Through the Eyes of a Child

As the first day of school is approaching at an incredibly fast (and frightening) speed, I've been trying to acclimate my summer (read lazy) body to getting up earlier.  As I will be teaching in a middle school, the day starts early (kids arrive at 7:40), and as it's about 40 minutes away, my day will need to start quite a bit earlier than I'm accustomed to.

Thus, I've started trying to drag myself out of bed early, and setting my alarm back about 15 minutes every couple of days.  What I find fascinating is that no matter how early I get up, Big Trouble is already awake and sitting on the couch watching PBS (being the cheap frugal family that we are, his early morning choices are limited to morning news shows or the children's offerings on PBS).  He greets me with a happy smile, and I try to do the same, though I admit it's a struggle.

I've been feeling cranky and rather put-out that I have to get up early (while inside I know I should just be thrilled to have a job to get up for, my outside is TIRED), and as my classroom is a frightening mess, I've been going in to the school quite a bit.  Apparently, all the teachers from last year were so happy to no longer have to teach math that it seems they took ALL their math materials - I'm talking old photocopies, textbook series that haven't been used for 10 years, etc. - and dumped them in my room.  This week has been spent digging through everything, boxing up all the junk, and sending it to the vast abyss of storage.

When I got up yesterday and shuffled into the kitchen, Big Trouble followed me.  He stood in the doorway and announced with shining eyes and a supremely happy voice, "I love it when the light looks like this - it makes the whole kitchen orange! I wonder if the bathroom looks this way?" and he raced over to the bathroom to confirm that it, too, was bathed in orange light.

I couldn't have been more struck about what a different way this was to start the day.  Instead of lamenting that I have to get up with (or before) the sun, I could cherish the way it surrounds my kitchen in soft, beautiful light that can't be seen any other time of the day, and that this is a special moment I get to share with my seven year old son.

I can't say it will make me happy about getting up at 5:30, but I'm working on it.  Thanks, Big Trouble. 

And Now For Something Completely Different...

A couple of weeks ago, we took the kids to the NY Renaissance Faire; I wanted to write about it sooner, but it's taken me this long to recover.

I've never been to a Renaissance Faire - I thought it would be something like Old Williamsburg, with historical re-enactors and authentic buildings.  I was wrong.

Apparently, I'm the only one laboring under this misapprehension.  I also didn't realize that everyone and his brother would be going to the Renaissance Faire.  When we got there, we parked on a huge field labeled Lot Number 3, which was already almost full, and took a Shuttle bus to the fairgrounds, since there were already a zillion cars parked and the original parking lots were full. As we got out of the car, I noticed several people walking with us to the shuttle bus dressed in full Renaissance garb.  I assumed they were late to work.  Again, I was wrong.

We got to the fairgrounds, paid our pricey admission (but the kids were free that week-end, so it evened out ok), and started to walk.  I'm not sure how long the fair has been going on, but I think many of the buildings and all of the signage have been in use since the beginning.  Everything was a bit kitschy, and not exactly what one would call historically accurate - pretty much someone's version of what he thought the Renaissance may have been like, possibly under the influence of some sort of alcoholic substance, and certainly without much help from any reference books....

As we were walking, I started to realize something - we were surrounded by LOTS of people in Renaissance garb, some of them wearing such odd items as pointy elf ears to round out their flowing capes, and wildly tight and inappropriate Renaissance-style bustiers.  I quietly mentioned to The Professor that there seemed to be an awful lot of people dressed up, and was surprised that they had so many workers/volunteers.  He looked at me somewhat oddly, and informed me that they were all just fair-goers like us.  I was floored - so apparently this is a big deal - people have their own Renaissance outfits at home and slap them on in billion degree weather to walk around the Renaissance Faire.  I spent the rest of the afternoon in a state of shock and confusion, the remnants of which are still lurking in the corners of my mind.

There was lots of stuff to see, and the kids had a great time.  They got to see a joust, a crazy performer named Dextre Tripp who did wild things like juggling with a chain saw and strapping fireworks to his chest, saw some neat birds of prey, watched a glassblower, and generally enjoyed themselves.

Now I have to convince Miss Serious that we don't actually need matching Renaissance capes...

