I’ve been teaching at the Wisconsin Conservatory of Music
for about fifteen years now. When my husband and I first moved to
Milwaukee so I could commute to violin making school, the Conservatory
was a convenient place to start a new studio because it was within
walking distance of our apartment. The Conservatory is housed in a
beautiful old mansion overlooking Lake Michigan and there are some truly
fine musicians working there. The recital hall is decorated with
plaster roses on the walls and ceiling so it feels like having a concert
in a wedding cake. It’s a pretty place to work.
While helping put myself (and later Ian) through school, I had a lot
of students. When my husband got deployed the first time I had to cut
back my studio quite a bit and teach the lessons at my home because
getting out to the building was difficult. When Ian returned I was able
to take a job with the Milwaukee Youth Symphony
for a couple of years teaching in a program for underprivileged kids
and it was exhausting but I loved it. With the second deployment I had
to resign from that position and cut my teaching back to only a couple
of students in music therapy whom I team teach with a colleague.
Currently I’m down to one student, and the annual Summer String Camp. I
miss doing more regular teaching, but since we opened the violin store
there just isn’t time. Maybe one day when my children are grown I will
be able to fit it in again, but in the meantime opportunities for me to
teach are rare.
String Camp is sort of like the crash course music event that keeps
my teaching chops up. It’s one week every summer where string players
from small children through high school aged students gather and do
chamber music. Each teacher gets to coach a small ensemble, and there
are two small orchestras, a group for beginners, and a fiddle camp. One
of the downsides to teaching private lessons is I don’t get to see the
other string faculty that often, so it’s nice to work with other
teachers at String Camp and see them in action.
I also do a demonstration about violin making for the kids to teach
them facts about violins and get them to appreciate their instruments in
new ways. Every year at least one student sees all the wood and the
tools and assumes they are going to get to build their very own violin
in an hour, and I have to explain that no, it takes way longer than that
to build a violin. WAY longer (and please don’t touch those tools they
are freakishly sharp).
Every year the kids are sweet, at least one instrument meets with
catastrophe (this session I replaced someone’s endbutton on her violin
after it blew apart, and adjusted a cello soundpost that had fallen
over), some kid cries (I personally didn’t make anyone cry this year but
I’m sure there have been tears somewhere), and I get extremely stressed
before the concert.
Different teachers have different strengths, and I tend to be good at
getting less experienced kids to focus long enough to put a piece
together in time to perform in just a few days. Once the head of the
string department gave me an advanced group and I almost didn’t know
what to do with them by the end of the week because they had actually
practiced and they listened and I didn’t have to repeat myself all the
time. They were great and it was easy. (The department head told me
she thought I deserved a break for once, instead of freaking out about
whether my group was going to be able to get through their tune on stage
without falling to pieces.)
This year most of my kids were fine, but a couple were struggling,
and I ended up having to rewrite parts of the Air to Don Giovanni to
remove pesky things like rests and interesting notes or bowings.
(Mozart is dead, so I don’t think he’ll mind. Besides, I think he’d
prefer the edit to the whole thing getting botched on stage.)
I’m always amazed that it works out as well as it does. The first
day is spent simply figuring out seating and which piece to play. Many
young children aren’t good sight readers, so I end up having to teach
them the music so we can even hear it, before deciding if it’s something
we should keep working on or simply scrap. The second day we try to
get something to sound cohesive, even if it’s just the first line. By
the third day I am in a total panic when they can’t get to the end of
the piece on their own without my standing over them clapping the beat
and shouting out cues. The fourth day miraculously things start to hold
together. The fifth day is the concert. By the time my kids hit the
stage I’ve usually bitten my nails down to nothing. But they always do
fine.
Today’s concert was great! I was so pleased with my group. They
sounded a little better in rehearsal than they did during the
performance, but several people told me how impressed they were at how
well they played together and their overall sound. I was very proud.
My own kids came to hear the concert, primarily because they know
there are always cupcakes at the reception afterward. Aden and Mona are
old enough they could participate in String Camp if they wanted to.
Currently they just do private lessons and don’t have any group
experience. I was hoping that seeing other kids their age play such fun
music in such a pretty environment they might be inspired to try it
themselves next year. I asked them if they’d be interested next
summer. Aden looked nervous about the idea, but Mona seemed game. She
mostly liked the idea of going to the Conservatory with me every day for
a week. I hope she decides to try it. Some of my best memories as a
kid are playing in a group like this one.
But for this year, String Camp is done. (And now I need a nap.)
My own space apart from the babble of the internet
Friday, July 22, 2011
Monday, July 18, 2011
The Really Hard Talk (Babble)
People often refer to explaining sex to children as ‘the talk.’
Parents fret about having ‘the talk’ with their kids and wonder how
young is too young, etc. I’m not worried about talking about sex with
my kids. We’ve doled out bits of information as seemed appropriate and
taught our kids the proper terms for anatomy for years. In my mind
there is no one ‘talk,’ there is a process of adding to my kids’
knowledge over time about their bodies and how bodies work. This
doesn’t make me squeamish or nervous. It’s just simple information.
The really hard talk, as far as I’m concerned, is about evil. I think our true loss of innocence begins not when we learn how reproduction happens or explaining the connections between sex and love, but how human beings who look and act and talk just like people we know are capable of monstrous acts and unpardonable crimes. The world can be a horrifying place. That’s not a truth I’ve looked forward to sharing with my children. They see so much beauty it’s tempting to never draw back that curtain to expose the horrors that exist in our midst, but not to do so is dangerous at some point. It would leave them too trusting, too vulnerable, if I let them remain innocent forever.
My children are sensitive. I’ve written about this before, and how I worry that they will be too fragile if they don’t learn to accept that bad things happen in the world. But it seems to me that knowledge of evil comes on a need to know basis, and that need to know is determined by how much they are in charge of themselves. If I can adequately protect them from danger then they don’t need to know about it. But if I send them off into the world without me, they need to be able to protect themselves.
Aden is nine and a half. She looks older than she is because she is tall, but emotionally she is a young nine. She has a soft spot in her heart for animals and she is a deeply sentimental person. Aden is also capable enough that we’ve started extending her more freedom and responsibility. We don’t need to walk her down the street to get to her friend’s house. We’ve been able to leave her in charge of her little brother for short stretches when we need to. She’s even been able to go down the two blocks to Target for us to pick up milk when we run out. It’s exciting to see Aden growing up and becoming a more independent person, able to maneuver in the world without our guidance every step of the way. I’m proud of her for that.
