The other day, Mal and I went to the park, both wearing shorts and t-shirts. The day before had been delightfully chilly, and I was so disappointed that this day was muggy and in the mid- to high-70s already at like 8:00 AM. Apparently, this is an austin thing, which I forget each year, but noticed in my "Facebook Memories" today I was complaining about two years ago. It gets chilly, happiness mounts as I get to enjoy leggings and sweaters, and then... well, someone asked if it were "Indian summer" (is that offensive? I don't know the origin) but I think a more accurate assessment would be that the cooler days are a fake-fall, which we don't actually have here.
Also, another little boy and his mom came to the park while we were there, and he was wearing long pants, a long-sleeved shirt, and a Captain America hoodie which was zipped all the way up. I'd have been crying in protest if it were me. People dress weirdly here. The day before? Nice and chill; it would have been appropriate. This day? Way to give your kid heat stroke.
Another thing is that the temperature doesn't follow a "cooler when it's dark, hotter during the daytime" pattern this time of year. The high might be at 9:30 AM, then it dives and is 20 degrees cooler at 3:00 PM.
Alternately, I might get up and put on sweats and a long-sleeved shirt, only to have to change into shorts and a tank top in the afternoon, then back into long pants at night.
This morning when Mal and I went on a short jaunt around the complex, it was 58 degrees, and about half of the air conditioners were on. I don't understand why people don't open their windows. I've looked literally every time we've ever been outside and have only ever seen one set of windows (like a double window in one apartment) cracked open at all. It was VERY cool inside our apartment when we woke up this morning; 67, I believe. It got cooler when I opened the windows more. I don't think it ever got above 70 in here. If I had to work, I'd still leave the windows partially opened. I guess I'm just cheap that way.
To change the subject completely: All of those words I reported Mal using a month and a half ago? He's stopped. He rarely (but will a bit) says "Dada." The only other thing he says, and he says it ALL OF THE TIME FOR EVERYTHING, is "ba-hum." It means "help," "I want that," "no, seriously, help," and, of course, "nursies." The thing is, he understands A LOT. Like everything, almost.
We have this joke now when he climbs into my lap and wants to nurse. He'll say, "Ba-hum" and I'll say, "Nursies." He'll usually smack my chest and say, "Ba-hum!" So I'll correct him: "Nursies." Then he laughs or screams like it's the biggest joke, and it makes me laugh.
There have been a couple of times I've asked him to pick up and item and bring it to me, and he's done it. He knows exactly what "vitamin" means, and "bath." When we ask him if he wants to go outside, take a walk, ride his bike, etc. he knows what's going on. He sticks his tongue out on the page in a book where a kid is doing that. He waits for me to give him a kiss on the page in another book where that happens. He gets things.
The other day, I asked him if I could clip his nails. He walked over to get his grooming kit, opened it up, and... took off with the clippers so I couldn't. He gets things!
But it's like he's given up on trying to talk. He vocalizes almost constantly. But he isn't trying to make words, so... that's interesting.
Saturday, November 14, 2015
Saturday, November 7, 2015
One of those days (actually, it was pretty great... but I'm tired!)
This morning, Mal slept until a bit after 7, the latest he's slept since the time change last week. He had also stayed up until well after 8 the night before, which was the latest he's made it since the same event.
I had a busy day planned, trying to stay out of the house so James could write for NaNoWriMo, but we decided to go out to breakfast together (meaning the three of us, since Daphne doesn't get up that early ever ever ever). We decided on Kerbey Lane, and James took Mal downstairs and got him into his car seat. As he was going so, we heard a "thud." James' brand new, meticulously-researched and long-awaited phone had dropped out of his hoodie pocket. He didn't tell me until later, but the fall chipped two corners of the screen, as he doesn't have a case yet.
I told James I needed to stop by the bank for cash first, so I might be a couple of minutes after him, then we left in separate cars. As I reached into my purse at the ATM, I realized something; I'd forgotten my brand spanking new camera, which I adore. It has 65x zoom, and I was so looking forward to getting some good pictures at the Austin Indian Powwow. I drove across the street to Kerbey Lane, and called James on the off chance that he'd gone back upstairs for an umbrella or something. I asked him where he was, and when he said, "Bee Caves near Batteries Plus," I just thought, "I don't remember seeing a store on that street," but I was thinking of OLD Bee Caves road, or I would have known something was up.
"How did you get there so much faster than I did?" James asked. I gave him a throw-away reason, but the truth would probably be more like this: I drive like a bat out of hell, and James drives like your grandpa.
I told him I'd just go home and get the camera, but after making a u-turn realized that if I did that, I'd have to get Mal out of his car seat just to run up for the camera, and it was just a big stupid thing; I was so close to all of my morning destinations and I just didn't want to go back out to the apartments.
I had to do a little mental self-talk as I made another u-turn to get back to the restaurant. I don't have to take pictures of everything. It's okay not to have a pictorial record of some things. Chill out. They'll have another powwow next year, and it might be easier to take pictures when Mal's bigger, and maybe someone else is with me. (Although, if it's November and I go in the morning, that's probably unlikely.)
When we got to Kerbey Lane, it was busy and I mentally kicked myself in the butt for not coming in the first time to get our name on the list. I finally did, and they said it'd be 15-20 minutes. They use a texting system to let you know when your table is ready, so I pulled my phone out and saw a message from James. He was wondering where I was. He had gone to the Kerbey Lane on Capital of Texas Highway instead of the one on William Canon, which apparently Waze didn't want to admit existed. I told him where I was and he said he could be there before we were seated.
I decided to let Mal play in the van until he got there, and we were on our way to the car, walking in the pouring rain, when I got the text that our table was ready, barely three minutes after I'd put my name on the list. Mmmkay.
The hostess got a high chair for Mal, but I let him stand in the booth next to me and I ordered his food right away. We have to use the high chairs strategically, only seating him when we need our arms free to eat.
Mal played, ate some crayons, might or might not have mouthed the salt and pepper shakers (the pepper shaker was a mistake, said his face), and ate some of the snacks I'd brought him. James did arrive before Mal's breakfast, and we enjoyed some awesome fried avocado Benedict, although we had to juggle our son a lot, and move around the things on the table an awful lot, and he ate about a cup of raisins.
Oh, when our meals came, I sat Mal in his high chair before realizing that the buckle was missing. James held Mal while I went to get another high chair. Brought it back, sat Mal down, and it had both sides of the buckle, but it didn't snap shut. I carried Mal back to the high chairs, set him in a third one, and buckled it. Good. It snapped.
Unfortunately, the side into which it snapped was cracked, and by the time we got back to the table, Mal was plenty mad about being jammed into high chair after high chair. This time, James went to the stash and found one that did work properly. Even it held Mal for about 3 minutes. He was just done.
I went out to the car, forgetting the diaper changing pad that had all of our booty-cleaning supplies, but fortunately James caught me in the parking lot before I left. Then Mal and I headed to our church's holiday bazaar.
There was a lot of cool stuff, and a very sweet lady offered to let Mal sit at a table with her while I shopped. He seemed really to want to do that, but then he'd get up and try to unplug the heat lamp they had warming a scented candle. At one point, when I was browsing, Mal grabbed a beautifully-knitted stuffed bunny, put its nose in his mouth, hugged it, then threw it on the floor. So, it was ours. I'm hoping it will be his transitional object.
