This is Kiddo's favorite food. I'm pleased that one of my home recipes is a favorite, but this is incredibly easy and quick.
You need:
1 lb. ground meat. Beef, turkey, chicken whatever. I haven't tried a meat sub but I'm sure it would be fine.
1 big oni0n. Vidalias are great if they're in season.
3 Ribs celery.
2 big Carrots.
1 14oz. can diced tomatoes. Italian style if possible.
1 small can tomato paste.
2 cups pasta. I use whatever is left; tonight was a rotini and egg noodle mix. Tasted great.
Cheese. Again, whatever you've got. Cheddar is good, american is fine, I've even used string cheese in a pinch.
Garlic Salt and Pepper to taste. (If you use American Cheese, taste before adding salt. American cheese has a high sodium content and you might not need it.)
Okay, toss the meat into a dutch oven or stew pot. Turn heat on med/low. Dice up onion, celery and carrots, and add that to the pot. Turn up the heat a bit and let everyone cook. While that's happening, cook the pasta. When the onion and celery begin to turn and the meat is brown, kill the heat and drain off some of the fat. (I would think that with a meat sub, some oil would be in order.) Add the tomatoes, juice and all, and the tomato paste. add one tomato paste can's worth of water. Turn the heat back on, stir thoroughly. By now the pasta should be done, so drain. Toss it in the meat mix and kill the heat. Add the cheese, stir to melt.
Voila. Shouldn't have taken more than 20 minutes. A big pot like this gives me 5 or 6 servings of leftovers, and is great cold for breakfast. Leftovers hold for about ten days. Very cheap, depending on which brands you use, the math works out to about 1.20 to .75 per serving (beef or turkey base) of 1 cup. More pasta can stretch this even further. I've found this doesn't lose it's popularity despite the heat of summer, so I may have to try a camp version.
Next up; Spinach and Leek Soup.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Weekly Menu
I had to do the menu Saturday due to excessive volunteer work and timing on Sunday just wouldn't have worked out. Transitioning from Winter to Summer fare is always hard, because I'm a leftover cook and fresh foods typically don't last as long as I need them to.
Monday: Jambalaya in the crock pot. DH can eat this while he's home all week. We ate until we were stuffed and there's still three quarts in the fridge for later. (Bonus; Frozen Shrimp comes in a 2 lb bag, only 1 lb goes in the Jambalaya. That leaves me 1 lb to toss on the Grill this weekend!)
Tuesday: Goulash. We ate something Kiddo hates last night, so tonight is his favorite. this will also leave lots of leftovers and is good cold. I'll post that recipe this weekend.
Wednesday: Spinach and Leek Soup. Very nice Summer Soup. Very light, and will provide leftovers.
Thursday: I am slipping out of work early so I can hit the PS and try out my new skates. Afterwards, Tuna Salad Sandwiches. We should get home by 8pm.
Friday: This is payoff night. Kiddo and I can reheat whatever we want, and then hurry out to hit the Ice until 9pm. (And he wants to stop at the Dominick's on the way home for Cookie Crisp. Done.)
I don't cook at all on the weekend. There's lots leftover to reheat and we usually are on the road for lunch.
I try to make menu choices segue into each other for the following week, so ingredients don't get abandoned. Last week's pasta that didn't get cooked goes into the Goulash this week. Lots of rotation goes on in my kitchen.
I had a thought to paint a skating Snoopy on Kiddo's Skate bag. He definitely wants that! So, no more boring black bag. I'll hit the craft store for fabric paint.
Monday: Jambalaya in the crock pot. DH can eat this while he's home all week. We ate until we were stuffed and there's still three quarts in the fridge for later. (Bonus; Frozen Shrimp comes in a 2 lb bag, only 1 lb goes in the Jambalaya. That leaves me 1 lb to toss on the Grill this weekend!)
Tuesday: Goulash. We ate something Kiddo hates last night, so tonight is his favorite. this will also leave lots of leftovers and is good cold. I'll post that recipe this weekend.
Wednesday: Spinach and Leek Soup. Very nice Summer Soup. Very light, and will provide leftovers.
Thursday: I am slipping out of work early so I can hit the PS and try out my new skates. Afterwards, Tuna Salad Sandwiches. We should get home by 8pm.
Friday: This is payoff night. Kiddo and I can reheat whatever we want, and then hurry out to hit the Ice until 9pm. (And he wants to stop at the Dominick's on the way home for Cookie Crisp. Done.)
