Sudsy Situation

The first thing is: I know our water softener is working correctly.

On to Bigger and Better Things

Benjamin officially ended his preschool career this morning, with a little song and dance ("I didn't practice the songs, Mom... I'll just copy the other kids") followed by a cookie reception.  With three years of preschool (at two schools) under his belt and his sixth birthday approaching in six weeks or so, I do believe it is safe to say Ben is ready for kindergarten.  And while there's no opportunity for comparison or concrete "proof," I think it's also safe to say we made the right choice in holding back Ben for a year.

That's not to say I think it's the right decision for everyone, or even every boy or every child with a summer birthday.  The truth is, I am a little bit resentful of some of the opinions thrown our way over the past year-- everyone seems to have an opinion on this issue, whether they know my child or not.  Most have been a simply annoying version of this: "Hold him back.  He's a boy.  They're all so immature."  I would not argue the point of Ben's maturity, but I would argue against saying half of the human race is immature due to the presence of testicles.  Other opinions, whether intentional or not, have hit closer to home, and have run through my head throughout this preschool year: suggestions that Ben is best held back because he's physically small-- as though size has something to do with readiness to learn; suggestions that Ben should wait a year to begin school to avoid comparison to other relatives and friends-- as though parents don't compare, anyway.

Not Broadway-Bound

This is quite possibly the world's worst theater-- The kind of "art" to which our "creative" children expose us at least twice a week.  Enjoy!  (Or don't.)

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Happy Memorial Day!

We spent the holiday at home, with no plans to speak of, because how can you make plans when it rains every day?  Anyway, since it did NOT rain today, we mostly just puttered around-- I did laundry and picked up, while Todd worked outside in the yard.  When I "escaped" for just a little while to run an errand, I was enjoying my time alone in the car and making mental lists:

Deep Thoughts About Rain

We worked outside today, in the few, brief hours of warm sunshine between rain showers and thunderstorms.  Now, it is raining again.  We are in a flash flood warning.  The beach is gone and the lakeside landscaping underwater.  The dog doesn't want to go outside to pee.  Other than that, I have run out of things to say about all the rain.  It just generally sucks.  Sitting down at the computer this evening, I was searching for a graphic image of the old SNL bit "Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey."  In particular, I was thinking of the one that went: "If a kid asks where rain comes from, I think a cute thing to tell him is 'God is crying.'  And if he asks why God is crying, another cute thing to tell him is, 'Probably because of something you did.'" 

Seeing the Museum

On this gray and rainy Saturday, it was obvious none of the much-needed yard work was going to get done...  So, we took the kids on a family excursion.  We spent the day at the Science Museum, taking in all the sights, including the Omnitheater film, the massive dinosaur skeletons, and the musical stairs; and then visiting Cossetta's Italian Market and Pizzeria for supper.  It was quite the adventure for us Krinkelanders, who'd pretty much had our full share of adventure in Walt Disney World at the beginning of the year.


Going anywhere for the day with four children is a significant undertaking.  Those who tell you otherwise are liars... or high on something.  The museum was busy today, but not overly so, and I did NOT observe any other sixsomes, parents with four children.  I was thinking about the reasons for this:

1. It's expensive.  I added up our costs for admission, and the difference between one-day tickets and a year-long season pass for our family was $13 (only $8 if I factor in the member parking rate.)  That didn't include food-- we ate elsewhere and still spent plenty; or souvenirs-- we bought none.
2. It's HARD.  At one point, I lined up all four children in front of an exhibit to try to take a photo.  As I stepped back, Madeline hoisted her rump up onto the guardrail and, in a moment, flipped backward, spun around and nearly cracked her skull on the concrete curb.  I flung my camera over my shoulder and shoved the double stroller toward the wall before sauntering over to her and asking, "Are you kidding me?!"  That response, I do not believe, is what was expected from the parents-of-one-child onlookers.
3. It's a juggling act.  To be fair, the subject matter and level of much of the Science Museum is above the youngest child, probably the youngest two.  On the other hand, it's right in the Old Man's interests.  That meant I spent much of the day counting noses and doling out snacks.

It was still all worth it to see the excitement on their faces... and the glimmers of recognition.  They were LEARNING!  It is such a cool place, and we will be back, because, hey, we bought that membership.

