway.

The kids and I were unusually ready for this trip. They have become helpful in a real way. They have always “helped” as little kids like to “help.” That kind of “help” makes mothers lose their mind. They are beginning to actually get the point. I realized this the morning we were leaving.

“Wear what you want to wear in the car,” I told them in my usual way. Gladys likes to dress appropriately. She asked me what she should wear today. She replied just as matter-of-factly as I spoke.

“Will I be wearing this for the next two or three days?”

“Maybe,” I answered back.

“Okay, Mommy.”

They remember. They remember different details than we do. Will they remember that for 23 days their parents put away the cell phones? What will they remember?

The Hit and Run Playdate

George and I were alone this afternoon with no particular plan. "Mom, let's do something FUN!" He looked at me with excited eyes. I paused for a minute, not wanting to commit to anything outrageous. I thought maybe a trip to the library, or perhaps a museum, although I didn't really feel like driving downtown. We haven't taken many field trips this year. "Can I have a playdate!?" I was almost surprised that he knew the word "playdate." Perhaps he had heard the mothers discussing the concept in the halls of the preschool. George doesn't really have playdates. Andrew, when he was in 3's preschool, still belonged to two playgroups and had playdates in between. George plays with his siblings and his siblings friends. Overcome by guilt, I pulled the preschool list and took out my cell phone. "Who would you like to play with, Honey. I'll call their mommy. They might be busy, but we'll try, okay?" "Bobby, Mom, I want to play with Bobby." I called and left a message. "Bobby's not home. Anyone else?" "Aiden, Mom." I called and left another message. "How about Allison?" I asked hopefully, I liked talking to Allison's mom in the hallway. "I don't like girls. Try Tyler's Mom." I called and left another message, and then another. I think I called five mothers in total and left messages with all but one. No luck, but we could go on a field trip. George wanted to go downtown to the 'ball pit' at the Science Center. Fine. We put on shoes and coats and headed out the door. The phone rang. "Oh, Hi, yes, yes, I called just a few minutes ago. No big deal, just wondering if the boys could play together. George has been so excited to play with your son." We talked. She wanted us to come over to her place so she could put her littler one down for a nap. Yes, we could do that. Her little one screamed in the background. It was the normal, tired kind of fussing, but she probably only caught a third of what I actually said. She suggested that I leave George to play, so I could get a few things done. I suggested that it was 'too much,' and I'd like to get to know her, it is really fine. We proceeded politely, with background screaming, until it appeared that it might be helpful if I left George. She could take care of a few things while the boys played and her other one napped - I remember those days. Sometimes two happy toddlers are easier than one bored toddler. Yes, I would leave George, but I decided I wouldn't hurry and leave plenty of time for us moms to chat. These are new preschool friends. I would be overly polite and try hard to remember what it was like when my oldest was four. George and I already had coats on, so I just grabbed the same preschool list with the addresses and proceeded out the door. I had never been to her house. We arrived and were welcomed in. They were finishing lunch, which she hadn't mentioned on the phone. The boys started playing soon enough. We talked for a little while. And then, eventually, we chose a good time for me to return and I left. At home, I ran around like a crazy person. I was on the phone, on my e-mail, and folding laundry all at the same time. One of the other moms called while I was on the phone, but couldn't click over. I'd call her back. I returned to pick up George on time - maybe even early - and the boys had played together wonderfully. The mom was pleased and seemed to have had a relaxing time with her little one, although the nap obviously didn't happen. But, that is how things go sometimes, right? She was super-nice and I left feeling like I wish I hadn't waited until towards the end of the year to get to know her better. I was home in plenty of time for Victoria and Andrew to get off the bus. The afternoon went smoothly. Andrew had a great day at school. He received a good report card. We had cupcakes and talked about school. The kids played their piano lessons. We went to Tae Kwon Do. The rest of the evening would be a huge rush to make it to cub scouts. I had a brief moment to check that message from the other mom. "Hi, this is Caroline. Just calling to check in. I figured you had gotten lost at first, but so strange that you aren't here yet. Um. Just hope everything is okay." Oh, oh, oh, oh DEAR. I called her back. "Hi, Caroline, how are you?" "Fine, everything okay?" "Well, I am a crazy person, but I think this morning I found the most gracious woman in Ohio." So, what is the correct protocol when you have invited yourself over to a new friend's house completely unannounced and left your child for a playdate? I mean, this does happen to other people in real life, right, not just on bad sit coms?

The Scariest Thing Ever

Boys take control over the unknown, the frightening, by embodying their foes. By acting out scenes, and experimenting with thier fears, they learn how to conquer them. I read it somewhere, long ago, back when I was overwhelmed with one child.

Andrew never did it really. But, I excused so many of my friends' boys for dressing up as Darth Vader. We all read the same article, way back when our first children were small.

George is not my first child. So, why am I surprised? Always surprised. When I turn off my light at night, my heart cannot allow them to become one day older. No, not even one day. The next morning I am always suprised.

Gladys ran through the kitchen, shrieking in mock fear, with George at her heels.

"Gggggrrrrrrr!"

"Eeeeeeek!"

I laughed. They ran through again, then again.

"I'm going to get you! I'm cancer!!"

"You can't dooo that," Gladys protested, "Cancer is a disease. You can't SEE it."

I looked at them both, then turned away, hoping my feelings didn't escape through my eyes.