I don't cook at all on the weekend. There's lots leftover to reheat and we usually are on the road for lunch.
I try to make menu choices segue into each other for the following week, so ingredients don't get abandoned. Last week's pasta that didn't get cooked goes into the Goulash this week. Lots of rotation goes on in my kitchen.
I had a thought to paint a skating Snoopy on Kiddo's Skate bag. He definitely wants that! So, no more boring black bag. I'll hit the craft store for fabric paint.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Too many girls....
This was the reaction to the ice show by Kiddo. "More girls," he'd sigh as a bevy of beauties began skating. "Why are there so many girls?"
Here we go.
"There's a boy soloist, he's pretty good," I pointed him out. He was good, great spins! "There's a group of boys."
But sadly, out of a two hour show, there was: One boy soloist. Two boys together. A groupd of ten or so boys, and one uncomfortable looking boy in a group of girls. That's thirteen boys maybe. Fifteen tops.
Kiddo perked up everytime a boy took to the ice, and applauded only the boys. He wants a guy as his private coach, and I said I'd see what I could do.
I emailed DH that night, expressing Kiddo's sadness over the lack of boys, and DH agreed. There is nothing to encourage boys to skate, other than "so the girls can do pairs." Even on the internets, every article bemoaning the lack of males spends half the page saying that girls NEED the boys to do pairs. Kiddo doesn't want to do pairs, and he's said that from day one. Doubtless, he's six. He may well change his mind as he begins to see girls as less of an annoyance and more as nice legs. But for now, there's nothing out there telling him to skate for himself. Nothing but me and dad.
We went to get skates sharpened, and I got him his own skate bag. (Not a Zuca bag, I refuse.) It's black. My other choices were; teal, pink, pink zebra stripe, glitter blue, glitter silver, hot pink and leopard print teal. I got him blade guards. They are black. My other choices were; glitter rainbow, pink, glitter pink, purple, purple glitter, light up rainbow (HA!) and pearlized teal. Did we pick up any skatewear? Not a chance. The walls were all dresses, fitted tees, leggings with hot pink and teal stripes, and sweatshirts emblazoned "SK8TRGURL."
You see my dilemma?
I need a male coach, and I need one now. I need Kiddo to see that not only can boys skate, but boys can tear up the ice in ways girls can't. That he doesn't have to do pairs. Girls can be all pink and glitter, boys can SKATE. In January, had anyone told me that Kiddo would take a crushing fall and GET UP to KEEP SKATING, I would never have believed it. Kiddo quit everything at the drop of a hat, but not this. I don't want him to lose this.
He doesn't want to be in the winter show, but maybe I can get him to work backstage. *Sigh* I jsut go one day at a time.
Here we go.
"There's a boy soloist, he's pretty good," I pointed him out. He was good, great spins! "There's a group of boys."
But sadly, out of a two hour show, there was: One boy soloist. Two boys together. A groupd of ten or so boys, and one uncomfortable looking boy in a group of girls. That's thirteen boys maybe. Fifteen tops.
Kiddo perked up everytime a boy took to the ice, and applauded only the boys. He wants a guy as his private coach, and I said I'd see what I could do.
I emailed DH that night, expressing Kiddo's sadness over the lack of boys, and DH agreed. There is nothing to encourage boys to skate, other than "so the girls can do pairs." Even on the internets, every article bemoaning the lack of males spends half the page saying that girls NEED the boys to do pairs. Kiddo doesn't want to do pairs, and he's said that from day one. Doubtless, he's six. He may well change his mind as he begins to see girls as less of an annoyance and more as nice legs. But for now, there's nothing out there telling him to skate for himself. Nothing but me and dad.
We went to get skates sharpened, and I got him his own skate bag. (Not a Zuca bag, I refuse.) It's black. My other choices were; teal, pink, pink zebra stripe, glitter blue, glitter silver, hot pink and leopard print teal. I got him blade guards. They are black. My other choices were; glitter rainbow, pink, glitter pink, purple, purple glitter, light up rainbow (HA!) and pearlized teal. Did we pick up any skatewear? Not a chance. The walls were all dresses, fitted tees, leggings with hot pink and teal stripes, and sweatshirts emblazoned "SK8TRGURL."
You see my dilemma?
I need a male coach, and I need one now. I need Kiddo to see that not only can boys skate, but boys can tear up the ice in ways girls can't. That he doesn't have to do pairs. Girls can be all pink and glitter, boys can SKATE. In January, had anyone told me that Kiddo would take a crushing fall and GET UP to KEEP SKATING, I would never have believed it. Kiddo quit everything at the drop of a hat, but not this. I don't want him to lose this.
