3 Sisters 7 Days

Vizsla's are characteristically agile and trainable, but can they climb? After proving himself to be an adept scrambler at the quarry in Fontana, CA, Cooper surveys the route up…

I am participating in a retreat and workshop at the Lama Foundation in northern New Mexico. Today our art practice included creating a sculpture out of objects found in nature. I created this piece: a weaving constructed of twigs, flowers, grasses, leaves, string, and pieces of tent binding. It was inspired by a bird’s nest I once saw while out rock-climbing.

With the girls away at camp, the boys and I went climbing at Frustration Creek, near Forest Falls, California. This is Quentin on “Delusions, 5.11d.” Parker’s climbing day ended when he disturbed a nest of Daddy Long Leg spiders. I’m surprised you didn’t hear him screaming.

I’m with Terri. Hiring a running coach aside, there’s likely no way to increase our chances of qualifying for the Boston Marathon other than cross-training. Not only were we just plain burned out by “just” running during our training for the 2010 San Diego Rock ‘n’ Roll marathon, but I also suffered the onset of iliotibial (IT) band pain. Certainly, cross-training will help to develop muscles oft-neglected by running exclusively, and – hopefully – prevent (additional) injury. It will also combat boredom in what promises to be yet another long, hot summer.

Terri has taken up mountain biking and bike commuting. Although my current “recovery and training” plan include biking, my tack is a little different. I’m just going “back” to how I trained for my previous marathons: biking to work as often as possible, walking nearly as many miles as I run, practicing yoga daily, rock-climbing, and getting in the pool on most of the truly hot afternoons.

Bicycle commuting: In addition to reducing the stress on my joints, generally, riding to campus and back will require me to use overlapping sets of muscles in distinct ways to help limit my chances of injury.

Balancing walking and running: Amounts to “time on my feet.” I’d just tried doubling my workouts a couple of times before my IT band started hurting, but I like the idea of increasing my cardiovascular conditioning and running economy by getting more workout in each week than there are days. For now, one of my “runs” is a fast-paced walk.

Yoga: Without it, I’d be even less balanced. In addition to increasing the frequency and duration of my practice, I’ve incorporated asanas that stretch the IT band – Pigeon, Reclining Hand Foot Pose, Square Pose – and strengthen the core.

Rock Climbing: While climbing doesn’t have a direct impact on running, it’s a great way to improve the mental fitnessmental fitness long-distance running requires.

Swimming: Another low-impact route to cardiovascular fitness and alternative way to build upper body strength. I haven’t been able to find an adult class that suits both my budget and my schedule, so I’ve been swimming pretty sad looking laps at the community pool while  kids SPLASH and play nearby.

Two weeks into it, I’m on a roll.

“Bird on a Wire,” Joshua Tree National Park

Yesterday, my son Quentin went climbing in Joshua Tree, one of the world’s most popular rock climbing locations. Until he returned more than 12 hours later, I had no idea he’d gone crack climbing, rather than bouldering. In other words, he spent the day wedging body parts into cracks to propel himself up rocks like this one. This is apparently less difficult, though potentially more painful, than it appears.

But that’s not the story.

This is. He promised to be back at the gym by the time his team practice ended at 7 PM so that he could catch his usual ride home. We still hadn’t heard from him at 7:30 PM. When he called a little while later, they were just leaving Joshua Tree – 1.5 hours away, without traffic. I suggested my loving spouse pick him up on his way home from work – i.e., he’d drive an additional 15 miles past our home after an hour’s drive himself from Los Angeles to retrieve Quentin just before the gym closed at 10 PM.

“Okay,” Quentin told me.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t driving, but was instead held captive in a car destined to make two drop-off stops before reaching Riverside. At 9:30 PM, Quentin still wasn’t anywhere close. On the upside, he had a ride home.

“Quentin has a ride,” I text my spouse.

“This is B.S.,” he replied.

My spouse arrived around 10 PM, as usual. Quentin didn’t show up until after 10:30 PM.

Quentin, duly aware of the precarious situation in which he found himself, managed to restrain both the tone and duration of his of “story,” which included his first “trad” (or traditional, meaning the route was not already bolted) climb, his first tape glove (to protect his hands when jammed between rocks for support), and his first multi-pitch climb (a series of climbs to complete a single route). Under normal circumstances, we would not have been able to stop him; he talks high and fast when nervous or tired and both conditions applied. His father likewise managed to remain – mostly – quiet. (By morning, he willingly focused on Quentin’s safe return, and the fact that he had no control over its timing.)

