Jenn's Pen: May 2009

Sunday, May 31, 2009

It Takes A Village to Raise a Child. . .

. . .Which means less pressure for me right? If I am not the perfect parent it's not really all my fault if it is a joint endeavor.

My favorite kind of movie to watch takes place in a small town with loads of community spirit. You know, the kind that has a festival for every occasion and everyone knows everything about everyone. You go to the grocery store or the post office and the clerk asks how you mother is or if your baby is over its colic. And everyone goes to the cute church in town and stands outside afterwards and gossips. But mostly, there is always a sense of family and everyone is looking out for each other.

I like to pretend I live in that town--and I sort of do.

We even have the cute little church. . .I don't actually attend that church, but I drive past it nearly daily when I take my daughter to school. And I take pictures of it throughout the year. . .with fall leaves, and sprinkled in snow, and as a backdrop to the annual parade.

We certainly have the small town traditional celebrations. This weekend was the annual Hockinson Fun Days. The whole town comes out to celebrate, starting with Friday night Bingo at the high school.

My girls love this and Hannah won two times this year.

And of course we had to buy the commemorative t-shirts. The school puts on a drawing contest each year and the winner gets their picture featured on the t-shirt. Hannah assured me that this wasn't even Patience's best work--she is apparently so good she can win the contest with little effort.

Then we rise bright and early to attend the Fireman's Breakfast (the fireman came by our house a couple weeks prior to sell us tickets).

They also put on lots of cool demonstrations. . .like rescuing people from a burning building. . .

. . .and canine demonstrations.

Then you head out to find a good spot for the parade. Towards the beginning is the best, just in case they run out of candy (which Sig claimed was her favorite part of the whole day).

And just to prove this really is the country, the people next to us brought their seats in a small front loader to ensure they had a good view. . .

Then after the parade we headed over to peruse the shops set up through the middle school and hit the carnival set up around the track field. Signe even took a few sponges to the face, all in the name of good community spirit!

And the best part is having a friend to share the fun with. Every little country girl needs a best friend to laugh with, confide in, and set her straight when she goes astray. Lucky for my little blondie she's found just the girl for the job.

Saturday, May 30, 2009

Hero Worship and Superpowers

There are two things I know about five year olds--at least my five year old. . .she never stops talking, and she thinks her parents are super heroes. I often wonder how she ever finishes her dinner because I swear she never takes a breath that isn't immediately followed by a stream of words--when can the food possibly get in?

She is convinced that I can read her mind. She saw a commercial once about moms having superpowers and when I guessed what she was going to ask one day she decided my power was mind reading. Now she is always asking me what she is thinking. She can hardly keep from telling me herself while she waits for me to guess. Lucky for me, she generally has a one track mind at any given time and guessing isn't too difficult.

Along with her complete faith in my super powers is her belief that her father is a super hero. She is a lot like him in many ways and wants to be like him too. She tells us she will live with us forever and has confessed that if I hadn't married daddy already she probably would when she got older. Pair that with her love of being outside come rain or shine and we get this:

Yesterday she followed Rob and the mower up and down, up and down, while he mowed the lawn--chattering the whole time, I am sure. Not that he could hear her over the motor, but I am not sure she actually expects us to listen to half of what she says. . .or maybe she thinks our superpowers allow us to multi-task and do things like talk on the phone, mow the lawn, read books, watch TV, AND listen to Signe's make believe world filled with video game obstacles and imaginary fairies and puppies. That is actually more likely--I do after all, have the ability to see things behind me and find mysteriously missing objects.

Occasionally, Signe assures us that she too is "practically a mom" (like when she makes her own peanut butter and jelly sandwiches) and needs to do grown up things. At times like these, her daddy patiently lets her.

He may be a super hero, but saying "No" to his girls is not one of his powers.

And really, how can you say "no" to that face?

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Beware of the Man Who Saws Plastic. . .

. . .and the sleepwalking nine year old.

Writer's Workshop with Mama Kat.
Prompt of Choice:
#6 -Share of sleepwalking story.

I come from a family of interesting sleeping habits. My brother used to sleep walk often, I would carry on nonsense conversations while sleeping, and my husband chomps his teeth and makes strange sound effects while sleeping, with occasional bursts of craziness statements. But no one can outdo Hannah.

