An addled adage

RCH: Don't count your chickens before they hatch, Uno.

UNO: Why not? If you wait until after they hatch, they'll just run around and you won't be able to count them!

You know, she has a point....


~RCH~

Super obnoxious parental bragging

(You have been warned.)

Today was Uno's last day of school. They don't do a kindergarten graduation here, but she'd have been the freaking valedictorian if they did! In her final report card, her teacher wrote, "I have enjoyed Uno and her bubbly personality. She is a smart girl and a good worker." Well, yes. :-) (And hooray for the work ethic; that's more important than the smarts.) Among her accomplishments:

She got a certificate (with a coupon from Burger King -- glad to see the school is promoting healthy eating habits, lol) for having the highest math scores in her class.

In a one-minute timed test of letter naming fluency, she scored 79 (43 or above indicates fluency); for letter sounds, she scored 77 (30 or above expected); for phoneme segmentation she scored 67 (40 or above expected).

She won the Kindergarten Sportsmanship Award on Field Day. (Really? My daughter?) She also took 3rd place (out of 3 kindergarten classes -- so something like ~60 kids) in the long jump; 2nd place for sit-ups, the softball throw, football toss, and the 100 yard dash; and 1st place for jump rope, hula hoop, and chin-ups. What an athlete!

Finally, she got a certificate -- and a fancy necklace! -- for having perfect attendance.

So there you have it: Uno is officially bubbly, well-rounded, and dependable. Give that kid a gold star and an application to Harvard already! ;-)


~RCH~

Photo-Off Challenge: Portrait

My Photo-Off Challenge this week was to take a portrait -- which is my favorite type of photo, incidentally; I much prefer setting up thoroughly planned portrait shoots with my girls to random snapshots. So yay for that.

I asked DH if he would pose for me, but he refused. I thought about getting alternate models (maybe one of our babysitters, or random teenagers from the neighborhood) in case you're sick of my kids, but in the end ... well, I just didn't, lol. So here for your enjoyment, is a portrait of Dos among the weeds:


Exif info

Mary, for your next assignment I will see your portrait and raise you a self portrait. (Right? Is that how you say it? No wonder I never won anything in Vegas.) Yeah. So set that timer (or get a remote shutter release thingy) and look fiercely into the camera! Work both sides of the lens, baby. :-)


~RCH~

School Miscellanea

Uno brought home this paper the other day. I love it.



Dos had her last day of preschool today. This morning she dictated the following note to go with the end-of-year Thank You present for her teacher:

Dear Teacher,

I love you very much. You are the best teacher ever. You have very cute hair and a very VERY cute face. I will miss you.

Love, [Dos]

Are they the most awesome kids in the world or what? :-)


~RCH~

A+

You may or may not recall (and only if you read through the comments on one of my sleep posts) that DH was taking a college-level basketball coaching course from one of his alma maters, and that I stayed up crazy late several nights in a row typing (and editing) his dictated coursework. He received his grade and evaluation in the mail today:

Your responses were well thought out and thorough. I was impressed with your ideas. This is the first time in over a year in which I have given all available points. I hope you, in the face of your multiple obligations, will take young coaches in your area under your wing. And ... take your wife on a date! Good luck.

-[Instructor]

Yay! I'm so proud of our efforts! I feel like part of that grade is mine; I edited out plenty of talky filler phrases and empty junk to get to the meat of what he wanted to say. Plus I formatted it nicely and bound it attractively in a folder, lol. I'm sure the presentation counted for A LOT. ;-)

Mostly I'm proud of (but completely unsurprised by) DH. He worked hard. He doesn't do anything he's not willing to put his whole soul into, that crazy over-achiever of mine. He certainly earned his A+.


~RCH~

Vegas, baby, Vegas!

