Buying books

Shopping is fun, well maybe not for all people but I really like it. I don't get much time to do the kind of shopping that I enjoy (long pondering excursions, poring over value, comparing prices wandering up and down the aisles). Most of my shopping seems to entail throwing things in the cart, trying to get through the checkout and back home in as short a time as possible. Coupon clipping and price per ounce calculations have given way to speed and making a mental vow to check for a better value next time.

For buying curriculum however, things have become a bit more tricky. I have been having to spend hours on line, reading reviews, attempting to make good choices about what style of learning may benefit one Schnuckie vs another. Trying hard to guess what level each may be, how independently they might be able to learn, and what additional supplement and practice might they need to progress with any particular program. It is all quite time consuming and much too much uncertainly regarding the overall success rate of any particular item I decide on. I am a tactile shopper by nature, I like to pick it up, look underneath, inside, feel it and sometimes even smell it. I like to know what I am getting before I fork over my money. As a neophyte, used curriculum shopping puts all that out the door, and I am sending checks to strangers, buying sight unseen, and overall forging new ground with every purchase. So far, I have received everything I have paid for and most people have been very kind, generous with advise and overall helpful.

I have been given a few suggestions about buying and I am trying hard to follow them all. Two jumped out as I heard them from many sources. First:

Don't become to invested in any one program, even if you love and it and think it is perfect, your kid may hate it. Some curriculum may not suit their style or their temperament. Be prepared to scrap everything and try something new.

This is definitely not my strong suit. I like to know way ahead what I am going to do and feel pretty sure it will work out, However, it also makes purchasing easier as I console myself with reassurances that it's OK if it is awful, I can always buy a different one and 'I'll do better next time'. (when you know better, you do better) Second piece of advice I got:

Do not buy too many things at once. It is easy to go overboard and get far more that you need and end of wasting money.

On this bit of wisdom, I figure that I have enough kids that if I overbuy for one, it may work out later with another one. But it is easy to see getting out of hand and it is very tempting to just buy buy buy. I have my guest bed covered with curriculum and workbooks at the moment trying to be sure I have things for everyone. I am finding that it really very to start from scratch, never seeing the books, and trying to get complete curriculum for all 4 kids. Well OK, at least for 3 of them. But I am going my footing and while a few things I have bought do not look so great, most of what I have picked has gotten me excited to begin.

The hardest purchase was the first one and now I am finding it almost easy (Paypal, and all), Well, no more time to waste blogging, back to shopping.....

What are you wearing?

I remember a few years ago I was in the mall on a quiet afternoon and I began to hear a clomping sound. CLOMP.........CLOMP.......CLOMP....... I turned around and saw a well put together woman striding along. Trailing 10 feet behind her, was a pretty, well dressed yet disheveled young girl, maybe 4 or 5 years old. Wearing one white tattered sneaker and one high heeled pink plastic Barbie shoe. CLOMP.... CLOMP..... CLOMP.... She strode along, determined to keep up with her mother and not at all concerned with her lopsided gait. I snuck a quick peek back at the mother who seemed oblivious to the fact that her daughter was so mismatched and unkempt. The mom seemed not to have a care in the world and her nonplussed attitude stuck me as somewhat odd given the fact that her daughter was such a spectacle. Of course, this was before I had children and had not yet realized that some battles are best left un-fought. I think of this woman often, and have grown over the years to admire her and realize that she possessed not a level of ignorance as I had initially thought, but rather a level of understanding that I have only recently begun to appreciate.

I have been on the receiving end of disapproving stares as my youngest Schnuckie has shown a fierce determination to wear only only those outfits by which he deems appropriate. There are many times I decide that the battle over clothes is simply not worth the time and if he chooses not to wear a coat in 12 degree temperature, so be it, he must carry his coat but if he want to be cold , OK. Of course, there are times I do have to draw the line no matter how fierce the opposition, like "No shorts in a snowstorm" but mostly I allow him this small indulgence, I figure he will figure it out and dress normal soon enough.



Now the older Schnuckie boys couldn't care less what they wear (as long as its not pink), in fact there are days I will mix up outfits at the end of the bed and inevitable my oldest will come downstairs dressed in his younger brother' clothes with sleeves ending at his elbows and pants hovering mid-calf, and he will be clueless as to what the problem is when questioned about his attire. When I will finally point out that he is wearing his brother's clothes he will them make the case that it is OK and he doesn't care (because he does not want to waste the time to change his clothes) but he will change when asked. Then along came the only girl. She has very strong opinions about her clothing but it is usually to lobby against dresses or a particular shirt, not for strange outfits. She can usually be soothed by showcasing two different outfits and allowing her to pick one. Lately she has become concerned with matching colors. Combing her hair is our bigger battle, but that's another story.


