Schedules vs. Vacation

It has come to my attention recently that I have fallen off the proverbial "blog waggon." Please accept my apologies. It seems that life has taken precedent over my hobby... So it goes...

The latest and greatest at our house is the recent trip to Universal Studios in Orlando, Florida. Somehow, by the grace of God, we drove the six zillion hours down and back, stayed five nights and six days, and actually got along 95% of the time. This was no doubt a record for this household, where in "normal" life we can't make it for more than 35 seconds without hearing, "Moooooo-ooooommmm! He's touching me!" "She started it!" "Make her stop!"

And, yet, we managed to leave all of that behind when we went on vacation. It was completely fabulous.

The government seems totally bent on throwing money around right now. So I propose that they fund a study to find out what makes children turn into complete banshees at home, but makes them tame and happy as fat cats on vacation.

My personal theory is that we, as parents, are focused on about thirteen billion things during our normal, every-day life. But on vacation, we focus on our kids. They have no reason to act out, act up or generally be ornery; they already have our attention.

Not to mention, we get more rest. Whereas at home, all of our activities keep us running all day, and sometimes into the night. On vacation we get naps; we sleep in late; we have a leisurely pace.

How do we bring the vacation attitude into every day life? The first and primary way is to utilize a simple little word: "No." Quit over-scheduling. Oh, yeah, right. I already feel like I say "No" every other word that comes out of my mouth. Sometimes it's easier just to say "Yes" to not have to fight.

Also, devoting specific time to the family, to your children, helps life be more reminiscent of vacation days. Since we are usually so married to our schedules, that's probably a little easier and a little more realistic.

I guess scheduling in time to write isn't such a bad idea, either. This is such a positive outlet for me. And, as hubby likes to remind me on a fairly regularly basis, it's FREE!!!

For tonight, the kids are tucked nicely in bed. Hopefully they are having sweet, innocent dreams. And hopefully they will be getting lots of good rest, so that they can be a little less cranky for my parents tomorrow.

And, hopefully, I'll be drifting off to dreamland soon, too... Now that I've "channeled my creative energy" for the evening. Good night. Rest well. Here's to a wonderful tomorrow... :)

Would You Rather… ???

My children have become incredibly fond of the game “Would you rather?”  The way you play this game is you pick two (or more) scenarios and ask the other player(s) which scenario they would choose, if they were asked to choose.  For example, “Would you rather:  swim in jello or pudding?

We have spent countless hours engaged in this game.  Sometimes we get some insight into each other.  I’ve learned my children have some great reasoning skills.  When I’ve asked them why they have chosen one thing or the other, their answers are actually thought out and they have considered things from many different angles.

We have begun playing this game for real in the mornings when we are trying to get ready.  Except the questions are usually posed in such a way that there is really only one answer that would be considered acceptable.  This morning, the question of the day was:  “Would you rather go downstairs and take care of the dog, or sleep in your own room tonight?”  The dog was very grateful she got to go out.

I’ve had to play “Would you rather?” as a parent on a regular basis.  “Would you rather go to the movies, or eat dinner for the next couple of nights- because we only have enough money for one.”  Or, “Would you rather go to the movies, or to the grocery store- because we only have time for one.”

My son recently received a book as a gift that has many different “Would You Rather…” questions- but most of the questions don’t have any answers I would select.  “Would you rather lick the seat of a public toilet, or the shoe string of a kindergartener at the end of the day?”  Wow… Neither, thanks.

The idea of the game, though, is that you can not say either “neither,” or “both.”  As in most things in life, you have to pick a side if you want to play.  Staying on the fence may be safe- but it doesn’t allow you to move forward to the next question.

So, my question for you is:  “Would you rather read a blog, or take a nap?”  Either way, I suppose you will have fun…  So, enjoy!

TEST

As always, technology is moving onward.  I received an invitation to upgrade from Microsoft.  This is supposed to make my blog smarter, faster, stronger.  So…  we’ll see…

Here’s my inaugural test blog…

Show Stealer

So, we watched our middle child shine as bright as the sun (no bias on my part) during the Elementary School Talent Show tonight. All in all, we were pretty impressed with all of the acts.

We listened to some wonderful singers, musicians and saw some fabulous dancers and acrobats. The show was greatly enhanced by a state-of-the-art sound system. And our director was absolutely unflappable, as usual.

My youngest child had tried out for the show as well. Well, let me qualify that: My middle child worked, putting in at least 10 hours of practice with her group to learn words, music and choreography. My youngest child decided that she was lip-synching and dancing as she got out of the car the day of the try-outs.

My youngest child is the child that seemingly has the world by a string. Even when she messes up, she is able to come out smelling like a rose, making the audience believe it was all part of the plan.

Her impromptu try-out made my inner oldest-child cry out "foul"! How can it be even remotely fair for her to waltz away with a coveted spot in the show without ever putting forth any more effort than to eject the cd that had been playing in the car on the way to school?

So, in order to be fair to the rest of the participants, and in an effort to encourage preparation on the part of my child, I wrote the director and said, "If she does not make the show, it's okay." I don't know if her try-out was stellar, or if it fell flat. Either way, the director graciously declined the offer of the youngest's talents for this show.

I felt so justified. I was almost giddy with the idea that my daughter might actually learn something from the experience.

However, I should have known better.

She watched the show with delight and excitement. About 1/3rd of the way through, she leaned into me and whispered, "I can't believe I didn't make the show."