I also got an insulated casserole carrier which I actually needed, but sort of had to get because it was made with this awesome fabric that has 1950s-looking RVs and people on it. So cute. Also, some nut-free fudge because James bought a bunch of nutted up fudge (with my blessing, but, dude, I hate it; however, I love him) when we had access to seconds at the unschooling convention.
I'd have loved to look at more things more closely, but... baby. So, I bought my stuff and promised to come back if I could find someone to come with me or on whom I could pawn off the sweet thing for an hour. Spoiler alert: did not happen.
Because he had some energies, before our next event, I took Mal to "his" gym. It was Dadurday all up in there. I've learned that Saturday is Dadurday and national holidays are take-your-grandkids-to-gym days. Every gym day is mommy day for us. Mal played a while, then we headed a couple of blocks over to the arena for the Austin Powwow.
When we got there, it was raining, and we had to park quite a way from the entrance. Mal was fascinated with puddles. Once we got into the gate (where there were no vehicles), he immediately kneeled down and put his face into one. An elderly gentleman passing by asked, "Is he trying to drink that water?" I said, "Yes, yes he is. He sees the dogs do it, so he does it." Of course, I meant "cats." I have brain issues when I'm tired.
Mal also sat in a puddle directly, so when I carried him indoors, we were both pretty damp. He loved the music and we were sitting up high in the stands where it appeared that other parents of littles had decided we'd all be out of the way. Our kids begged and shared food, took turns hanging out with adults they had not brought, and played together/parallel to one another. There are long breaks between songs as emcees explain what is going on, and I learned a lot.
I even cried a little bit. First, just seeing a culture so lovingly maintained. I have no idea from where my family hails, and we have no old world traditions (except for holidays that are pretty widespread). These are peoples who value their languages and lifestyles and don't want them lost to the future. Also, the kids next to us all had giant turkey legs and the smell was getting to me, as it made me miss Daphne!
After that, we came home and Mal fell asleep in the car. I figured we had about two hours of quiet and there was much I needed to get done on my computer. However, it was being stubborn and after nearly half an hour of motors grinding, I rebooted. That process took fifteen minutes. Then Flash kept stopping and wouldn't restart. By the time I got my issues worked out, Mal had awoken. He was still in nap mode, so I nursed him back to sleep. But that took ten minutes or so. I sat back down to figure out what to do first, and by the time I'd opened a couple of browser windows and had sent a message to a friend, Mal was awake awake. It had been barely an hour.
Mal has gotten into the habit of crying to get up on the bar stools because he thinks we're going to let him play with our computers. We're not, but we've both made the mistake of letting him bang around a couple of times, and now we're paying for it. We've decided to be mean and just say no, all the time, for any reason. He can't get into James' office. He can't use my laptop. And he's not happy.
I felt gypped out of my "midday break" and felt my emotional energy bottoming out as Mal continued to fuss. James asked what he could do to help, and there wasn't anything. I was trying to give him this day to write, but things weren't working out to cooperate.
Eventually, we all hung out as a family, ate some lunch, and then took a walk to the mailbox together. James wore Mal! Mal thought it was very funny, being in the carrier somewhere else besides on my chest. He returned home in a much cheerier mood.
There was a fall festival that started at 3. I waited around, killing time while he was entertaining himself, until a bit after 4, and then we went.
The festival was fun, but it made me happy yet again that I'm not in a megachurch. I appreciated their hospitality, though. Mal rode his first and second carnival rides, and he loved them!
Other than that, he had fun just walking around, dancing to music, and eating a brat from Best Wurst. We had a nice time, it was chilly and windy, and Mal seems to agree with me that it's the best weather ever.
When we got home, he had a good-natured hour or so with his dad, took a bath, we video-chatted with his grandma, and then he came quietly and compliantly to bed. He's awakened once already but is back to sleep. And, guess what? I'm tired! Also, I haven't done that stuff I wanted to do earlier, but it requires brainpower I don't have anymore.
Maybe tomorrow, right? Hope springs eternal...
I had a busy day planned, trying to stay out of the house so James could write for NaNoWriMo, but we decided to go out to breakfast together (meaning the three of us, since Daphne doesn't get up that early ever ever ever). We decided on Kerbey Lane, and James took Mal downstairs and got him into his car seat. As he was going so, we heard a "thud." James' brand new, meticulously-researched and long-awaited phone had dropped out of his hoodie pocket. He didn't tell me until later, but the fall chipped two corners of the screen, as he doesn't have a case yet.
I told James I needed to stop by the bank for cash first, so I might be a couple of minutes after him, then we left in separate cars. As I reached into my purse at the ATM, I realized something; I'd forgotten my brand spanking new camera, which I adore. It has 65x zoom, and I was so looking forward to getting some good pictures at the Austin Indian Powwow. I drove across the street to Kerbey Lane, and called James on the off chance that he'd gone back upstairs for an umbrella or something. I asked him where he was, and when he said, "Bee Caves near Batteries Plus," I just thought, "I don't remember seeing a store on that street," but I was thinking of OLD Bee Caves road, or I would have known something was up.
"How did you get there so much faster than I did?" James asked. I gave him a throw-away reason, but the truth would probably be more like this: I drive like a bat out of hell, and James drives like your grandpa.
I told him I'd just go home and get the camera, but after making a u-turn realized that if I did that, I'd have to get Mal out of his car seat just to run up for the camera, and it was just a big stupid thing; I was so close to all of my morning destinations and I just didn't want to go back out to the apartments.
I had to do a little mental self-talk as I made another u-turn to get back to the restaurant. I don't have to take pictures of everything. It's okay not to have a pictorial record of some things. Chill out. They'll have another powwow next year, and it might be easier to take pictures when Mal's bigger, and maybe someone else is with me. (Although, if it's November and I go in the morning, that's probably unlikely.)
When we got to Kerbey Lane, it was busy and I mentally kicked myself in the butt for not coming in the first time to get our name on the list. I finally did, and they said it'd be 15-20 minutes. They use a texting system to let you know when your table is ready, so I pulled my phone out and saw a message from James. He was wondering where I was. He had gone to the Kerbey Lane on Capital of Texas Highway instead of the one on William Canon, which apparently Waze didn't want to admit existed. I told him where I was and he said he could be there before we were seated.
I decided to let Mal play in the van until he got there, and we were on our way to the car, walking in the pouring rain, when I got the text that our table was ready, barely three minutes after I'd put my name on the list. Mmmkay.
The hostess got a high chair for Mal, but I let him stand in the booth next to me and I ordered his food right away. We have to use the high chairs strategically, only seating him when we need our arms free to eat.
Mal played, ate some crayons, might or might not have mouthed the salt and pepper shakers (the pepper shaker was a mistake, said his face), and ate some of the snacks I'd brought him. James did arrive before Mal's breakfast, and we enjoyed some awesome fried avocado Benedict, although we had to juggle our son a lot, and move around the things on the table an awful lot, and he ate about a cup of raisins.