As for myself, I’m really glad that Quentin has found something he’s passionate about and a group of good friends to climb with – ones who, furthermore, are sticklers for safety. That makes it a little easier to stomach his passion for a potentially very dangerous extreme sport. It’s going to be a while, though, before I’m entirely comfortable with these “grown up” excursions.

Tim Tebow is big news again, after he tackled his mom on a much-anticipated “pro-life” Focus on the Family commercial during the 2010 Super Bowl. Team Tebow made news in 2004 as well when they moved to St. Johns County Florida so that Tim, who was home-schooled, could play football at Allen D. Nease High School. Their relocation was criticized because Tebow arguably took advantage of Florida state law that allows home-schooled children to play on public school athletic teams.

Yeah, I know, even jocks who aren’t home-schooled relocate so that they can play on top-ranked high school teams…which brings me to my point. I can’t help thinking that Tebow’s real advantage was that he could spend more time training because he wasn’t in class up to six hours a day. Like other school-age athletes, child actors, and children who move out of the country or to remote areas here in the United States, he probably spent less time at his desk – or the kitchen table – than his peers.

That’s certainly the case with my children, who usually finish their schoolwork by mid-day, leaving the afternoon and evening “free” for playing or training, as well as traditional after-school activities, including piano lessons, Scouts, etc. In the case of my eldest son, Quentin, who is a 14-year-old high school sophomore, homeschooling has allowed him to work out at the gym four days a week as well as spend a day outside climbing every week during the warmer months (and that’s most of them in California).

His hard work has paid off. Maybe too well, I’m beginning to think. In addition to earning a spot at the American Bouldering Series national championships in Arlington, VA this month, Quentin has managed to give a climbing “spin” to nearly every other aspect of his life. Most recently, it’s World History; the essay he submitted this week on “the impact of wartime technology” is about the creation of nylon ropes, lightweight carabiners, and all-weather clothing, which has been so important to – you guessed it – post World War II rock climbing!

I wonder if football didn’t likewise go to Tebow’s head – literally. Maybe his mom shook her head while reading treatises on football helmet technology and role of the Internet in the sport’s increasing popularity.

GPS Navigation System Installed in my Honda Pilot

Despite the GPS navigation system that came installed on my new (to me, anyway) car, I still can’t get where I’m going, but at least I know where I am.

Saturday morning, for instance, I just wanted to find the Borders or Barnes & Noble bookstore closest to where my son, Quentin, was climbing in San Diego so that I could work until he was ready for lunch. It took me an hour to get to that Barnes & Noble, located just 4.7 miles from the rock climbing gym.

It was just after 11 AM when I dropped Quentin off and pulled into a parking space to program the system. (I still rely on my personal assistant, in reference to whichever one of my children calls shotgun for a given outing, to navigate en route). I opted to search by category (shopping: music and books), and “sort” by distance from current location. The result? A Barnes & Noble in Iowa?!

So I reconsidered … maybe I should just work at the Starbucks across the parking lot?

Always the optimist, I picked up my computer bag, got out of the car, and walked over to the Starbucks. Unfortunately, that Starbucks does not provide wireless Internet. Unwilling to waste the trip into the store, I ordered a coffee and asked the barista if there was a Barnes & Noble, Borders, any bookstore with wireless Internet nearby. She said there was.

“Great!” I thought.

“Just go right out of the parking lot and drive about 2 miles. It’s in the shopping center. You’ll see it,” she said.

I did as instructed and managed to find a Bookstar bookstore in a upscale strip mall near UCSD.

“Okay,” I thought to myself, “Let’s try this thing again.” I pulled over, “hit” menu on the navigation system, and – again – selected “shopping: music and books” and sorted by distance from my current location. Bingo! There was a Barnes & Noble 6.8 miles away in Del Mar. I followed the directions on the screen carefully and arrived at my “target” destination in record time. Unfortunately, that Barnes & Noble is “too small” to provide more than a couple of chairs for customers. No cafe. No tables.

Yeah, I was pretty frustrated by this point. I took a deep, cleansing breath and asked one of the associates if there was another Barnes & Nobel nearby where I could sit down and work for a little while.

“Yes,” she said. “There’s a big store in Mira Mesa.”

“Mira Mesa!!!” I thought. That’s where the rock climbing gym is.

