Technology and Kids

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Watching the Leung family’s video productions of Guinea Pig TV is inspiring to me as I think of more ways to engage Ruthie in creative projects, especially ones that involve technology. Ruthie loves to take pictures on our digital camera, so we bought her the Fischer Price digital camera for kids – one that can withstand a little beating. However, I have not taken her past the photo capture to the photo posting – she just takes a bunch of pictures, and often Thomas ends up deleting them because the big red ‘delete’ button is the most noteable button on the camera (a design flaw, in my opinion – what two-year-old WOULDN’T want to press a big red button?).

In my new daily routine I have set aside time in the mornings – before my slacker son wakes up – to do something creative or instructive with Ruthie to engage her in something other than Dora the Explorer. I think I’ll start with her photography – letting her take pictures, then immediately uploading them to the Zooomr account we opened for her waaaaaay back in October. Maybe it would be fun for her to create her own titles for each picture?

Anyhow, you should check out Julie’s introduction to Guinea Pig TV, as well as the video blog itself.

New Year’s Resolution: Finish What I Start

A good friend forwarded this hilarious email to me, and now I bless you all with these words of wisdom…

I am passing this on to you because it definitely works, and we could all use a little more calmness in our lives at this hectic time of year. By following simple advice heard on the Dr. Phil show, you too can find Inner Peace. Dr. Phil proclaimed, “The way to achieve inner peace is to finish all the things you’ve started and never finished.” So, I looked around my house to see all the things I started and hadn’t finished, and before leaving the house this morning, I finished off a Bottle of Merlot, a bottle of White Zinfandel, a bottle of Bailey’s Irish Cream, a bottle of Kahlua, a package of Oreos, the remainder of my old Prozac prescription, the rest of the cheesecake, some Doritos and a box of Russ ell Stovers Chocolates. You have no idea how good I feel now.

A Fallen Friend

ScoutI’m on Day 2 of crying the Ugly Cry due to an injury with Scout’s leg (our dog) that is causing us to make some tough decisions. She blew out her knee at the park the other day, and it looks like the only option for treatment is surgery. The cost estimate I was originally given was equal to about two and a half mortgage payments. I think of it in terms of mortgage payments to help give me perspective, because if I was going by emotion alone I would have immediately handed over my credit card.

I am very attached to Scout, and she is such a sweet dog and great with the kids, not to mention the added security I feel when Bryan is out of town. But as much as a part of the family as she is, neither Bryan nor I have ever imagined spending so much on a pet. Not imagining it, though, didn’t stop me from considering briefly, wishing fervently, and begging profusely. But in the end, I know it’s just not reasonable.

Today, though, I feel a little more empowered by information. I called three other vets, discovering the following information:

1. There are MANY different surgeries available, not just the one type originally presented to me
2. There are WAY cheaper vet surgeons available
3. The outcome for all types of surgeries seems to be within a similar range: lower activity and chance of arthritis

I have an appointment to meet with the surgeon from the original clinic I took her to, so I hope to use my powers of research to get some more information. But this has been a sad, stressful, and emotionally draining week.

Remembering Gordy

ruthie and gordy, May 2004

Today is the second anniversary of Gordy’s death from cancer. I have to be honest – and I feel a certain sense of betrayal to say this – but the grieving does get easier over time. I think I worried that if it ever quit being REALLY hard to think about Gordy, that I was forgetting him, or dishonoring his memory, or that maybe I didn’t love him as much as I thought I did.

But none of this is true. Over time the grief changes, and warm memories come out of nowhere – like when you walk into someone’s home and smell the burning wood and hear the crackle of the fire in their fire place, and you think of every fire you’ve ever sat next to in Gordy’s presence. Only, experiencing these memories no longer overwhelms you with grief, but brings a slight upward bend to the corners of your mouth as you think fondly of the Good Ole Days.

Things that Keep Me Dry

I lost a bit of blogging momentum over the busy holidays. I didn’t have much time for focused writing, and now that I’m getting back into the swing of my daily routine I’m not feeling all that compelled to dig deep just yet. So bear with me, Dear Internet, as I continue to bore you with photos and antidotes.

Last week brought a stretch of sunshine and, more importantly, no rain, which brought a crew of roofers in by the truck load. In less than one day the entire mass of them had stripped off three layers of shingles, cleaned up, and beat feet out of there, leaving nothing but a muddy mess on my back deck. And by ‘entire mass,’ I’m not exagerating. Those guys were EVERYWHERE – in my yard, on the street, milling about, looking up and pointing – there had to be 10-15 non-English speaking laborors, ready to take on my house.

(Oh, and the only reason I point out that they were non-English speaking, is that it took me having a conversation with 3-4 of them before I clued in that they were merely nodding at me, and not actually acknowledging what I was saying. So I finally asked for the foreman and they all pointed – all at once – to the truck across the street. They were very snap-to-it kind of guys.)

The next day two guys returned – one to stay on the roof, and the other to hand him sheets of metal – and they had great weather all week. Until yesterday and today. These poor guys are now working in the pouring rain, and it does not look fun.