Don't Cry....

I am a simple woman with simple needs.  I don't consider myself high-maintenance (or maybe I'm fooling myself like in Harry Met Sally), and I don't ask for much out of life.  When Friday rolls around, I'm happy that the working week has come to a close (even if the concept of sleeping in on a Saturday has been missing 'round these parts for, oh, about 9 years), and ask for very little - an easy-to-prepare dinner, some English comedies on PBS, maybe a tasty dessert.

What I don't enjoy on a Friday night is a really odd sound coming from the direction of my kitchen followed by a slightly hysterical, "Help!" called out in the tones that only a nine-year-old with a big problem can muster.

Now, when I'm in the center of my apartment, I'm only about 10 or 20 feet from the opposite end, and The Professor and I made the short trip from the comparative serenity of the living room to the kitchen in record time.

The scene which confronted us was distinctly unexpected and horrifying - my kitchen is pretty much all white (cabinets, tile floor, appliances), but it had attained an extra veneer of shiny whiteness because of the FULL GALLON of milk that was currently streaming quickly across my tiles in a race to get under all the appliances where it could stay in milky goodness and produce a smell that would surely force us to leave our home after 2 hot days.

Leaping into action (as opposed to Miss Serious, who stood in the center of this puddle holding the now-empty and exploded milk container as if transfixed by the beauty of the stream surrounding her), we grabbed all the bath towels we have and threw them down on the milk, jumping up and down on them in some sort of maniacal tribal dance so they could absorb for all they were worth.  Tobie helped out on the hardwood floor in the hallway, and took care of the overflow....

The floor, having been towel-dried, steam-cleaned, and wiped down with cleaner on hands and knees is now dry and no longer sticky.  The towels were taken to the basement and washed, and Miss Serious seems to have recovered.  The Professor and I treated ourselves to a beer and called it a night.

This is one of the things no one ever tells you about parenting - that some night, when you least expect it, your kid is going to drop an entire gallon of milk on the kitchen floor, and since you're the grown-up, you have to fix it.  Just like scraped knees, high fevers, and questions about why that woman in Costco has so many kids - no one will be taking care of it for you.

Luckily the fix was quick, we seems to have caught the milk before it went under the stove, and this particular gallon of milk happened to be a cheap gallon from Costco as opposed to the frighteningly expensive organic stuff.

See - simple needs.  Now if only I had some milk for my coffee....

Back to Reality

Well, we're back from Cape Cod, and I think I've recuperated from vacation.  It always seems like it will be restful, but by the end of the week, I'm always pretty zapped (as everyone else seemed to be, as well).  Now we've been home a couple of days, washed all the clothes, brushed the sand off the suitcases, and tucked them away.  I caught up on some sleep, and even though it was rather a shock to come back to the heat (REALLY tired of this, by the way), I'm starting to get my bearings again.

As usual, a lovely time was had by all; the kids were more interested in water this year, so we spent a little more time at the beach and pond.  We did get to the Sandwich Glass Museum and the Cape Cod Museum of Natural History, both of which were interesting (although we did have an orthodontic emergency at the Museum of Natural History - Miss Serious popped off a bottom brace, leading to a hanging wire - luckily the staff was able to dig up a wire cutter for us, the wire was clipped, and they even gave her a turtle magnet for bravery).  We even hit the yarn store and picked up some lovely yarn for hats and socks - just what I want to think of when it's 95 degrees outside....

Tying Up Loose Ends....

As we will be leaving for Cape Cod tomorrow at the crack of dawn (NOT my most favorite time of the day), I've been packing all the necessaries and sundries for our vacation (you know - snacks, wine...) and trying to make sure everything that needs to get done (i.e. paying the mortgage) gets finished before we drive off into the sunrise. 

We've been going to the Cape for a few years now, and learned a valuable lesson about departure times on our first trip.  We left our home at a decent hour, drove blissfully up the highway towards our lovely destination, and landed smack-dab into some of the stinkiest traffic I have ever experienced (and as I'm from Long Island, that's saying something).  Turns out there are only two skinny little bridges that lead to Cape Cod, and everyone who is renting a cottage (pretty much all of the cars on the road) rent from Saturday to Saturday, thus requiring everyone in the world to proceed over those two little bridges at the exact same time.  We reckoned we learned from our mistake, and vowed to leave really early next year.