But then I read the news about the killing of Leiby Kletzky last week. I wept at my bench in the violin shop and hoped no customers would come in. That is the nightmare that makes loving parents rein their kids in close and not want to let go. That story is too horrible for words. What are we to do with it? There are no lessons to be learned from it, aside from the fact that life isn’t fair and that I will never understand people who can harm children. I think about that poor little boy and the unspeakable grief his family is suffering and wish it could be different, but I have no such power. All I have are tears.
So I did what probably many parents did after reading that story. I hugged my children and sat them down for a review about never ever ever getting into a car with a stranger. That people who hurt children usually seem very nice but it’s a trick. That no trustworthy grown-up asks children for help finding a puppy or counting kittens in a van. I told my children if someone makes them nervous they are to run, and be loud, and to find someone they know. All the rules about being polite go out the window if something is suspicious. That if anyone ever tells them to keep a secret from their mom, that’s a warning sign. They can tell me anything. I am home base. I love them no matter what.
These are hard lessons to teach sometimes, because I don’t want to scare my children. The odds are that nothing will ever happen to them just walking around our neighborhood, or running off to Target for something. But they still need to understand that something could happen in order to make decent choices and remain out of trouble. The problem is I don’t want to go into detail about WHY they should avoid these bad people. I tell them there are people who want to hurt children and leave it at that.
Or, at least, I did until last week. I ran through the ‘bad people safety review’ and then the kids went off to play and later we went to the Y for swimming lessons. Quinn and Mona took swimming this summer, but Aden chose not to. She just played in the small pool on her own or with friends until her siblings’ lessons were over. Last week as I sat in the pool observing Quinn’s class, Aden swam over to me. She cuddled close and was her cute playful self, and then she said she had a question. Aden wanted to know if a kidnapper did get her (and she interrupted herself to assure me that she knew it would never happen, but still….), what would the kidnapper do to her? What kinds of things do kidnappers do to children?
I debated in my mind what to say. Do I keep my sweet girl innocent? Or do I pull back that curtain? That’s not an easy decision to make. But I decided she needs to know. She needs to be aware of why I get scared when she isn’t where I expect her to be when we give her a curfew or if she wanders off on her own in a crowd.
I held her hands and gave her the bare facts of the Leiby Kletzky story. I did not tell her that the monster who killed him dismembered the body and dumped it in garbage cans. I said an eight-year-old boy tried walking home by himself, but that he got lost and asked the wrong person for help, and that man tricked the boy into coming home with him and killed him there. Aden’s eyes filled with tears. “He was only eight?” she asked. I told her it was the scariest story I’d heard in a long time and that it made me cry, too.
Aden hugged me there in the pool. I told her I didn’t know why some people are just bad, but she needs to know they are out there so she can do sensible things to help keep herself safe. Then Aden realized how upset the whole thing made me, and in typical Aden fashion she decided to balance things out to make me feel better. She doesn’t want me to be sad. We read Charlotte’s Web this week for her book club, and when it made me cry she suggested we take a break.
There in the pool she managed a smile and asked if I wanted to see her float on her back. I told her of course I did. Aden floats beautifully.
The really hard talk, as far as I’m concerned, is about evil. I think our true loss of innocence begins not when we learn how reproduction happens or explaining the connections between sex and love, but how human beings who look and act and talk just like people we know are capable of monstrous acts and unpardonable crimes. The world can be a horrifying place. That’s not a truth I’ve looked forward to sharing with my children. They see so much beauty it’s tempting to never draw back that curtain to expose the horrors that exist in our midst, but not to do so is dangerous at some point. It would leave them too trusting, too vulnerable, if I let them remain innocent forever.
My children are sensitive. I’ve written about this before, and how I worry that they will be too fragile if they don’t learn to accept that bad things happen in the world. But it seems to me that knowledge of evil comes on a need to know basis, and that need to know is determined by how much they are in charge of themselves. If I can adequately protect them from danger then they don’t need to know about it. But if I send them off into the world without me, they need to be able to protect themselves.
Aden is nine and a half. She looks older than she is because she is tall, but emotionally she is a young nine. She has a soft spot in her heart for animals and she is a deeply sentimental person. Aden is also capable enough that we’ve started extending her more freedom and responsibility. We don’t need to walk her down the street to get to her friend’s house. We’ve been able to leave her in charge of her little brother for short stretches when we need to. She’s even been able to go down the two blocks to Target for us to pick up milk when we run out. It’s exciting to see Aden growing up and becoming a more independent person, able to maneuver in the world without our guidance every step of the way. I’m proud of her for that.
But then I read the news about the killing of Leiby Kletzky last week. I wept at my bench in the violin shop and hoped no customers would come in. That is the nightmare that makes loving parents rein their kids in close and not want to let go. That story is too horrible for words. What are we to do with it? There are no lessons to be learned from it, aside from the fact that life isn’t fair and that I will never understand people who can harm children. I think about that poor little boy and the unspeakable grief his family is suffering and wish it could be different, but I have no such power. All I have are tears.
So I did what probably many parents did after reading that story. I hugged my children and sat them down for a review about never ever ever getting into a car with a stranger. That people who hurt children usually seem very nice but it’s a trick. That no trustworthy grown-up asks children for help finding a puppy or counting kittens in a van. I told my children if someone makes them nervous they are to run, and be loud, and to find someone they know. All the rules about being polite go out the window if something is suspicious. That if anyone ever tells them to keep a secret from their mom, that’s a warning sign. They can tell me anything. I am home base. I love them no matter what.
These are hard lessons to teach sometimes, because I don’t want to scare my children. The odds are that nothing will ever happen to them just walking around our neighborhood, or running off to Target for something. But they still need to understand that something could happen in order to make decent choices and remain out of trouble. The problem is I don’t want to go into detail about WHY they should avoid these bad people. I tell them there are people who want to hurt children and leave it at that.
Or, at least, I did until last week. I ran through the ‘bad people safety review’ and then the kids went off to play and later we went to the Y for swimming lessons. Quinn and Mona took swimming this summer, but Aden chose not to. She just played in the small pool on her own or with friends until her siblings’ lessons were over. Last week as I sat in the pool observing Quinn’s class, Aden swam over to me. She cuddled close and was her cute playful self, and then she said she had a question. Aden wanted to know if a kidnapper did get her (and she interrupted herself to assure me that she knew it would never happen, but still….), what would the kidnapper do to her? What kinds of things do kidnappers do to children?