Here is a shot of the roof we used to have, the moss and leaks into our stair well not fully visible:

Old Roof - South Side before

And here is half of our sexy new metal roof, in a lovely shade of blue-ish teal:

New Roof - North Side after

It may look a little out of place at the moment, but picture a new coat of paint in the near future to brighten up the whole look.

And most importantly – no more leaking!

Film Review: Children of Men

Spoiler warning: This review contains spoilers, indicated by orange italics, so avoid those paragraphs if you haven’t seen the movie.

Bryan and I saw Children of Men last night, and it evoked a response in me that I have never before experienced from a movie. I am familiar with sad movies, and scary movies, and emotionally manipulating movies, and even action and violence, but I felt none of the usual responses to these types of films. It has taken a day or so for me to put words to my emotion, and I think I have finally found the right description: grief.

I consider myself an apathetic person who finds it fairly easy to separate myself from the tragedy of other people and cultures. Even in the face of actual footage of the devastation of tsunamis and floods and hurricanes, I move about my business unfazed – unless I am drawn in by a personal connection.

I was not expecting to see any of what I saw. I was simply on a date with my husband who picked the movie, and his choice in film has never let me down. This was no exception. It was an excellent film – definitely in my top 10. But as brilliant as it was, it was also difficult to watch – much like the movie, Life is Beautiful.

As a woman who has given birth twice in a froo froo bed in a fancy hospital with staff doting over me and a warm meal brought at my request, I was moved by the experiences of Kee – the filth of the room, the cold, the fear, the pain, the lack of soothing music and a birthing ball and a hot tub. As the baby was set on Kee’s belly, a frantic whisper escaped my lips: “Cover the baby…” I said, as steam from the warm newborn wafted up into the cold space.

As the end of the movie played out, I sobbed, even into the credits and for most of the car ride home. This movie put into context a reality for many people that I have never been able to understand or even have a feeling for – in video game terms, this was a ‘first person shooter’ movie. People in other parts of the world, both currently and within my lifetime, have experienced what I saw in this film, and I was overwhelmed with grief from years of ignoring the plight of other people.

One cannot control when a baby is born, and if you happen to go into labor during a military siege, then you are not having a good day. I felt like I’d been hit by a truck after giving birth, and my insides were torn and stretched. But I slept in my soft, white bed for days until I felt strong enough to get up.

So for me, this movie was steeped in seriousness with pockets of humor, and filled with bravery, and strength of character, and hope, and a commitment to something greater than one’s self.

The Return

I got back from my trip to Portland last night after the kids were already in bed. Around 4:30 in the morning the creaking of our bedroom door woke me up and I heard the light padding of Ruthie’s footsteps across the carpet. I played dead, lying on my side with my back to the edge of the bed. I heard Ruthie evaluating the situation – Bryan’s snoring, the extra body in bed, unmoving. I heard her come along my side, and then felt her gentle yet steady hand press against my back, as if varifying that she wasn’t dreaming my existence in the bed, that her mama was really home. Then she pulled her hand away, padded out of the room, and closed the door behind her. Moments later I heard the click of her light switch, then silence.

I’m not sure I’ve had a full understanding of what a pillar I am to my children, but as Ruthie walked out of our room, satisfied in knowing that I was home, I began to get a clue.

The Christmas Wrap

We had a great Christmas Eve with my family, and a relaxing Christmas Day at home. It was fun to see the kids really getting into it this year, and I love to see them connecting with their grandparents.

I think the highlight of the weekend was when we ‘called’ Bryan’s mom on the new computer we bought her (via Sightspeed and a webcam), and she was able to see her grandchildren for the first time in a year. At first she didn’t get it, and thought she was watching a video. And when she realized she was actually having a conversation with us, I think she was a little choked up. It was a very festive occassion, and I know Bryan was very proud to be able to do that for his mom.

I’ll be off line for the next few days as I am running away from home with my good friend, Sarah. She has been my friend longer than anybody else I know (sixteen years!), and we have been on many adventures together. We swore that even after we were married with children we would still break away for ‘free-spirited’ weekends, and only now are we finally making it happen for the first time.

Ciao, everyone!

The Christmas Story

The other day while I was making lunch, the kids were playing in the family room located in the basement. At one point I became alarmed at the quiet (as all mothers do), and snuck down the stairs to spy. At first I was pleased to observe Thomas and Ruthie pleasantly sharing a push toy they normally fight over, until I decided the concept was too absurd to be believable so I asked a subtle, probing question: ‘What are you guys doing?’

‘We’re playing with balls!’ Ruthie announced cheerfully.

‘Okaaaay…’ I said, still not feeling comfortable about the peace and harmony.

And then Ruthie threw him under the bus. Out of the blue, as I turned to go back upstairs, she said, ‘Thomas did it.’

Bingo. Something was up.

At that point Thomas lifted up the seat of the push toy to reveal their stash of ‘balls,’ which were not actually toy balls at all, but the balls from the Christmas tree. Nearly every. single. one, in fact.

Christmas ball stash

So now our tree is ball-less (as far as the kids can reach, anyway) and I’m tired of fighting it. I am certainly no Martha Stewart, and it’s actually festive in a Griswold sort of way, so I think I’ll let it be.

