Sunday Pictures
the girl
Ninth Try
What makes a perfect birthday party perfect? It’s not number of guests, for if that’s the case, today’s party would be very far from perfect. It’s not the price of the gifts, for no matter how much one spends on a present, more is always an option. It’s not the cake, though in the case of E and his destruction cake a couple of years back, it certainly made a positive impact.
Having a part in the planning and preparation of your party would be an element of a perfect party, a perfect sign that double digits and more approach. The Girl chose a craft-centered party, spending several weeks researching and thinking about which activities she wanted at her party. In the end, she chose holiday-themed crafts: gingerbread decoration and Christmas tree baubles.
Morning was dedicated to baking gingerbread, then, in various shapes and sizes. There was also significant cleaning as one of the guests is allergic to cats — never before has the Girl’s room and the living room been so thoroughly cleaned. Early afternoon was decorating. And finally, after putting the balloons in place and dressing both Caroline and herself in matching outfits, the Girl was ready for the guests.
Once the girls arrived, the Boy, though, felt suddenly left out. He went into the living room, flopped down on the couch, and said, “Daddy, I’m boring. I’m not doing anything.” The girls headed down to the trampoline and he just watched from the balcony. “Don’t worry — you’ll get to do all the crafts with the girls. You’ll decorate some gingerbread and make a bauble and do whatever else you want to.”
After crafts, pizza and a movie, and a bit of fingernail painting. And finally, we cleaned up the mess, and I asked the Girl, “So, was it a perfect party?”
“Pretty much.”
And that’s the best present she can give to K and me.
Numbers
2
Every night just before bedtime, just before we read a story, just before one or the other of us cuddles with him until he drifts to sleep, the Boy has a choice to make: which cars will I take to bed with me? We allow him two because otherwise, there would be no room on the bed for him — he would pack every single wheeled vehicle he owns onto his bed every single night.
He makes his choice carefully, and as is typical of his personality, changes his mind a time or three most nights.
9
This weekend, the Girl will have her birthday party. Her ninth. Her last in single digits. Her interests are maturing with her body. She’s planning on painting her fingernails before her birthday party Saturday, and it’s a choice that, like the Boy’s cars, requires significant thought.
220
The average RIT score on the MAP test for eighth-grade students is 220. My gifted classes have averages well above 230. My struggling classes have sometimes had averages below 200, putting them in the range of a first- or second-grade reader. When such a class, during optional winter testing, actually goes down as a whole class, it leaves a teacher feeling particularly ineffective. What can numbers tell us about reading? Nothing? Everything? Something?
3000
At a post a day, it would take eight years to reach 3000 posts. However, to reach this, the 3000th post, it took 11 years, which makes an average of 0.747 posts per day — posting about 75% of the time. Eleven years to make it to this, the 3000th post.
Immaculate Perception
Tonight, on the way home from Mass for the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception, K got a text. “H’s mom just sent me a text,” she said to the backseat. “H is coming to your birthday party and is very excited about it.” An affirming thought: someone other than family likes our kid. Yes, it’s sort of an obvious assumption in a sense: by age nine, most every kid has learned how to make friends with someone.
And yet, there’s the girl that sits in our lunchroom at school every single day alone. One of the sweetest young ladies I’ve ever had the privilege to teach, and yet without a single friend some days. “I just like being alone,” she said once when I plopped down across from her during lunch with my salad and began chatting. And I believed her: I was a bit of a loner myself, and I sometimes thought being alone was just easier than dealing with the uncertainties of other people. So here’s this thirteen-year-old who can’t or doesn’t want to make many friends, and I realize that it’s entirely possible that L might have made it to nine without making any real friends.
What is friendship at that age, though? Just a few weeks ago she was complaining about how some of the very people she’s invited to her birthday party were being none-too-friendly toward her — the usual petty playground stuff. Can she tell when people are really her friends and when they’re just using her, I’ve wondered. How accurate is the perception of a young girl?
Mikołaj’s Arrival
When we go to bed, it’s something of an act of faith. We assume that we’ll wake in the morning, that life will continue as normal.