He doesn't want to be in the winter show, but maybe I can get him to work backstage. *Sigh* I jsut go one day at a time.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Whoa
So I volunteered at the school Carnival. I was painting faces. Mom walks up with her very young son and points to the menu of things I can paint. "Pick one."
The boy points to the star.
"No, pick something boy," says mom. "Pick the soccer ball."
Boy points to soccer ball.
Mom looks at me. "Can you do one on each side?"
Sure, please don't hurt me.
So I begin to paint. Soccer balls are fine. I'm painting and I ask the boy, "Do you play soccer?"
"Yes he plays soccer. He's going to be a big soccer player someday, make millions of dollars. Right baby?"Mom takes over.
Boy looks at the ground.
Uh, wow. I hope none of that was serious.
The boy points to the star.
"No, pick something boy," says mom. "Pick the soccer ball."
Boy points to soccer ball.
Mom looks at me. "Can you do one on each side?"
Sure, please don't hurt me.
So I begin to paint. Soccer balls are fine. I'm painting and I ask the boy, "Do you play soccer?"
"Yes he plays soccer. He's going to be a big soccer player someday, make millions of dollars. Right baby?"Mom takes over.
Boy looks at the ground.
Uh, wow. I hope none of that was serious.
Back again...
Yes, I disappear from time to time. No, I'm not lazy. Chances are good that I'm just not thinking about the internets for awhile.
Keith has begun to ice skate. Not hockey skating, there's no chance of hockey skating. He wants to Figure Skate. I'm not all that surprised.
Kiddo has always been unique. I'm not saying that in a "he's better than your kid" way, he's just unique. In some respects, I'd give anything for a clear-cut boy with boy things like Action Figures and Heroes and stuff. I'd kind of know what to do there. But that hasn't come, and I don't think it ever will. The Transformer toys and Hot Wheels sit in his room, largely unused, while there's scraps of paper everywhere from art projects and "office supplies" where he runs some kind of evil empire to make millions of dollars. I bought him an electronics set, and he builds water detectors and radios and he still wants to do the lie detector.
He has no idea who Ben Ten is, and he watches Teen Titans with only marginal interest. GI Joe just isn't in his lexicon, Iron Man neither. People ask me, What does he like? And I have to shrug. Ask him, I don't know. He likes trains, but not in the talking cutesy train sense, he likes the GTF Off the Crossing trains and the noise they make. He's just not going to fit into any of those categories like Star Wars kid or Spiderman Kid. Sorry.
And when it came to Sports I truly had nothing. He showed some marginal interest in basketball, but he's on the short end of short, so that basket was like staring up at the Hancock Tower. I never knew he had an interest in skating until one afternoon during one of our "fancy lunches" he said, "I like this song. Sometimes I imagine I'm spinning and twirling to the music."
"What, like ice skating?"
"Yeah."
"Uh, we live near a rink. Do you want to try lessons?"
"Yes."
And ever since then it's been a unending demand to attend every open public skate session we can. So now, when people ask me what sport Keith likes, I can say "Figure skating," and watch the OMG's roll in.
The Skating thing brings me new challenges, though. There is NOTHING for little boy figure skaters. NO-THING. At all. Zero. Zip. Sorry. Check out time. A little boy figure skater seems to be largely on his own for motivation and style. Girls have an endless line of dresses, sparkles, spangles, tights, legwarmers, gloves, fancy gloves, fancy bags, light up guards, and all at an amazingly exhorbant price. Boys? Have some black skates. Are you still here?
The upside of this is that kiddo's choice of sport for HIM will reside largely with HIM and not in the various accessories. I can't say, "learn this thing and I will buy you a new dress." It will be "learn this skill for the sake of doing so, and take pleasure in that." In that respect, figure skating matches well with our parenting philosophies here. Skating seems to require an emotionally and intellectually mature kid, and Keith is just that. Again, not trying to implicate that he's somehow better than other kids, but he's got an innate horse-sense about him that will serve him well if he pursues this.
And he's good at it. People see him skate and tell me that's he's good for Pre-alpha. He does skate better than the other Pre-Alphas. Which is leading me to think about a private lesson every so often to stave off boredom and give him a challenge. We'll try one next month and see what happens. I bought him a membership in ISI, so he can earn the patches, which he is eyeing with a resolute determination. "I want all of them," he says, scrolling down the internets page.
