Sugar Baby

Have you ever heard of the book, Sixth Grade Sugar Babies? My son's teacher read it to the class, and all the students wanted to do their own Sugar Baby activity. They would carry around a sack of sugar for at least 24 hours with the purpose of understanding what a huge responsibility it is to care for an infant. Sam seemed enthused about the project when he explained it to me, so we went to the store and bought the 4 pound sack of sugar. His enthusiasm was was dampened when the class drew slips of paper to find out whether their sugar baby would be a boy or a girl. Sam's slip of paper said, "Its a girl" which he thought made no sense whatsoever.

The students had the option of dressing their "baby" (now grudgingly named Olivia) in baby clothes, so he went through a few boxes of baby clothes  I've saved to find something that looked like a girl would wear. He came up the stairs with a white sweater in hand (part of a baptism outfit, I think) After a few tries at dressing this armless sack of sugar, he gave up, opting for a simple flannel receiving blanket. 

After school, he and his baby got off the bus, having survived the school day together. He observed that for most of the girls in his class, it had been a chance to relive the years of playing dolls. They had babies that were fully accessorized, with outfit changes and mini-car seats. He came home mildly annoyed and still not sure where the head was supposed to be on a sack of sugar.

According to the directions of the assignment, if the student couldn't carry their baby along, they had to get a babysitter. There was NO way he was hauling "Olivia" along on his paper route, so I was appointed as the caretaker of the sugar. It had been a long day at school, so I willingly took it upstairs for a nap. 

That night, we were getting ready to go to a graduation party, and Sam started thinking about how he was going to manage his "baby". "Can I just leave it in the car?" he wondered aloud. After considering his teacher's directions to treat the sugar like a real baby, he concluded that wouldn't be an option. He made one phone call to a friend he could count on NOT to laugh, but that potential babysitter wasn't home. I made one final suggestion. "Maybe you'll be like most new parents and stay home from the party." 

He stayed home from the party. Tomorrow he has to take it to school once more so that each student can prove that their "baby" survived the weekend. 

After that, Sam has decided that we're making cookies out of "Olivia."

Field Trip

Since the budget cuts in our school district have eliminated all out of town field trip possibilities, I decided to get creative. This week I walked my class to Papa Murphy's, which is only a few blocks from our school. We are studying community helpers and I thought it would be fun for the kids to learn about the job of making and selling pizza.

My son Ben works there part time, and I was able to get permission from his school to have him join us for the tour. My students absolutely loved getting to watch him make pizza and see how the ingredients were prepped in the back room. It really grabbed my heartstrings to see my first graders looking up to a "big" teenager. They think Ben walks on water, and seeing him in a workplace created quite an impression with them. Ben got a kick out of meeting my class and seeing their excitement. He probably doesn't realize it, but he is a role model to these little people. 

Ben was a good sport to be a part of this first grade field trip, but I can't help but wonder if, in the long run, he will benefit even more from the experience than the little ones did.

Finally Got It!

Ever since the eggs hatched, I've been spending a little too much time lurking inconspicuously at the porch window with my camera, hoping to snap a picture of the mother robin with her babies. 

She doesn't appreciate my intrusion, and always flies away angrily the split second she detects movement at the window. When she's away, the babies burrow their heads down in the nest and don't look very photogenic.

I feel a little guilty....like the bird paparazzi or something....stalking this poor mother as she tries to go about her everyday life, causing emotional distress while she looks out for her babies' welfare. She never asked to be the subject of so much attention, yet this photographer's need to get the perfect shot seemed to be more important than her need for privacy and security.

It's doubtful that I'm an exceptional photographer, and it's more likely she did what many sought-after celebrities do....posed for a picture hoping I'd go away and leave her alone.

A Baseball Watching-Flower Planting Weekend

What an awesome weekend! 

It was a pleasure to sit on the bleachers and watch Sam's game Saturday morning. Instead of bone chilling arctic winds, it was sunny and warm. I took a hooded sweatshirt to the ball park and didn't even need it! The boys even played better in the warm weather. 

After the game, Sam and I went to the greenhouse and picked out flowers to plant. I love to wander up and down the rows and consider my options. There's something so comforting about the warm surroundings and the damp earthy smell in there. It was a big decision... petunias or geraniums; impatience or vinca. I have large planters along the front of my house, and window boxes by the back patio. We found a pretty assortment of red & white flowers to bring home.

As soon as we got home, I got busy planting. It was great to get my hands dirty, and put some colorful blooming things outside. I looked for any excuse to stay outside and soak up a bit more of the sunshine. Even picking up dog poop in the back yard didn't seem to be the chore it once was. Our quiet little street had plenty of traffic with bike riders, and walkers with baby strollers. After the long winter, many people seem to have some sort of post-traumatic stress. It's great to be outside and see everything, including people, seem to come alive again.

One Year Down, Three To Go...