“Thank you,” I said. “Do you happen to have the address?”

Back in my car, I programed the system to calculate the most direct route to the Barnes & Noble in Mira Mesa. It was almost a quarter after 12 when I entered the store and headed for the cafe. Although I did find a table in a quiet spot to work, there was no electrical outlet.

I worked until my battery was shot, and was already packing up when Quentin called at 2 PM to tell me he was starving. It took me less than 10 minutes to get back to the gym.

As a home-schooling family, the issue of “socialization” accompanies EVERY new academic year. While most of the children in our life pick out the perfect outfit for the first day of school, pack their lunches and back packs, and set off for the neighborhood public school, however broadly understood, ours sit down at the kitchen table and begin reading…in their pajamas.

This year’s heated discussion began with a cross country race. A friends’ daughter completed her first high school cross country race.

“I don’t even want to talk about it!” my spouse, a firm believer in the virtues of the public high school socialization scheme, spat, as he left the room. (Notably, this was the same day that our son placed third in the season’s first bouldering (rock climbing without ropes) competition, but my spouse regards working out and competing with other climbers as somehow less valuable than participating on a high school team. And he has lots of company…)

Many of our friends have children beginning high school this year, and it seems that most of their children are running cross country – my spouse’s sport of choice in high school, and foundation for his most longstanding friendships to date. I’m a fan of long-distance running, no question. I’m even persuaded by Christopher McDougall'sargument that “running makes us better people.” I just have a hard time believing that high school, even if limited to the cross country team, is the BEST venue for socialization and the only reputable source of life-long friendships.

Thankfully, I’m not alone.

Studies indicate that when socialization is defined in terms of children learning to live among other upstanding humans, as opposed to learning to survive among their immature peers (if you need a refresher, check out William Golding’s Lord of the Flies), home-schooling easily trumps public schools. It also increases children’s self-esteem. How?

1) Home schooled children participate in life. Under the supervision of their parents, they learn to get along with a wide range of others – particularly in age and gender, but also in terms of race, ethnicity, religion, and socio-economic status – and form and maintain relationships with adult mentors.

2) Free from the business of the public school classroom, that can serve chiefly to keep children entertained and out of trouble, home-schooled children learn to be comfortable being alone and, more importantly, to entertain themselves.

3) Home-schooled children read more than their public schooled peers. Reading, contemplating, and discussing literature has been the foundation of challenging educational programs for centuries; however, it is particularly important to the question of childhood socialization because such reading begets the kinds of questions that motivate social action, change, and improvement.

If this were not enough, the most recent report on adults who were home schooled suggest that home-schoolers are sufficiently well socialized to outperform their public school peers throughout life:

1) 74% of home-schooled children go to college, compared to 46% of their public school educated peers who do so.

2) They also get jobs in a wide range of professions from farming to professional leader.

3) 71% are involved in their communities, as leaders and volunteers as well as voters, compared to the 37% of public school graduates who can make the same claim.

4) Nearly 100% of home-schooled adults report being happy, and enjoy life.

5) And over 75% of home-schooled adults agree that their parents’ educational choice has been advantageous for them as adults.

In light of these data, I’m stumped. If parents don’t send their children to public school – especially public high school – for the academics, then why do they? Clearly, sacrificing an academic education for a social one isn’t the answer.

I seriously wonder how we managed without cell phones. If my own history didn’t so clearly pre-date the cell phone, I wouldn’t believe it myself. I’m beginning to believe that, yes, one day cell phone implants will be routine.

I had almost finished my run – 10 miles at the beach, roughly 45 miles from my home each way – when my ever-so-punctual spouse text (he has lunch at 2 PM; it was 2:10 PM), “Where R U?”

“Almost finished. I can c Jack n Box” (at Warner and Pacific Coast Highway).

“Ok.”

I ran back to the car, parked across the street from Jack in the Box, just in time to get my daughter, Reiley’s text: “where r u?”

I called her back. “Just got in the car; I’m on my way.”

Reiley had joined me for what I’d hoped would be, at least, a ten-mile run. After two life guard towers, I left her to jog-walk her way to the pier, nearly five miles away, at her own pace. I was immediately racked with guilt. Every imaginable horror story involving a young girl at a sparsely populated beach flooded my mind. I called Reiley, who was fine – uneasy, but absolutely fine.