Oh, when our meals came, I sat Mal in his high chair before realizing that the buckle was missing. James held Mal while I went to get another high chair. Brought it back, sat Mal down, and it had both sides of the buckle, but it didn't snap shut. I carried Mal back to the high chairs, set him in a third one, and buckled it. Good. It snapped.
Unfortunately, the side into which it snapped was cracked, and by the time we got back to the table, Mal was plenty mad about being jammed into high chair after high chair. This time, James went to the stash and found one that did work properly. Even it held Mal for about 3 minutes. He was just done.
I went out to the car, forgetting the diaper changing pad that had all of our booty-cleaning supplies, but fortunately James caught me in the parking lot before I left. Then Mal and I headed to our church's holiday bazaar.
There was a lot of cool stuff, and a very sweet lady offered to let Mal sit at a table with her while I shopped. He seemed really to want to do that, but then he'd get up and try to unplug the heat lamp they had warming a scented candle. At one point, when I was browsing, Mal grabbed a beautifully-knitted stuffed bunny, put its nose in his mouth, hugged it, then threw it on the floor. So, it was ours. I'm hoping it will be his transitional object.
I also got an insulated casserole carrier which I actually needed, but sort of had to get because it was made with this awesome fabric that has 1950s-looking RVs and people on it. So cute. Also, some nut-free fudge because James bought a bunch of nutted up fudge (with my blessing, but, dude, I hate it; however, I love him) when we had access to seconds at the unschooling convention.
I'd have loved to look at more things more closely, but... baby. So, I bought my stuff and promised to come back if I could find someone to come with me or on whom I could pawn off the sweet thing for an hour. Spoiler alert: did not happen.
Because he had some energies, before our next event, I took Mal to "his" gym. It was Dadurday all up in there. I've learned that Saturday is Dadurday and national holidays are take-your-grandkids-to-gym days. Every gym day is mommy day for us. Mal played a while, then we headed a couple of blocks over to the arena for the Austin Powwow.
When we got there, it was raining, and we had to park quite a way from the entrance. Mal was fascinated with puddles. Once we got into the gate (where there were no vehicles), he immediately kneeled down and put his face into one. An elderly gentleman passing by asked, "Is he trying to drink that water?" I said, "Yes, yes he is. He sees the dogs do it, so he does it." Of course, I meant "cats." I have brain issues when I'm tired.
Mal also sat in a puddle directly, so when I carried him indoors, we were both pretty damp. He loved the music and we were sitting up high in the stands where it appeared that other parents of littles had decided we'd all be out of the way. Our kids begged and shared food, took turns hanging out with adults they had not brought, and played together/parallel to one another. There are long breaks between songs as emcees explain what is going on, and I learned a lot.
I even cried a little bit. First, just seeing a culture so lovingly maintained. I have no idea from where my family hails, and we have no old world traditions (except for holidays that are pretty widespread). These are peoples who value their languages and lifestyles and don't want them lost to the future. Also, the kids next to us all had giant turkey legs and the smell was getting to me, as it made me miss Daphne!
After that, we came home and Mal fell asleep in the car. I figured we had about two hours of quiet and there was much I needed to get done on my computer. However, it was being stubborn and after nearly half an hour of motors grinding, I rebooted. That process took fifteen minutes. Then Flash kept stopping and wouldn't restart. By the time I got my issues worked out, Mal had awoken. He was still in nap mode, so I nursed him back to sleep. But that took ten minutes or so. I sat back down to figure out what to do first, and by the time I'd opened a couple of browser windows and had sent a message to a friend, Mal was awake awake. It had been barely an hour.
Mal has gotten into the habit of crying to get up on the bar stools because he thinks we're going to let him play with our computers. We're not, but we've both made the mistake of letting him bang around a couple of times, and now we're paying for it. We've decided to be mean and just say no, all the time, for any reason. He can't get into James' office. He can't use my laptop. And he's not happy.
I felt gypped out of my "midday break" and felt my emotional energy bottoming out as Mal continued to fuss. James asked what he could do to help, and there wasn't anything. I was trying to give him this day to write, but things weren't working out to cooperate.
Eventually, we all hung out as a family, ate some lunch, and then took a walk to the mailbox together. James wore Mal! Mal thought it was very funny, being in the carrier somewhere else besides on my chest. He returned home in a much cheerier mood.
There was a fall festival that started at 3. I waited around, killing time while he was entertaining himself, until a bit after 4, and then we went.
The festival was fun, but it made me happy yet again that I'm not in a megachurch. I appreciated their hospitality, though. Mal rode his first and second carnival rides, and he loved them!
 |
| Swing! |
 |
| Teacup! (More like spitoon) |
When we got home, he had a good-natured hour or so with his dad, took a bath, we video-chatted with his grandma, and then he came quietly and compliantly to bed. He's awakened once already but is back to sleep. And, guess what? I'm tired! Also, I haven't done that stuff I wanted to do earlier, but it requires brainpower I don't have anymore.
Maybe tomorrow, right? Hope springs eternal...
Tuesday, November 3, 2015
Our complex's best balconies!
After having lived in Las Vegas for nearly a decade, I was ready for some dang land when I moved to Texas!
After seven and a half years of dealing with an acre and a half (including thousands of linear feet of edging), I was ready never to have to maintain a stinking lawn again!
I've loved living in an RV and renting because I don't like "wasting" my time with yard work.
I do, however, enjoy being outside on mild occasions, one of the (few?) perks of living somewhere that it's hot: You can sit outside in the shade many afternoons and it's tolerable, and maybe even enjoyable.
Both at the Nuthaus and here at Vogefutter, we've loved our patios. They're seriously an extra room for us, and our lives would be much more claustrophobic without them.
For instance: You might have noticed that we had Daphne's birthday celebration on our patio. My sister and one of my nieces (I always spell that word wrong on the first pass) have horrific cat allergies, so it's nice to have them over and them not die or whatnot.
However... some of the people up in this complex have really gone the extra mile in making their "outside room" spectacular. Mostly, this involves lots of plant life... between the cats, the babies, and my killing things (besides my sister and niece - spelled it right that time because I typed super slowly), I don't know that this is an option for me.
But I certainly appreciate (and am mildly jealous) of their efforts. Here are some pictures from around the complex.
Some of the downstairs units have recently had gates put up so that they have a wee "yard." So cute!
I like that the scarecrows are really for us. :)
Pretty sure they're growing weed. Okay, maybe not. But this is a HUGE patio (the biggest model in the complex) and they have several structures with plant lights, and they also have the additional plastic I'm guessing to keep their dog from shimmying out between the railing. It's not too impressive during the daytime, but it's kind of hard to see what's going on at night, too. Whatever it is, it's a lot.
After seven and a half years of dealing with an acre and a half (including thousands of linear feet of edging), I was ready never to have to maintain a stinking lawn again!
I've loved living in an RV and renting because I don't like "wasting" my time with yard work.
I do, however, enjoy being outside on mild occasions, one of the (few?) perks of living somewhere that it's hot: You can sit outside in the shade many afternoons and it's tolerable, and maybe even enjoyable.
Both at the Nuthaus and here at Vogefutter, we've loved our patios. They're seriously an extra room for us, and our lives would be much more claustrophobic without them.