What didn't occur to us (and The Professor and I have a FRIGHTENING amount of schooling under our belts....) was that everyone would also be leaving Cape Cod at the exact same time on the following Saturday.  This become horrifyingly apparent as we sat in the traffic going the other direction in our attempt to leave - and this time around I had definitely lost my sense of humor.  At the time, Big Trouble was just a toddler, and Miss Serious was probably 3.  After spending a week in a small cabin trapped with these little people, I was yearning for some quiet time.  Unfortunately, Miss Serious took this opportunity to talk the entire way home.  If there's a way to make lots of traffic and a long drive even more unpleasant, that would be it.  I think when we got home I went in my room and forbid everyone to talk to me for an hour, but that just may have been wishful thinking...

I have taken a little break from the sock yarn blanket, as it has just been too hot to have it draped across my lap, but I did finish the perfect article for a hot July - wool socks - don't hit the beach without them!  They're made with Adirondack Bearfoot Mountain colors, and are wonderfully soft. 

And, because it's not warm enough in here and I thought heating the place up with the oven would be a good idea (totally worth it though), I made some lime squares (just a lemon square recipe, but I had some limes, and thought they would be good - they were REALLY good), and a coffee cake. 

The coffee cake recipe is from Martha Stewart and uses an obscene amount of butter and sugar in the crumbs, but the resulting ratio of crumbs to cake (about 2:1) is truly genius. 

If only I could figure out why my shorts have been feeling snug?  I must be retaining water because of the heat....

Summer is Rolling Along

We're almost at the end of July, and I am, as usual, stunned and amazed how fast the summer goes.  As soon as the kids get out of school, it seems like there's all the time in the world, and then next thing you know it's August, and the time starts ticking in earnest.  We have to get out school supply lists (I passed on buying the pre-packaged school supplies from the PTA this year - it was going to end up costing around $60, and as I'm pretty sure the pencils aren't made out of gold, that seems a tad excessive).

We just got back from a whirlwind trip to Boston - we met some friends there (who are actually from here); they unfortunately had a sick child and had to leave early, but we really enjoyed our time with them while we could. We went to the Museum of Science (so awesome - I can't recommend it enough - there is absolutely something for everyone there), walked A LOT of The Freedom Trail (and it was hot, so it definitely seemed like more), and went to the Harvard Natural History Museum.

A quick trip, but we squeezed in a lot, and now are all pretty zapped and needing a quiet day to recover (or at least I am - the kids are bouncing around pretty good).  We go to Cape Cod on Saturday, so I guess we also need to wash some clothes, unless I could talk everyone into wearing their bathing suits for a week....

Not Dead...

but I have been uncharacteristically quiet.  I've been doing lots of professional development at MY NEW SCHOOL (still awfully exciting!!), and my brain has been unable to focus when I'm home because the heat turned me into a soggy puddle of stupidity.  This last couple of weeks have just about done me in, and I was ready to grab an air conditioner (or three!), but The Professor stayed strong and we are still air conditioner free.  It is rather distressing and disheartening, however, that we're trying so hard to be green by not using a tiny window air conditioner while every day the news greets me with how many days bajillions of gallons of oil have been pouring into the Gulf of Mexico...

Despite the heat, we've been busy and enjoying the summer.  We visited some family in PA and had a lovely time - we hit Longwood Gardens which is just too beautiful for words - this is Big Trouble and me kicking back and enjoying the peaceful gorgeousness of it all.

I've been working on my blanket (even finished another sock), and trying to read all my math books.  I got to see the classroom I'll be in, which was really neat.  It's such a change to work for a wealthy district - when I taught upstate, I had to buy tons of supplies myself, including a rug for my classroom (which a fifth grader promptly vomited on). 

During our writing training this week, a couple of books were mentioned which would be good resources.  I promptly wrote them down in my little notebook to check out from the library, but then the principal asked who wanted them, and will order sets for each of us.  A far cry from me having to give lessons to my fourth graders on how to properly use tissues so as not to waste the small supply we had of them.....