Then I called Terri. I explained the situation: I HAVE TO run and Reiley CAN’T keep up, and asked her to check on Reiley every ten minutes or so – by cell phone.

And I was off! Until Terri called to tell me that Reiley wasn’t answering her phone. I panicked immediately. After all, what was I thinking? Leaving a 12-year-old GIRL alone at the beach?! I called Reiley. She didn’t answer. I called again. Still no answer. I tried one more time.

“Hello. What do you want?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“You’re not answering the phone.”

“Oh. There’s no signal.”

“Okay, if you don’t hear from your Auntie Terri, call her. Every ten minutes.”

“Okay.”

We passed each other roughly an hour later at the North end of Dog Beach. Reiley turned around and we proceeded to jog-walk back toward the car. She complained that her feet hurt, her knees ached, she was hungry, and had finished her Gatorade. I left her at the Life Guard Station, ran to the car, and then went back to pick her up.

Forty minutes later, I called my spouse, catching him just before his lunch was over. I called from my mom’s, where I’d stopped to pick up our other children, to let him know that we were headed home.

We made really good time. Just over an hour later, I was executing my final approach to the rock climbing gym for Quentin’s internship in “climbing instruction.” My loving spouse called. “Where are you?”

“Dropping Quentin at the gym; it’s late, so we’ll climb while he works.”

“Okay.”

Wednesday evenings are tricky. With just the right amount of luck, I can get Quentin a ride from climbing to Boy Scouts, and a ride back home afterward. This was not one of those evenings . I dropped Quentin off at his Scout meeting and went home to shower and fix dinner. I asked him to text me when he was finishing up, unless he could get a ride…I think he said, “Okay” before ducking through the front gates into Collete Elementary School.

By 8:00 PM, I still hadn’t heard from him. It was my turn. I text Quentin, “Where r u?”

No response. Half an hour later, I left to pick him up. As I closed my door and tossed my purse on the passenger seat, I heard his phone beeping. At least, I knew why I hadn’t heard from him.

I’d just parked in front of the school when I saw him heading to a friend’s car; he’d managed to find a ride home. If I’d only known…I wouldn’t be sitting outside a local elementary school, braless, in short sleeping shorts and pink Uggs flip flops.

Wait a minute, that almost sounds like that song by Blake Shelton…”Maybe I wouldn’t be driving like hell, flying like crazy down the highway, calling everyone we know …”

The “second” is deliberate. On the “first” day of school, my younger two children (eight-year-old Parker and four-year-old Olivia) had classes at the local Learning Center, making for a “peaceful, easy feeling” at home. My older children (14-year-old Quentin and 12-year-old Reiley) started their assigned reading, The Arabian Nights and Fever 1793, respectively.

So, the second day proved to be a raucous start to the 2009-10 school year, made worse by my spouse’s sick day at home. All I could tell him is that it’s not “usually” this bad.

7:30 AM – I brush my teeth and hair, dress in “work out” clothes, and make my way downstairs to get breakfast for myself and Olivia, who’s still sleeping. Reiley and Parker have been up for an hour or so, already had breakfast, and are watching television. – likely some Disney channel sitcom, but I don’t watch long enough to find out which.

8:00 AM – Olivia is awake now and we sit down for breakfast: a mocha protein shake and granola (for me)/fiber cinnamon pop tart (for Olivia), while I begin making my way through my email. I tell the kids to turn off the television and “get started” on their day.

It’s Reiley’s day for dishes, but she wants to wait until everyone has finished. “Okay, then start reading.” She gets her book, and so does Parker.

8:30 AM – Reiley’s getting restless so I assign the kids’ journal topic (”My first day of school”) and we start arguing about whether she should use today’s date or yesterday’s date. Before we’ve settled this dispute, Parker puts his book down, and joins in. Although it’s today’s assignment, they argue that the entry should be dated for “yesterday” because it’s about yesterday. After all, there was no journaling on the first day of school. “Okay,” I concur, “then you can write TWO entries today.” All of sudden, my way sounds reasonable. They write today’s date in their journals and begin writing.

8:45 AM – I’ve checked all three of my email accounts and responded accordingly. In addition to the writing I already have on my schedule for the day, I have to respond to editor’s questions on a manuscript prior to its imminent publication and finish a report. The last two tasks will keep me busy while I work with the kids. I ask Olivia to get her Bob Books.