For instance: You might have noticed that we had Daphne's birthday celebration on our patio. My sister and one of my nieces (I always spell that word wrong on the first pass) have horrific cat allergies, so it's nice to have them over and them not die or whatnot.
However... some of the people up in this complex have really gone the extra mile in making their "outside room" spectacular. Mostly, this involves lots of plant life... between the cats, the babies, and my killing things (besides my sister and niece - spelled it right that time because I typed super slowly), I don't know that this is an option for me.
But I certainly appreciate (and am mildly jealous) of their efforts. Here are some pictures from around the complex.
I like that the scarecrows are really for us. :)
We might be able to pull off something like this. Not too many plants, but still a nice space.
This is our caddy-corner downstairs neighbor, the 90-year-old woman and her 70-year-old daughter. They put out carrot chunks on the patio to draw rabbits. It works!
Pretty sure they're growing weed. Okay, maybe not. But this is a HUGE patio (the biggest model in the complex) and they have several structures with plant lights, and they also have the additional plastic I'm guessing to keep their dog from shimmying out between the railing. It's not too impressive during the daytime, but it's kind of hard to see what's going on at night, too. Whatever it is, it's a lot.
Daphne Turns 14!
Yesterday, my daughter turned fourteen! Why does that sound so much older than thirteen?
On Sunday afternoon, 4/5 of her Austin cousins came over to help her celebrate. They brought a care package of some of her favorite foods: Promised Land chocolate milk (if she can't have that, she makes it herself because she detests all over chocolate milks... so she makes it a lot, because $$$), mini peanut butter Ritz crackers, Velveeta shells and cheese... Goodness, do they know her or what?
TJ stayed after everyone else left, and he and Daphne had fun playing games, watching videos, and then messing around with Mal's toys. They're fun! They played made up ball games about the last hour and a half, and I'm so glad Mal was able to go to sleep even with balls hitting the wall and door of our room; I didn't want to have to tell them to stop.
In honor of her birthday, I wanted to share a story about Daphne from about nine years ago. It's poignant to me on several levels, which I'll explain in a minute.
For now, let's go back in time to August 2006, when Daphne was 4 (almost 5) years old....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was Sunday night and we'd had small group at our house. Before everyone left, the parents always had their kids "straighten" Daphne's room, which basically amounts to getting things out of the middle of the floor, since when it's not your room, you don't really know where stuff goes. At the time, we were in a group with seven or so kids besides Daphne, and they'd really gone to town. When the house was empty, I changed into my pajamas and went into D's room to put things where they belonged and to help her get ready for bed.
I literally cried. Someone had taken the Lite Brite onto her top bunk and had poured all of the pegs out, so that they were all in the bed, around the mattress, having fallen into the parts of the bed I couldn't access due to its construction, etc.
The kids liked to use the back part of Daphne's bed as a fort or hiding place, which was great because half of it was empty and there were doors on both sides. However, one side had all of her board games in storage. Although technically you *could* crawl in one side and out the other, neither Daphne nor her other friends had ever done it because: wall of games. But apparently it was tried this night. Boxes that had previously been pristine were crushed, and pieces from Monopoly and Don't Spill the Beans and Hi Ho Cherry-o were everywhere, along with Matchbox cars and cards and play money, and just a huge mess of busted boxes.
Someone had decided to have a "real" tea party with Daphne's tea set. She had a table and chairs in her room, and an en suite bathroom. They'd gotten water and had spilled it all over the place, which would have been okay if it had just been on the table and carpet. But there were books, probably a dozen, that were water-logged and bloated.
Literally everything that was not "normal" clothes had been pulled out of her closet (dress-up, jewelry, toys, etc.)
I have always wished I had the gift of hospitality, but it was clear in that moment that I didn't. I was so miffed by what I perceived as disrespect of our stuff (really normal kid stuff, but, gosh, what a mess) that I just wept during the almost hour it took me to right her room, put game pieces together, tape boxes, etc.
When we were done, I realized that Daphne was up past her bedtime. Also, that I was hungry. And I had no energy to make anything.
So I asked Daphne if she wanted to go to Taco Bell with me, and she did.
Daphne, rocking her Faith Weaver Friends t-shirt and Dora the Explorer house shoes.
Bonus adorbs picture.
Obviously, we giggled a lot during that meal, and by the time we left, I wasn't even mad anymore. It was a stressful night turned fun because we made fun of it. It's one of my sweetest quirky memories of Daphne's growing up.
The pictures are bittersweet to me. I really do miss the days when Daphne wanted to go places with me. It didn't matter if I wanted to take her for a bean burrito at 9:30 or just run to the grocery store. She even enjoyed driving around all day to hit 8 mystery shops and put 200 miles on the van while we listened to Harry Potter on audiobook. (I'll never forget coming back to the car after a reveal portion of a shop and her telling me that the headmaster was dead. What?? And then who killed him. WHAT?! I had to back it up and listen to it myself.)
 |
| Heh... she blew the candles out in James' face! :) Yes, it's a cake surrounded by KitKats and covered with candy corn. |
TJ stayed after everyone else left, and he and Daphne had fun playing games, watching videos, and then messing around with Mal's toys. They're fun! They played made up ball games about the last hour and a half, and I'm so glad Mal was able to go to sleep even with balls hitting the wall and door of our room; I didn't want to have to tell them to stop.
In honor of her birthday, I wanted to share a story about Daphne from about nine years ago. It's poignant to me on several levels, which I'll explain in a minute.
For now, let's go back in time to August 2006, when Daphne was 4 (almost 5) years old....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was Sunday night and we'd had small group at our house. Before everyone left, the parents always had their kids "straighten" Daphne's room, which basically amounts to getting things out of the middle of the floor, since when it's not your room, you don't really know where stuff goes. At the time, we were in a group with seven or so kids besides Daphne, and they'd really gone to town. When the house was empty, I changed into my pajamas and went into D's room to put things where they belonged and to help her get ready for bed.
I literally cried. Someone had taken the Lite Brite onto her top bunk and had poured all of the pegs out, so that they were all in the bed, around the mattress, having fallen into the parts of the bed I couldn't access due to its construction, etc.
The kids liked to use the back part of Daphne's bed as a fort or hiding place, which was great because half of it was empty and there were doors on both sides. However, one side had all of her board games in storage. Although technically you *could* crawl in one side and out the other, neither Daphne nor her other friends had ever done it because: wall of games. But apparently it was tried this night. Boxes that had previously been pristine were crushed, and pieces from Monopoly and Don't Spill the Beans and Hi Ho Cherry-o were everywhere, along with Matchbox cars and cards and play money, and just a huge mess of busted boxes.
Someone had decided to have a "real" tea party with Daphne's tea set. She had a table and chairs in her room, and an en suite bathroom. They'd gotten water and had spilled it all over the place, which would have been okay if it had just been on the table and carpet. But there were books, probably a dozen, that were water-logged and bloated.
Literally everything that was not "normal" clothes had been pulled out of her closet (dress-up, jewelry, toys, etc.)
