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SarahCOG
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Name: SarahCOG
Gender: Female
Interests: Sarah: reading, cooking, crafty stuff, gardening; Bruce: camping, Sudoku, gardening; Paul: dragons, dinosaurs, and sharks, and school; Ruth: shoes, definitely shoes. And hats are cool too. And books.
Occupation: Sarah: homemaker, teacher, nu
Message: message me
Member Since:
7/3/2006
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| Roots: in the garden, and elsewhereThe funny moments just keep slipping past - I remember telling my mom about them, or Bruce, but I don't get online and write them down. Bruce is online a lot more now - he's taking two online classes this summer, and one of them has all the reading (Children's Lit, so you know there's plenty of reading to do) online.
Paul and I are starting The Secret Garden. We've finished The Trumpet of the Swan, which he seemed to like, and I was trying to think of books that didn't have much that was scary or much romance, but still with plenty of complexity. By dint of skipping some of the starkest passages about parents dying and being left alone in the house because no one knew she was there or cared to find out what had become of her, we've gotten through the beginning pretty well. I read it through on my own and found some trouble spots to watch out for about 2/3's of the way through - when they start talking about magic (when they essentially mean positive thinking, which is fine, until they start praying to the magic - hello!) I think I'll skip the praying to magic parts, and just change the terms to what I think the characters mean by the word "magic." It's not faithful to the text, no, but I think it's much safer for my child's heart, my naive boy so ready to believe, to trust. He has perhaps one suspicious bone in his body, though it may just be very firm cartilage and not actually real bone.
Our own garden is growing along. We picked a watermelon yesterday, but it wasn't quite fully ripe yet - pretty close, but still a way to go to reach peak "wow, this is good!" watermelon goodness. But another melon is about ready too, so we'll hold off on picking that a little longer, and we'll savor that one when we finally make the call. We have nine or ten cantaloupe that are pretty big, but still green. And we're about to the end of the corn and green bean season for the current crop of plants. It's been good, but it's almost over. We are asking ourselves if we want to replant and try to catch another round before summer's end, or if we should just be happy with what we've had. With grocery prices as they are, I have to admit to feeling kind of smug when I bring in fresh, organic, tender green beans and other goodies from the yard.
So last night, I decided to put some color in my hair to combat the creeping dark root line. I got everything ready, did the test strand out in the kitchen, waiting the ten minutes to see what color it would turn, not remembering to get the lids back on tightly, and (yes, like a train wreck, you already see it coming) after I'd carried everything down the hall to the bathroom and carefully gotten my hair "damp" (read "dripping wet") in the bathroom sink, knocked over the bottle of color on the blue tiles of the counter.
So I quickly put the rest of the color into the developer so I can throw away the spilled one, try to mop up the brownish, reddish mess that has, yes, soaked into the bristles of Ruth's toothbrush and along the backs of Paul's and of mine. Finally get to where I think the worst of the spill is cleaned up, even along the grout lines. Pick up the bottle of mixed color solution, begin putting it on the most noticeable of the roots, squeezing the bottle to get the stuff out, and after a few blobs of color are in place, I hear and feel a "crack" from the bottle. Lo and behold, there's an inch and a half split right under my middle finger.
I went ahead and tried to work with it kind of gingerly, and when that worked, I tried squeezing again a little harder. More of a splat sound, this time. So I just brought it down to where I could see what I was doing and tried to press it open so I could just quit messing around, as it were, and it plopped color over onto the cabinet doors behind me. Okay, still trying not to drip all over with water (and now color) while the new task is to clean the doors before they stain like the spot that wouldn't come out from three months ago - maybe that's why it's so long between attempts - it's such an ordeal.
So I wound up just dumping tablespoonsful, one at a time, out of the hole in the side onto my hand and slathering it on and hoping for some kind of general evenness, and finally following the rest of the directions without further eventfulness.
And in the morning, when my hair was completely dry and I could see the final results of all that insanity, the best I could say about it was, "well, it's subtle." You know, like in the Muppets Take Manhattan, and Kermit the Frog is trying to grow a moustache to look sophisticated and Jenny asks him when he's going to start growing it and he says that he'd stopped shaving three days ago and she, pressed to be honest, and yet encouraging, is finally able to come up with the remark, "Well, it's subtle."