Surrendering Trying to Get This Video on the Previous Post

Beach Party Weekend

We are headed into the Memorial Day weekend with a beachy attitude here in Krinkeland.  This evening, the kids ran (and bounced) around outside at my nephew Oliver's fourth birthday party.  Happy, happy day to the clever and loveable Oliver Thomas!  This morning, Benjamin celebrated his last official day in preschool with a beach party.  Oh, yes, he wore the "unitard."  Last evening, we had the privilege of attending the girls' spring program at school.  The theme celebrated the Beach Boys' 50th anniversary.  It's not too difficult to pick out our beach babes, rockin' along:

Rain, Rain, Go Away

We have seriously had enough.  Apart from the floating landscaping lakeside and the flooded farmers' fields, all this rain is just plain wet... And depressing.  I am pretty sure I could never live in London or Seattle or anyplace else known for lots of rain.  Well, maybe Kauai.

I am taking my bright spots where I can get them:

Benjamin: "Mom, I'm not afraid of thunderstorms. Not at all. They are not scary because I know what lightning actually is. Do you know what it is, Mom?"

Mom: "What, Honey?"

Benjamin: "Whenever there's lightning, God is just taking a picture of me... So I smile."

Mom (thinking that's corny, but cute): "Awww, who told you that?"

Benjamin: "You did, Mom."

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Benjamin on the Ball

I made sure the jersey was clean, filled the water bottle, packed the bat bag, found the cap, gave bathroom reminders, tied shoes, folded a picnic blanket, grabbed my book and loaded the car.  It was Monday evening, and we were headed out to yet another kid's activity.  This sort of thing is old hat to me by now.  We are always going somewhere, always doing something.  If experience has taught me anything, I should know: it will either be too hot or too cold or too windy or too sunny; the non-team-member siblings are going to head right for the playground and never return; some contingency of grandparents will meet us there; someone is going to be thirsty and someone is going to have to go to the bathroom; I am going to forget something; I will inadvertently sit next to the loud, annoying parent; Daddy might be late-- but he will make it.

All those things happened... and, still, last evening was a unique experience.

It was Benjamin's first t-ball game.

You know Benjamin-- he's that smart, adorable, whiny, impulsive, wimpy, little boy who has been enough of a medical mystery to turn his mother's hair gray.  Ben doesn't care to do too much except go to his grandparents' houses and torture his younger sister.  He is used to being the tag-along in all of his big sisters' endeavors.  Plus, I think, being physically smaller and slower-moving than most of the boys his age, he's never been one to sign up for team events.  And, with a mother as un-athletic as me, Ben hasn't exactly been pushed to participate.  However, this spring, Ben decided he wanted to play t-ball.

I cannot explain the overwhelming emotion of watching my little boy take the field.  It affected me in such a way I could not even write about it last night.  Am I being melodramatic?  Of course.  Still, there was a time when we were unsure whether this child would walk.  We had darker moments, when one doctor suspected a terminal condition, another a rare and horrific genetic syndrome.  The day Benjamin was diagnosed with two minor heart defects, you could not have convinced me there was such a thing as a "minor heart defect."

My son.  On the ball field.  32 pounds of toothpick legs, sticky-out ears, braced ankles, and a grin from ear to ear, in a bright green (Go, Alligators!) jersey.

And he did well.  OK, maybe not well... But he was right in line with the rest of his scrumptious 'Gator teammates.  Benjamin understood the game, and he listened to his coaches.  Ben fielded some balls.  He watched some balls roll right past him.  Benjamin hit the ball.  He ran.  Ben ran, all the way to first base.  One time, he even beat the first baseman and got to run to second base and third base and all the way home.

I could not have been more proud if my son had taken a Major League field.

Li'l Slugger

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Book Club

A friend recently invited me and some others to join a new book club.  I kind of missed the Book Club Craze of the last decade, on a number of fronts: (1) I was birthing and nursing babies; (2) I figured I would be a disaster in any book club scenario, because I am too opinionated about everything; and (3) no one ever invited me into a book club.  However, I do love to read, and now that my children are getting a little older, I find I am able to return to novels and memoirs more and more.

