Filed under: Children, birthday party, parenthood, parenting, vacation | Tags: birthday party, Great Wolf Lodge, toenails
![GreatWolfLodge[1]](http://playgrounduprising.files.wordpress.com/2009/10/greatwolflodge1.jpg?w=312&h=141 "GreatWolfLodge[1]")
I have not written on my blog for a while and though I have made lofty, yet sporadic attempts to rectify the situation – life just seems to get in the way. But – as all writers know there are experiences that run you over and just yell WRITE ME! I had one of those this weekend.
It began something like this:
“Mom I want to go to the Great Wolf Lodge for my birthday.” To which I responded, “Their closed.” “For how long?” “Until 2021 -which is around the year you turn 18 and can take yourself.” “Mom, – that is impossible- I just saw an advertisement on TV.” Curse all forms of technology. Think, Think, Think. “Well if we go to Hell and Swaller, I mean the Great Wolf Lodge, than that will have to count as your birthday party and you won’t get the opportunity to have lots of friends over to give you expensive plastic things that break.” “I’m in.” “Call your grandparents.” “No!” “How about the new neighbors that just moved in – perhaps they will take you.” “No – mom you and dad have to take me.” “Damn!”
And so we did – and as we headed down 64 East I tried to convince myself that Hell and Swaller could not possibly be as awful as I remember – but this fleeting crash with optimism was quickly averted as we got off the “well marked” exit in attempt to follow “the signs” – that led us 5 miles down the road to an old gas station and an exasperated husband yelling “where the hell is this place” to an unassuming gas attendant that appeared to be counting his blessings that he did not have to accompany us into the darkness.
And as we arrived – we found that check-in time was at 4pm, but you can kindly come at 1pm and rent a locker in which to store your stuff. The locker only costs a week’s salary or an unborn child. We tried to offer Charlie, our second child, – but the temper tantrums dampened the sale. Fortunately for us – we were able to sweet talk the nice lady into letting us move into our “nonsmoking” – smoked fill room a bit early so that the boys could throw their clothes around the room, wrestle, and get their bathing suits on in anticipation of the water park.
Yes water park – because if you are going to spend 24 hours in hell what better way to capstone the experience than being wet and in a bathing suit with 300 other people that missed the memo that there is a certain age and a certain size in which bikini’s are no longer an inalienable right.
And after the germ infested water drained parents’ energy and good humor (ok we never had any of that) – we were off to dinner. A steal to be had at $18 a person – allowing you to feed the fam a nutritionally void meal for around $100. And don’t forget the plastic –no not utensils – I mean the plastic wand, and plastic toy, and plastic tasting pastry that are all yours for the remaining part of your retirement.
And as the evening waned and we hopped on beds and big brothers practiced karate moves on little brothers – Mac comes out of a small body slam holding an unidentified, sasquatch like white thing and exclaiming – “look dad I found your toenail.”
Only that one wasn’t ours.
Next year I am sure the Great Wolf Lodge will be closed in October and we will no longer have access to any form of technology that connects us to the outside world.
He’s two and a half. The economy’s downward spiral is not helped by our weekly purchase of diapers. AMVETS is now the proud owner of a pack and play. Our crib has gone down the road to a young woman who just had triplets (God bless her). We are moving into Big Boy territory and that terrain calls for underwear. It’s true. Ask anyone.
So – two weeks ago on an obligatory Target run I found myself spouting, “Charlie – how about we look at underwear. How cool would that be?” “NO” And so the story should have ended there. But in my mind I am thinking “GAME ON.”
Think….. think … “Charlie – I bet if you went potty I could spot you a M&M.” Never mind that just last night I shared with my graduate students the perils of extrinsic rewards.
The red head is not impressed. “NO.” Hmmmm, Hmmmmm – “Well the economy is slowly coming around – I bet I could score you a whole bag.” “NO.”
He looks at me with a “this woman is obviously not riding my wave so let me break it down for her” kinda look.
“Mom, I wear diapers. I am not wearing underwear. No. No. No. No” (Now close your eyes and imagine the red head stomping with hands on his hips and a noncompliance eye). All children have gifts. Mine is extremely verbal and he never loses an occasion to use it against me.
“Greg – he is not ready. We cannot rush these things.” I say over dinner using my calm educator’s voice, but inside I know that I am a “my schedule kinda girl” and whooooo hooooo we are jumping on the underwear train.