When you’re a child of Polish heritage and you go to bed on December fifth, you do so with a certain faith that Mikołaj will come and leave a little something if you’ve been good. It’s probably not just Polish kids — it’s probably a Catholicism thing, since St. Nicholas’s day is today.
At our house, Mikołaj tends to bring practical gifts. No toys or games — books and other such every-day items. For instance, we recently had issues with lacking umbrellas when we had a lot of rain for several days on end. No one really had a satisfactory way to keep the rain off them. Somehow, Mikołaj figured that out and brought umbrellas for the kids. The Boy got a Thomas the Train umbrella while the Girl received an umbrella with a print of Van Gogh’s Starry Night.
And as usual, there were Polish books and CDs for everyone.
After lunch, we all headed out to the yard for some decorating.
And some playing.
Once everything was hung and the power cords stretched out and draped here and there, the ladders put up and the empty boxes replaced, we went to the local open air market to get our tree. It’s often such a chore in a way: which one do we choose? We end up going back and forth between two or three, thinking about it, talking about it — at least that’s how it’s always seemed to me. Today, though, it was a simple enough matter. I suggested a tree; K agreed, then reconsidered; K suggested a tree; I agreed; we purchased it.
Soon enough it was strapped down to our car, then propped on our back patio, then standing in our living room. A fairly painless adventure this time. But I really shouldn’t complain: however long it takes to pick a tree is however long it takes to pick the perfect tree. This year, we certainly picked a perfect one — full, thick, and heavy, not to mention tall — so perfect that when we put it up and K and the kids hung all the decorations, it began leaning toward the middle of the room.
But that’s a story for another post. This one needs a perfect ending, like catching Santa just as he hops in his minivan and heads out to spread some Christmas cheer.
Decorating and Exploring
When I was a kid, there was nothing better, nothing more exciting, than the discovery of some invitingly unknown path in a place I thought I already knew. Finding a bit of mystery in the known and the everyday. So today, while we were out for a walk with the kids at Nana’s and Papa’s, we decided stroll over to a very familiar area, the swimming pool, where we discovered a mystery: a fence atop a small ridge.
The morning had started with a mystery: the Boy had lost in the night his blue pickup truck, and rather than simply pull the bed out and retrieve it (for if it wasn’t in the covers or under the pillows, there was only one place it could be), I let the Boy search on his own. Being the Boy, he looked in some original places.
As soon as sister woke up, the urge to build a fort overwhelmed the desire to find the pickup truck, and so the bit of mystery in the middle of the morning disappeared.
It reappeared at Nana’s and Papa’s. First there’s the strange bit of mystery in getting holiday decorations up. To begin with, the mystery of finding everything. Then there’s the mystery of figuring out how it all goes back together. Not to mention the mystery of the season.
Mystery everywhere. Including, it turns out, in places we might never have thought to look. The weather was so gorgeous that we had to head out for a walk.
Of course the pool looks a bit mysterious with its winterizing cover.
But more mysterious, behind the tennis courts that the residents have turned into a dog park is a small ridge, the top of which is crowned with with a fence. Reaching the top of it, we all saw easily that it was not natural but instead part of a detention pond.
K insisted that it couldn’t be a detention pond proper because real detention ponds in such developments are well taken care of.
Perhaps that’s why there’s a fence.
Thanksgiving Redux
Our annual family picture with our sometimes-annual Thanksgiving Day redux meal.
The Day After
It gave me a bit of hope to arrive at Falls Park downtown and find so many people. Everyone binged on food yesterday, and we historically binge on shopping today. I say “we” as a reference to the American public at large, not a reflection of our own personal habits. Shopping for me is a tremendous chore, and the thought of doing it along with great hordes of people, all fighting for “deals,” is about as appealing as the thought of running a cheese grater along my calf idly while listening to rap “music.” Fortunately, K feels pretty much the same way, so we spend Black Friday cleaning the house and cars in the morning and wandering around Greenville’s downtown park in the afternoon.
The Boy took his glider with him, and this always solicits smiles from passers-by. L chose her roller skates, which would have solicited smiles as well if anyone had seen her trying to go off-path with them. She can be stubborn that way: if L is doing it, she must do it as well. Of course, the opposite is true as well, but he seems to take the disappointment of occasionally not being able to imitate his sister with more calm and, frankly, grace than she does in similar situations. Just another example of the incredible differences between their temperaments.
