Cold Spaghetti

Try as I may, I just can’t get the job of independently wealthy woman of leisure.  I tell you though, I do a BANG UP GOOD JOB of it.  Quality work, I tell you.  But then reality hits and responsibilities cave in.  It’s trite, of course, but the whole run-but-can’t-hide thing rings bells.

So we’re home and I’m finally embracing the fact that I’m now running a nonprofit (I know, how in the heck did THAT happen?!) and still have an unfinished paper that hangs over my head like ballast weight on a fraying rope.  I figure that the rope can hold out until February or so, because it will take 2-3 months to get comments, submit more drafts, and get to the point where I actually can defend.  There is a lot going on in this program director role and an equal a lot going on with the research project — the third in my triumvirate of semi-paying professional activities — and some-days I am not so good about balancing and prioritizing.

So how do others do it?  What is your system of organization?  How do you allocate time for a variety of activity?  Do you use masterful discipline to stay on task appointed time?  Do you schedule big blocks of time for one activity at a time, or do several things slowly at once?  How do other people fit in all the random bits of work, knowledge, responsibility, volunteering, meal planning, home renovating, tantrum controlling, butt wiping, phone answering, bill paying, walking, talking and breathing?

Internets, I need your secrets.

Photo by Will, taken last weekend in City Park:

Drawing of Mickey Mouse and Goofy, by Will, made in the morning hours before school:

So Paul had a vasectomy a few weeks ago.  Because he is TOUGH MANLY MAN, he jumped (figuratively) to the tasks of parenting within 24 hours of the procedure.  There was infection. Then eventual clearing up.  And now, well, is the task of making sure it worked.

But there’s that whole thing about our insurance changing and pre-existing what-not and wanting to just BE DONE and start out all fresh and healthy and clearly sterile on December 1st.  A date that is closing in fast.

So please send Lego magazines.  Lots and lots of Lego magazines.

And maybe some more Legos.  Because the 20,000 or so currently there aren’t quite enough.

In 6 days my darling son, my first born child, the one who draws me love notes and writes indiscernible sentences on random notebooks, will make 6 years.

Apparently, this is also the same age that boys go through THE CHANGE.  As I was once a teenage girl, I understand the stress.  The confusion.  The embarrassment.  The sneaking pads around in little purses, secretly wondering who has switched to tampons (shhhh! don’t say it so loud!) and wondering when to be so bold as to try.  The world just doesn’t UNDERSTAND!  And it’s SO UNFAIR!!!

I am counting on re-living those wonder years with my daughter (woo-hoo!) but it was a bit of a surprise to find them in my darling first-grade sweetheart boy.  Since when is every piece of music known to humanity BORING?  Why is it that the trial of bathing, eating, walking, dressing, and forheavenssake BREATHING, so totally and completely impossible?  Do you know how UNFAIR his life is?

Okay, I confess.  We ask him to make his bed in the morning, which can be a challenge considering the incredible athletic feats he conducts each night within it, but we figure it’s a good stepping stone to the roofing work and diamond mining he’ll start next month.

We’re taking it all in stride.  The mood swings, the sullen appearance, the sudden outbursts of tears.  We’re here for him, even if our being in the room makes it IMPOSSIBLE for him to CONCENTRATE.

If nothing else, it helps us appreciate those bright moments of beauty.  The sloppy kisses, the shared reading, the begs for nighttime cuddles.  He’ll grow out of this moody phase, yes.  But I’d take it a hundred times over if I could keep those sweet moments with it.

Stuff we’ve learned in the past day or so:

• Mahoney’s makes darn good po-boys.
• Professional-grade firewall set-up has Paul very geeked.
• Kate may have some confusion regarding which way to move on the game board, but still reigns as the household Candyland Champ.
• The internet is a good resource for finding Pikachu coloring pages, unfortunately.

Stuff we’re trying to figure out:

• How to convince Kate that wearing shoes on the right feet will not cause her legs to melt off her body.
• The trick to the perfect soft cooked egg.
• What age parents become modest about time alone in the bathroom around their kids.

This is how two kids roll.

One decides to do something. Like sing and dance on a toy chest.

Then the other can’t take the lack of attention. So he must DO SOMETHING.

Most particularly, something that will annoy, bother, or otherwise sidetrack the activities of that sibling.

And then, things go downhill quickly.

Will draws.  He made this sitting in his bed and brought it to me before he returned to go to sleep.

He also wrote this sentence in one of his many “books.” He read it to me, thankfully.  I needed help.

Translation: “When the storm comes to the city, run but you can’t hide.”

Kate has also got a project.  It has to do with Bugs Bunny.

Paul is also working on a project.   I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves.

It’s growing.  And has a lot (A LOT!) more growing to do.

On the afternoon of Day Two of Paul’s surgery recovery, we visited City Park.

The kids saw the paddle boats.  Paul said it was okay.  That he was okay.  So we rented a paddle boat and rode it around City Park for a half hour.

For the record, this is not a very good thing to do a few days after surgery.

Nonetheless, we paddled around the museum, the sculpture garden, the ducks, the pelicans in the trees.  Will paddled for a little while, too.  (I don’t suggest this to folks who want to be able to walk when you get off of the boats.)

The ducks were not afraid of the boats and swam right up looking for food, just in case.

We had to go under several low bridges, which Kate loved.

For the record, Kate is really cute.

Kate has had a huge growth spurt.  She weighs almost 30 pounds and is about 35 inches tall. She is finally into size 3T (for most things).

But she can still go to the store with her Daddy.

In the grocery bag.

You should see the look on people’s faces when her head pops up in produce.