I debated in my mind what to say. Do I keep my sweet girl innocent? Or do I pull back that curtain? That’s not an easy decision to make. But I decided she needs to know. She needs to be aware of why I get scared when she isn’t where I expect her to be when we give her a curfew or if she wanders off on her own in a crowd.
I held her hands and gave her the bare facts of the Leiby Kletzky story. I did not tell her that the monster who killed him dismembered the body and dumped it in garbage cans. I said an eight-year-old boy tried walking home by himself, but that he got lost and asked the wrong person for help, and that man tricked the boy into coming home with him and killed him there. Aden’s eyes filled with tears. “He was only eight?” she asked. I told her it was the scariest story I’d heard in a long time and that it made me cry, too.
Aden hugged me there in the pool. I told her I didn’t know why some people are just bad, but she needs to know they are out there so she can do sensible things to help keep herself safe. Then Aden realized how upset the whole thing made me, and in typical Aden fashion she decided to balance things out to make me feel better. She doesn’t want me to be sad. We read Charlotte’s Web this week for her book club, and when it made me cry she suggested we take a break.
There in the pool she managed a smile and asked if I wanted to see her float on her back. I told her of course I did. Aden floats beautifully.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Rock On, Lobster (Babble)
I could probably just write a whole blog devoted to Mona’s paper
creations. There are too many to show on any given day to have room to
write about anything else, but I need to share this lobster.
Yes, I’m an overly proud mom seeing what her kids do through some kind of mom-goggles, but is that not seriously a cool lobster? That’s darned good for a seven year old. I’m impressed she can construct a lobster on a whim with no help from anyone. It’s made entirely out of red duct tape because she wanted it to be waterproof. Plus she writes on it with regular markers which she can wipe off if she wants to later.
Of all three of my kids, Mona is the only one who I don’t think tests accurately. Aden scores about where I would expect her to score on things like the ‘MAP’ and other standardized tests the school has the kids do. She shows signs of being like I was in school, where tests reveal potential in all areas that doesn’t always get realized along the channels teachers are hoping for. She’s smart, but only interested in doing what she wants to do. Quinn is already reading and adding numbers in columns and he’s not even going to be in full day kindergarten until fall of 2012, so he will test fine when he gets there. He’s smart in a way that will be easy for a test to measure because he has an excellent memory and an orderly mind.
Mona is brilliant in unconventional ways. If there were a standardized test that asked children to build an entire zoo out of scraps of paper and some chewing gum she would leave her classmates and most of the school district in the dust. On normal tests she scores very middle of the pack, even though hers are the kinds of skills that got the Apollo 13 astronauts home alive. But schools don’t administer MacGyver exams.
I’m not worried about Mona, because I know whatever she chooses to tackle she will do well. I wonder more about what kind of institutions and educational or work environments might miss out on seeing what she has to offer because the tools used to measure her abilities may not capture what she knows. She is creative and funny and makes awesome pancakes.
Yes, I’m an overly proud mom seeing what her kids do through some kind of mom-goggles, but is that not seriously a cool lobster? That’s darned good for a seven year old. I’m impressed she can construct a lobster on a whim with no help from anyone. It’s made entirely out of red duct tape because she wanted it to be waterproof. Plus she writes on it with regular markers which she can wipe off if she wants to later.
Of all three of my kids, Mona is the only one who I don’t think tests accurately. Aden scores about where I would expect her to score on things like the ‘MAP’ and other standardized tests the school has the kids do. She shows signs of being like I was in school, where tests reveal potential in all areas that doesn’t always get realized along the channels teachers are hoping for. She’s smart, but only interested in doing what she wants to do. Quinn is already reading and adding numbers in columns and he’s not even going to be in full day kindergarten until fall of 2012, so he will test fine when he gets there. He’s smart in a way that will be easy for a test to measure because he has an excellent memory and an orderly mind.
Mona is brilliant in unconventional ways. If there were a standardized test that asked children to build an entire zoo out of scraps of paper and some chewing gum she would leave her classmates and most of the school district in the dust. On normal tests she scores very middle of the pack, even though hers are the kinds of skills that got the Apollo 13 astronauts home alive. But schools don’t administer MacGyver exams.
I’m not worried about Mona, because I know whatever she chooses to tackle she will do well. I wonder more about what kind of institutions and educational or work environments might miss out on seeing what she has to offer because the tools used to measure her abilities may not capture what she knows. She is creative and funny and makes awesome pancakes.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Fine (Babble)
Ian’s at Ft Knox this week. He has a week of Army training to do,
then he’ll be home for a bit, then two more weeks of training somewhere
else. How are we doing? Fine.
We’re coming up next month on the one year anniversary of Ian’s return home from Iraq. The nicest part about reaching that milestone is that we get to start repeating things, by which I mean as we cycle through the normal parts the year our memories will include Ian again. Currently when we do something, like celebrate the 4th of July, we look back to last year and remember that Ian wasn’t with us. Last 4th of July was an exhausting mess.
Mona wiped out on her scooter and scratched up her face, Quinn had a major meltdown, and I was at my wit’s end for most of the day.
This year with Ian home again it was wonderful. With kids it’s particularly helpful to remind them of how we did things the last time–what our holiday traditions are, how we prepare for school starting up again, anything that repeats needs review. For a year now that review has been a reminder of their dad’s absence during his deployment. Now we get to move on to something better.
For myself there has been a vague sense of panic anytime Ian has had to leave this past year. Nothing terrible, but not comfortable. It brought back too many memories of a difficult time. I think I’m over that.
I’ve had to arrange for a sitter to watch the kids for a couple of days while I go to work, but if that falls through they can all just come with me. It’s not ideal to have them all at the violin store, but I know how to handle it and still get my work done.
And the truth is, far from feeling anxious that Ian is away, I’m kind of enjoying it. I miss him of course–life is always better with Ian here–but I can do some things better when he’s not around. I’m not in the house as much since I returned to work, and I like to get things cleaned and organized. I can’t really do that the same way when Ian is home. When I feel productive in that way and I’m bustling about whipping things into shape it can make Ian feel a bit guilty or criticized since it seems like a reflection on his own abilities to run the house. I don’t mean it that way, I just have a different preference for how I like things to be, so I wait for him to leave to accomplish certain tasks.