Break
I’ve taken a break during the last couple of weeks as far as writing goes, but the photos have continued.
Autumn Sunday
I can’t remember a time with so much rain. It seems like it’s been raining for six weeks, ever since the hurricane near-miss that swamped the coastal area of South Carolina and drenched us, flooding our basement. Since then, we haven’t had a week that I can remember without at least one day of rain, which means any drought we were having has been settled and then some. This has been especially true during the weekends: rain, rain, rain. And that leaves us with few options but sitting inside and fishing.
But eventually, we have to go out. Even if it’s only for a few minutes, with umbrellas, we cannot possibly stay in the house the entire weekend.
Magic Toys
Once upon a time there was a magic room. It was not magic. The toys in the room were. So that made the room magic. A little girl named Sue who was about seven years old owned the room. Sue didn’t know that her toys were magic, but she did notice strange things sometimes.
So one day she decided to put up a video camera in her room. The toys did not know that the video camera set up. So when they started to talk and move Sue’s camera caught it all.
When Sue developed her film she couldn’t believe her eyes. When Sue showed her parents, her parents couldn’t believe there eyes ether.
So Sue got rid of those toys and got new ones. Her next toys were not magic, but from there on she was very careful when she bought her toys.
THE END
The moral of this story is that be careful of what you buy (especially toys)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Good Day
Have you ever had a good day? Well, I did today!!!! It was a really good day.
- When I got to school today my teacher told me to go to the library so I can be the leader of the month. So I went on the morning news, and said my name, grade, and teacher. Then I got a picture, sticker, and two coupons.
- We had a sub in P.E. ( she was my P.E. teacher last year and I got to see her again).
- We got to start reading groups.
- We ONLY had half a math sheet and spelling for homework!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
- We got to watch Goosebumps for recess ( it was raining all day).
- E (my brother), mama (my mother), and I went to McDonald’s for ice cream (that was one of the coupons).
That was my good day.
Autumn Leaves
We always have leaves in the trampoline when we head down to do some jumping. Even in the summer, there’s a smattering of leaves that we have always swept away before we begin jumping. There are always just enough to be a bother. The sweeping process, in fact, has been quite beneficial: it’s motivated L to learn how to be a more efficient sweeper.
Today, when we made it down to the trampoline, it occurred to us that, with so very many leaves on the jumping surface, it might be fun just to leave them.
We were right.
Autumn Tomatoes
Even though it’s nearly November, we still had tomatoes in the small raised beds we accuse of being a garden. For the last several weeks, though, the ripening process has all but stopped, and so ahead of tonight’s possible freeze, K sent the kids out to pick the remaining tomatoes.
They were to segregate them into red and green, with the plan being to eat some of the green later this week in the form of fried green tomatoes and putting the rest in paper bags to ripen slowly.
Given the color distinctions, everyone felt it was best if E just held the bowl.
Autumn Sunday
It’s during this time of year that the early morning sun is so spectacular. It’s not that the leaves are kaleidoscopic for they’re all still green here in the South. It’s the angle of the sun at this time of year.
“It’s the best time of the year in South Carolina,” K always says. Sunny cool days that invite backyard play.
And it’s time to begin decorating — first Halloween. Pumpkin ghosts to hang on our Crepe Myrtles in the front yard.
Of course, there’s always time for the sandbox.
Disaster Lurking
Saturday in the fall means a day in the yard more often than not. We have neglected our yard, however, and so we had quite a bit to get caught up. Rain for several Saturdays didn’t help much either, other than encourage growth of our lawn, which amounted to more work.
With a batch of pumpkins for fall decoration, the kids had a bit of work as well. They each got a small, personal pumpkin but had to share a large one. On his half, E elected for an all black pumpkin, then decided that he might like to have an entirely black pumpkin and began slowly taking over the whole pumpkin. Much to L’s frustration.
While they were painting, I was trimming all the hedges when I discovered the fourth nest of yellow jackets since we moved here. Or rather, they found me, with one giving me a welcome present just below my left eye.
Two catastrophes in one day. If only we could keep all catastrophes at this level.