Merry Christmas everyone!

a ball-less tree

Things That Remind Me…

The pictures of the snow storm in Denver reminded me of a similar snow dump when I was growing up in Minnesota in the 1980’s. School was canceled and drifts were up to my waist. Gordy shoveled snow off the garage roof, creating HUGE drifts along the house that we had fun jumping into.

Here’s mom and I on the roof of the garage:

3 foot snow drifts on the roof

Me jumping (check out those moon boots!):

Jumping off the roof into a snow drift

The World Loses Another Hero

Without this man, I have no idea what kind of person I would be today. What I do know is that I would not be anywhere near as successful in life, anywhere near as loving or accepting of love, or anywhere near as happy. -Andru Edwards

I was moved this morning when I heard (through Bryan) of the passing of Andru Edwards’ father, George Budabin, for I know what it is like to lose someone who changed my life so dramatically just by loving me – my step-father, Gordy, married my mom the summer before I turned nine, and he loved me like his own daughter. His love grounded me during a time when I was confused and angry about who I could trust.

Gordy died from cancer three years ago this January.

Life seems unfair at times, especially when I see good, kind-hearted, and sacrificial people struggle and pass on. I pray for Andru and his family, for the peace of God during this difficult time.

Never Let Them See You Sweat

If you’ve ever been in labor, or had surgery, or an injury, or have otherwise been assisted in pain management, you may have been told to ‘stay ahead of the pain.’ Don’t let it surprise you or overtake you, don’t let the pain meds wear out before you take your next dose, position yourself for the next wave – stay ahead of it.

I often feel like parenting small children is the same way – don’t let the little bastards get ahead of you. If you get distracted, or have an unplanned afternoon, or don’t have your shit together before they wake up, then it’s all over for you and their antics will consume you and you’ll never get a hold of it again. You might as well ride it out and start again the next day.

After nearly four years of parenting, this is what I have FINALLY figured out.

It is no longer working for me to put the kids to bed, stay up late doing my own thing, then sleep in until they wake me up. The morning just goes very, very, bad when I’m trying to get my bearings while Ruthie’s chipper voice continually asks, “Can I have some cereal, Mom? Can I watch t.v., Mom? Can I have a piece of candy, Mom? …” before I’ve even had my coffee. When this happens, I rarely shower before 1pm or take the kids anywhere besides the gym, not to mention the chaos of the preschool mornings when I have to be out the door by 8:30.

So, for a couple of days this week I experimented with getting up at 6am. The trick is to get up without waking HER up, because if SHE’S up, then it kind of defeats the purpose of ME getting up so early. So far I’ve been successful in that. I grabbed my coffee, put in my contacts, made a plan for the day, did some computer work, and showered.

As much of a morning person as I am NOT, I actually accomplished a lot in the 1+ hours before Ruthie came down stairs. And what’s more, I’m feeling ahead of the game today with all my ducks in a row for appointments and dinner.

But I still hate mornings.

Game On

If you don’t hear from me for awhile, it is because Bryan is home for the next three weeks and we are battling it out over Carcassonne during our spare time. After mooching the game off friends for the last few years, we finally bought our own and now sip Bailey’s on the rocks and watch ‘viewer discretion advised’ shows like The Family Guy while we play. The other night Brian the dog actually said, ‘She made me eat the hair in her pie,’ and I nearly spewed my drink all over the game.

Before you know it we’ll be playing strip Carcassonne.

Things That Go Bump in the Night

Bryan’s plane landed safely and he was home by midnight. We snuggled on the couch for awhile as we listened to the wind and watched David Letterman, then we went to bed. We live in a 1910 Craftsman, and our bedrooms are all on the second floor. We have no large trees around us, and only one window on the South side of the house where the wind was coming from, so I wasn’t too worried about severe damage to our home.

As the house rocked and the windows shook, my little family gathered around me. Scout, who normally sleeps in the dark and quiet basement, nosed her way into our room and paced lightly until settling on the floor next to the bed. Ruthie came in asking what that sound outside was. I started taking her back into her room, selfish for the limited space in our small bed. But as I entered her room and heard the gusts against her slanted walls, I remembered it was my job as a mom to protect my children and make them feel safe. So I snuggled her back into bed between Bryan and I where she slept for most of the night, oblivious to the storm in the safety of our bed. I layed awake until 2 in the morning, listening to the gusts, hearing objects drag down the street, feeling the bed shake. I was not afraid, but I was in awe.

We fared well compred to most. We never lost power. No trees fell on our house. I had gas in my car. Many people in the area will not see power until Wednesday or later – a full week after the storm. Here are pictures of the minor damage done to the outer parts of our home…

Remember this pretty deck with my new pretty lights?
New Outdoor Lights

Here’s what it looks like now…

All the lattice was blown down and shredded in the wind.

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What is left of our shed (with the lawn mower still standing!)…
What's left of the shed (with the lawn mower still standing!)

At least we know the lock will hold!
The still-intact lock broke from the shed.

By the way, did you notice the tree behind the shed? How all the leaves on it are dead, yet they didn’t blow off in the high winds? I find that creepy.