I have always wished I had the gift of hospitality, but it was clear in that moment that I didn't. I was so miffed by what I perceived as disrespect of our stuff (really normal kid stuff, but, gosh, what a mess) that I just wept during the almost hour it took me to right her room, put game pieces together, tape boxes, etc.
When we were done, I realized that Daphne was up past her bedtime. Also, that I was hungry. And I had no energy to make anything.
So I asked Daphne if she wanted to go to Taco Bell with me, and she did.
Me, in the pajamas I just wore two nights ago (I keep clothes forever) and my Mickey Mouse house shoes (sadly, trashed). I love and miss my dog purse.
We decided to entertain ourselves by taking pictures making stupid faces while we ate. Here they are.
Bonus adorbs picture.
Obviously, we giggled a lot during that meal, and by the time we left, I wasn't even mad anymore. It was a stressful night turned fun because we made fun of it. It's one of my sweetest quirky memories of Daphne's growing up.
::::HARRY POTTER SPOILER IN THE PARAGRAPH BELOW::::
The pictures are bittersweet to me. I really do miss the days when Daphne wanted to go places with me. It didn't matter if I wanted to take her for a bean burrito at 9:30 or just run to the grocery store. She even enjoyed driving around all day to hit 8 mystery shops and put 200 miles on the van while we listened to Harry Potter on audiobook. (I'll never forget coming back to the car after a reveal portion of a shop and her telling me that the headmaster was dead. What?? And then who killed him. WHAT?! I had to back it up and listen to it myself.)
::::SAFE TO RESUME::::
So that part stings a little, but I know this is a season, and when she grows up a little bit, she'll want to go out to eat with me or do other things. Maybe not until she's out and on her own and the whole away-from-home dining thing isn't so readily available, but I'll take whatever I can get!
However, these memories also fueled my flagging energy during the first year of Mal's life. As tired and spent as I ever was, I knew from experience that better days were coming. Fun days. Days of silliness and friendship. Days of mutual support and making each other smile. And I knew it because of my sweet girl's childhood.
I am grateful to have been chosen to be Daphne's mom. In every stage. It's an honor and a privilege and I'm glad we get to share a roof for the next few years. <3
Friday, October 30, 2015
NaNoWriMo! coming soon...
It's that time of year again, and I'd really like to just switch gears and switch all my creative juices over to telling a story. We reminded Daphne tonight that it's coming up.
I have a vague idea about a story that I think might be fun to tell. It's based on a nightmare I had a month or so ago that, from a waking perspective, mostly just seems like a cheesy old horror movie.
Then again, Stephen King made a very lucrative career out of those. I don't have any interest in trying to replicate all the cocaine he did during his "glory years," but I really don't believe that makes you any more creative.
I know the Grateful Dead disagree with me, but they aren't a role model I consider very enticing either.
The problem is, I don't really have any creative output left.
NaNoWriMo is a marathon that really requires hours a day. You can slip behind a bit and catch up on weekends. And there are amazing people who crank out the entire thing in one sitting...then go on to reproduce that output night after night.
I simply cannot type that fast. Well, OK, I *can* type that fast. But I really need to spend a little time thinking about what I'm typing. It feels like cheating when I ditch my story to do things like write this blog post. It's all fair game, but it just doesn't feel kosher.
I fight hard to get an hour a day to myself to work on some sort of personal project. It's the piece of my daily TODO list that I fail to accomplish the most. Well, second-most. Guitar practice is the one that slips the most (as in basically never happens). It's something I need desperately, and I'm trying to come to grips with the basic reality that I simply will not have this luxury for the next few years.
I'm starting to understand why my father spent pretty much all his spare time tinkering around in his workshop. It's not that he didn't like us (well, I've gotten the impression that he didn't like his wives all that much, and I'm delighted that I didn't screw up that one). I think it might have been more of a "I'm doing dangerous things, and you'll screw it up anyway if you try to be involved."
When Mal wakes up from a nap and wants to play with my laptop, I think I almost feel that sort of frustration. I'm obviously not worried about the table saw slicing off his fingers, of course. But he gets pretty destructive with laptops.
I'd like to let him play with mine. Last time I did, the battery died. Totally not his fault, but the timing left me a little gun-shy. Laura let him play with hers today, commenting that she needs a replacement. I've been trying to convince her to replace that clunker since about 2 weeks after she bought it, but she's attached to the stickers.
And that's all just dodging the point. Nanowrimo is really a social thing. I'd either have to drag Mal out to events where I'd spend the entire time shepherding him instead of writing (and I don't really have anything to write), or I'd have to spend a huge chunk of the month away from my family.
That isn't an option. I spend too much time away from them already.
I just don't think we're in a position where I can seriously pretend that I have the sort of spare time this requires. Heck...I've been trying to find time to finish one book since we moved here in June. Admittedly, it's a really long book, and I've read a couple of others for work in the meantime, but...
It crushes my soul a bit to admit this.
Nanowrimo helped me get through one of the most difficult times of my life. I sat in a back bedroom writing while my father watched one of the last basketball games he'd ever get to see with the rest of his family. I really thought that I'd made the commitment to myself that I would finally start writing seriously and regularly.
I just have to remember that I'm working on something much more important.
I have a vague idea about a story that I think might be fun to tell. It's based on a nightmare I had a month or so ago that, from a waking perspective, mostly just seems like a cheesy old horror movie.
Then again, Stephen King made a very lucrative career out of those. I don't have any interest in trying to replicate all the cocaine he did during his "glory years," but I really don't believe that makes you any more creative.
I know the Grateful Dead disagree with me, but they aren't a role model I consider very enticing either.
The problem is, I don't really have any creative output left.
NaNoWriMo is a marathon that really requires hours a day. You can slip behind a bit and catch up on weekends. And there are amazing people who crank out the entire thing in one sitting...then go on to reproduce that output night after night.
I simply cannot type that fast. Well, OK, I *can* type that fast. But I really need to spend a little time thinking about what I'm typing. It feels like cheating when I ditch my story to do things like write this blog post. It's all fair game, but it just doesn't feel kosher.
I fight hard to get an hour a day to myself to work on some sort of personal project. It's the piece of my daily TODO list that I fail to accomplish the most. Well, second-most. Guitar practice is the one that slips the most (as in basically never happens). It's something I need desperately, and I'm trying to come to grips with the basic reality that I simply will not have this luxury for the next few years.
I'm starting to understand why my father spent pretty much all his spare time tinkering around in his workshop. It's not that he didn't like us (well, I've gotten the impression that he didn't like his wives all that much, and I'm delighted that I didn't screw up that one). I think it might have been more of a "I'm doing dangerous things, and you'll screw it up anyway if you try to be involved."
When Mal wakes up from a nap and wants to play with my laptop, I think I almost feel that sort of frustration. I'm obviously not worried about the table saw slicing off his fingers, of course. But he gets pretty destructive with laptops.
I'd like to let him play with mine. Last time I did, the battery died. Totally not his fault, but the timing left me a little gun-shy. Laura let him play with hers today, commenting that she needs a replacement. I've been trying to convince her to replace that clunker since about 2 weeks after she bought it, but she's attached to the stickers.
