3 Sisters 7 Days

We were nearly home today when Olivia asked me where babies come from. Hoping to avoid piquing the interest of her older, puberty-addled siblings, who can’t help laughing about anything related to sex – much like pre-schoolers who favor potty humor – I replied simply, “from mommies.”

“No…Mom…Where do they come from?”

“Oh, so she’s after an anatomical response,” I thought. Fantastic. Not a big deal, just far from what I was feeling up to during our mad dash to beat the piano teacher to our house. So I tried “daddies,” hoping for a laugh.

“No, Mom,” Olivia said. “Where do babies come from? Which bird?”

“Bird?” I thought…Okay, “You mean stork?”

“Yeah, stork!” Olivia said before going on to explain the entire process. “They get the egg in the nest. And then when they find the baby [human as opposed to the anticipated immature stork] there, they put it in a basket and take to a home.”

Got it.

For future reference, if you need a refresher on human reproduction, just go ask Olivia.

Unlike Brenda Spencer, the San Diego high school student featured in “I Don’t Like Mondays,” by the Boomtown Rats, I do like Mondays – almost entirely because my loving spouse is home to help with the kids … and fix dinner

This morning was more hectic than it’s been in a while because we couldn’t go snowboarding. (although there’s still a lot of snow in our local mountains, neither of our vehicles have 4-wheel drive, and I don’t mess with chains). Consequently, I wouldn’t be taking the kids along to campus with me so that we could head for the slopes after class, and had to pull together their lesson plans for the day before leaving.

Reiley and Parker were easy because both had already started working on their lesson plans for the week. My role there consisted of reminding  Reiley to write her essay on “how the world affects me” and assigning her Algebra problems, and adding “review of Island of the Blue Dolphins” to Parker’s language arts assignment.

Olivia’s plan for the day was more involved because although she’s nearly finished the kindergarten math textbook and can read Level 1 books, she refuses to memorize her math facts or demonstrate that she knows the site words we’ve covered so far. Maybe I’m the one being difficult, but it seems reasonable to expect mastery of kindergarten math and beginning readers before moving onto first grade math and more difficult texts. So…I located some “big girl” math worksheets and color-coded lists of site words online and instructed my spouse to encourage Olivia as strongly as he could to select and complete a worksheet without manipulatives, and to help her make flashcards for the “yellow” site words. I explained that while these stimulating activities with Daddy would be enough, it would be great if he could also read with Olivia, supervise her journaling, and engage in age-appropriate (for her) conversation about the national affiliations of the athletes participating in the current Winter Olympics.

(Note: they were arguing before I got of the house, which I have to admit was just a tiny bit gratifying; it’s good to know that Olivia is a challenging student for someone other than me.)

Although (Quentin, who takes my MWF course) and I had hoped to substitute rock-climbing for snowboarding after class…and after meeting a student to discuss his honors research project, we scootered over to campus just so I could update my collaborators on a research project and drop off receipts from my trip to New Orleans for reimbursement. Over two hours later, we were finally on our way to the rock-climbing gym. By then, we had just over an hour to climb before dashing to the Post Office before it closed and getting home for dinner with the family.

Dinner is where it’s at on Mondays, really. Every other weekday, the kids and I have an  hour, at most, to prepare, serve, and consume dinner, and clean up the kitchen between school and other daytime activities and walking the dog and other nighttime activities. With the exception of crock-pot meals, we’re looking at pasta, quesadillas, or “breakfast” for dinner most evenings.

But tonight, it was tossed salad with poppy seed dressing, white clams linguini, bread hot from the oven with butter, and glass of wine.

Yeah, I like Mondays – a lot.

I had a wonderfully decadent breakfast of beignets with my cafe au lait this morning, entirely thanks to the kindness of a diminutive server at Cafe du Monde in New Orleans, LA.

My breakfast was on the table in front of  me before I realized that I’d left my cash – just over the $5.60 total for my meal I’d saved just for this morning – in my hotel. Cafe du Monde does not accept ATM or credit cards. My server suggested that I finish my meal and then go across the street to the ATM machine for cash.

Note this was the second time during this trip when satisfying my hunger depended on the kindness of a stranger. On Wednesday, the bartender at Gordon Biersch Brewery laughed with me when I pulled out my Auto Club card to pay for dinner. (Yep, I picked up the wrong credit card holder when I ran out – literally, I ran – for a quick meal.) Then he poured me a beer to go “on the house,” and waited for me to return with my Visa.

Just think: until now, I’d believed that only the Canadians were this nice.

Now, I’m sure that there are similarly accommodating Americans; however, I have yet to meet them. I recently had my brows threaded at a local salon I’ve frequented for more than a year, but which no longer accepts ATM cards. I had to call my son, who was elsewhere in the mall, to come and get my ATM card, go to the bank to withdraw cash, and return to the salon so that I could pay.

Thank goodness he was there; otherwise, who knows how long it would have taken to work off that $13 treatment?