No Ice this weekend, though, and he's a little irritated. I tell him that it's Ice Show weekend, which we will go see, and this gives his head a chance to heal. Last weekend he took a front-end dive into the boards, leaving him with a mark that made me fear calls from DCFS. It's yellowed and healing now, and he's saying YES YES to Monday skating with Dad. (also YES YES to all weekend Public Skate sessions, including the dreaded "Late Skate" Saturday, where he got his injury last week.) Also, we will get his skates sharpened.
I called the Pro-Shop to ask about skate sharpening. It was funny.
"Can we just stop by?"
"Sure, just come on by and drop them off."
"He wants to watch. Can he watch?"
"What?"
"He wants to watch. Can we schedule the time so he can watch while you do it?"
"Uh... sure... what time?"
"Sunday noon?"
"Oh.. kay..."
See, this goes in with "nothing for boy skaters" thing. Skate sharpening involves this cool grinding thing with sparks flying all over. He thinks that's COOL. And then, not only were those sparking things HIS, he gets to WEAR THEM. HA!! I can't imagine a little girl skater finds the sharpening process as cool as a mechanically inclined boy does. Girls are free to tell me I'm wrong.
So, once again my life takes a weird turn, as there's a poster of Jeremy Abbott, (Keith's favorite skater) and Michael Weiss (OMG HOT) on my kid's wall. Keith has more than once caught me standing in the doorway, staring at Weiss, and asked, "What are you doing?"
"Nothing," I say, and move on.
Keith has begun to ice skate. Not hockey skating, there's no chance of hockey skating. He wants to Figure Skate. I'm not all that surprised.
Kiddo has always been unique. I'm not saying that in a "he's better than your kid" way, he's just unique. In some respects, I'd give anything for a clear-cut boy with boy things like Action Figures and Heroes and stuff. I'd kind of know what to do there. But that hasn't come, and I don't think it ever will. The Transformer toys and Hot Wheels sit in his room, largely unused, while there's scraps of paper everywhere from art projects and "office supplies" where he runs some kind of evil empire to make millions of dollars. I bought him an electronics set, and he builds water detectors and radios and he still wants to do the lie detector.
He has no idea who Ben Ten is, and he watches Teen Titans with only marginal interest. GI Joe just isn't in his lexicon, Iron Man neither. People ask me, What does he like? And I have to shrug. Ask him, I don't know. He likes trains, but not in the talking cutesy train sense, he likes the GTF Off the Crossing trains and the noise they make. He's just not going to fit into any of those categories like Star Wars kid or Spiderman Kid. Sorry.
And when it came to Sports I truly had nothing. He showed some marginal interest in basketball, but he's on the short end of short, so that basket was like staring up at the Hancock Tower. I never knew he had an interest in skating until one afternoon during one of our "fancy lunches" he said, "I like this song. Sometimes I imagine I'm spinning and twirling to the music."
"What, like ice skating?"
"Yeah."
"Uh, we live near a rink. Do you want to try lessons?"
"Yes."
And ever since then it's been a unending demand to attend every open public skate session we can. So now, when people ask me what sport Keith likes, I can say "Figure skating," and watch the OMG's roll in.
The Skating thing brings me new challenges, though. There is NOTHING for little boy figure skaters. NO-THING. At all. Zero. Zip. Sorry. Check out time. A little boy figure skater seems to be largely on his own for motivation and style. Girls have an endless line of dresses, sparkles, spangles, tights, legwarmers, gloves, fancy gloves, fancy bags, light up guards, and all at an amazingly exhorbant price. Boys? Have some black skates. Are you still here?
The upside of this is that kiddo's choice of sport for HIM will reside largely with HIM and not in the various accessories. I can't say, "learn this thing and I will buy you a new dress." It will be "learn this skill for the sake of doing so, and take pleasure in that." In that respect, figure skating matches well with our parenting philosophies here. Skating seems to require an emotionally and intellectually mature kid, and Keith is just that. Again, not trying to implicate that he's somehow better than other kids, but he's got an innate horse-sense about him that will serve him well if he pursues this.
And he's good at it. People see him skate and tell me that's he's good for Pre-alpha. He does skate better than the other Pre-Alphas. Which is leading me to think about a private lesson every so often to stave off boredom and give him a challenge. We'll try one next month and see what happens. I bought him a membership in ISI, so he can earn the patches, which he is eyeing with a resolute determination. "I want all of them," he says, scrolling down the internets page.