Daddy Day
“Daddy, there’s no working today.”
They’d been talking about it all week, the coming Daddy Day as they called it. Friday was an optional work day at school, so I availed myself of the opportunity to be off work and spend the day with the kids. And the kids were ready for it, complete with a plan. First we had to have pizza for lunch. “It’s been so long since we’ve had pizza,” L begged. Then we were to go to the Denver Downs, a local farm that turns into an autumnal playground every September. That was the plan. The actual day fell out a little differently.
By Thursday, a little television time was in the morning mix: L has been getting disks of the old 80’s show Full House, and the latest DVD arrived Thursday. “Can we watch an episode or two in the morning?” So we did.
It was then that the no working comment came up, for during the second episode — I try not to let on, but I don’t find Full House fully engaging — I’d gotten the laptop and began fiddling with this site, trying to get rid of a graphical element that has annoyed me for ages. L thought I was grading papers, though. Showing the PHP and HTML that I was wading through to try to find where the element is inserted in the code so I can take it out didn’t convince her. “Looks like student work to me!”
Another change: everyone needed a library book refresh. The Girl scored exceptionally well on her fall MAP reading scores, which showed that she’s reading four or so grade-levels higher than her actual grade (as opposed to some of my students, but that’s a gripe for another post, one I’ve made several times). It was time to get her out of some of her favorites — Cam Jansen and the Magic Treehouse series — and into something a little more challenging. Since she’s developing an affinity to mysteries, we ended up walking out with a Nancy Drew book, a Hardy Boys adventure, and a couple of Encyclopedia Browns.
After pizza for lunch at a local establishment that has fantastic pizza but looks like it hasn’t had a renovation since its establishment just a few years before the debut of Full House, the Boy took his nap, and L and I played school. I got to be Frankie, the bad student. And having had plenty of experience from the teacher’s side of the desk, I knew just what to do. L, having no personal experience with such things other than watching her teacher deal with the one or two behavior issues in her class, struggled a bit. I tried to give her some classroom management tips, but it was hard switching roles, so I just let her struggle and tried to make it amusing for her. For example, when it was time for writing, I wrote my composition about — oh, let’s just change the topic.
The after-nap plan, by this time, had changed as well, after having already changed. Denver Downs got bumped the night before because of a little bit of hoarseness on the Boy’s part. “He’ll need to have a nap,” K explained, which meant no chance of going to Denver Downs. Too far, too tiring, too everything. So we settled on the zoo. But by the time we got to the zoo, there was only a bit of time remaining before they kicked everyone out for Boo in the Zoo, the annual waste of time and money, rather the trick-or-treating in the zoo after hours when all the animals are stashed away for the night and great herds of children rush through the zoo collecting small portions of sugary treats from various stations in the zoo, all for a ridiculously expensive price. I guess it’s fundraising for the zoo, but K and I decided long ago it’s not worth our time or money.
Instead, we played at the playground across from zoo, hiding, climbing, running, and being just generally silly.
After dinner, a little trampoline time before I packed both the kids off to bed as K was at choir practice.
Playing and Destroying
“Daddy, will you play with me?”
Some day, I know, I will regret not taking as many opportunities as I could have to play with my children. It’s certainly a regret most parents have, I would say, no matter how much time they actually spent with their children.
This weekend, with the rainy weather keeping us inside, we were together most of the time. But I spent a large amount of time grading papers. Late Saturday morning, I sat with E on my knees, grading papers online as he played with cars and shoved various items in my way. Saturday afternoon, I headed to the basement for more grading and fewer distractions. And Sunday morning, it was a mix of grading papers and hanging out with the kids — mostly the former. Sixty papers graded in one weekend. And the price?
I justify it with the realization that it’s just the unit my English I Honors kids are working on now. Lots of writing — lots of it — to form the foundation for the entire year. Once we finish this unit (about a week to go), everything will calm down. But there will always be something I could do for school, so perhaps I’m just fooling myself.
But I smart enough to realize that when E asks me point blank, “Daddy, will you play with me?” that I’d be a fool not to. (I’m a fool occasionally.)
So we built a few things with blocks and knocked them down again. Which was more fun? The knocking down, of course.
Rainy Saturday
Lake Jocassee