So DH took me to Vegas for Mother's Day! Or not quite, lol; he and the other basketball coaches in town had a 3-day (last Friday to Sunday) coaching clinic to attend, and we wives tagged along. We had fun girly time during the day while the boys were in class, and then we all hung out together at night. Some of the highlights:

I am a loser

Despite having lived next door to Nevada for much of my life, this was my first trip to Las Vegas (driving through and/or having a layover between flights to other places doesn't count). I have no moral objections to casual gambling -- I've fed dozens of quarters into pinball and video game machines at the arcade with my daughters (and don't even get me started on DH's claw machine habit!); I don't see much difference between that and, say, video poker. You spend your money; you get your minutes of fun; end of story. And what about raffle tickets for school fund raisers? Sweepstakes for commercial products? Office sports pools? All harmless (IMHO), as long as you're not using your family's grocery money or rent to get in on it.

Anyway, with that attitude I excitedly slid my first dollar into a penny-ante poker machine. I had to keep asking DH which cards to hold because I know nothing about poker. I'd win a few, then lose a few, then lose some more, until eventually my dollar was gone. So I put in some more. And later on some more. I tried different machines -- more poker, classic slots, a Wheel of Fortune game that I never quite understood -- and different denominations up to a buck. Again: Up, down, finally gone. At my best I was up to $8 (after having put in $5, so that gave me a net gain of three whole dollars) so I cashed it out and decided to play only with my winnings. When the $3 ran out, though, I put back in the other five. Because I'm a sucker like that.

I know the casinos are rigged against people like me. I know they use extensive psychological tricks to get you to believe you'll be the next to hit the jackpot. I mean, somebody's got to, right? Why not me? I kept sitting down next to people who were winning $500, $1,000 dollars (though I have no idea how much they'd put in to get there). Why couldn't I be next? Why not me?

But now, ~$40 poorer, I know the answer: It will never be me because I am a loser, lol. L-O-O-O-O-O-O-S-E-R! I do not win things. I especially do not win things in Las Vegas, where every game is stacked in the house's favor.

But I still had fun.

Casino games have cool names

Things like Super Duper Double Bonus Poker. Bucks Ahoy. Lucky Larry Triple Super Pay. So many more I wish I could remember.

I am not fancy

I don't think I could be fancy if I tried. I mean, sure, I can get cleaned up: I wear a skirt or dress every Sunday, and I know how to apply mascara. But mostly I don't; mostly I'm about as low maintenance as a girl could be. I don't know how to accessorize; I wobble around in heels, worried I'll break an ankle (though I do love a chunky platform shoe to make me taller than my usual 5'4); I've never had a mani-pedi (or either one separately); I buy the majority of my clothes at Walmart.

I figured I'd have unglamorous soul sisters in the other coaches' wives, who all seem as low-fi and practical as I am, so imagine my surprise when I found out that several of them had spent their Saturday morning (while I slept in, yay!) at the spa getting "treatments."

I do think it would be cool to go to a spa (and I certainly don't begrudge anybody else their facials or pedicures) -- but I worry the staff would size me up as I walked in, decide I wasn't their kind of clientele, and chase me right back out, lol.

Maybe some day I'll screw up my courage, pretend to be fancy, and see if they'll pamper me with their treatments anyway.

I still look 12 years old

Apparently. Whatever. What do you think?



So two of the wives and I were standing around the casino on Saturday night watching the third one play Blackjack (which she cleaned up on, by the way -- whooo!). I was leaning against a one-armed bandit, minding my own business, when a casino employee sauntered up to me with that tsk-tsk look in her eye. I thought I was about to get in trouble for hogging a slot machine without putting money in it. But no.

"Excuse me," she said. "Are you older than 21?" I told her I was. I told her I even had grey hairs to prove it, and showed her the wiry strands poking every which way from the top of my head. "I'm still going to need some ID," she said, obviously unconvinced. She stared at my driver's license a good long time before shaking her head and handing it back. "Wow," she said. "That is not at all how old I thought you were."

When the casino lady left, the other wives scooted closer to see my license before I put it away. "You're in your thirties? Huh! I wouldn't have guessed that either!"

The funny thing is that I once made plans with my sister to go to Vegas just for the privilege of getting carded. I had recently turned 21 and she was about to turn 22 (we're Irish twins), and thought it would be wonderfully vindicating to whip out those IDs and show the world that we were, indeed, legitimate adults. We never did go. (I worried they'd think my license was a fake and confiscate it, lol.)