And that's all just dodging the point. Nanowrimo is really a social thing. I'd either have to drag Mal out to events where I'd spend the entire time shepherding him instead of writing (and I don't really have anything to write), or I'd have to spend a huge chunk of the month away from my family.
That isn't an option. I spend too much time away from them already.
I just don't think we're in a position where I can seriously pretend that I have the sort of spare time this requires. Heck...I've been trying to find time to finish one book since we moved here in June. Admittedly, it's a really long book, and I've read a couple of others for work in the meantime, but...
It crushes my soul a bit to admit this.
Nanowrimo helped me get through one of the most difficult times of my life. I sat in a back bedroom writing while my father watched one of the last basketball games he'd ever get to see with the rest of his family. I really thought that I'd made the commitment to myself that I would finally start writing seriously and regularly.
I just have to remember that I'm working on something much more important.
Wednesday, October 28, 2015
Romance vs. Reality, Halloween Edition
Lots of people have been posting their pumpkin-carving pictures (at first I didn't hyphenate that, and the thought "pumpkin carving" pictures is interesting and marginally terrifying to me) on social media. James actually got a pumpkin from his office last Friday, but we've been waiting to carve it until tonight, the evening before his work Halloween party.
They're having a costume contest (adult and kid divisions), pumpkin carving contest, Halloween-themed treat contest, and a trivia game. There are prizes in each division, and I had a great idea for the treat contest, the prize for which is a cooking class at Whole Foods!
I had big plans for our entries and for our evening. Our first family Halloween activity! (Last year, we were too tired.)
My first idea was to make a Hello Kitty cake. It'd have white fondant, I'd pipe Hello Kitty on the top, and write, "Hello Kitty," then surround the cake with red frosting stars to match the kitty's bow. People would see it and think, "Well, okay. It's cute, but not really Halloween-themed." Then when it was time to eat, I'd cut the first piece and it would start "bleeding." I'd act like it wasn't supposed to do that, and try to staunch the "blood" with my hands, continually touching the cake so that the white fondant would end up covered in "bloody" fingerprints. Then after I'd cut the piece out, all that would be left of the writing would be "Hell Kitty."
GENIUS, right?! Well, except that when I moved the cake (it depanned fine), it cracked. I thought, hoping against hope, that if I used a thick enough coating of frosting, maybe I could make an escape-proof container for the blood. A lot of examples I saw online used plastic bags, but I really didn't want to put a plastic bag in my cake. Now I see why they did. Because it was fine... I poured the blood in and topped the cake. It held. But when I plopped the frosting down on the top, I guess that did it. The crack separated and... Well, the effect was pretty awesome.
So I immediately decided for Plan B, I'd make the cute "candy corn" fruit cups I'd put together a few weeks ago for Rework.
They're having a costume contest (adult and kid divisions), pumpkin carving contest, Halloween-themed treat contest, and a trivia game. There are prizes in each division, and I had a great idea for the treat contest, the prize for which is a cooking class at Whole Foods!
I had big plans for our entries and for our evening. Our first family Halloween activity! (Last year, we were too tired.)
My first idea was to make a Hello Kitty cake. It'd have white fondant, I'd pipe Hello Kitty on the top, and write, "Hello Kitty," then surround the cake with red frosting stars to match the kitty's bow. People would see it and think, "Well, okay. It's cute, but not really Halloween-themed." Then when it was time to eat, I'd cut the first piece and it would start "bleeding." I'd act like it wasn't supposed to do that, and try to staunch the "blood" with my hands, continually touching the cake so that the white fondant would end up covered in "bloody" fingerprints. Then after I'd cut the piece out, all that would be left of the writing would be "Hell Kitty."
GENIUS, right?! Well, except that when I moved the cake (it depanned fine), it cracked. I thought, hoping against hope, that if I used a thick enough coating of frosting, maybe I could make an escape-proof container for the blood. A lot of examples I saw online used plastic bags, but I really didn't want to put a plastic bag in my cake. Now I see why they did. Because it was fine... I poured the blood in and topped the cake. It held. But when I plopped the frosting down on the top, I guess that did it. The crack separated and... Well, the effect was pretty awesome.
So I immediately decided for Plan B, I'd make the cute "candy corn" fruit cups I'd put together a few weeks ago for Rework.
Probably wouldn't win a prize, but would be a cute entry. I didn't have time to go to the store, so I ordered from Instacart. Then I missed the shopper's call and got her voice mail when I called back. The store didn't have any ghost Peeps. Whatever. But she said she needed to replace the pineapple tidbits with crushed pineapple. I told her that wouldn't work and I would rather have chunks than crushed (I used chunks in the above example), but I guess she didn't get the message in time. We were in the middle of carving the pumpkin when the delivery guy came, and I realized then that I had 8 (8!!!) tiny cans of crushed pineapple. They made it right before I caught it, refunding the money for all of them. However... they also didn't get clear cups like I asked. They got those cheap plastic translucent cups. I will use all of it because I don't have the time to go to the store to get what I need (or I would have done that in the first place) and I hate to throw bad money after good. So, grr on that. Whatever.
As for our super fun family activity, we converged on the patio. Once James had taken the top off of the pumpkin, the two of us dug in. Daphne would only reach in wearing foodservice gloves, and Mal was having none of it. When D was his age, she at least went for it a couple of times.
 |
| Slimy... |
 |
| ...Yet Satisfying. |
Good grief, that was more than 13 years ago. Anyhoo... Not Mal. He stood on the goo and slipped around. He tried to stir our pumpkin seed cache with his sand box tools. But no hand go in.
 |
| Yeah... no. |
While we were doing this, I realized that Mal had a dirty diaper. Like, it-has-to-be-changed-now-or-else dirty, so I carried him in... carefully. I didn't hold him to me or put any pressure on his backside because, eww. I realized as I was lying him on his changing pad that my left hand was still covered with pumpkin guts. Oh well. I cleaned him up as best I could while he cried, miffed that I'd taken him away from the fun, and he ran back outside before I could get the diaper on. Daphne was not amused, making it a point to look away.
She drew the eyes and mouth for us, then James decided to get his drill out to make removing the face holes a little easier.
Daphne went inside at this point to do something, and Mal retreated to the other side of the patio. He does that when I vacuum or use the blender sometimes, too, so I wasn't concerned... Until a few moments later, he kind of approached me and I could see that his bottom lip was quivering and he was terrified. I put my arms around him and held him, and he started crying for real. The drill was traumatic for him. I put his head against my shoulder to cover one ear, and covered the other with my hand. I assured him that it was okay, but he was so so sad. I decided to bring him in for a quick bath while James finished up with the power tools.
D asked if she could stay inside until we went back out, but I asked her to see if James needed any help. Mal was distracted during his bath. I tried to keep the water on pretty full blast, but he could still hear the drill and was torn between being scared and wanting to climb out of the tub, I suppose to help save his dad.
