Holiday Happiness

I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas, I know I did. What's not to like about Christmas? Well...there is the shopping and store crowds, the frenzied consumerism which begins shortly before Halloween. Oh, don't forget the helpful and pleasant customer service at all the stores. Hmmm... and the economy, the environmentalists, and the secular groups who have sanitized Christmas into a simple winter holiday. We won't even mention the whole untangling, bulb replacement and stringing of the lights (actually, I leave that for Papaschnuck). But besides all that, what's not to like? Presents under a tree, love, family, wonder, excitement, sparkling Christmas lights, pretty bows, screams of excitement, frenzied tearing of paper and enjoyment of gifts, given and received.

Christmas is so much fun with the kids when they believe in Santa. Santa is such a representation of childhood innocence. At our house, every year, Santa comes out the fireplace and leaves footprints of magic (fake) snow around the house. This year, he only left one footprint as I guess he has finally getting the message that the clean-up looms larger than the wonder of the discovery. I was a little nostalgic this year because Schnukie8 is, well, 8 years old (9 in six months), and this is most assuredly the last year of complete magic, where all four monkeys believe in Santa. Next year will be different. I have no doubt that Schnuckie8 would keep the secret, he always enjoys the power that is gleamed from possessing information others don't have. More concerning is, that there is a good chance that Schnuckie6 is figuring it out as well. He questioned the whole practicality of visiting every house in one night and posited that is seems an impossible feat for anyone. Oh for anyone, yes, it is impossible, I agreed emphatically, but... not for Santa because he has magic. I then quickly stammered out a rational defense that covered aspects of time travel, the theory of Relativity and a healthy dose of Santa magic. While he seemed confused he didn't reply with any further argument. (I think he decided to humor poor old mom and may approach Papaschuck in the near future.) Once he knows, it's all over. He will spill the beans to Schnuckie4 just to prove he knows more than her and it will break her little heart. He will derive so much 6 year old satisfaction from being able to prove her wrong, that he will be oblivious to the shattering of her little dreams. (well, I guess when she lands in therapy in years to come she will be brimming with all sorts of treasures for the therapist to pick over) But maybe, just maybe, the wonder that is Christmas will allow him to keep the secret and let Schnuckie4 keep that innocence for a few more years.

So, Christmas is over, New Years Eve will fade into 2009 (holy cow- where did the 90's go?) and the cold hard reality of winter and post holiday blues will come soon after. This year we have the added burdens and fears of a terrible economy, bailouts from the government growing exponentially by the day (our children's future tax burden), and my own personal fears over the erosion of the few gains made in the anti-abortion quest for the Right to Life that will occur under a new liberal president. My prayers will be that peace and joy will find our family (and all of yours). May the coming year be one filled with new adventure, new discoveries, and a renewed sense of values and personal responsibility for all. Merry Christmas, Happy New Year and may Santa live on, for a while longer, in all of our hearts.

Traveling along the highways of life

It is funny how connected we have become to each other. Cell phones and the Internet have made our world smaller and more accessible. But at the same time, it can remove us from those closest to us. We often insulate ourselves from the real world by connecting into the cyber one. I bring this up as I am furtively typing away on Papschnuck's laptop. My withdrawal symptoms abating as I have gone 2 1/2 days with no computer. The "geek" who came to the house to give me an estimate on fixing the jumbled mess I made as I tried (and failed) to streamline my programs, casually informed me he needed to take my machine. Now, Papaschnuck, in his infinite wisdom, has foreseen such a scenario and warned me this could happen. This had given me at least 30 minutes to prepare and prevent a complete breakdown and embarrassing farewell scene which may have occurred. At any rate, the Saturday estimate for return has been now been pushed to Monday, thus resulting in my hijacking the laptop. The dependence that I have on the computer surprised me even as I knew it would be difficult. The first day I went to the study numerous times, to check e-mail, or google something. I would sit and no sooner touch the keyboard (which the geek had left along with the monitor, no doubt to mock and taunt me) when I would remember it was gone. My connection to others seemed tenuous. I found myself picking up the phone a few times to check for a dial tone. I made quite a few more phone calls than normal. It was a strange and learning experience and it started my thoughts about this topic.