Later that night Charlie and I pick out several books and climb into bed. We have the terrible trio – Wheels on the Bus, Machines at Work, and Big & Little. He has meticulously picked each book out with an anticipatory grin that says “yes I know I pick these same books out every night, and yes I will continue to have you read them to me though the year 2011 – which by my calculations is the precise year I will entertain wearing underwear and at a minimum it is going to cost you a crate of M&Ms.”
Well Little Mama had some trick of her own – and as we closed the cover to the last book – I pulled one last treasure from under the bed. POTTY TIME. “No, no, no, mama I DO NOT LIKE POTTYS THEY GO IN THE GARBAGE TRUCK.” “Oh silly boy, this book is not for you – I am just itching for a read and you can listen to if you want.” Score one for mom. Sure enough the little man snuggles up with me and as I victoriously read the last page in which Michael pees on the potty, Charlie gleefully says – “Look mommy it is our family, there is you, daddy, and look there – Mac (aka big brother) is on the potty peeing. Good for Mac.
Game over!
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My husband has been in Honduras for the last week. In short – we are a proud but mournful family unit – who misses their third ill behaved kid. So –today I broke down and actually paid the gym daycare $10 so that I could have an hour on the treadmill and elliptical machine in an effort to get my groove back. Sometimes a girls got to break bad in order to retain her Saturday sanity– a feat I usually accomplish on my neighborhood runs. But despite the chaos – I understand that leaving one’s young children unattended in the house may result in an unexpected visit from our friends down at Social Services. Not to mention – that besides soccer and matchbox cars – Mac’s favorite pastime is setting up the redhead for an inevitable fall which he is the first to plea – not involved. It goes something like this. I say, “Mac, please do not stick that very strange suction cup toy – plucked from the overpriced, nutritiously void, environmentally hazardous Happy Meal –on our freshly painted walls.” This request is promptly translated to “Oh mom does not want ME to stick this thing THERE but – the red head over HERE lacks forwarded thinking and craves catastrophe – so I think we have ourselves a winner – CHARLIE ………” Screech – laugh – paint chip falls to the floor – “MOM look at what Charlie is doing, bad Charlie.” This scene has repeated itself approximately 11 times over the last twenty four hours – and has only ceased because strange toy mysteriously found its way to the trashcan and then a landfill – where it will sit for the next quadrillion years to torture future generations. So imagine the apocalypse that could ensue with an hour of no parental guidance? Come to think of it – a quiet night in the slammer isn’t looking so bad about now. I am going for a run.
Filed under: Uncategorized
Tuesday, March 3, 2009 / I Am Back
Well it is officially Tuesday, March 3, 2009 and I AM BACK – after a wee bit of a hiatus - that if one was going to get picky – could be roughly calculated out at about a year and few months thrown in for good measure. Ooooops – time does fly when a girl is trying to skirt her responsibilities. So how did I arrive at this juncture at 12:31am? Well first of all my husband is in Honduras and my oldest son is at the grandparents’ abode – and I feel like a kid in a house with no rules – so I am staying up late – and eating M&Ms with a toddler as we watch yet ANOTHER rerun of the Backyardigans all the while – my mind wonders to the America’s Next Top Model marathon calling my name just a few channels away. Well the runway will just have to wait. And – in the heat of another Backyardigan snappy song – after being torn away from the lure of Facebook – I stumbled upon my old Pal Stacey’s blog http://www.lovebugandrolleypolley.blogspot.com/ which you should really check out – simply because she is fabulous and I say so. Then – all at once – it hits me like a ton of bricks – or perhaps like the matchbox car that just got tossed into my head at appalling speeds – I miss being a writer. You see – earlier this year I left the University life – hanging up my professor glasses and patched overcoat – and put on my holiday teacher dress as I headed back to the classroom to teach fifth grade. The move feels right – and the boys (I teach at a boy school) are energizing and smelly. But amidst all this change I lost THE conversation – the one that goes something like “yo how is that article coming – or will you read this draft of my paper” – and so – I simply stopped writing all together – while never really noticing the hole until it was just so big – and I was scared I might fall in if I returned. But – as explorers must do – I have trudged back to the trenches where I will begin again – and hope some of my old fellows will resdiscover me and start another grand conversation. Until then. TTFN -DCS
PS – Did I mention it is a snow day?
“So, Mac ~what is your favorite thing to eat?” Dr. X inquires as she walks into the exam room for the five-year old check-up.