A few weeks ago, Maz put a hole in his slippers by “grilling” them. I couldn’t have been more pleased. I mean, these things were hideous. They looked like a beat up ballet slipper!  They fit  tight and I think that if he really tried, he probably could have done a plie (if he was a tiny, tiny bit coordinated). With his old slippers, he enjoyed talking about his ”grilling slippers” all the time.  “Let me just put my grilling slippers on”…EVERY SINGLE TIME.  If I had a dollar every time I heard that statement, I would be on the beach in Bora Bora right no, thanking his grilling slippers for the wonderful vacation.  Goodbye holy slippers, you will be missed.

Last week, I ran across a new pair of slippers, what I call “old man slippers” and I knew they would be perfect for Maz.  He absolutely loves them! When he gets home at night, they are the first things on his feet.  He now turned the “grilling slippers” into the everything slippers.  “Sure, I’ll feed Sammy; let me just get my slippers on”…”I can cook, now that I have my slippers on,” and “Man, these slippers keep my feet warm; now, I can go out to the garage.” This goes on and on and on and on.

Good news is,  he has become more active and engaging in the household activities now that he has the proper footwear…because for some reason, nothing can get done inside or outside the house without his slippers.  I just laugh and take it all in.

Vibram didn’t create it’s Five Fingers footwear as a conversation piece, but that’s how they’ve worked for me – repeatedly and in nearly every setting where I’ve worn them. Most recently, I wore them on a series of walking tours in New Orleans. In addition to countless looks and whispers on the theme of “Did you see her shoes?” and “Those shoes have toes!” one guy actually got down on his knees outside the Plaza de Espana to examine my shoes and confirm that they really have (Vibram) soles.

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.

Last night, Maz and Sammy sat down to have a one to one. “Under NO circumstance are you allowed to get another wart. I will let it slide just this once, but you better not make a habit of it.”  Maz seriously sat down with Sammy and had this discussion, and taking after her great mother, Sammy just stared and pretended to understand what Daddy was saying.  She did all the appropriate “nods” and the occasional licks, then the paw went up in the air as a final gesture to please her Daddy.  I was so impressed; she learns and watches so well.

Anyway, everything went well. The wart on her right paw, just above the dewclaw, is now gone but while they were in surgery the Dr. noticed another gash on her left leg. Turned out she needed three stitches in that leg!  I guess when she ran into the fence the other day she did a bit more damage then I  thought. Hopefully. this will be it, and she won’t have to wear that ridiculous but funny cone on her head- though it is pretty amusing watching her run into walls and furniture with it.

VERY BAD NEWS: SHE CAN’T RUN FOR 1-2 WEEKS!!!

I guess my joy at holding onto my snowboarding edge vis-à-vis my children must have gone to my head. Monday, at the very end of my final run, I came to a perfect stop just before the big, orange “SLOW” sign, paused, and pitched forward right onto my face! Although I wasn’t in pain – the upside of cold weather injuries? – I did feel something dripping off  the end of my nose. I assumed it was melting snow, or maybe a runny nose.

Then I went to the bathroom.  As I entered, a woman gasped. “Huh?” I thought, “Maybe it’s worse than I thought.”

I looked in the mirror and it did appear pretty bad: a gash just above my right eye with blood running down that side of my face – its volume increased substantially by all of the melted snow on my face. Once I’d cleaned up, I could see it was just a tiny cut where my sunglasses had slammed into my forehead on impact. Nothing a quick trip to First Aid and a butterfly band aid couldn’t fix .

This is 48 hours and 5 New Skin liquid bandage treatments later.

My birthday was last week and Maz surprised me with a Dairy Queen Ice Cream Cake, Wii Fit, and a 40th Bday card (even though I turned 30).  Some may think he was giving mixed messages, but I took it as Maz being Maz, and giving me what I like…

The ice cream cakes at DQ are a bit big…no they are huge.  We have been eating this strawberry cheesecake blizzard cake every single day since Saturday! No joke, and we still have some left.  I do love ice cream and I love blizzards even more, but I honestly can’t wait for the cake to be gone.  Every single day, Maz comes home with a grin as he says “do you know what tonight is? It’s ice cream cake night.” Every. Single. Day.

I know what he is getting for his birthday… all to himself

Okay, I confess. I am very easily influenced. I’d been meaning to include the kids in my regular running schedule for a while, but it took reading Christopher McDougall’s Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World Has Never Seen to motivate me sufficiently to get them out of bed, off the couch, and out the door first thing in the morning. If McDougall is right, my progeny will not only be more fit, but will also be better people – more mentally and physically capable of accomplishing their goals, as well as more likely to do so cooperatively and with due consideration to those who support them.

According to my five-year-old, Olivia, they are also destined to be future Olympians.

Unlike her older siblings, Olivia has yet to participate in an organized race; however, she does race me to every other light post along the .8-mile route around our neighborhood park that makes up the first segment of my warm-up. Yesterday, as we finished our final race and passed the last light post before the playground (where I leave the the “little kids” to wait for their older siblings to walk them home after finishing their run), Olivia got my attention by turning to stop right in front of me…and nearly tripping me.

She paused a moment to catch her breath and then said, “Mommy, when I go to the ‘lympics, I don’t think I’ll be a runner; I think I’ll ride my bike…it will be pink and have ‘ribbons’ on the handles…and I will be SO fast!”

What could I say but “Of course you will, Livy”?