Also contributing to my thoughts was that last night as we traveled downtown to the "big city" with all four Schnuckies in tow to look at Christmas lights, and we were stuck in a hellacious traffic jam. As we crept along 95, Papaschnuck would comment on the number of kids (yeah yeah- young adults) who were texting. As the traffic was trying to narrow down to the left 2 lanes there was one after another rear-ends accidents. How is it that a person can drive a 2000 lb vehicle along a road, in the dark, in stop and go traffic, and essentially do what I am doing now as I sit on the couch, and type away, eyes NOT ON THE ROAD???

(Now, full disclosure, I am kind of an anti-cell person. Don't get me wrong, when I want a phone to call someone, I have it (usually). I see the need when you are waiting for the pediatrician to return a call, or the school nurse needs to reach you (hmmmm that won't be an issue much longer) or, of course, and in the rare instance you need to contact your significant other because (ITS TIME TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL-COME HOME NOW!!) they are really very handy. I have a plan that I get 60 minutes a month, pay 20 bucks for it, and have only gone over my allotment once in 8 years.)

I guess I worry about the disconnection young people have from their surroundings. They go through life, connected to their friends, their facebook, their avatar, whatever, 24 hours a day. The erosion of our local interconnectedness is a direct result of our global interconnectedness. What does that do to our interpersonal relationships? Hmmmmm, I don't have the answer for that but I think I am gonna sign off now, stop yelling at the kids to let me finish this post, (my computer shakes abated for a few hours) and go give Papaschnuck a snuggle.

Death by Laundry

This will be my epitaph. When Papaschnuck and I were free and single, living downtown, we'd take our laundry to the Laundromat every weekend and carefully wash and dry 2-3 loads. Since I suffer from a common, yet debilitating, form of momnesia, I cannot recall if we got our washer and dryer specifically for the impending birth of the first Schnuckie or before but it has been a life saver. How is it that the laundry pile can grow, like a living creature? It never ceases to amaze me that each additional child, creates a magical doubling effect of the laundry. How is it that a small (relatively speaking here), creature can generate 2-3 loads of laundry a week? I easily do 10-15 loads of laundry a week now and winter seems to make everything worse. Between the pajamas, workout clothes, towels, sheets, underwear, socks, shirts and pants, ( with the occasional skirt or dress), my laundry room is brimming. There are days I feel as though I can actually see the pile growing (and it doesn't smell pretty either).

On the bright side, I find, I have come to appreciate tangible jobs.( I initially wrote "love" but decided that that is a little to enthusiastic and appreciate is more apropos ). There is, however, something about starting a job and watching it progress and then being DONE that is just good for the soul, darn it. There are so many things that we do day to day that are intangible that I need to count my blessings and enjoy the tasks that are measurable. Perhaps I ought to celebrate the joy that can be had by completing those measurable goals. At least I don't have to go to the Laundromat anymore.

Now let's talk about dirty dishes.....

Driving cars and behavior?

I have been thinking a lot about what makes us tick, not in general but specifically. Every one of us are made up of a compilation of various experiences which help shape us into the people that we are. Some people go about their day never giving much thought as to why they do things or why they react in certain ways. Then there are those of us who dissect each action, ponder over the source and try to draw conclusions about our own behavior. For example, I like a full tank of gas. When I say full, I mean red line on the F. I'm OK until I hit half a tank and then I begin to surreptitiously scout out prices at gas stations. If I happen to be busy I may even let it fall to 1/4 tank, but almost never lower. One time I was driving a company car and their was this, DING. I looked down at the dash and saw a tiny illuminated icon of a gas pump. Panicked, I almost swerved off the road as my brain tried to figure out what in the world was happening. Was the gas tank broken? Could it possible explode? My mind raced for a moment and then it dawned on me. I was low on gas. I had no idea there even was such a device in cars, how clever but who could possible need to be reminded to fill the tank? At any rate I successfully made it to a station and filled up, relief pouring off me like the vapors off the gasoline. Now one might jump to the conclusion that I have run out of gas before, perhaps more than once, but I haven't ever done that. No, my father ran out of gas once. Oh, when you were a child? No again! It was sometime when my parents first met. But hearing my mother recount the incident to him and reminding him to fill up the tank when we got low, evidently made it seem like such a terrible occurrence. An incident of which I may never fully recover, that I don't dare take the chance. A year or so ago I watched a John Stossell show which said that Americans like a lot of warning and a tank reading E really has quite a bit of gas in it. Nice to know but I'm not taking any chances.