"What does cancer look like? Hmm. Interesting question . . . " I spoke into the air, in that lame, parental, not-knowing-what-to-say sort of way. He picked the scariest thing. He picked something that frightens adults.

George drew a picture.

This is cancer.

Happy New Year!

Our family has a tradition, every year, of making new year resolutions. It is not exactly an original idea, but you'll notice that our cake is not entirely original either.

I believe, when things become unoriginal, they are deemed "traditions." And, therefore, rather than begrudging my lack of creativity, I will also deem this a 'tradition.' I will also add that it makes quick work of all of those leftover candies from that gingerbread house we made before Christmas.

So, for posterity, I will officially record our resolutions.

George - Run around a lot. (Must be working off all that cake he ate last year).

Gladys - Eat lots of good foods and do more artwork.

Andrew - Have a "car free" day, when we run all our errands on bicycles, and do more artwork.

That, in itself, gives me plenty to do. I'll be cooking good food, coming up with art projects and riding my bike around town. But, this year I wanted to give myself a really good and concrete goal that my children could celebrate with me.

I could do a whole lot of different things, most of which would make little sense to my kids. I needed something simple, measurable, good for me, and easy for the kids to see.

I'm going to grab my feet.

So, hopefully, in this very spot next year, there will be a picture of me standing on one leg, grabbing my other foot above my head like a Russian ballerina.

And, if I'm lucky, it won't be followed by a picture of me falling and breaking my hip.

Happy 2011 !

Grandpa Pumpkin

When Andrew decorates his pumpkin,
Sometime in the Fall,
I have my own opinions, but don’t say a thing at all.

I asked him for his theme –
I knew he’d have some scheme –
And really, I don’t mind at all
Lest he choose something obscene.

“I’ve used those foamy stickers,
and once I made a clown.
But, this year I think I’ll choose instead,
To make my pumpkin Grandpa’s head.”

This was not what I’d expect,
And knew he meant no disrespect.
I knew without inquiring
This is a child’s mere admiring.
And really, I don’t mind at all,
Though I think you’ll owe my Dad a call.

He started with the eyes – all blue and brown and green.
“You know that Grampa’s eyes,” he said, “are the coolest ever seen.”
He put in a button nose and a big red, wide smile,
The kind that stretches ear to ear - nearly a full mile.
If he asked, I would have said, “That smile’s way too tall,”
Anyway, he’s just a kid, it won’t be Grandpa’s head at all.

So quick and sudden I heard him shout.
“The ears must surely stick straight out!”
I’ll need some tape and scissors quick,
I need to make them really stick.”
He was having such a ball.
Grandpa wouldn’t mind at all.

He left the pumpkin nearly bare,
Except a crown of straight black hair.
Grandpa’s likeness made with such care,
I found it hard to stop my stare.
But when Andrew ran off into the hall,
What came next, I couldn’t guess at all.

“Andrew, where are you? I think its done.
Why did you go off in a run?”

“Mom, we can’t leave Grandpa just like that!
He can borrow my favorite hat.”

Its Grandpa for sure – no other guy.
But when I look him in the eye.
This pumpkin will last, and I know why.
I can’t make Dad into pumpkin pie.

The Engineers and their Red Coats

This poem was written on behalf of the Northeast Ohio MIT Club. Since you may not be an MIT alumnus reading this poem, please be aware that "Red Coats" are the folks who have celebrated the 50th anniversary of their graduation from MIT. Of course, MIT degrees are always spoken of by course number, thus the Civil Engineering being "one", and Mech E being "two".

And, finally, I extend due apologies to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. I'm taking it for granted that Paul Revere was a Massachusetts native and wouldn't mind loaning his namesake poem out for the intended purposes.


Listen my friends and you shall hear,
Of the tireless drive of The Engineers.
William Barton Rodgers in 1861.
Would ne’er believe today what he had begun.
An Institute of Technology now 150 years.

Industrial revolution to nanotechnology,
MIT graduates lead the way.
Through challenges of greater complexity,
Solutions of simplicity rule the day.
We take pride in our casual, confident, grace,
And may collaborate with those who dissent –
A straight path is rare to that hallowed place,
Where open minds create and invent.

The numerical language we all understand,
Helps us communicate as we spread ‘cross the land.
Much like lights in a belfry or a secret shake of the hand.
One if a Civil, two if Mech E,
And the tireless engineers, relentless will be,
Ready to motivate and spread the intent,
The mission we’ve carried wherever we went,
To help the community – and our kids – to invent,
New thinking and learning – ethical fun,
The kind you can’t stop, once it’s begun.

We thank the ‘Red Coats’, in a poem, if we must,
You have all led the way in your sphere.
The Club needs your talents, we ask for your trust,
As we move forward in our MIT Club year.
You have nurtured the Club through decades past,
And built a solid foundation designed to last.
We must leverage our strengths before the die is cast,
Leaving our nation behind the times.
We will grow and attract the very best minds.

If the “Red Coats are Coming!” you happen to hear,
You needn’t shoulder your muskets and stand,
Ready to fight and defend once again this beloved American land.
Instead slow down, take a moment to pause, lend a careful and listening ear.
If we climb our foundation, re-inventing no wheels,
And learn to open our minds without fear,
Without hesitation, our next generation, on the shoulders of giants will stand.

“The Red Coats are Coming!” I laugh with a smile,
Knowing together we’ll go that one extra mile.
Please stay in touch – that’s what we’re here for,
That, and to pursue just one idea more,
Because those tireless engineers are not old-fashioned lore.