I've always been annoyed to be mistaken for a much younger person. (Oh! Like the time we went to dinner on my college graduation road trip and the waitress gave everybody but me -- including my then 10yo sister -- big people menus and big people glasses, and I alone got the 10 and Under menu, a box of crayons, and a tiny glass. Grrrrr!) People tell me I'll be grateful for a young face when I'm older. I'm older now than I used to be, but the experience was still a mix of funny (50%), flattering (5%), embarrassing (30%) and irritating (15%). It would be nice to be taken seriously as a grownup, you know!

Anyway, I don't get it: I have grey hairs that grow more and more prominent all the time. I have wrinkles. I have tired eyes. What will it take to look like I'm at least out of my teens?

Maybe in another 20 years I'll find it flattering, lol.

It ain't called Sin City for nothin'

Our contingent took care of the sloth and the gluttony, but the lust -- even for Las Vegas! -- took me by surprise. We confined ourselves to our hotel and to the Strip, so I don't know how the non-touristy parts of town look, but the billboards alone made me wonder how parents in Vegas handle the sexually charged atmosphere. It seems to me you'd be having conversations a lot earlier than other parents do ("Mommy, why does that lady have no clothes on and why is she hanging on that man?").

We were continually accosted on the Strip by lines of people handing out cards with half (or fully) naked women on them. The (*cough*) "advertisers" wore t-shirts that read things like Girls Direct To You In 20 Minutes. The men creeped me out, but ... eh. You'd kind of expect it. (Not of all men. Certainly not of good men, which most of the men I know are. But you know the kind of pervs I mean.) What shocked me and made me sad were the young women handing out the skanky calling cards. Why would you do that to your sisters? I don't understand.

It's good to get away sometimes

I thought about my girls the whole time we were gone, but I didn't exactly miss them. Is that terrible to say? I get so few breaks from this more-than-full-time job; this was the first time I've left Tres overnight, and only the second time I've left the other two (as far as they know -- I did leave 5mo Uno once to go house shopping a few states away, but she doesn't remember that). Uno indulged in the melodrama of the moment as we drove off to the airport -- wailing and flailing her arms, oh brother -- but my (saintly) mom, who took care of them while we were gone, reported that all three of them did just fine once we were out of sight and that they behaved themselves all weekend. (I hope she's telling the truth, lol.)

I love them. The girls are never far from my thoughts. But I can't tell you how rejuvenating it felt to be a few hundred miles away from them for three days -- to be myself, alone for once. To sleep in! What with night feeding infants and nightmare-having children and future curfew-breaking teenagers, I didn't think I'd ever get a solid 8+ hours again! Wah! I had so much fun. I worried I wouldn't fit in with the other wives -- I was the youngest among them by 10 or 15 years -- but oh my goodness, it was awesome. I got to be a grownup. I got to relax and I got to have fun.

I think I ought to do it more often. :-)


~RCH~


PS - Big, BIG thank you again to my parents! THANK YOU!

Debate

DOS: Teacher says that when you hear a lightning sound it means that people are bowling in heaven.

UNO: That's not true.

DOS: It IS true, because Teacher told me.

UNO: Well then your teacher is wrong.

DOS: She is not!

UNO: Dos, Heavenly Father doesn't even have bowling.

Tears ensue.


~RCH~

Photo-Off Challenge: Editorial

I thought long and hard about this week's challenge to tell a story with my photo. I don't even remember anymore all the things that went through my head, except that most of them involved elaborate props and professional studio lighting equipment, lol. In the end, I had to simplify things. I'm not 100% satisfied with the results -- still longing for that professional equipment (and know how), I guess, and adult models would have been helpful -- but let me know what you think:



The door says [No]one [Un]der 21 Al[l]o[wed] (because it's our local bar -- yes, I am the fabulous mother who took her kids to a bar ... or its parking lot anyway, though in my defense it shares a parking lot with the family friendly taco bus). The sign reads, "If you came to fight don't come in. There will be 0 tolerrance. Fights have to stop!!!" Ha-ha, right? :-P

Oh well.