So maybe I can blame mom as the source of my need to have a full tank, or maybe it is more related to other peculiarities I have. I tend to be a bit of a hoarder. No, not stacks of newspapers in the hallway or fast food containers in the bathroom. I just like, or rather need, to be prepared, which is why I have, 12 cans of tuna, 3 jars of mayo and 16 boxes of cereal among a plethora of other stuff in my pantry at the moment. I could cook a really complete dinner for 14 if unexpected company dropped by. Why that might be, could possibly require more analysis than I am prepared to divulge but suffice to say that at sometime in my life, or maybe many times in my life, I was faced with a situation whereby I felt out of control. Stocking up and planning ahead perhaps allows me to feel more in control, albeit an illusion of control.

So, to go back to my initial thoughts, we are the sum of many parts, it is these parts and pieces of ourselves which make us unique- the good and the bad. No one is exclusively all good or all bad, and in a perfect world, when we do bad, we learn from it and we move on and do better next time. Unfortunately, not everyone is like that, some people are destined to repeat the mistakes they have made over and over. I don't know if it is a failure to believe in yourself or a belief they lack the abilities to learn and grow, or maybe they simply don't see it as bad. But if you want to change, and are willing to work for it, you can change and grow and be better. One of my favorite expressions is, "When you know better, you do better" Easier said than done but vital because that is the KEY. Being able to recognize that you know better now, and then you do better next time. First, you forgive yourself for being human and doing the wrong thing. Then, just trying to just do better. You might not do it perfectly the next time but as long as you do it better each time, you will get there. As simple and as hard as that, DO BETTER each time. You can. We all can.

And while your at it, fill your tank so you don't run out of gas.

Choices Choices Choices

Yowsers! I have been researching various curriculum's that are available and it is unbelievable the amount of stuff that is out there. Inevitably it seems that every curriculum review begins with a glowing reference to the choices that are available today. Along with some sort of quaint disclaimer about how fortunate homeschoolers are today because that when the authors started homeschooling the only options out there were curriculum derived from former one-room school houses, written on parchment, and disseminated by the Pony Express. OK OK I jest, but one begins to feel wholly inadequate when one is unable to pick a curriculum given all the choices that are available. It has made me think, Is is harder to have too many choices or too few? Our society is is not a simple one, grocery store shelves are lined with choice after choice after choice of all different kinds of stuff: dog food- 19 brands; salad dressing -12 brands of 19 varieties; toilet paper- 7 brands, (one ply, two ply, deluxe, mega, super); crackers- 21 brands, countless varieties; soup, ketchup, beans, nuts, and we won't even discuss cereal which is often an entire aisle. Its enough to make one scream in frustration as you just try to find a item that works for your needs or tastes.

My goodness, what am I complaining about? Choice is good right? I mean we are an open and free society. So many choices would not be available otherwise. So, there I am, poring over reviews, nodding in agreement with much of what I read, thinking OOOHHH, Schnuckie8 would love that, or my goodness, Schnuckie6 could spend hours on that book. I then carefully mark the page with a neon orange post-it for easy reference later. The only problem is, later comes, and my book is filled with hundreds of post-its, spilling out from between almost every page. Although four is a lot of children, I have enough texts marked to educate 40. This is what it is like to try to plan for something that you have never done before. Like buying clothes for children. It is not until you have kids that you realize it is almost impossible to get a turtleneck over the head of a child under 12 months old. Not only does it feel as though you will snap off their head, but they have no neck for the turtle part. And what about overalls for 2-4 yr olds, ummmm no, not gonna work well with potty training. Buttons and even snaps on pants? little fingers can't do them by themselves until a certain age. Best of all is "dry clean only" clothes, FOR KIDS?? NEVER! Even if it is the most perfect adorable and fabulous outfit, do not buy it. If you do, it will guarantee that some well intentioned person will give them a glass of chocolate milk while they are wearing it and voila, you might as well have used it to mop off the dogs feet after a mud bath. they will never again be able to wear it again with the stains. But I digress....