No. It may actually be slightly better than that. The root line is somewhat less obvious. So that's progress, right?
So that's the news from here, except the start of VBS, which I'll have to post about another time.
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| Swimming and zoo tripThis last week while Paul was at Cousin Camp (and loving it), Ruth and I stayed in Fresno at my folks' house rather than driving back and forth to Bakersfield. We swam in the pool - and I really mean swam! Ruth loved wearing her goggles and "diving" for the little colored diving sticks at the shallow part - about waist high for her. I was watching her, and realizing that sometimes she would keep her face in to find another one, and her bottom and feet would come up, and she'd kick a little to get to the next stick. I told her that she was really starting to swim. That gave her the confidence to try some other stuff we'd learned, like jumping from the side of the pool out to me in the water. When we got in the spa, she wanted to jump to me, and she was able to glide from one side to the other (of course - she was practically across by the time she straightened out!) But that gave her the confidence to try that in the big pool, launching from the edge of the very shallow area to me in the three or four foot deep area. Once she realized she could do it, that's just about all she wanted to do: out to me, turn around and catch her breath, and back to the shallow part, back and forth, back and forth. She got so confident and eager that she wouldn't even always wait for me to be looking at her, and I'd kind of have to fish her up quickly. She doesn't yet know how to get her face up out of the water to breathe if she's in water over her head, and when she swims for the side, more than half the time she gets panicky and tries to turn around to swim back to me after she's more than half way. Again, I had to be ready to fish her up quickly. So no, she's not really safe in the water, but I hadn't really expected that yet after reading the article that says swim lessons statistically don't change the percentage of drowning deaths for those under four. In other words, kids under four who have taken swim lessons are just as likely to drown as kids who haven't. But for this year I am hoping that she will be able to enjoy the water without fear (I think we've got that covered now), and that she'll be better prepared for next year's swimming lessons. The family whose home we went to for swim lessons has invited us to come use their pool this summer whenever we like. I'm so grateful for that - I had been praying that there would be someone who would offer. After our experiences in the public pools, I think these two kids do best when there is almost zero distraction. And we can go try it as low key as we want, just splashing around, or really swimming, whichever the kids are up for. Thursday morning, before we headed back to Bakersfield, Paul did some swimming too. He saw Ruth doing it and getting praise, and he was ready to try getting out of the floaty ring and do some swim lesson stuff. I was expecting that he would do the rocket glide, where you clasp your hands over your head and glide, but he announced that he was going to do the crawl, and sure enough, he swam over to me. He was aggravated that I had moved back, but I assured him that I thought he just needed more room, and if he didn't want me to move back, I wouldn't the next time. So he swam a few more times after that, but never with the abandon and delight that Ruth showed. But since we have access to a pool this summer, that may gradually change. He is able to climb out of the pool at the side, which is reassuring to me. We'll just have to keep up the work. Meanwhile, before Paul had come back from Cousin Camp, Ruth and I went to the zoo with Amy and Emily. It was good to see Amy and catch up just a little, and Emily is sweet with little kids - in a few years she'll be a prized babysitter, probably with more work offers than she has time :) When I get more time, I'll post pictures. | | |
| Swim Lessons, revisedOn Monday the 9th we went back to swim lessons at the public pool and Paul wouldn't even cooperate with me to get his shirt off, let alone get in the pool, and Ruth, when it was her turn, kept getting out of the pool, at one point she was running along the side of the big pool, looking for me. It bothered me that no one was stopping her. I guess if she had actually fallen in, someone would have jumped in to fish her out. Probably. We left before Ruth's lesson was all the way over, when she got out of the pool and headed over by the gate to the wide wide world for the third time. We didn't go back on Tuesday. I called a girl from church who taught swim lessons last year, and asked if she would be teaching again this summer. She was only going to be home for about 10 days this summer, since she is going to Argentina on a summer missions trip, but five of those days were last week, and