It was not until the youngest of the Schnuckies who, either by virtue of me spoiling him rotten or merely my exhaustion over the other more important things (like not having him climb up the outside of the stair railing), which has made him decide that he will only wear a few outfits without vehement protest. His favorite, any soccer outfit (his brothers old very large uniforms) cobbled together with soccer shorts (yes they MUST be shorts) from Goodwill. If he is particularly feisty, he will insist on cleats as well (instead of sneakers.) which are a few sizes to big, and occasionally the odd piece of sporting equipment for good measure (a ball or helmet, or even shin guards over ridiculously long large socks). Other variations on that theme include a lacrosse uniforms a swim shirt (I have convinced him it is a soccer shirt) or an ugly blue football mesh shirt he found at Goodwill. More traditional acceptable clothing includes turtlenecks (I have no explanations for that), any shirt with sports equipment on it and 'big boy ' pants (jeans). Hats of all kinds are coveted and worn, he had a day recently, following his sisters' preschool field trip to Giant Supermarket, where he wore the paper deli hat everywhere. Non-traditional choices of clothing include his sister's dress-up princess wear, and another favorite, either brother's cub scout uniform (belt and all). Doesn't matter if he is a Tiger, a Bear, or a Wolf, as long as it is proper dress wear and all parts and pieces are in place. I image with the oldest entering Weeblos we will see a new push for khaki this year.


So I handle it all in the best way I can, mostly by not handling it much at all. It is a wise mother who can look at her child and accept the outer package in whatever state it may be in. It is an even wiser (and might I say braver) who can also allow said child out in public in that same condition. So I now proudly march in front of him, purposefully ignoring whatever creation he may have on and allowing others to look and judge. And while I do give a wide latitude to what is acceptable I do insist on one thing, you have to wear something........ (well usually).

Schnuckie4 is turning 5

My goodness, Birthday Season is in full swing. Another celebration this special day, March 11.2009. Five years ago the doctor announced "Its a girl" and I opened my arms, grabbing this bundle of baby, and quickly assessed the situation for myself (yes, I has been told to expect a girl but after two boys, I wasn't gonna believe anything until I could check things out) yup, sure enough here she was, a round and cheeky, sweet little girl. (It actually took me quite awhile to not change a diaper with a sense of alarm that something was missing). She was so roly-poly and squishy chub that we took to calling her 'Nanuck Schnuck' and would comment on how much she resembled the baby in the movie Ice Age.



Somehow my husband (or maybe my mom, or some stranger that has decided to wander into my hospital room, as I have no recall of any of them) always takes a picture of me in those minutes right after I have had a baby. He snaps a picture of me in a moment that is almost uncapturable (is that a word?). These are my favorite pictures of me holding my kids, I swear I have four identical pictures of me holding a baby in my arms ( I can tell who it is but most can't), I have a look that I have never been able to duplicate (well, that's not true as I have four of them, but you know what I mean) I am beaming and proud and happy and content, I am full of love, and might I even say, (despite the dried sweat and messy hair and exhaustion), I look absolutely radiant and beautiful.

And so I had a girl, and a whole new kind of different. She has proven to be quite the challenge in areas that I did not know were suppose to be a challenge. She has forced me to stop and deal with imagined crisis everyday with patience and love (OK, I never claimed I was successful at that all the time). She is the most mentally difficult child I have yet I wouldn't trade one single strand of hair on her head for another. She is a 'mini-me' in many ways and I like to claim we have started early on the long complicated affair that is the mother-daughter relationship. She can be sweet and sunny, compassionate and loving. Yet, I frequently claim that I would never have another child for fear of getting another girl, as I feel I am not the best suited to the drama that they bring, (I wonder who is?). However, I thank God frequently that he blessed me with a daughter. She is the balance the boys need and I love her desperately. My sweet little girl has turned FIVE!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY SWEET SCHNUCKIE-PIE

When You Know Better...

Been thinking about some of my favorite quotes. Possibly one of the best is "When you know better, you do better". (Credit to Maya Angelou). It really is a little gem of of a quote. It lacks judgement, permits prior error but, gently lays down the line for you to cross over to wisdom. It is a simple way of explaining away the mistakes of your past, and moving you into a realm of enlightenment. In other words, it lets you let go and move forward. Serious and frivolous transgressions are both equal with these little pearls and it is appropriate to be used in every situation. It often pops to mind for self and others and I use it often.

Do or do not there is no try (Ok I do not often quote little green fictional creatures but come on, what a great one, thanks Yoda). Now, I happen to place great value in always trying your best, no matter your result. But I think that this has a good lesson to it. I think what is meant by this is that in the end, you will either do what you say or you won't (Hmmm that wasn't very brilliant. let me try again). In the end, trying amounts to nothing, it is either the success or the failure that will be remembered and have the impact. There is simplicity and truth to that and I think that it can help propel us to finish what we start or work at it until it is done.

Another one of my favorites is, "It is what it is" Such a cute little bundle of words, it even appears kind of balanced when you look at it on paper (or onscreen). Better yet, it speaks volumes. How often do we spend time wondering and wishing away whatever the truth is. The what if's and if onlys that we agonize about. It's all pretty useless to waste time on that what matters is what HAS happened and what you will do now. If we can accept that 'It is what it is' (whatever the is may be) then it is possible to move forward and maybe even do better now that you know better.