It’s nice to have some long stretches of time in the house again. I’m excited to be getting to certain projects, mostly things that bug me but that I’m too tired to do when I get home from work. For instance, today I finally organized the linen closet. The other thing that’s nice about doing something like that with Ian gone is I don’t have to feel like I should consult him about it. I can just do it my way and it’s faster. (If he doesn’t like what I did he can change it when he gets back, but in the meantime I like it, and I think he’ll like it too.)
I love spending so much time with all the kids again, and they seem happy to just be kicking around the house with me. It’s familiar and it’s pleasant, and this time it’s minus the old stress. It’s nice.
I feel as if I’m past the trauma of the deployment. It’s not easier running things alone, but it’s just for a week, so it’s no big deal. I didn’t realize I missed being the one who is in charge of the meals and the upkeep of the house so much. I’m even trying to buckle down and edit my first novel and send out query letters so that I might finally find an agent and do more serious writing. It’s hard to make myself do that when Ian is home because I’d rather hang out with him. If deployment teaches you anything it’s that time with the people you love should not be taken for granted, so just doing nothing in the same room with Ian has more appeal than leaving his side to do my own things sometimes. If I can’t be spending time with Ian right now, I may as well be productive. It makes all the difference with Ian away not to be worried about his safety. I’m home. We’re happy. He’ll be back soon enough and can be happy with us.
Once upon a time the idea of a week alone with the kids would have sounded complicated and stressful. But I’m good. I know how to do this and it’s not bad. I know what worse looks like. This? This isn’t just getting by. This is fine.
(Our neighbor, Julie, with Mona, Aden, Ian and Quinn, welcoming Ian home from his first deployment back in 2007.)
We’re coming up next month on the one year anniversary of Ian’s return home from Iraq. The nicest part about reaching that milestone is that we get to start repeating things, by which I mean as we cycle through the normal parts the year our memories will include Ian again. Currently when we do something, like celebrate the 4th of July, we look back to last year and remember that Ian wasn’t with us. Last 4th of July was an exhausting mess.
Mona wiped out on her scooter and scratched up her face, Quinn had a major meltdown, and I was at my wit’s end for most of the day.
This year with Ian home again it was wonderful. With kids it’s particularly helpful to remind them of how we did things the last time–what our holiday traditions are, how we prepare for school starting up again, anything that repeats needs review. For a year now that review has been a reminder of their dad’s absence during his deployment. Now we get to move on to something better.
For myself there has been a vague sense of panic anytime Ian has had to leave this past year. Nothing terrible, but not comfortable. It brought back too many memories of a difficult time. I think I’m over that.
I’ve had to arrange for a sitter to watch the kids for a couple of days while I go to work, but if that falls through they can all just come with me. It’s not ideal to have them all at the violin store, but I know how to handle it and still get my work done.
And the truth is, far from feeling anxious that Ian is away, I’m kind of enjoying it. I miss him of course–life is always better with Ian here–but I can do some things better when he’s not around. I’m not in the house as much since I returned to work, and I like to get things cleaned and organized. I can’t really do that the same way when Ian is home. When I feel productive in that way and I’m bustling about whipping things into shape it can make Ian feel a bit guilty or criticized since it seems like a reflection on his own abilities to run the house. I don’t mean it that way, I just have a different preference for how I like things to be, so I wait for him to leave to accomplish certain tasks.
It’s nice to have some long stretches of time in the house again. I’m excited to be getting to certain projects, mostly things that bug me but that I’m too tired to do when I get home from work. For instance, today I finally organized the linen closet. The other thing that’s nice about doing something like that with Ian gone is I don’t have to feel like I should consult him about it. I can just do it my way and it’s faster. (If he doesn’t like what I did he can change it when he gets back, but in the meantime I like it, and I think he’ll like it too.)
I love spending so much time with all the kids again, and they seem happy to just be kicking around the house with me. It’s familiar and it’s pleasant, and this time it’s minus the old stress. It’s nice.
I feel as if I’m past the trauma of the deployment. It’s not easier running things alone, but it’s just for a week, so it’s no big deal. I didn’t realize I missed being the one who is in charge of the meals and the upkeep of the house so much. I’m even trying to buckle down and edit my first novel and send out query letters so that I might finally find an agent and do more serious writing. It’s hard to make myself do that when Ian is home because I’d rather hang out with him. If deployment teaches you anything it’s that time with the people you love should not be taken for granted, so just doing nothing in the same room with Ian has more appeal than leaving his side to do my own things sometimes. If I can’t be spending time with Ian right now, I may as well be productive. It makes all the difference with Ian away not to be worried about his safety. I’m home. We’re happy. He’ll be back soon enough and can be happy with us.
Once upon a time the idea of a week alone with the kids would have sounded complicated and stressful. But I’m good. I know how to do this and it’s not bad. I know what worse looks like. This? This isn’t just getting by. This is fine.
(Our neighbor, Julie, with Mona, Aden, Ian and Quinn, welcoming Ian home from his first deployment back in 2007.)
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Bikes, Elvis, and a Whole Lot of Flags (Babble)
I love my country, and I’m glad to be an American, but when I write things like this, and this, and this,
I know there are people who would doubt my patriotism. I don’t care.
Part of why I love this country is I am allowed to voice criticism of it
and admit to discomfort with certain elements. I don’t have to be
anyone’s idea of a traditional American in order to be a real one.
But one of the ways I am almost ridiculously traditional is in my love of the 4th of July (even if I don’t own a flag). It’s a terrific holiday. A national event to commemorate the signing of a powerful document; not a date about war, or a specific person, or a religion, but of an idea. About beginning something new and daring that has evolved and grown into something remarkable. Plus it comes with ice cream and fireworks. It’s awesome.
The wonderful thing about 4th of July in Milwaukee is that in our own local park within easy walking distance of our house there are events all day. It begins with a parade and ends with fireworks, and in between there is a doughnut eating contest and dog dancing and buggy decorating and children’s races and clowns and a talent show and more things than we ever get to. And the beauty of it is it’s all corny and done without a trace of irony. It’s genuine and it’s fun and everything you ever pictured a traditional 4th of July celebration should be.
(List of park events)
We’ve lived in our neighborhood long enough that we’ve come to expect particular things from the parade.