9:00 AM – Olivia reads the first three Bob Books quickly, beginning to get stumped or bored or both on the fourth. We put the books away and I ask her what HER day was like yesterday. I write what she tells me in her journal: “I liked it. I liked wearing the pink tutu. There was no whole letter on the rug for me to sit on.” I leave space in between the lines so that I can make “dots” for her to trace.

9:45 AM – While Olivia traces and draws a picture of herself as Cinderella, I assign Reiley problems from the first chapter in her Algebra I book and get Parker started on a math test (he’s completing his third grade math text before beginning the fourth grade text that just arrived for this year).

I begin reviewing my manuscript, which mostly requires clarification of references and meaning.

10:00 AM – Olivia is happy with her picture. We move to math. Addition. Her curriculum hasn’t arrived, so I pull a page from one of Parker’s old texts that consists of columns of math sums up to 20.

Olivia is overwhelmed, so we agree that she’ll complete only the first column. She uses a box of bright red, blue, yellow, and green Lego-like blocks to help her “add four” to a series of numbers; I know she can do this, but she wants me to check each sum as she completes it.

I alternate between this stimulating activity and the manuscript.

10:15 AM – Quentin joins us. He eats breakfast while I catch him up on “where” we are; then he starts reading.

10:30 AM – Quentin, finished with breakfast, closes his book, puts his plate and glass on the sink, and heads out feed the dogs and clean their kennels.

Parker has finished his math and Reiley needs help with hers, so I give them a break.

Reiley heads for the intercom to put some music on and, I am sure, plunk down on the couch. I tell her she has to start the dishes; after all, we’ve all eaten. “You are so bossy,” she tells me. I agree.

I remind Parker to take out the recycling and feed the cats before he goes upstairs.

“I know,” he tells me and continues toward the stairs.

“Parker,” I begin.

“I know!” he hollers, and stomps across the kitchen to get the recycling. I hear the “back” door to the garage open and close, then the beep when the “side” door – from the garage to the side yard – opens, and then a crash. Through my open office window, I hear Parker scream, “That’s it. I am NOT doing this!” Moments later, the back door slams and he rejoins us, head down, red-faced and teary-eyed, with his arms folded across his chest. I send him back to open and close the door properly. On the third try, he succeeds. “The whole trash can fell over and dumped out and I’m not picking it up. I can’t,” he starts in before he’s back in the kitchen again.

And then my spouse comes flying down the stairs. Parker sees him, starts to tell his father about the trash can that fell over (not that he could have missed the first run through, considering he was right upstairs trying to rest), and changes his tune to, “Okay, I’m going…” as he heads for the back door. His dad follows him and I loose what he’s saying once the back door closes again.

10:50 AM – Olivia is finished. I send her upstairs to get dressed and brush her teeth. I return to the manuscript.

11:00 AM  – Reiley finishes the dishes; I remind her to wipe down the counters and sweep floor. Her father comes back in with Parker, so she drops her usual retort: “I don’t know why you always make me do this; it’s just going to get dirty again…”

My spouse tells me that he needs to stay home sick sometimes just to remind himself that he actually gets more sympathy and rest at work! He goes upstairs. I hear our bedroom door close, and lock.

I send Reiley and Parker up to dress, brush their teeth and hair, and straighten their rooms.

Quentin comes in and picks up his book. I give him the journaling assignment.

11:05 AM – Olivia is back. She wants to do something “fun.” I suggest play dough. She gets the play dough; I get the rolling pin, cookie cutters, etc. As she begins opening the cans, I can’t help picking up a piece to hold in my hand, squeeze, and, yes, smell. I close my eyes and smile.

Parker comes back to the table. “Hey, can I play play dough?”

“Sure,” I tell him. “Let me smell your mouth first” (gross, I know, but I don’t trust him). Smells like toothpaste, so I tell him to go ahead.

I go back to that manuscript.

11:30 AM – I’ve finished my responses to the editor. I review my changes, write a quick note to the editor, and send it all off via email. I check my campus email to see if there is anything “there” that has to be done. There isn’t, so I logout.

I tell Parker it’s time to finish up and ask him to write each of his spelling words three times before lunch.

Quentin’s nowhere in sight. I call him, and he responds from upstairs.

I go upstairs to stretch (yoga), breathe (meditate), and wash my face and brush my teeth, etc.

Quentin is watching NCIS and journaling. I turn off the television and ask him to take the first chapter test from his Algebra II textbook as soon as he’s finished.