she was willing to teach the kids. The first day we took Paul and got him set for the pool, and Ruth and I took off for twenty minutes so Ruth wouldn't hear him screaming and think that something bad must be happening in the pool. When it was Ruth's turn, she cried as well, but she didn't get out of the pool, so that was good. We followed the same pattern on Tuesday, which seemed okay, but we still heard some screaming as we came up the sidewalk to switch off kids. Wednesday as we arrived, the swim teacher said, "I don't know what your schedule is like, but I think it might be worth trying to have you stay in the backyard during the lesson. I mean, you know your kids better than I do, but it could be worth a try." Thinking to myself, "having mama in the backyard will just make them think they've got an audience to play to, but one day's worth of trying can't hurt," I said yes. So Ruth and I spread out our towels in the shade and watched Paul do his lesson, and then it was her turn. The teacher commented that they were more attentive, and had had good days, so we just made that the pattern. By the end of the week, both kids were willing try a little swimming drill stuff on their own - Paul actually used arms and legs to swim from the steps to the instructor in the middle of the pool - she even took a few steps back because he was doing so well. It was such a turnaround from the first couple of days, I felt immensely grateful. It seemed well worth the cost. So when I'm in Fresno with Ruth, while Paul is at cousin camp, Ruth and I will play in the pool and practice the starfish float and the rocket glide and looking down at the bottom of the pool while holding our breath and all that kind of stuff. Then when we come back in July to hang out at Grandma and Grandpa's while Bruce goes backpacking, we'll practice swimming some more, and then we may, we just may be ready to try lessons at the public pool again at the end of July. Since it will still be hot and we still won't have a pool, and the lessons are still free there, we'll see about getting cooled off every morning for a couple of weeks. Well, I've got dinner to get organized, but that's what's been going on for the last couple of weeks as far as swimming, which seems to have consumed a great deal of emotional bandwidth. At least we're pretty much through the tunnel, I think. | | |
| Two Miles to TiptonTwo Miles to Tipton Pumping 40 bucks from the bank to the tank and down and away on the 99 south. Rippling miles of oleander Corn sprouting radiant green Eager grape tendrils reaching up Sprinklers flicking across acres of crops Sleepers in the back breathing quiet, regular rasps Tipton, Pixley, Delano, McFarland Valley names as familiar as cousins Billboards like landmarks The relief at seeing the J Coffee shop heralding the freedom of three lanes Will this be a poem, or merely mildly lyric musings? A poem is supposed to tell a story. This is a story – the story of driving south on the 99. That’s not a very exciting story. Fraternal twin thoughts echo from “exciting”: “The best trip is the one that’s not exciting,” and “No, I don’t think you have enough excitement in your life.” How exciting should my trip be, with my babies riding behind me? I yearn for the dullness of control. What kind of life do I want to show them how to live? I fear the dullness of control. Oh God, show me the way to keep them alive not just for existence, but to live indeed. | | |
| Aw, rash!Last night as I was getting Ruth ready for a bath, I noticed a rash, little raised pink spots all over her tummy. I called Bruce in to look, and he looked and said, "Yup, that's a rash." So I called another mom to take my place working at Paul's school for Tuesday (today, but it was tomorrow last night  ), and I took Ruth to the doctor this morning. The doctor noticed that it is mostly confined to her midriff - like the part that shows between the top half of her bathing suit and the bottom half. It's not Scarletina (which sounds scary but I didn't ask since it's not that anyway, and I don't need to take a side tour of scary just for kicks) because the spots are actual bumps and not just flat. The doctor said that the bumps were where the pores of the skin had gotten inflamed, and that we should try not using the sunblock that we used over the weekend when the kids were wearing their swimsuits to play in the sprinklers. Okay. Glad it turned out to be nothing, but I hate paying 15 bucks to find out we came for nothing. Well, except the doctor's note that says Ruth can be in the nursery tonight and in her class Thursday. That's worth something right there. Okay, I got curious and had to look it up. Scarletina is scarlet fever - even scarier sounding. Here's a scarlet fever website with more information than you want - though it did say that the skin feels like sandpaper rather than flat...hmm. Well, more later. I'll keep my eyes open on those spots. | | |
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