Regular features include the antique cars:
Soldiers (some with noisy guns):
Elvis:
Accordions:
What my husband refers to as the lazy band:
And many baton twirlers of varying ages, politicians throwing candy, and of course the giant sausages. (What, your town doesn’t have giant sausages of different ethnicities running around? Huh.) Usually we only get a few of the sausages (who run races in between innings at the baseball games at Miller Park) because I think they spread them out to other neighborhood parades, but this year we got them all. Mona managed to high five the Mexican one and this Italian guy:
After the parade I managed to lose Quinn in the crowd for about a minute that felt like forever (although not as bad as losing Mona in Central Park a couple of years ago, or both the girls in Ikea, or Mona after the school pasta dinner fund raiser…. Dang, I need to start paying better attention apparently or get tracking chips put in their ears). Then Quinn and I headed home so he could count his candy. (He made an adorable chart on the dry erase board of how many Tootsie Rolls he got, versus lollipops and ‘Frooties’ that I didn’t get a picture of in time.)
I love that with Ian home we can accommodate the kids better by splitting up if we need to. The girls wanted to see the clown show and run the kid races, so they stayed with their dad in the park while Quinn and I walked home. 4th of July is definitely something that is easier with two parents.
After lunch we all headed back to the park to register Aden and Quinn in the bike decorating contest. (Mona didn’t participate because she uses a scooter, not a bike, and didn’t realize that no one would have cared if she’d entered that instead until it was too late.) The good things about the bike and trike and buggy decorating contest are that it is adorable, every kid gets some kind of ribbon or certificate and a little prize, and they are excited about getting to be up on the big outdoor stage. The bad things are that the winners are always kids who obviously had a LOT of help from their parents, and the older people who run the judging are often tired and cranky. I could totally make the coolest patriotic holiday bike ever, but the contest is not for me, and I’m proud of my kids for doing everything themselves even if they never ever win because the four-year-old’s bike looks like a four-year-old decorated it (because a four-year-old DID).
Here are some of the bikes lined up for judging (with Aden’s front and center, and a mysteriously well-constructed float-like bike just behind hers in the next row):
Quinn looked so proud biking across the stage! His bike was ranked last but he was pleased to get a ribbon:
Aden paid attention to details like making sure her blue streamers were decorated with exactly 50 stars done in crayon:
But here was the kicker about Aden’s moment to participate in the bike parade: She was not one of the top three winners, so after those little awards were given out, the lady running things looked wearily at the remaining kids and said something like, “Well, I guess the rest of the girls should just come across the stage. There’s some kind of consolation prize for you down there somewhere.” I couldn’t believe it! And everyone else I talked to who heard it said they couldn’t believe she was so dismissive of all the other kids either. The event barely qualifies as a competition, it’s purely for fun, so why would you make anyone feel bad? Good grief. Luckily Aden was happy with her certificate and some of the little prizes in the consolation bag, but it got both my husband and my neighbor, Julie, saying they really should sign up with the neighborhood association so they can get in there and move some of the crankier people aside during the kids’ events.
After the bike parade we headed home and hung out with some friends and ate a bit of the red-white-and-blue-trifle I made the night before:
It came out pretty! And it tasted good, but you can’t really mess up berries and whipped cream and cake, and I threw in some pudding somewhere in there too. (I bought that trifle bowl years ago and I think this is the first time I’ve actually dragged it out to make a trifle in it. But it was a hit so we’ll probably do it again before the summer is over.)
We had a nice cookout on the deck (that included grilled zucchini which might be my new favorite thing) and then relaxed a little before heading back out to the park to listen to a band on the stage, eat ice cream, then lie on a blanket and watch the fireworks. In past years a random sampling of my kids at any given time has been sensitive to the noise (which has not always made fireworks a universally popular activity) but they all seem to be over it. Frankly, I’m over it too. I used to hate the noise and this year I noticed that it doesn’t bother me anymore. Quinn sat in my lap and said things like, “That one looked like jewels! And that one looked like sparkling rain!”
It was an excellent day. The only thing that might have improved it would have been a nap in there somewhere. (And not losing Quinn briefly.) I keep trying to sell my extended family on how much fun 4th of July is in Milwaukee and that it would be the perfect time for a visit, but no takers yet. I just hope they all had as much fun where they were. (But I doubt it!)
But one of the ways I am almost ridiculously traditional is in my love of the 4th of July (even if I don’t own a flag). It’s a terrific holiday. A national event to commemorate the signing of a powerful document; not a date about war, or a specific person, or a religion, but of an idea. About beginning something new and daring that has evolved and grown into something remarkable. Plus it comes with ice cream and fireworks. It’s awesome.
The wonderful thing about 4th of July in Milwaukee is that in our own local park within easy walking distance of our house there are events all day. It begins with a parade and ends with fireworks, and in between there is a doughnut eating contest and dog dancing and buggy decorating and children’s races and clowns and a talent show and more things than we ever get to. And the beauty of it is it’s all corny and done without a trace of irony. It’s genuine and it’s fun and everything you ever pictured a traditional 4th of July celebration should be.
(List of park events)
We’ve lived in our neighborhood long enough that we’ve come to expect particular things from the parade.
Regular features include the antique cars:
Soldiers (some with noisy guns):
Elvis:
Accordions:
What my husband refers to as the lazy band:
And many baton twirlers of varying ages, politicians throwing candy, and of course the giant sausages. (What, your town doesn’t have giant sausages of different ethnicities running around? Huh.) Usually we only get a few of the sausages (who run races in between innings at the baseball games at Miller Park) because I think they spread them out to other neighborhood parades, but this year we got them all. Mona managed to high five the Mexican one and this Italian guy:
After the parade I managed to lose Quinn in the crowd for about a minute that felt like forever (although not as bad as losing Mona in Central Park a couple of years ago, or both the girls in Ikea, or Mona after the school pasta dinner fund raiser…. Dang, I need to start paying better attention apparently or get tracking chips put in their ears). Then Quinn and I headed home so he could count his candy. (He made an adorable chart on the dry erase board of how many Tootsie Rolls he got, versus lollipops and ‘Frooties’ that I didn’t get a picture of in time.)
I love that with Ian home we can accommodate the kids better by splitting up if we need to. The girls wanted to see the clown show and run the kid races, so they stayed with their dad in the park while Quinn and I walked home. 4th of July is definitely something that is easier with two parents.