Since I felt this post was a little wanting I did a search for good quotes (I love Google) and found this one which says so much, so simply, which, I think, is the perfect definition for a quote,

Watch your thoughts; they become words.
Watch your words; they become actions.
Watch your actions; they become habits.
Watch your habits; they become character.
Watch your character; it becomes your destiny. (Lao-Tze)

Pretty powerful stuff, I think, and a kick in the pants for personal responsibility, something that often seems to be lacking these days.

Finally, Ben Franklin has tons of quotes but I like this one a lot: "Well done is better than well said". In other words, 'Actions speak louder than words'. Every parent can attest to the fact that 'kids will do as you do not as you say'.

OK now for a couple of fun ones:

"If you don't have anything nice to say, come over here and sit next to me". (Clarise, Steel Magnolias)

"Silence is Golden but Duct Tape is silver"(anonymous) a recent addition to my funny favorites

Better to seek forgiveness than ask permission. (But don't tell my kids that one)

Nature and Nurture

This happens to be a subject that has always fascinated me. I'm sure that has nothing to do with the fact that I am adopted. When people learn this fact about me they inevitably ask questions. First it's usually, "Wow, when did you find out you were adopted?" I have always known that I was adopted. It was discussed for as long as I can remember, mostly as a matter of fact. No big deal, that just the way it was. Next question, "What's it like to be adopted?" I have a hard time answering that one and I usually flip back, "I dunno, what's it like not to be adopted?". There really is no one answer to that, it means different things to different people, I guess. How would a woman answer a man if he asked her what it was like to be a woman? It just is. Being adopted is as much a part of my identity as being female. Finally, I get the most common question, bar none, "Do you know your real mother?" Yes I answer, she's up in NJ probably cooking dinner for my dad. I then wait a beat or two, watching the confusion on their faces as they struggle to 'correct' me, I let them off the hook and add, Ohhhh, you mean my BIOLOGICAL mother? Yes, I searched and found her more than 10 years ago. Truth is, my real mother is the one who raised me the one who changed my diapers (cloth no less) fed me, wiped my tears, dealt with my tantrum, and gave me everything else I needed to become the person that I am today.

So while I have no reference point for being raised by biological parents I do know that there are differences (and - to please the lawyers out there- of course, my feelings, beliefs, assumptions, thoughts, ideas and biases can not be taken to represent ALL adopted persons, only me). Probably one important thing for me was that I never had anyone that looked like me. I'm not talking about cultural or racial differences here, those are an entirely different kind of different. I was white and raised by a white family. And, I know that there are lots of people that look nothing like their B-parents but maybe never gave it another thought, or maybe it bothered the heck out of them, regardless most likely, their issues are different than mine.

There were, of course, people who would exclaim how my sister and I looked so much alike (we don't) or how I must have gotten this or that from my mom or day. Not true I would think. It was never a secret, I would proudly proclaim it to anyone often to shock or surprise them, at times to gain the upper hand in an argument, Oh yeah? Well I know because I was adopted!..... My sister and I would often not be believed when we told people that we were adopted, or really it was usually forgotten about by most everyone. One time I was discussing my eczema (which all my kids have now) with my aunt. She asked how I got it and I told her it was genetic. She looked at me baffled and said, 'Well that can't be true because how could you have it? Your mom and dad don't have it." I looked at her for a long minute and she still didn't realize, I raised my eyebrows questioningly and said, gently, "Umm I 'm adopted remember? " She was embarrassed that she forgot but, like I said, it was never discussed much, it just was.

I was the one who thought of it often, Where did I come from? Who gave birth to me? Do I have biological siblings? Who else looks like me? Does my Biological father know about me? Why did she give me up? etc. etc. etc. After a long search ,I did find some answers but with it came tons more questions. A story best left to another post.

So I went through life, (occasionally teased as a child) dealing with being adopted. Gritting my teeth through every class family tree project or family cultural day celebration. Dealing with the prompting questions from nurses when the forms were not completed regarding family history (I even had one young nurse look up at me in alarm when I informed her I was adopted. "OH, I am so very sorry" she murmured. I was so taken aback by her apology I didn't say know how to respond, something almost unheard of to those who know me. ) I never knew where I came from, which foreign land I could proclaim as my homeland. There was a sense of freedom as I could be Irish on St. Patty's Day, or Italian whenever I wanted. My parents (real that is) were German, so I often lay claim to that. But I really didn't know, and I often felt as though I had been dropped from the sky with no roots.

Having children however has now begun a new shoot off the vine. It makes my being rooted in something tangible on this earth. All my children strongly resemble me (some say Schnuckie 4 is a mini-me. I smile, that means so much more to me than maybe it does to others). I think it is God's cosmic influence. I may not have had a solid base of knowledge about my own genetics but they will have much more than I. They will know that they have German, and Irish and a pinch of Cherokee from my husband. They will know that there is Danish and German blood (I think) in my veins. They will have a good medical history and most likely never give a thought to doing family tree. They hopefully will not wonder if that stranger on the train may have a relation to them. They will never be questioned as to if I am "their real mom".

I want to thank my mom and dad (my REAL mom and dad) for everything, because while they did not give me the genes they gave me everything I needed to be who I am. I just hope I am able to impart the tools upon which my children will need to mold the raw material I have given them, for those are just so much more important.