Hmpff. Still confident. Took it all in stride. Saw nothing wrong with her audition or lack of preparation. It was baffling to her that she was not given the red-carpet, star treatment.

Now, I'm feeling like "Mean Mommy." I was wishing bad things on my precious gift from God. And to top it off- she did not get it!

We have another performance tomorrow. I can't wait to watch my middle child dance and sing again. She really is a natural.

And the talent level of the kids will really entertain, even for the second time. I don't have any expectations that my youngest will have any revelations tomorrow. In fact, I would not be surprised if she is more adamant that she was "robbed" of her spot.

And, well, maybe she was? Would she have made it if I hadn't basically asked the director to cut her? Was her act any worse/better than the ones that were on stage tonight? I don't know. Of course, I will never know, since she has never, nor will she ever, show me the act she did when she tried out. I don't even know if she remembers it.

Lessons learned:

1. Mommy Barbie, quit interfering and let the chips fall where they may


2. Youngest, I insist that you make the smallest of efforts to actually prepare for performances, try-outs and assignments


3. Middle, keep up the good work


4. Oldest, you are quite the gem for putting up with all the estrogen that floats around your world!


5. Hubby, I'm just glad you are home!

Southern Snow

Last Tuesday, we got up and began getting ready for school and work. I had to drag the kids out of bed by their heels, and they were still complaining and grumbling as they got dressed.

My phone began ringing, and I saw from the caller ID it was my brother's home. My sister-in-law and I carpool the kids to school, so I imagined she was calling about that.

When I picked up the phone, it was my brother, who works at the High School. I knew immediately we were out of school for the day.

He said, "Hey- Good Morning!"

I said, "You're kidding me! We're out of school?"

He chuckled and said, "Why, yes. And good morning to you, too."

"I'm sorry," I replied, "that was rude. Good Morning! Now, are we really out of school?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

"Snow."

"Huh?" I asked, peering out my window at... nothing.

"I guess the northern part of the county got really iced over last night."

"Hmmm. Okay, well, thanks for calling."

"Sure. Have a good day!" he said, way too chipper at this hour of the morning.

I found the kids in balled up lumps on the floor, still complaining about how tired they were.

"Fine. Put your pajamas back on and go back to bed," I said, hands on my hips.

"What?" Keith asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Just go on back to bed if you're so tired," I threw up my hands.

"Mommy, are kidding us?" Amy asked, eyebrows scrunched together.

"Nope," I said. "School's out today."

"Really?" Keith asked, wide-eyed. "What for?"

"Snow."

Three little pairs of eyes bolted to the window and anxiously looked for snow. They turned around and looked at me quizzically. I shrugged.

"Yeah, I know. Guess the northern part of the county got it all. Sorry. I guess you can go back to bed..."

"Are you kidding? This is the best day EVER!" Keith exclaimed.

Amy and Emma started jumping up and down like Mexican jumping beans.

"I thought you were tired," I reminded them.

"Well, now we're not!" Amy exclaimed.

We spent the rest of the day doing odds and ends that had been on our "to do" list for quite some time. And we played a couple of games and watched a little television. It was like a mini-vacation, which both the kids and I enjoyed immensely.

The next morning, Keith plodded down to our room before my alarm ever went off.

"Do we have school?" he asked sleepily.

"Yes."

"How do you know? Did you watch the news?" he challenged.

"No. But it is going up to sixty-five degrees today. You have school."

"Can you check?" he asked, ever the optimist.

We flipped on the television and watched for a moment. Not only were we not closed, no county in the state was closed for snow.

Keith was dejected. He slumped down a little more and grouched back down the hall.

This morning we had a repeat of yesterday, with the exception that it was cold enough this morning to have an ice patch or two in the northern part of the county. Still, it wasn't enough to call off school, so we were off and running.

My northern-raised friends shake their heads at our southern inability to function in cold weather. They swear that this fact alone made us lose the Civil War.

I try to explain that southern snow is different than northern snow: we have a sheet of ice under our snow. They retort that snow plows and ice can cure all. I remind them that the closest thing we have to a snow plow around here is a garbage truck, and that the salt is used primarily for the interstates and main roads for the northern transplants who refuse to comply with our southern "We don't do snow" rule.

Our northern friends contend that we really don't have "snow" compared to the northern portion of the country. I remind them that this was why they moved here.

On the other side of the fence, my grandmother had a friend come up to visit her from Florida. She was here when the sky was spitting the frozen stuff all over the place. Most of it melted, but not enough to have the kids go to school, apparently.

I was giddy at the thought of a little winter weather. It always makes it feel a little more like Christmas to me.

She glared at me and declared, "This is why I don't like the north."

"The north?"

"Yes. Any place that has the ability to produce snow is north."

"That kind of redefines the regional settings, doesn't it?"

She stared me down for a moment. "Whatever. I hate snow and cold weather!"

I suspect that tomorrow morning my kids will continue their snow vigil, ever-hopeful that there is just enough slick, wet, cold ice to close down the schools. I, on the other hand, wouldn't mind if it held off until the weekend.

And if it's going to snow, I wish it would really snow. I want enough to play in. The stuff we got recently didn't leave enough of a mark to even make a single snow ball.

I want to make snow angels, go sledding and have snow ball fights. Then I want to go in and sit as close to the fireplace as possible with a mug of steaming cocoa (with miniature marshmallows, of course).

My grandmother's friend will be home by then, so she will be able to avoid the "unpleasantness" of the cold. And my northern-raised friends will be able to play in a little bit of "home."

And, school will be "out," regardless.