After lunch we all headed back to the park to register Aden and Quinn in the bike decorating contest. (Mona didn’t participate because she uses a scooter, not a bike, and didn’t realize that no one would have cared if she’d entered that instead until it was too late.) The good things about the bike and trike and buggy decorating contest are that it is adorable, every kid gets some kind of ribbon or certificate and a little prize, and they are excited about getting to be up on the big outdoor stage. The bad things are that the winners are always kids who obviously had a LOT of help from their parents, and the older people who run the judging are often tired and cranky. I could totally make the coolest patriotic holiday bike ever, but the contest is not for me, and I’m proud of my kids for doing everything themselves even if they never ever win because the four-year-old’s bike looks like a four-year-old decorated it (because a four-year-old DID).
Here are some of the bikes lined up for judging (with Aden’s front and center, and a mysteriously well-constructed float-like bike just behind hers in the next row):
Quinn looked so proud biking across the stage! His bike was ranked last but he was pleased to get a ribbon:
Aden paid attention to details like making sure her blue streamers were decorated with exactly 50 stars done in crayon:
But here was the kicker about Aden’s moment to participate in the bike parade: She was not one of the top three winners, so after those little awards were given out, the lady running things looked wearily at the remaining kids and said something like, “Well, I guess the rest of the girls should just come across the stage. There’s some kind of consolation prize for you down there somewhere.” I couldn’t believe it! And everyone else I talked to who heard it said they couldn’t believe she was so dismissive of all the other kids either. The event barely qualifies as a competition, it’s purely for fun, so why would you make anyone feel bad? Good grief. Luckily Aden was happy with her certificate and some of the little prizes in the consolation bag, but it got both my husband and my neighbor, Julie, saying they really should sign up with the neighborhood association so they can get in there and move some of the crankier people aside during the kids’ events.
After the bike parade we headed home and hung out with some friends and ate a bit of the red-white-and-blue-trifle I made the night before:
It came out pretty! And it tasted good, but you can’t really mess up berries and whipped cream and cake, and I threw in some pudding somewhere in there too. (I bought that trifle bowl years ago and I think this is the first time I’ve actually dragged it out to make a trifle in it. But it was a hit so we’ll probably do it again before the summer is over.)
We had a nice cookout on the deck (that included grilled zucchini which might be my new favorite thing) and then relaxed a little before heading back out to the park to listen to a band on the stage, eat ice cream, then lie on a blanket and watch the fireworks. In past years a random sampling of my kids at any given time has been sensitive to the noise (which has not always made fireworks a universally popular activity) but they all seem to be over it. Frankly, I’m over it too. I used to hate the noise and this year I noticed that it doesn’t bother me anymore. Quinn sat in my lap and said things like, “That one looked like jewels! And that one looked like sparkling rain!”
It was an excellent day. The only thing that might have improved it would have been a nap in there somewhere. (And not losing Quinn briefly.) I keep trying to sell my extended family on how much fun 4th of July is in Milwaukee and that it would be the perfect time for a visit, but no takers yet. I just hope they all had as much fun where they were. (But I doubt it!)
Friday, July 1, 2011
The Return of Neighborhood Recess (Babble)
Last summer some socially adept neighbors invited us to join their Neighborhood Recess
gathering in the field behind our house. It was a wonderful idea, and
Aden enjoyed it a great deal, but I usually had to stay behind with
Quinn who found it intimidating, and sometimes Mona if she wasn’t
feeling up to it. When Ian returned from Iraq he was able to enjoy a
few rounds of Neighborhood Recess before it ended in the fall.
About a week ago Aden and I were talking about it, and wondering if we should take up the initiative ourselves this year to get Neighborhood Recess going again because we missed it. But as it happens, the neighbors who put it together before emailed me the next day saying they were ready to do it again, and did we want to join them? Of course we did!
Neighborhood Recess is a gathering of kids and their parents to play games in the field behind our house for an hour in the evening once a week. Anyone can join, even kids who happen to be wandering by and just think it looks fun. It’s informal and silly and a nice way to get to know other families in the neighborhood.
The field isn’t directly behind our house, it just seems that way. There is a parking lot between us and the field, but since nothing obstructs our view it feels like it’s right outside the back gate. Here’s the view from the terrace outside my girls’ room.
That’s our garage with our ‘Welcome Home’ mural (for when Ian came back from the second deployment), and beyond that is the field.
And here’s a (not great) zoom in on the crazy game of “Bear, Salmon, Mosquito” going on. I love games that don’t take any equipment or props, but simply people willing to move. One of my favorites (and a good way to wear kids out before bedtime) is called “Everybody’s It.” Just like it sounds, everybody is it. When the game starts you try to tag as many people as you can. If you get tagged you sit down, but anyone else who feels like it can tag you again and get you back up. The game continues until either there is one person left standing or everyone gets too tired to play anymore (which is usually what happens).
We also played a name game, animal races, and poison dart frog. That one was new to me, and it’s kind of like ‘Murder!’ for the kid crowd. A detective stands in the middle of the circle of players and tries to figure out the identity of the poison dart frog. The poison dart frog is a person who sticks his or her tongue out at other people in the circle causing them to fall over dead. (The best moment was when the little boy chosen to be the frog announced loudly to a kid across the circle, “I killed you!” which made the detective’s job that round rather easy.)
Last year Neighborhood Recess was primarily Aden’s thing. Mona was nervous about it and just skirted the edges of the activity, and Quinn wanted nothing to do with it. This year at the first gathering Mona was all over everything right along with her sister, and Quinn, after initially staying glued to one of my legs, eventually warmed up and let go of me long enough to do the animal races. He was always the last one to get across the field moving like a frog or a kangaroo or a salamander, but he was happy. Quinn’s a shy little fellow, so I was glad to see him throwing himself into the crowd for a change, even if that crowd was pretending to be monkeys.
I admire people who are able to organize successful events. We get so wrapped up in all of the activities in our own house we have trouble remembering to look up and invite others in as often as we should. Things like Neighborhood Recess make me glad I live where I do, and that we were able to move into a larger house without changing who our neighbors are, because we are surrounded by awfully nice people. I’m glad Neighborhood Recess is back.
About a week ago Aden and I were talking about it, and wondering if we should take up the initiative ourselves this year to get Neighborhood Recess going again because we missed it. But as it happens, the neighbors who put it together before emailed me the next day saying they were ready to do it again, and did we want to join them? Of course we did!
Neighborhood Recess is a gathering of kids and their parents to play games in the field behind our house for an hour in the evening once a week. Anyone can join, even kids who happen to be wandering by and just think it looks fun. It’s informal and silly and a nice way to get to know other families in the neighborhood.