After Mal's bath, we went out to finish decorating the pumpkin. My idea had been to use candy corn for teeth, and I was hoping to find these gummy eyeballs that Daphne got one year for Halloween.
 |
| Two days before this sweetie turned 5. |
But, no. We couldn't find those. So, once again, we had a Plan B. But we hadn't counted on the dang candy corn being so picky and splitting when we tried to impale them on the toothpicks. And our idea to use drill holes for the Red Vines hair didn't really pan out, either. Daphne had a headache or something, so I eventually cut her loose. And Mal wanted to eat a lot of candy corn, but I cut him off after two pieces, not just because he seemed to think it was fun to chew but then just spit it out on the patio. I told James that, in hindsight, the pumpkin carving might have been something to do after Mal was in bed. Except for the drill part. That will likely give him nightmares as it is.
So, anyway, we ended up with a janky Rastafarian pumpkin. I know someone's going to have like a 3D rendering of Ron Burgandy or something, and we don't have a chance of winning either of the contests now, but whatever. All of you people with Pinterest-worthy posts... good for you. I guess that's just not how we roll here at Team Dave's. Even if we wanted to.
Terrifying on so many levels.
Stumbling into Your Destiny
This weekend, Daphne will turn 14. We shot this video in July 2009, when she was just seven years old.
In 2009, I'd never heard of "unschooling." I knew we were a lot more laid back than some of my other homeschooling friends.
In fact, once I was talking with one of Daphne's good friend's moms (follow that?) when she mentioned that they were really getting burnt out, because doing all of the coursework outlined in their curriculum was taking 8 or more hours per day. She said that they were working well after dinner, and that they were both just exhausted.
I said, "So, don't do some of the stuff." She looked puzzled. I said, "Just.. if your daughter clearly has something mastered, don't run it into the ground. If it's taking too long or is frustrating, just bag it for a while. No one's forcing you to keep their suggested schedule."
A few weeks later when we spoke again, she said she felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. She said they'd let go of their "finisher" mentality and were so much more relaxed, and having so much more fun.
At the time, we didn't have a set curriculum. Actually, we never had a set curriculum. I'd buy one of those all-inclusive "2nd grade" books at Sam's Club or on Amazon, and we'd be pretty good about hitting math at least three times a week. I think I tried doing spelling with Daphne for a few months once. We did a full course of "Harry Potter Science," and we did it in like two weeks because it was amazing.
I tried to teach her history, I really did. But she didn't like it, and I wasn't happy putting her through the motions and wasting my own time and energy, so... we didn't. (And before you're too shocked at how ignorant she might be about our human past, just know that my husband and I are both products of the same educational system and he knows a lot about history, whereas I'm as dumb as rocks. Difference isn't what we were taught, but our interest. I had none, he did. So he remembered.)
I tried studying science theoretically, but she wasn't interested in what she couldn't see and touch and study before her.
We did learn multiplication tables, mostly because of a super obnoxious CD set I bought. The 3, 6, 9 skip-counting song still pops into my head unbidden at times. Math was the only thing I ever really "pushed," and now I wish I hadn't. She cried a lot when she was little. I thought she was being lazy, staring off and taking 45 minutes to avoid a sheet of paper I knew it would take her 10 minutes to complete. Ugh. What a waste of our relationship. If I could go back and do anything over, it'd be officially unschooling from the beginning.
Oh, and bed-sharing. But that's a whole other thing.
Anyway, for the most part, I wasn't too concerned about "schooling." I wasn't going to teach Daphne cursive, but at some point she wanted to learn and asked. When she'd get frustrated, I was able to remind her that she is the one who wanted to study it, and she could stop if she was over it. She ended up sticking with it and can read cursive and write it about as neatly as I can, which is to say not very.
We went to the library and checked out books all of the time. She loved crafting books, and I liked them okay, but when I'd look at all of the materials we'd have to buy, it overwhelmed me. Not the price, but just finding every little thing in some big hobby store. Ugh. So when she decided she wanted to learn how to make balloon animals, I loved that idea! Balloons and a blower-upper I could do. (Oh, but in that video, you can see a couple of her crafts hanging on the wall.)
She spent hours for a week or so figuring that stuff out. It's noisy and the cats didn't much like it. There were a lot of burst balloons. There was a learning curve about stretching the balloons first so that you could manipulate air bubbles better and that kind of thing.
It never once occurred to me to: 1) Tell her to finish her "real" school before she did this. 2) Make this an official part of school and then force her to continue balloon-folding once her interest waned.
The result was that she had fun, she learned something on her own, and mastered it enough that she felt she could pass her knowledge and experience on to someone else.
To me, her doing that on her own was one of the more important lessons she's ever learned. Not that she can make stuff out of envelopes of air, but that if she's interested in something and wants to pursue it, she has all of the tools on her own to do what she needs to do.
After my divorce, when I had to work (and, seriously, I can't say enough how grateful I am and was for the opportunity to work for the Hejnys, who provided a private office for Daphne so she could come with me), it forced us further into the unschooling mode, as Daphne was mostly left to her own devices. She did some Time4Learning then, but she also made videos like this one.
I never showed her how to use my laptop like this; she just figured it out and kept herself amused. It's amusing to me, too. Sometimes, she'd need help with something, but I'd necessarily be busy, you know, working. I'd tell her that as soon as I had a break, I'd check it out. Very often, by the time I got around to assisting her, she'd have figured out the problem on her own and remedied it.
It helped me get even more comfortable with the reality that Daphne didn't really need me in order for her to learn anything. She just needed me to be around, to make opportunities happen, and to give her a hand if absolutely necessary. It's rarely necessary anymore.
Now, hopefully, I am making up for the hesitancy to buy things to fuel her artistic bent when she was younger. As Daphne spends the majority of her time drawing, and has for more than three years, we have stepped up her tools. First, a couple of years ago, we bought her a desktop (to replace her weakening laptop) and an upgraded graphics card that would handle both gaming and animation and drawing apps. Shortly after that, we got her a sort of entry-level electronic drawing tablet.
Then, for her birthday this year, we got her a tablet that actually has its own display. Setting it up and getting it fully functional took a couple of days. First, we had to get a USB extension. Then, we had to get HDMI-DVI converter. Twice because, well, long story, but anyway... it happened to render the USB extension useless, by the way, so if anyone needs one of those, or a male/male HDMI-DVI converter, hit me up.
Once she was finally displaying as she was supposed to, the only way we could figure out to make the tablet work right was to mirror her computer display, because when we tried to make the tablet an extension, the pen's "mouse" would only work on the computer screen. This seemed wrong, since the whole point was to be able to write on the tablet, and even when she was mirroring, the mouse was still on the screen instead of the tablet, even though it reproduced whatever she was doing on the tablet, as well.
I figured out how to configure that to work, but then on her drawing app specifically, the pen's mouse appeared about three inches below her pen point. I was having to do something with Mal for a while, and a bit later, Daphne hollered, "I'm not the only one who's had this problem!" And a bit later, "I fixed it!"
I was bragging on her to James, that she got her workstation up and running, and she joked, "Now I just have to learn how to draw."
She knows how to draw. She's taught herself. Through watching cartoons and videos and finding online skeleton references and base models. Through practice, practice, practice... she has a whole bookshelf full of used sketch books.
In fact, I put her in a total of one official art course, two summers ago, and she said that she didn't want to learn techniques from someone else because she liked developing her own style. Lesson learned. No more "classes." It's amazing how long it takes to break one from that habit, once you've subconsciously bought into the notion that if someone more expert than you doesn't pour their knowledge into you, you might not be learning it "right."