”McDonalds,” the boy offers boldly – assured he has gotten this test question RIGHT. Because, just that afternoon, after being subjected to yet another kindergarten readiness screening, I offered up the golden arches as a reward for a job DONE, not thinking our lunch scheme would enter into the afternoon interrogation. After all, I am a vegetarian and try to stay away from the slaughter – so McDonalds drive -byes happen approximately three times a year – as a buy off for not yelling at or in the barbers, a reward for brotherly love, or when a minor hurricane has shut down ALL other establishments offering food. A point I am too tired to offer up as Dr. X records a F next to “parent provides family with daily nutritious meals.” A fact further confirmed as she digs deeper and questions, “So Mac what type of green things do you have in your house?” And I am thinking, redemption, we have this baby in the bag – cause we gots spinach and endamame and green bean and peas – just falling out of the refrigerator. A homely image Mac fails to pull up as he replies– “Oh yes – I really like those green limes my daddy put in his DRINKS (extra emphasis on s) every single night.” Suppose I should start joining daddy more often.
As writers we ask our world each day: What is the story here?
So when Mac says he is “really sorry about what just happened to the bathroom wall,” my first thought is “damn, he has arrived at the age where he will remember and probably repeat the string of obscenities I am about to try on” and my second thought is “hmmmmm … what is the story here?” Well the story that day is that according to reliable male sources … sometimes when you put off mundane tasks, like going to the bathroom, in favor of more important endeavors, like launching matchbox cars down spiral staircases, that you relinquish the privilege of taking the time to actually aim at that large thing in the bathroom us girls call a toilet. Last night the story was that I was so overwhelmed with guilt after sending my youngest to school, after staying at home with him the day before, only to arrive and find him sitting sadly in his teacher’s lap just feeling like poo. So we huddled and we scuddled and we all went to bed early and that story is still open ….because I wonder if there is a better way or another calling where as I can do more for my family while still developing as a professional and providing that financial support. And that story is the one I am thinking about today. What is your story gentle reader? It has been a while since we have talked.
Creative Writing
In the coming weeks one of my classes is going to wade – and then sink right down into the world of creative writing in the elem. school classroom. In anticipation of this event, I have been combing through my books and various websites for refreshing ideas. Below I share a couple of my favs with you …. And I would love for you to respond with a couple of your own. Until then …
- Bodystorming: a student lies down on a large piece of butcher paper and a partner traces a leg, an arm, or the whole darn body … the student then reflects on her traced body part and recalls words, sounds, and any conclusive memories … which she then records in the outlined form (idea taken from a presentation by the Virginia Writing Project).
- Sausage poems: “ Poems for vegetarians and carnivores alike. A string of words with matching endings and beginnings. Choose either letters or sounds for the word boundary matches (it gets confusing if both are allowed)”
Example: Good dogs shouldn’t tell lies” (taken directly from: http://darkwing.uoregon.edu/~leslieob/sausages.html) - Basket poem: (check out: http://darkwing.uoregon.edu/~leslieob/sausages.html)
- Message in a bottle: (taken from Houghton Mifflin series) Have children think about a part of the world they are studying in Social Studies and then create a story about their adventure, set in a specified time period and accompanied by a map of the area. Upon completion – creations are placed in plastic bottles and set afloat in the water table.
- Seven days of daring deeds: seven groups write one story about an unfolding adventure over seven days. (see: http://www.eduplace.com/activity/3_1_act1.html)
- Pass it on: students sit in a circle with a clipboard, paper, and pen in hand. A story starter is given: “It is Halloween night ….” The students write for three minutes and then pass their story to the person on their right … the receiver continues the previous writer’s storyline until it is time to pass again.
- Interior / Exterior Boxes: You will love this = http://teacher2b.com/creative/creativp.htm
- Given the situation: Give students a variety of situations and ask them to respond in a paragraph or less. For example: You just got an offer to teach at a school in Japan ….
Cry. Bang. Yell. Screech. Eat a banana and a “balance” bar.
Perspective. This is where I am trying to sit now, but dang for me if I don’t keep falling off into the trenches.
The first fall was around 4am – as the alarm clock went off and then again on my way to the downtown /24-hour McDonald’s drive through – where my premonition of danger overrided my Episcopalian affiliation – as I recited a few Hail Mary’s to ward off potential car jackers.
And then we were off (me and NPR) and making good time until the tractor trailer. . .
The ONE that EACH MORNING performs its daily ritual of driving down 95 north erratically, looking for an environmentally conscious Pruis to herd off the road and into the side rail, calling forth several emergency vehicles and a traffic backup worth approximately 45 minutes of talk radio.