Today Perry and I drove to Iowa City and helped Joe move out of his dorm. It's hard to believe his freshman year is over already. It seems like yesterday that we were hauling all that stuff UP to the third floor. I remember how shiny and clean that brand new microwave looked and how we unpacked all his clothes and bedding with care. 

Today was slightly different. I carried the microwave away from my body so I wouldn't get whatever-it-was all over my shirt. His bedding and clothes were now shoved in trash bags that we hauled over our shoulders.

Un-decorating the room took much less time for him as he ripped flags and posters off the wall. Joe is a practical boy and doesn't fuss with hammer and nails. Duct tape had been used to secure all his decor in place. Bits and pieces of it clung to the wall and ceiling like some pitiful remains of party streamers. 

There were a few glitches in the moving out process. First, the main elevator wasn't working, which meant every student leaving Currier was trying to use the same service elevator. We borrowed one of those hotel-type carts and loaded it for the first trip down. It took 20 minutes of waiting to get a chance to squeeze in with another family and their cart. (What a way to make friends!) After delivering the first load to the truck, Perry and I bypassed the elevator ordeal and CARRIED the cart up to the third floor. (Why did I bother working out this morning before we left??)

Once the last load was in place we got a complete view of the mess left behind on Joe's dorm floor. The carpet was littered with icky looking particles and debris, but the dorm vacuum wouldn't be available for at least three more hours. Apparently, that vacuum is in high demand on moving out day, and Joe missed the memo about signing up for a time to use it.  I desperately wished for a broom and dustpan or something to tidy up the place. I even briefly considered crawling around and picking up the larger pieces by hand until my common sense and fear of infection kicked in. With a sigh, I reminded myself that this was HIS room and it will be HIS damage deposit. 

If I'd had a pack of post-its in my purse, I probably would have left behind  a quick note of apology saying that I'd really tried to raise him better than that.

Just Like the Jetsons !

Skype is one of my all-time favorite computer programs. I downloaded it for free, and we've used it for video chat with Joe while he's away at college. It does a mother's heart good to be able to see for herself that her child is doing ok.

Saturday, Joey called because he wanted to "see" the basement now that it's finished. So he got in front of his computer and we launched Skype from ours. After a few funky little dialing beeps, his face popped up on the screen. Ben was able to carry the laptop around the basement so Joey could see the new pool table as well as various views of the remodeled basement. It was so surreal to see his face and hear his voice coming from the computer screen knowing that he could see us, too!  As Ben carried it around, Joe even instructed him to "turn to the left" and "let's see the other side".

I can't help remembering the Jetsons cartoon I used to watch as a kid. I used to be so intrigued by all their awesome futuristic inventions. At the time, I remember people speculating about the possibilities of camera phones in the "future". That seemed like the most amazing idea.  As it turns out, a video phone is a pretty limited concept when I think about all the things we can actually do with the internet today.

The idea of having Rosie the Robot in my home doesn't seem as magical as I once thought, but I'd never part with my laptop!

Mother-Daughter Banquet

Last night I went with my mom to the Mother-Daughter Banquet at her church. We enjoyed having a chance to spend an evening together that didn't involve sitting on bleachers! My dad was in the kitchen, working along side many other men from the church. They were all dressed up and working hard to cook and serve the meal for the ladies. The fellowship hall was packed with people...I could tell that many tables held four generations, some women who had even come from out of town to attend. 

After dinner, everyone traveled upstairs to the sanctuary for the program. A group of older women had put together a collection of songs, stories and quotes about the seasons of life. As they sang, my eyes wandered around and I scanned the people around me in the pews. I found many other females I could relate to. 

The little girls sitting a few rows ahead of me were cousins. They wiggled, giggled and whispered through the program. I could relate to them. Sitting still in church used to bring out my wiggles and whispers too. 

To my left, I saw a harried new mom who didn't sit much that evening. She was doing mommy gymnastics as she bounced the little one on her lap, frequently reaching and stretching to retrieve things from the diaper bag. Later she stood, rocked and swayed in the back of the sanctuary to keep her baby quiet. Yep, I could relate to her, too. I remember those hectic years when traveling anywhere with my little ones seemed like an Olympic event. I felt like a human jungle-gym, and probably didn't enjoy each moment with my little ones as much as I should have.

Many women at this event, including the ones giving the program, were grey haired grandmas and great-grandmas. Some were aging gracefully, happy to be staying active and involved.   I sat next to a 97 year old former principal, who over the years has shrunk to about 4 feet in height. A person wouldn't have guessed her age from the sparkle in her eye, well dressed appearance and high heeled shoes. Other women wore sour, tired looks on their faces, undoubtedly caught up in the effects of their aging

That is a season of life I can't relate to. (Although the other night, I had a glass of wine at bedtime and had to "chase it" down with two Tums.) I can't help imagining myself thirty years from now and wondering how I will manage. Will the aches and pains of aging steal the sparkle from my eye? Will my face be frozen in a permanently disapproving expression? My mom has often remarked, "Getting older is a privilege, especially when you consider the alternative." How true that is. We all get older, but acting old is optional.