(And, honestly, my main thought was that the art teacher would have so much more stuff than we did - charcoals, paints, etc. - that Daphne might enjoy switching it up. She doesn't.)
That there is the story of how we came into full-fledged unschooling. I'm sorry Daphne had to endure the process as a first child. I'm interested to see how it plays out in Mal's life. And I really can't wait to see a picture off of that super amazing tablet...
In 2009, I'd never heard of "unschooling." I knew we were a lot more laid back than some of my other homeschooling friends.
In fact, once I was talking with one of Daphne's good friend's moms (follow that?) when she mentioned that they were really getting burnt out, because doing all of the coursework outlined in their curriculum was taking 8 or more hours per day. She said that they were working well after dinner, and that they were both just exhausted.
I said, "So, don't do some of the stuff." She looked puzzled. I said, "Just.. if your daughter clearly has something mastered, don't run it into the ground. If it's taking too long or is frustrating, just bag it for a while. No one's forcing you to keep their suggested schedule."
A few weeks later when we spoke again, she said she felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. She said they'd let go of their "finisher" mentality and were so much more relaxed, and having so much more fun.
At the time, we didn't have a set curriculum. Actually, we never had a set curriculum. I'd buy one of those all-inclusive "2nd grade" books at Sam's Club or on Amazon, and we'd be pretty good about hitting math at least three times a week. I think I tried doing spelling with Daphne for a few months once. We did a full course of "Harry Potter Science," and we did it in like two weeks because it was amazing.
I tried to teach her history, I really did. But she didn't like it, and I wasn't happy putting her through the motions and wasting my own time and energy, so... we didn't. (And before you're too shocked at how ignorant she might be about our human past, just know that my husband and I are both products of the same educational system and he knows a lot about history, whereas I'm as dumb as rocks. Difference isn't what we were taught, but our interest. I had none, he did. So he remembered.)
I tried studying science theoretically, but she wasn't interested in what she couldn't see and touch and study before her.
We did learn multiplication tables, mostly because of a super obnoxious CD set I bought. The 3, 6, 9 skip-counting song still pops into my head unbidden at times. Math was the only thing I ever really "pushed," and now I wish I hadn't. She cried a lot when she was little. I thought she was being lazy, staring off and taking 45 minutes to avoid a sheet of paper I knew it would take her 10 minutes to complete. Ugh. What a waste of our relationship. If I could go back and do anything over, it'd be officially unschooling from the beginning.
Oh, and bed-sharing. But that's a whole other thing.
Anyway, for the most part, I wasn't too concerned about "schooling." I wasn't going to teach Daphne cursive, but at some point she wanted to learn and asked. When she'd get frustrated, I was able to remind her that she is the one who wanted to study it, and she could stop if she was over it. She ended up sticking with it and can read cursive and write it about as neatly as I can, which is to say not very.
We went to the library and checked out books all of the time. She loved crafting books, and I liked them okay, but when I'd look at all of the materials we'd have to buy, it overwhelmed me. Not the price, but just finding every little thing in some big hobby store. Ugh. So when she decided she wanted to learn how to make balloon animals, I loved that idea! Balloons and a blower-upper I could do. (Oh, but in that video, you can see a couple of her crafts hanging on the wall.)
She spent hours for a week or so figuring that stuff out. It's noisy and the cats didn't much like it. There were a lot of burst balloons. There was a learning curve about stretching the balloons first so that you could manipulate air bubbles better and that kind of thing.
It never once occurred to me to: 1) Tell her to finish her "real" school before she did this. 2) Make this an official part of school and then force her to continue balloon-folding once her interest waned.
The result was that she had fun, she learned something on her own, and mastered it enough that she felt she could pass her knowledge and experience on to someone else.
To me, her doing that on her own was one of the more important lessons she's ever learned. Not that she can make stuff out of envelopes of air, but that if she's interested in something and wants to pursue it, she has all of the tools on her own to do what she needs to do.
After my divorce, when I had to work (and, seriously, I can't say enough how grateful I am and was for the opportunity to work for the Hejnys, who provided a private office for Daphne so she could come with me), it forced us further into the unschooling mode, as Daphne was mostly left to her own devices. She did some Time4Learning then, but she also made videos like this one.
I never showed her how to use my laptop like this; she just figured it out and kept herself amused. It's amusing to me, too. Sometimes, she'd need help with something, but I'd necessarily be busy, you know, working. I'd tell her that as soon as I had a break, I'd check it out. Very often, by the time I got around to assisting her, she'd have figured out the problem on her own and remedied it.
It helped me get even more comfortable with the reality that Daphne didn't really need me in order for her to learn anything. She just needed me to be around, to make opportunities happen, and to give her a hand if absolutely necessary. It's rarely necessary anymore.
Now, hopefully, I am making up for the hesitancy to buy things to fuel her artistic bent when she was younger. As Daphne spends the majority of her time drawing, and has for more than three years, we have stepped up her tools. First, a couple of years ago, we bought her a desktop (to replace her weakening laptop) and an upgraded graphics card that would handle both gaming and animation and drawing apps. Shortly after that, we got her a sort of entry-level electronic drawing tablet.
Then, for her birthday this year, we got her a tablet that actually has its own display. Setting it up and getting it fully functional took a couple of days. First, we had to get a USB extension. Then, we had to get HDMI-DVI converter. Twice because, well, long story, but anyway... it happened to render the USB extension useless, by the way, so if anyone needs one of those, or a male/male HDMI-DVI converter, hit me up.
Once she was finally displaying as she was supposed to, the only way we could figure out to make the tablet work right was to mirror her computer display, because when we tried to make the tablet an extension, the pen's "mouse" would only work on the computer screen. This seemed wrong, since the whole point was to be able to write on the tablet, and even when she was mirroring, the mouse was still on the screen instead of the tablet, even though it reproduced whatever she was doing on the tablet, as well.
I figured out how to configure that to work, but then on her drawing app specifically, the pen's mouse appeared about three inches below her pen point. I was having to do something with Mal for a while, and a bit later, Daphne hollered, "I'm not the only one who's had this problem!" And a bit later, "I fixed it!"
I was bragging on her to James, that she got her workstation up and running, and she joked, "Now I just have to learn how to draw."
She knows how to draw. She's taught herself. Through watching cartoons and videos and finding online skeleton references and base models. Through practice, practice, practice... she has a whole bookshelf full of used sketch books.
In fact, I put her in a total of one official art course, two summers ago, and she said that she didn't want to learn techniques from someone else because she liked developing her own style. Lesson learned. No more "classes." It's amazing how long it takes to break one from that habit, once you've subconsciously bought into the notion that if someone more expert than you doesn't pour their knowledge into you, you might not be learning it "right."
(And, honestly, my main thought was that the art teacher would have so much more stuff than we did - charcoals, paints, etc. - that Daphne might enjoy switching it up. She doesn't.)
That there is the story of how we came into full-fledged unschooling. I'm sorry Daphne had to endure the process as a first child. I'm interested to see how it plays out in Mal's life. And I really can't wait to see a picture off of that super amazing tablet...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)