The field isn’t directly behind our house, it just seems that way. There is a parking lot between us and the field, but since nothing obstructs our view it feels like it’s right outside the back gate. Here’s the view from the terrace outside my girls’ room.
That’s our garage with our ‘Welcome Home’ mural (for when Ian came back from the second deployment), and beyond that is the field.
And here’s a (not great) zoom in on the crazy game of “Bear, Salmon, Mosquito” going on. I love games that don’t take any equipment or props, but simply people willing to move. One of my favorites (and a good way to wear kids out before bedtime) is called “Everybody’s It.” Just like it sounds, everybody is it. When the game starts you try to tag as many people as you can. If you get tagged you sit down, but anyone else who feels like it can tag you again and get you back up. The game continues until either there is one person left standing or everyone gets too tired to play anymore (which is usually what happens).
We also played a name game, animal races, and poison dart frog. That one was new to me, and it’s kind of like ‘Murder!’ for the kid crowd. A detective stands in the middle of the circle of players and tries to figure out the identity of the poison dart frog. The poison dart frog is a person who sticks his or her tongue out at other people in the circle causing them to fall over dead. (The best moment was when the little boy chosen to be the frog announced loudly to a kid across the circle, “I killed you!” which made the detective’s job that round rather easy.)
Last year Neighborhood Recess was primarily Aden’s thing. Mona was nervous about it and just skirted the edges of the activity, and Quinn wanted nothing to do with it. This year at the first gathering Mona was all over everything right along with her sister, and Quinn, after initially staying glued to one of my legs, eventually warmed up and let go of me long enough to do the animal races. He was always the last one to get across the field moving like a frog or a kangaroo or a salamander, but he was happy. Quinn’s a shy little fellow, so I was glad to see him throwing himself into the crowd for a change, even if that crowd was pretending to be monkeys.
I admire people who are able to organize successful events. We get so wrapped up in all of the activities in our own house we have trouble remembering to look up and invite others in as often as we should. Things like Neighborhood Recess make me glad I live where I do, and that we were able to move into a larger house without changing who our neighbors are, because we are surrounded by awfully nice people. I’m glad Neighborhood Recess is back.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
A Ton of Projects and Three Blind Mice (Babble)
We have very little scheduled for summer
here. A few swim classes, the regular violin lessons toned down a bit
for vacation, and a little bit of school review for the kids in the
mornings so they don’t forget everything by fall. I have work, a few rehearsals…. But overall summer break is pretty free form. For most people it would look like a pretty lazy summer.
But my kids take after me in that the more time there is available, the more ways we find to fill it up. No one here is ever bored. My kids are up at dawn and squeaking, and there are a lot of projects.
Mona continues to crank out paper creations. She has stepped up the level of her production since we started supplying her with colored duct tape. One of my favorite creations of late was this cup o’ snakes. You probably didn’t realize the world needed a cup o’ snakes until you saw it, but now you know.
Aden’s projects tend toward food (I taught her how to use the oven without help, and now she can make cookies from scratch completely on her own!), games, or science. This was her own version of a kite last time it got really windy:
(Pretty good use of a grocery bag, I think.)
And the other day she made a volcano and invited us all into the kitchen to watch the baking soda and vinegar eruption.
What I’d like her to do is either finish or completely abandon the popsicle stick log cabin we started at the book club meeting we had about Little House on the Prairie. One of the craft projects we did to accompany that book was build little houses, but Aden was being very particular about how hers would look and she took too long and now it just sits. But she’s too distracted by all her new games and projects to do something with it now.
She also has a project to make a marionette made out of a baking soda can and a bunch of empty spools that never quite got done. But how do you force someone to finish a marionette? That’s just not the hill I want to die on.
Quinn continues to lay things out in rows.
(Quinn with his Bananagram game that we’ve never learned the rules to because he’d rather just lay out the letters in order and then make words on his own.)
He also wants to learn to play chess, but we haven’t gotten much past just teaching him how all the pieces move. He’s not sure what to do on his turn without coaching yet, but I think by the end of the summer he should have the basics down. In the meantime he and his sister play checkers.
In between projects there is a lot of bouncing, elaborate games that seem to use all of their toys at once, and when it’s not cold or raining they set up a lemonade stand. As I said, they are not bored.
Most of Ian’s projects involve his computer. I take it on good authority from people who understand what he’s doing that he’s quite brilliant, and I believe that because any old odd thing I ask him to make a computer do he can make happen, but I don’t get what’s involved in all of that. He built his own router, for instance, to which I said, “Good for you!” but that had my brain-mapping brother’s jaw on the floor because he actually appreciated what it means. The funny thing is that everything Ian does on the computer looks the same to me, so he could be writing code, reading a book, playing a game, and I can’t tell the difference. But he politely listens to me say things like, “I planed my rib assembly taper and it came out 0.2mm low in the lower bouts but the twist is gone so I’m happy,” so it all balances out.
The main project I’m trying to work on is a new violin I’m building on commission for someone. I end up doing most of the work very late at night after the kids are in bed. It’s not that they mean to disturb me while I work, but I don’t like to turn away hugs or cuteness, and there is always the potential for disaster with kids around. When my bending iron is plugged in I don’t like to risk that I may forget about it because someone needs a bandaid, and some steps like gluing can’t be interrupted. So I wait until everyone is asleep.
This is what a bending iron looks like:
It’s used for bending strips of maple into the right shapes for the sides (ribs) of a violin. (It’s also used for bending linings and purfling, which is just techno babble to most people but I mention it so my luthier friends don’t roll their eyes and say, “Well, it’s not JUST for ribs….”)
When all the ribs are bent I glue them to the blocks attached to my form:
(The form is just for building the ribs around–it gets removed before the instrument is finished, just in case anyone thought maybe that big piece of wood stays inside the instrument.) This particular violin is based on a Guarneri del Gesu model from 1737. It’s a fun model to build.
So, I’m making progress, but it’s harder to find the time for this project than I’d like.
What kinds of projects do I end up working on instead of my violin? Things like repairing wind-up mice. On Father’s Day we let Ian pick where we should go and what we should do, and we ended up at American Science and Surplus, which is a fun and eccentric store full of a crazy variety of things. There were very cheap wind-up mice for sale that day, so we let each of the kids pick one out. Within hours the plastic tail came off of Aden’s. I told her I would replace it with a better tail. So the next thing I knew, Mona had deliberately snapped the tail off her mouse hoping for an upgrade. Then Quinn’s mouse lost its tail. I sang them the song about the three blind mice and the woman who cut of their tails with a carving knife and they were horrified.