I stop in Reiley’s room and ask her what she needs help with (re: Algebra I). Fractions and writing equations. We talk and she seems to understand. I ask her to go back to “math” when she’s finished with her room.

I, finally, get back to our room. My spouse is sleeping, so I am very quiet. I roll my mat out, complete three sun salutations, a headstand, a shoulderstand, backbends, balancing poses, and a series of twists before sitting down to breathe and quiet my mind. I stop when my stomach starts growling.

12:15 PM – I head back downstairs. Parker has finished his spelling and is playing with Olivia. Quentin and Reiley have finished their math assignments. I ask everyone to be sure any work to be graded is put away correctly in their folders so that I can find it tonight. I ask the “big kids” to help clean up while I make quesadillas.

Quentin and Parker help Olivia put the play dough away. Reiley gets everyone something to drink.

While they’re eating, I go back upstairs to put my make-up on. (In this heat, we’re talking tinted sunscreen and mascara). I take my quesadilla and a glass of water with me.

12:50 PM – The kids have finished lunch. I send Parker to practice Italian and his older siblings to practice Spanish; thanks to Rosetta Stone, I have a bit of quiet time with Olivia. I read “Princess School” to her; when she’s bored, I turn to her children’s Spanish dictionary. She practices saying the names of familiar animals.

1:10 PM – Olivia gets her puzzles out to play. While she’s playing, I work on a report due in a week. I’ve written most of what I have to, and begin incorporating material that others have sent to me. As I realize that I need additional information, I stop and email the appropriate request.

1:45 PM – I can hear the kids talking upstairs and guess that they’re beginning to finish up. (They practice in complete lessons, which vary in length and difficulty.)

2:10 PM – I’ve gotten as far as I’m going to on that report. The kids have finished all of their school work and the house is reasonably tidy. With the exception of Reiley, who stays home with her dad to draw, we get in the car to run errands before Quentin’s climbing practice at 4:30 PM.

3:50 PM – We’ve finished at the bank, the post office, Target, and CM School Supplies (a grade book for Quentin because his high school work has to be very carefully documented in order to count for university pre-requisites, and Bookopoly), and head across town to the climbing gym.

4:15 PM – We stop to talk to the gym’s manager about a class I’m organizing there for my honors students, and to arrange Quentin’s internship.

4:30 PM – Olivia and I leave the boys at the gym. Parker will climb and work out while Olivia and I go to campus.

4:35 PM – Olivia and I park on campus, go to the library to return books, and then to my office. She draws for a bit and then rides a plastic race car up and down the hall while I complete some grade changes and other paperwork.

5:45 PM – Back at the gym, I climb with the kids until Quentin finishes practicing.

My spouse calls to tell me he’s making pasta for dinner.

6:30 PM – Quentin joins us. We have enough time for him to belay me once before we have to go, if we can keep Olivia occupied. I take her rope out of the Gri Gri, and Quentin ties the free end of the rope down so that Olivia is hanging about three feet off the ground. Surely she can bounce off the wall for a few minutes while I climb.

7:15 PM – We return home. Quentin feeds the dogs while I get our dinner on the table. Quentin, Parker, Olivia and I eat pasta. (Reiley and her dad have already finished.)

8:00 PM – Quentin and I leave to take Ayla, our Malamute, for a fast-paced four-mile walk. When we leave, Parker is showering; Reiley is finishing up in the kitchen; and Olivia is putting her pajamas on.

8:50 PM – We make really good time, returning home in less than an hour. Quentin puts Ayla back in her kennel and goes upstairs to shower. I follow him out to be sure that Ayla has plenty of water and tell both dogs, “good night.”

9:00 PM – I kiss Reiley and Parker “good night” (My spouse sent them to bed sometime around 8:30/8:45 PM). Reiley is already asleep; Parker is reading Mrs. Frisby & the Rats of Nimh. He tells me that he’s to the part where the rats are preparing to fight.

I read to Olivia before showering. Four Dr. Suess books. She’s asleep when I get out.

9:30 PM – I kiss Quentin, “good night,” and leave him reading in his room. I have 30 minutes, tops, before my spouse goes to bed.

10:00 PM – My spouse goes to bed and I get back on the computer. I “run” through my email again, culling information I’ll need for the report I’m finishing. Then write for a couple of hours. I close up the house, and go upstairs to read before, quite literally, falling asleep around midnight.

It will be two full days before I realize that we completely forgot about Quentin’s Boy Scout meeting.