Some of the women in this book had previously belonged to a club that had gradually disintegrated.  It is one of these former members who decided to get things going again and who hosted our first meeting.  We have a very loose structure-- once a month meeting with wine and dessert; any book at all, chosen by the rotating host; basic discussion questions written by the host or culled from an Internet search, or provided by the publisher at the back of the book.  We meet late in the evening on a weeknight, since most of us still have small children to tuck into bed, and it's no big deal if you can't make it.  Low pressure.  Lots of laughs.

For our first literary offering, the host chose a novel in a book club kit offered by our local public library.  With this kit, she is able to check out a dozen copies of the book, along with an audio version, and some discussion questions and any additional materials.  There are hundreds to choose from...  She selected one that just "sounded good;" it was a wildly popular title 10 or 15 years ago, but she just never got around to reading it-- neither did I.

The book is "Breath, Eyes, Memory" by Edwidge Danticat.  It was a shorter book, an easy read-- I plowed through it in just a few days.  The book was interesting, offering cultural insight I would never have otherwise had (even though it is a novel.)  And I marveled at the success of the book, as I read about the youth of its author.  Hopefully, when our book club meets next month, I will have some things to say about it... but not too much!

In the meantime, I have now moved on to reading some of the other books recommended to me by other book club attendees.  Turns out there's quite a lot I've been missing.  Today, I cannot put down "Cutting for Stone" by Abraham Verghese.  Then, I still have waiting "Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet" by Jamie Ford.  I guess, a couple years ago, this tome swept the book club circuit, but I missed it.  For the record, my mother (also not a book club joiner) loaned me her copy of this book... guess she knows what to read, too.

I am excited about this endeavor. I am looking forward to learning more about my friends, through their selections and through their opinions.  It will be so nice to have a topic of discussion other than whose kid cursed out the bus driver or which school parents are splitting up.  Books are one of those things I can't really discuss with my husband, who doesn't make much time for recreational reading, and who would have terribly different tastes from me if he did.  I also don't really like to read the same things as my kids (although they are certainly as proficient at reading as their mother.)  I am at the book-screening stage with the 10-year-old-who-thinks-she's-15.  As for the eight-year-old, we are in a tug-of-war over me encouraging her to read more challenging books, up to her ability level.  But, at least they're reading.

Never Enough Time

Don't you think this is the craziest time of year?

I know when you think of busy times, probably the Thanksgiving/Christmas/New Year's holiday stretch is the most hectic, but, when it really comes to plotting out the family calendar, spring is really out-of-control for us.  Part of it is just the way things fall with our family, including the fact that we have LOTS of spring birthdays, but it's more than that:

First Communion
dance recital
school fundraisers
field trips
Mother's Day
t-ball
puppy class
school music program
preschool graduation
piano recital
Father's Day

With more going on, combined with longer days (more sunlight)-- hey, we're so busy we missed this evening's solar eclipse!-- bedtime battles grow, and then the busy-ness and exhaustion just pile on for the next day.  I'm already dreading having to wake up the kids tomorrow when they're still sleeping and it's time to get ready for school.

Brush Up Your Babysitting

Amanda spent her Saturday attending a babysitters' training course offered through our school district's community education program.  She thinks she's old enough to babysit for her siblings.  Naturally, I think otherwise.  Yes, the truth is that I was babysitting for other people's children at age 10-- even late at night, even three and four kids at a time, even babies.  Those things all seem pretty irrelevant, however, when it comes to my baby taking care of my other babies.

Our oldest child is responsible and attentive and compassionate and caring.  She will, someday soon, make an excellent babysitter.  Before that can happen, however, I told Amanda she had to take the child care first aid course offered by our town hospital (she's not old enough for that one, yet) and this one-day community ed. class.  So, this morning, as though it was a school day, we packed her bag with a lunch, a notebook and pencil, and a practice baby doll and sent her off to learn how to be a great babysitter.

The class was full, and most of the attendees were older than Amanda, as she barely met the minimum age requirement.  She said she recognized a few of the other students from her school bus route, and had no trouble taking part in group discussions or making small talk during breaks.  I am quite certain our Amanda kept the instructor on her toes, asking astute questions and commenting, commenting, commenting, because that's just how she rolls.  After she got home, however, the student became the teacher.  As I folded laundry and prepared supper, Amanda followed me around and quizzed me:

"Do you know how to do the Heimlich maneuver?"