In any case, I cut some strips of dark red leather that I had at the shop and used epoxy to affix them to the mechanical stumps that the plastic tails were once attached to.
(Prep for mouse tail surgery)
(Peppermint, Chocolate, and Cupcake, all with new tails. Children should not name toy pets while hungry.)
That was time spent that I could have been doing violin work. Now ask me how quickly after getting their mice back they all broke off the turnkey or messed up the springs inside rendering them immobile. (Actually, don’t ask, because it’s sadder than the blind mice song.)
It’s harder to keep the house clean lately. I’m tracking wood shavings all over. Sometimes I look around my shop and think when people ask what I make I should just say, “Wood chips” and it would be a more accurate description of what’s going on. There are bits of duct tape everywhere, and scissors and crayons. You don’t want to know what kind of debris is left over from a volcano project.
But I like that we are a house of projects both big and small.
And of course if they run out of projects there is always hula hooping on rocks to do.
(Because that’s good for a mom’s nerves. Sheesh. Their dad lets them climb the rocks by the lake, and I’m just the worried looking figure off to the side saying “Be careful!” over and over, because I’m fun like that.)
But my kids take after me in that the more time there is available, the more ways we find to fill it up. No one here is ever bored. My kids are up at dawn and squeaking, and there are a lot of projects.
Mona continues to crank out paper creations. She has stepped up the level of her production since we started supplying her with colored duct tape. One of my favorite creations of late was this cup o’ snakes. You probably didn’t realize the world needed a cup o’ snakes until you saw it, but now you know.
Aden’s projects tend toward food (I taught her how to use the oven without help, and now she can make cookies from scratch completely on her own!), games, or science. This was her own version of a kite last time it got really windy:
(Pretty good use of a grocery bag, I think.)
And the other day she made a volcano and invited us all into the kitchen to watch the baking soda and vinegar eruption.
What I’d like her to do is either finish or completely abandon the popsicle stick log cabin we started at the book club meeting we had about Little House on the Prairie. One of the craft projects we did to accompany that book was build little houses, but Aden was being very particular about how hers would look and she took too long and now it just sits. But she’s too distracted by all her new games and projects to do something with it now.
She also has a project to make a marionette made out of a baking soda can and a bunch of empty spools that never quite got done. But how do you force someone to finish a marionette? That’s just not the hill I want to die on.
Quinn continues to lay things out in rows.
(Quinn with his Bananagram game that we’ve never learned the rules to because he’d rather just lay out the letters in order and then make words on his own.)
He also wants to learn to play chess, but we haven’t gotten much past just teaching him how all the pieces move. He’s not sure what to do on his turn without coaching yet, but I think by the end of the summer he should have the basics down. In the meantime he and his sister play checkers.
In between projects there is a lot of bouncing, elaborate games that seem to use all of their toys at once, and when it’s not cold or raining they set up a lemonade stand. As I said, they are not bored.
Most of Ian’s projects involve his computer. I take it on good authority from people who understand what he’s doing that he’s quite brilliant, and I believe that because any old odd thing I ask him to make a computer do he can make happen, but I don’t get what’s involved in all of that. He built his own router, for instance, to which I said, “Good for you!” but that had my brain-mapping brother’s jaw on the floor because he actually appreciated what it means. The funny thing is that everything Ian does on the computer looks the same to me, so he could be writing code, reading a book, playing a game, and I can’t tell the difference. But he politely listens to me say things like, “I planed my rib assembly taper and it came out 0.2mm low in the lower bouts but the twist is gone so I’m happy,” so it all balances out.
The main project I’m trying to work on is a new violin I’m building on commission for someone. I end up doing most of the work very late at night after the kids are in bed. It’s not that they mean to disturb me while I work, but I don’t like to turn away hugs or cuteness, and there is always the potential for disaster with kids around. When my bending iron is plugged in I don’t like to risk that I may forget about it because someone needs a bandaid, and some steps like gluing can’t be interrupted. So I wait until everyone is asleep.
This is what a bending iron looks like:
It’s used for bending strips of maple into the right shapes for the sides (ribs) of a violin. (It’s also used for bending linings and purfling, which is just techno babble to most people but I mention it so my luthier friends don’t roll their eyes and say, “Well, it’s not JUST for ribs….”)
When all the ribs are bent I glue them to the blocks attached to my form:
(The form is just for building the ribs around–it gets removed before the instrument is finished, just in case anyone thought maybe that big piece of wood stays inside the instrument.) This particular violin is based on a Guarneri del Gesu model from 1737. It’s a fun model to build.
So, I’m making progress, but it’s harder to find the time for this project than I’d like.
What kinds of projects do I end up working on instead of my violin? Things like repairing wind-up mice. On Father’s Day we let Ian pick where we should go and what we should do, and we ended up at American Science and Surplus, which is a fun and eccentric store full of a crazy variety of things. There were very cheap wind-up mice for sale that day, so we let each of the kids pick one out. Within hours the plastic tail came off of Aden’s. I told her I would replace it with a better tail. So the next thing I knew, Mona had deliberately snapped the tail off her mouse hoping for an upgrade. Then Quinn’s mouse lost its tail. I sang them the song about the three blind mice and the woman who cut of their tails with a carving knife and they were horrified.
In any case, I cut some strips of dark red leather that I had at the shop and used epoxy to affix them to the mechanical stumps that the plastic tails were once attached to.
(Prep for mouse tail surgery)
(Peppermint, Chocolate, and Cupcake, all with new tails. Children should not name toy pets while hungry.)
That was time spent that I could have been doing violin work. Now ask me how quickly after getting their mice back they all broke off the turnkey or messed up the springs inside rendering them immobile. (Actually, don’t ask, because it’s sadder than the blind mice song.)
It’s harder to keep the house clean lately. I’m tracking wood shavings all over. Sometimes I look around my shop and think when people ask what I make I should just say, “Wood chips” and it would be a more accurate description of what’s going on. There are bits of duct tape everywhere, and scissors and crayons. You don’t want to know what kind of debris is left over from a volcano project.
But I like that we are a house of projects both big and small.
And of course if they run out of projects there is always hula hooping on rocks to do.
(Because that’s good for a mom’s nerves. Sheesh. Their dad lets them climb the rocks by the lake, and I’m just the worried looking figure off to the side saying “Be careful!” over and over, because I’m fun like that.)
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