Mary, your next challenge is Flickr Homage: Go through your Flickr favorites and find one that you'd like to interpret in your own way, then post both so we can see your inspiration and your result. I'm not looking for a literal copy, but something that captures the ambiance of the photo you chose. You've got a lot of very fun things in your stream o' favorites, so I'm excited (as always!) to see what you do. :-)


~RCH~

Sleep + Snakes

Belated Happy Birthday to Beckle the Freckle, KnottieJenn, and my grandpa's wife, all Commie May Day babies (though not, as far as I know, actual communists)! I meant to write this blog on Friday, in which case the birthday wishes would not have been belated, but I've been a little bit tired. :-P

Some of you (after reading my last blog post or seeing my Facboo updates) have been kind enough to inquire after my well being. Was that mean baby keeping me up? Insomnia? Something else? Yes, yes, and yes, lol. I began the week with insomnia. The middle of the week found me struggling with an intractable project deadline. On the last night of the project, just as I was about to climb into bed at 4am -- literally, right as I pulled back the covers and lifted my leg to get into bed, GRRRR! -- Tres woke up screaming. I took her downstairs (so she wouldn't wake up the rest of the house) with the intention of nursing her back to sleep. She had other plans. She wiggled and played and jabbered until 8:30am, and when she went down for her morning nap the other girls got up demanding breakfast. Aaaaiiieeeee!

So yeah, I had a rough week. But it's over now! No more insomnia (I don't have the energy for it, lol.) No more projects (well, plenty of projects but none with hard and fast deadlines). And best of all, Tres is sleeping in her own bed these days! I have Beckle the Freckle to thank for that last one. After a year and a half with Tres as my near constant bed buddy (and by bed I mean love seat down in the basement), I finally tried her technique to easing kids into the whole sleeping alone business: I may have it slightly mixed up with other methods (my brain is a blender turned to puree without the benefit of a splash proof lid), but this is what I did:

First, we established a more consistent routine. We've had the steps down pat -- first jammies, then teeth, then stories, then prayers, then "book light time," then a lullaby, then lights out, then an hour of "HEY! STOP PLAYING! You should have been asleep an hour ago!" then several hours of dealing with a still awake Tres after the older girls finally fell asleep -- but we needed to get a little stricter on the time. We now have my cell phone set to ring a cow bell at 8pm each night, signaling time to get ready for bed, and a disturbingly loud alarm at 8:30pm for lights out. (Sadly, we still have to continually remind the older girls to stop playing.) Rather than keeping Tres with me after I nurse her while waiting for her to get sleepy, like I used to, I now put her down in her crib. Novel idea, I know.

She was not happy about the new routine that first night. But we tried Beckle's trick (possibly mixed up with others): Without picking her up, I stood right next to the crib and tried to soothe her. I'd coo and kiss and caress for a few minutes, then leave. She kept screaming. I'd come back a few minutes later and repeat the soothing process, then leave. She'd scream some more. I'd extend my absence by a few minutes, come in and soothe, leave, come back after an even longer absence, soothe, until finally (about 90 minutes later) she fell asleep. And STAYED asleep all night long. Wow!

We repeated the process the next night, only this time I sat on the spare bed next to the crib for the soothing, rather than right next to the crib. She put up a fight for 40 minutes.

We repeated the process the next night, only I stood at the door to offer my soothing words. I only had to go in once. (Dude! Why didn't I try this sooner?)

We've been enjoying this new routine for about a week and a half now; Tres's 4am wake up was an anomaly made worse by my taking her out of the crib. If I hadn't been too sleep deprived to think straight, I would have left her in there and offered soothing words and whispers rather than taking her downstairs (which apparently signaled play time).

Anyway, enough about sleep and/or the lack thereof. I'm so over that topic. ;-)

The girls don't have school on Fridays so I took them on a photo explore. You can read more about it on my plog, but I wanted to see if anyone who reads this blog can identify the snake we saw in Swan Lake:



I think it was dead -- it lay remarkably still -- but I didn't want to step on it or poke it with a stick to test the theory, if you know what I mean. So, anyone an expert? Is it dangerous? Poisonous? Did we barely escape with our lives?? I'm excited about adventuring all over this beautiful countryside now that it's spring, but this snake has reminded me that I might want to be a little cautious as I do (especially since I almost always have the girls with me).

Creepy.

[Interesting conclusatory paragraph here.]


~RCH~