 

The Man-Cave

 

The new pool table was delivered today, and Perry, Ben, Sam and Perry's dad have already spent hours down in the basement. The only sad part is not having Joey home to be a part of it.

I have teased Perry throughout this project about how the idea of a pool table turned into a "Pandora's Box". First there was the huge job of sorting out my workroom and relocating my stuff to Joe's old bedroom. Next, there was the decision to knock out a wall and expand the basement into one large open area. After that, there were the many snags we encountered with trying to match carpet and paint colors. (Who knew that the basement carpet we layed less than a year ago would be discontinued already?!) I haven't been able to park my car in the garage for three weeks because there have been construction materials in the way.

Wednesday night, my grumbling subsided as we cleaned up the last of the drywall dust.  Perry and I spent hours vacuuming and wiping down furniture, then moved the furniture to the new side of the basement to make room for the pool table on the old side. 

I have to admit, even though all this seemed expensive and unnecessary, it will be a neat place for all the boys and their friends to hang out. Can you just imagine the testosterone??

Expecting Robins

I know it's a silly thing to get so excited about, but I've got a new robin's nest right outside my porch window!

It's been several years since a mama robin has taken up residence in my wall-mounted bird feeder. The location is perfect for raising a new family...it's protected and out of the wind, and right at my eye level for checking on them daily.

I marvel at the way their nests are created. They are so sturdy and solid. If I had to use only my mouth and the roundness of my belly to form a shelter for my babies, my family's future would be in serious jeopardy!

Right now I've caught a glimpse of an egg or two in this mama's nest, although there are usually three. She gets pretty rattled when I appear at the window. Even though I try to be discreet, she detects the movement and escapes to the nearby fence. From there, she scolds me until she feels like it's safe to return home again.

I remember from other years, the rush of happiness I felt when I discovered that the eggs had hatched and there were blobs of bald babies laying at the bottom of the nest. A few days later, I remember seeing heads stretch up with mouths open expectantly as their mother returned with food. I was amazed (yet disgusted) to see how the mother "cleans up" after them seconds after they've had a bite to eat.

They grow up, and as kids do... need to leave the nest. After awhile, the fledglings were much too big to stay, yet, I hated to see them go. I could feel its anxiety as it perched on the edge of the nest, made a lurching forward motion, then settled back down to stay home for a few more hours. The mother waited in a nearby tree, patiently coaching her young one to try its wings and move on with its little bird life.

As much time as I spent sitting by that window hoping to see that big moment, I've never been able to witness it. When I stopped by for a visit later in the day and saw that one baby had gone, I felt sad and anxious, wondering if that little one was finding food, and if it was warm enough. I scanned the yard, looking for cats or other potential predators for my new little fledgling. Ridiculous, aren't I? Imagining one could actually prevent a young bird from growing up or protect it from the dangers of the world.

Why do I spend so much time watching this little miracle happening outside my window? Why do I invest emotional energy into this small part of nature's life cycle? That robin who perches protectively on her nest this morning doesn't know it, but she and I have a lot in common.

Prom Night

It's fun to read the blogs of other friends. Many of them have adorable pictures of their children, but my children are at the ages when they don't do very many cute things. Today, however, I thought my son Ben and his girlfriend looked COMPLETELY adorable.

Prom has changed so much since I was in high school. I remember taking a picture or two with my date, but nothing like the group photo events that take place now. The kids meet in a central location for large group picture taking. Usually the scenic entrance to McHose Park is the preferred location, but today's cold arctic winds would have ruined the girls' up-do's and turned their dresses into parachutes. Instead, Ben's group meet in the atrium of the hospital. It was a nice area for pictures, but I wondered if we were causing a bit of a spectacle for people coming and going to visit sick family members.

I remember going out to dinner, usually in my date's car that had been freshly washed and waxed. Now, the kids travel to dinner in huge "party buses". (Think Partridge family meets RAGBRAI) After the picture taking, the teen in our family traveled to O'Hana Steak House in Des Moines for dinner, and the parents went home for hamburgers and apple salad.

A few hours later, everyone congregates again to take pictures of our dressed-up kids. We will stand in line for over a half hour to get into the high school and watch the "Grand March". When I was in high school, the Grand March was exciting, but it resembled an elementary Halloween parade by today's standards. We walked through the main floor hallway of the school, out one door, down the sidewalk, and back in the other door.  Tonight, the couples will parade two by two onto the decorated stage of our high school auditorium, Academy Awards-style. Their names will be announced, and each couple will descend the steps off the stage and up the aisle. 

Maybe it's seeing my son with his shirt tucked in. Possibly,  it's the sight of him in a tie that makes me feel all mushy and proud. Maybe it's the way I saw him hold out his hand as his date navigated the stairs. It could be the way he told Perry and I "thank you" when we helped out with a few last minute details.

Today, I think he's completely adorable.