Since Hannah was potty training, we learned to wake at the slightest noise from her. It was really in our best interest, the sheets, and possibly the closest closets interest to get up immediately and escort her to the bathroom.

Hannah is a very sound sleeper. . .and always needs to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. Add that to a tendency to sleepwalk and a habit of saying interesting things in her sleep, and we have endless night time entertainment on a regular basis whether we want it or not.

It generally begins with moaning, followed by sleepwalking that has twice ended in closets, once a suitcase and other less than optimal locations for a night time potty run. Usually these days she makes it to the toilet, but we are trained to wake up to make sure so we have made a game of it.

Rob will run in and say something like: "Did you see the elephant?" And she will mumble some off the wall reply. And we will laugh. And she will go back to bed none the wiser.

A couple weeks ago, during a heavy rain storm, Hannah burst out of her room and came flying into ours, sort of half awake, and in a panicked voice said: "I hear a man outside my window sawing plastic!"

"What?!" We both say and quickly hurry to her room. . .not because we think there actually IS a man outside her window sawing plastic, but because we want to see what noise she THINKS is a man outside her window sawing plastic. And to tuck her half asleep self back in bed.

I have to say, after listening to the rain drip off the gutter at a quick pace, it DID rather sound like someone sawing plastic. I assured her the next day when we told her about it that it had been a very apt description. . . not that she appreciated that when, for a week straight, Rob rushed into her room at bed time to whisper, "I am the man who saws plastic," in a creepy voice. He even climbed out on the roof below her window one night to scratch her screen.

It's really a wonder our kids only sleepwalk and talk and rarely have nightmares. . .THAT I would totally understand!

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Are You Smarter Than Your 4th Grader?

For some time Rob has been dreaming of owning a truck. . .at least since me moved to our quasi country home. Much can be done with a truck--yard debris can be driven to the drop off place, project garbage can be driven to the dump, furniture can be picked up. . .

Well, the long wait has ended. Rob recently bought a truck. And today we took our first load of carpet scraps and left over counter chunks to the dump (we conned Rob's brother into taking several loads while he was over here during our kitchen remodel, but sadly, he and his truck departed, back to Idaho).

As you probably know, they weigh your vehicle on the way in, then again on the way out to determine how much junk you dumped. On the way out Rob turns to me and says:

"Hey, jump out and go to the bathroom and I will pick you up on the other side of the scale. You ought to be worth a few bucks."

I, of course, roll my eyes. I don't figure his joke is worth a response. . .or the $1.35 my weight may be worth.

Suddenly Hannah pipes up from the back seat:

"Don't you think you should have had her get out on they way IN? If she gets out now you will pay more money, not less."

Obviously!

Apparently Rob is not smarter than our fourth grader. . .or perhaps she's just BRILLIANT.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

The Simple Pleasures of Grammy's House

What is it about going home that makes you revert to the ways of childhood? You could live in a mansion or a old farmhouse, but when you go back all you see is home, and whatever childhood memories you associate with it. My memories are good ones, so I tend to want my children to experience some of those for themselves, even though our own home is a very different place.

Rob and I grew up very differently. I grew up on a farm with all the dirt, animals and county pleasure associated with that, along with seven siblings and random various cousins. He grew up in the suburbs--the only animals being his basset hound and a house cat, and his playground an actual playground, not the fields and streams beyond the back door. He has one brother and one sister.

What does this all mean?

When we go to Idaho, this divergence of lifestyle is echoed in the two different experiences the girls will have at Manna's house (Rob's parents) and Grammy's house (my parents). I have written about the fun things the girls expect to do while visiting Manna. Grammy's house is a little more free form, and a lot more country fun.

Here is what I see:

Cousins running in and out of houses, both Grammy's house and Aunt Liz's house next door. Kittens and dogs running wild. The spacious outdoors are calling and very little time is spent caged in by four walls. Trees are meant for climbing, ditches are meant for splashing in, kittens are meant for cuddling (all 15 of them), flowers and weeds are meant for picking and grass in meant for rolling on, running over, and wriggling bare toes in. Shoes are an unwanted accessory, dirt is a more likely accessory, and giggling girls whispering secrets is expected. Sunscreen is rarely given a passing thought, but seeing how close you can get to the sun on the trampoline is a worthy goal.