With this cordial meeting behind … I was off again in search of the Dulles airport exit. That would be the LEFT exit. The one I have taken on more than one occasion but for whatever reason was desperately looking for off to my right…. until … crap … there is WAS … and here I am about to visit Clara Barton Blvd.
But come 7:30am – I was back on route and pulling into the conference site for check in … just in time to learn that my presentation would be in the “other” building – down the highway and off to the left. Hmmm … glad I went with the loafers. And so I am here … and you are somewhere and my room is empty. Let me see if I brought another balance bar.
My mother’s fire alarm went off this morning at 2am and again at 4am and just for good measure gave one last boom about 7am. I am just finding out about this last one because it triggered neighboring bathrobes drawn by inquiring noses to fill firemen in on “my mother’s situation,” the one that has taken her away from her non-burning house for the last six months. So upon getting the call from who Mac refers to as “our local community helper” I casted on the pearl necklace, in anticipation for the mad dash to church upon my return from my begrudged excursion to wonderland. In return flight from my “deactivate the fire alarm and unclog the toilet (an added bonus) mission” which brought forth memories of an equaling blaring and disturbed childhood, I attempted to radio the troops and bribe them to suit up for battle. Such plans however were debunked as I spilled coffee on myself while banging on the steering wheel while pleading with a tapped out cell phone. Though never fear … because when I entered the house to retrieve my clan dad assured me that he had done “everything” and I was relieved until slowly puzzling together that “everything” did not include bathroom runs, or belt buckles, or tucked shirts, or explosive diapers, or small details such as shoes. So I did the only thing a good wife could do and yelled obscenities and stomped my feet and sent the two oldest and baddest boys out the door and down the alley to drop one off at the nursery before the other could arrive at the pew to pray for his transgressions … while I battled the nuclear fallout that no good nursery volunteer should have to be exposed. With that treasure complete, I made my own way to the church just in time to sit down next to a boy and his dad that somehow misinterpreted the phrase “take mac to the nursery.” So we wiggled and jiggled and enjoyed communion on a level that made one minister gasp aloud and required hand wipes on the returning trip down the aisle (don’t ask). And then we were home and then we were not … finding our way to the soccer field and then in a blink of the eye it was dark, as if justifying the earlier metaphor, and a dad and a boy were saying their prayers and thanking Jesus for our blessings to which Mac concluded, “And please oh please Jesus forgive ALL of the PEOPLE who have SINNED against ME today.” And so now we are cleansed … already to begin anew.
In the past ten minutes I have written several e-mails, eaten a bag of 100 calorie popcorn (a snack I give the grandest of accolades), and chatted with several student passer byes – and if I had to write down a list of everything I have learned over this passage of time – the list would be –let us say SHORT. But flash back …. to yesterday … in a car with two boys .… just beginning to figure out their world … and suddenly the informational input is startlingly expansive. For your viewing pleasure a breakdown: 4:30 LM (little man) Mom, if I tell you something will you be mad. DS – (hoping he did not make an innocent bystander bleed) It’s unlikely.LM – Well today I was good. In fact I did more gooder than bad but you see there was that one thing when I was sitting in circle time and said butt.. you see we sit too long … it is a struggle (wow good word / he is a genius with a potty mouth) and that might be ok for your college but it makes me say butt (good to know)DS –(suppress laughter and adopt an authoritative tone) Butt is not a school word (as if to imply perhaps it is a good dinner time word or night time reflection) 4:33 LM- It is so hot in this car that I think I am going to pass out.DS – Well it is October and the air condition is on and so maybe you would prefer to walk (we are on our way to dinner with family). LM- No that will take me 50 days and I will miss dessert. 4:37 DS – So what was your job today at school?LM – Well I was the calendar person and it is February (Well no but at least he got one of the 12 ) and I got to call on people and I didn’t call on Sheri because she took my sticker and I am thinking of disinviting her to my birthday party (good point … I will call her mom and revoke the invite when we get home). DS – So what is the best job? LM – Well the caboose mom. That is what Tate says (who is a complete juvenile delinquent) because you can stand in the back and make faces and nobody can yell at you and the caboose is the butt and butts are funny (ahhhhh a reoccurring theme emerges). 4:39 DS- OOOOH good song (cranking it up and singing quite loudly in toneless harmony).LM- Mom, you should not sing like that because it doesn’t sound good (mind your own business… at least I can brush my own teeth) and you are not a rock star (newsflash). DS- (sounding just a wee bit insulted) What do you mean I am not a rock star? LM – You know a rock star has concerts and you teach kids at college. Now that is some content coverage.