So many homeschoolers I have met, and books I have read, encourage me to not spend alot of money at first. To wait and find out what works best for me and my kids, and of course, to save money, get a copier and buy used on-line. This all makes sense and intuitively I know this approach will be best, but I can't seem to stop looking for the "right" curriculum . I want to have everything lined up and perfect when it is time to start. Kind of like when I got the nursery ready for Schnuckie8, perfect I thought. Actually, I had a bunch of turtlenecks, the diapers were too small, and none of the clothes fit my first larger then average child (His head was so big at birth a volunteer had to knit a hat for him because all the ones they had were too tiny.). The sense of being prepared is an illusion, but it is an important factor. Because being prepared to homeschool is not really about the curriculum, but rather the confidence that I need to know that I can do it, no matter what the choices are that are out there.

Perfect pictures

Well there they are, Rub a dub dine, four Schnucks in a line. This was one of those pictures you can't plan out too much. It is rare that I can get a halfway decent picture of all of them at the same time, in some organized fashion. Inevitable one or another will be putting up rabbit ears, sticking out a tongue, or pouting because I began screaming Be quiet, sit still, and smile darn it!! They would much rather be silly and goof off and ruin a perfectly good picture than to sit pretty for a half a second while I construct a memory to last a lifetime. As I sit down and try to put together our Christmas card this year, (Yes I am one of those dreaded friends who creates a "newsletter" Christmas card filled with pictures of the kids) I realize that more and more my pictures tend to be candid, resulting is some glorious shots, and many more, not so much. The kids have fingers in noses and scowls on faces, they are showing off bellies and other various places (gee that last line reads like a song from The Sound of Music, these are a few of my favorite things). I now learn to have a camera ready at all times, take lots each time, and beg, bribe, and threaten when I really want a specific structured shot.

So while perfection in light and composition are sorely lacking in most all of my pictures, the sparkle of personality comes through. The picture below was the one I promised to them if they let me take the one up top. Somehow, I like it just a little bit better.

Thoughts of Change

Change is hard. While difficult to do anything involving conscious thought while beating your body to the ground in the 75 minute Circuit 2K/Cycle class at the gym, I began to wonder why I was going to miss this so much. I have been going to the gym somewhat regularly since I started to have children. All of the kids have gone to the pre-school at my gym (except the last Schnuckie who would be going next year) They have all spent time in the nursery while I have schlepped steps, spun the cycle, and heaved weights. I know most every employee, all the teachers, and many of the members. I always bring a book but rarely read it as I can't usually find a willing ear to bend as I work out. I realized that I really like my life and my schedule. I enjoy getting up, going to the gym, dropping one at pre-school and one at the nursery. I work out for an hour or so, shower, pick said children up, head home, eating lunch, then have quiet rest time. An hour or so later, up and clean up, play, await the school kids, then homework, activities, dinner, clean up, reading, and bed. Then its TV, reading or other endeavors. I am a creature of habit. I can eat the same breakfast, lunch and a rotating order of dinners, and be satisfied. I like my life, I like my gym time, and I like my routine.

Change is hard and while I look so forward to home schooling (read earlier post of idealized expectations ha ha) I get blue when thinking of the loss of my routine. I know I will have a new routine and we will work out a different schedule and hopefully I will enjoy it as much, but I am sad about moving on. It is like any other life change. While joyful, I also I mourned the birth of the last Schnuckie, as I knew I would never again be pregnant. Weaning him was hard as well as, after over 4 years between all of them, I knew never again nurse my child, and feel that special bond. As he grew, I mourned the last of the itty bitty teeny weeny babies (although my babies were never really teeny tiny, the first was 9lb11oz). Yes, I would hold others newborns, and maybe someday a couple of grandchildren, but my heart ached as I thought Never again. It is hard to move on and lose times you so enjoy. I often want to grab my kids and hold them stop them from growing so fast. I get desperate to think that there is nothing I can do (nor should do) to stop the march of time. The new joys they bring as they grow soothe my aches for the old losses. But loss it is and thus needs to be acknowledged. I am sad when I think I will not be in "my classes" next year, groaning and straining with all the women who have become my friends over the past 7 years. I will never peek into a pre-school class and see my littlest Schnuckie bend over a piece of paper, lost in deep personal thought over what he is doing. I will never see him sing at the Christmas show there at pre-school. Never will my girl go off in the school bus to Kindergarten, or have to do that "build a house" project. My boys won't be in chess club , or DI after school any more. I could go on and on.

Change is hard. Intellectually, I know I will move on well. But emotionally I am still working it out.