Treasures are eagerly sought after. . .behind the shop, near the garden, among the cat tails swishing in the canal, and certainly in the old barn with its mysterious store of old farm implements.

There are many wonders to behold--among the flowering beds of peonies, lilacs and irises and also in the patches of wild flowers blooming along the lane. . .or in the rainbow painted reflections on over sized bubbles, flung wide across the lawn by half a dozen windmilling girls wielding bubble wands. . .getting ever dizzier until they collapse in a heap on the lawn to peer up at the sky and find shapes in the passing clouds.

Yes, Grammy's house is full of wonders and pleasures, sticky fingers and muddy toes, home baked cookies and the goodness of family--lots of family. Chaotic bliss.

Of course, that isn't quite how Rob sees it. He sees. . .

Kids running everywhere makes it difficult to keep track of your own two blondies, so one must be ever alert. Shoes, where are their shoes? Shoes are necessary to prevent cuts and germs from rusty metal, rocks and thistles and whatever else may be lurking in the weeds or along the lane. Don't hold those kittens! Do you know how many germs are on those things--go wash your hands. Get out of the tree--do you want to break your neck? Do you know what kind of bacteria could be in that ditch? Don't go in the front yard, you might get hit by a car. No, I will not put Charly down, he can't handle the chaos and noisy children, the barking dogs and big trucks. Where are your shoes? Go wash your hands. Is it time to go yet?

Okay, so maybe I am exaggerating a little. But either way, I like my view better.

It's all a matter of perspective.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Bye Bye Birdie

We have a nest of robins in our drainpipe. We have been hearing the babies chirping away at top volume for a couple weeks now. Two days ago Rob spotted a baby robin on the ground below the drainpipe. When we tried to get a look at him he ran behind a wood pile.

The girls, of course, wanted to rescue him. We convinced them that the best thing to do was to leave him alone and the momma bird would take care of him. . .

Have you ever heard that Regina Spektor song "That Time"? Part of it goes like this:

Hey remember that time

I tried to save a pigeon with a broken wing

A street cat got him by morning and I had to bury pieces

Of his body in our building's playground

I thought I was gonna be sick

We don't have a cat.

Wendell is our neighbor's cat.

Hannah found him, surrounded by a wide circle of baby feathers. We had a funeral and buried the little bird. Hannah cried.

I let her watch two hours of mindless TV to take her mind off of it. Does that make up for not climbing up there and putting the bird back like she wanted to two days ago? I don't know, but it seems to be working.

Friday, May 15, 2009

Astoria

I know many people who dread the day their mother-on-law comes to visit. I am not one of those people. When my mother-in-law comes for a visit I get as giddy as the girls do. Fun will be had and very little rest will occur--except perhaps in the car between fun.

This weekend is no exception. For the day today we decided to get Hannah out of school early and head for the coast. Our destination: Astoria. We headed straight for the Cannery Cafe and the famous Gunder Buns.

We spent most of the meal trying to decide just what the secret ingredient was that makes them so irresistible. The waitress claimed only the owner knows the secret. . .but we detected a hint of honey. . .and something else. Of course the rest of lunch was great also. I had crab cakes (again--we went out last night and had seafood then too) and tomato & red pepper bisque--YUM. Everyone else had clam chowder--also good.

Since the Cafe is on the pier we had to climb the tower and hunt for seals and seagulls.

(Sig watched for seals out the cafe window while we were eating lunch.)

The view from the cafe window

The quaintness of Astoria gets me every time. The old buildings are so interesting. . .

. . .and the houses are so cute I want to move right in!

And, of course, you can't visit Astoria without visiting the Column.

The view is spectacular (although I took these from the parking lot because the tower was closed for maintenance.)

My daughter is in 4th grade and my mother-in-law is a 4th grade teacher, which is when they learn/teach all about Lewis & Clark--so of course we had to stop by Fort Clatsop and take a tour.

It was an exhausting day. But the weather was warm, and the sun was shinning--you can't ask for more on the Northwest Coast!

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