No Ice this weekend, though, and he's a little irritated. I tell him that it's Ice Show weekend, which we will go see, and this gives his head a chance to heal. Last weekend he took a front-end dive into the boards, leaving him with a mark that made me fear calls from DCFS. It's yellowed and healing now, and he's saying YES YES to Monday skating with Dad. (also YES YES to all weekend Public Skate sessions, including the dreaded "Late Skate" Saturday, where he got his injury last week.) Also, we will get his skates sharpened.
I called the Pro-Shop to ask about skate sharpening. It was funny.
"Can we just stop by?"
"Sure, just come on by and drop them off."
"He wants to watch. Can he watch?"
"What?"
"He wants to watch. Can we schedule the time so he can watch while you do it?"
"Uh... sure... what time?"
"Sunday noon?"
"Oh.. kay..."
See, this goes in with "nothing for boy skaters" thing. Skate sharpening involves this cool grinding thing with sparks flying all over. He thinks that's COOL. And then, not only were those sparking things HIS, he gets to WEAR THEM. HA!! I can't imagine a little girl skater finds the sharpening process as cool as a mechanically inclined boy does. Girls are free to tell me I'm wrong.
So, once again my life takes a weird turn, as there's a poster of Jeremy Abbott, (Keith's favorite skater) and Michael Weiss (OMG HOT) on my kid's wall. Keith has more than once caught me standing in the doorway, staring at Weiss, and asked, "What are you doing?"
"Nothing," I say, and move on.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Another week done
I did good this week; I stuck to my cooking schedule and managed to come out on top. Monday's Shepherd's Pie was a smash hit. Tuesday I was at a loss so I improvised some Spanish Rice, which was still a win. Wednesday I made the Tomato bacon Chowder which was superb, and we have some leftovers for tonight. Thursday was the amazing win of tilapia, mango salsa and cilantro rice. (I have requests to make that again.) Yesterday I made fried rice. Rice week, I guess, but it was all cheap and all eaten. All eaten is the key. The Quinoa Vegetable salad held up well for lunches at work, and wasn't as boring as I thought it would be. So, all in all, grocery money was well spent and we averaged about a dollar a meal again.
This morning's breakfast of bacon and pancakes filled the place with warm smells, which was very comforting and calming. Even now, as I'm finishing my coffee and again plotting ways to encourage Keith to read more books, I'm calm and content.
Keith's first week of school remains a mystery; I still have no clue who his teacher is. I have seen her, and I have shaken her hand. Beyond that, I have no idea. I have written a letter to the principal and cc'd to the Superintendent, but I have yet to send it. I don't want to end up really liking this person and then regret sending a harsh missive earlier. I think I will wait until Curriculum Night, which is the 15th of this month.
There's some discussion starting at the PTA regarding making the school lunches healthier, which should be interesting to watch. I've never imagined that school lunches could be a healthful standard. If you want healthy things, pack it yourself.
We're reading Despereaux and nearly halfway through it. I am thinking of starting the Narnia series for winter, but I'm still not sure. I may start the Oz series, but that depends on what I can find at the library. Keith enjoys me reading to him more than he likes reading independently, which is nice in some ways and not so nice in others. Wouldn't it be great if he would read quietly for awhile?? Mom is getting him a subscription to Highlights, which is fantastic. The last time I got him a Highlights magazine, he pored over it.
I had Jazz Fest on the schedule for today, but Keith says that he would rather not go. So, our trip to the library will be calm and leisurely. Fine by me. We can spend a little time in downtown Evanston. Tomorrow is a free concert by the Chicago Chamber Orchestra, which just so happens to to be across the street from the Crown Fountain. Seems that a picnic lunch and a romp in the fountain are in order!
I suppose we could start thinking about Halloween... but I may wait until this beautiful weekend is over first.
This morning's breakfast of bacon and pancakes filled the place with warm smells, which was very comforting and calming. Even now, as I'm finishing my coffee and again plotting ways to encourage Keith to read more books, I'm calm and content.
Keith's first week of school remains a mystery; I still have no clue who his teacher is. I have seen her, and I have shaken her hand. Beyond that, I have no idea. I have written a letter to the principal and cc'd to the Superintendent, but I have yet to send it. I don't want to end up really liking this person and then regret sending a harsh missive earlier. I think I will wait until Curriculum Night, which is the 15th of this month.
There's some discussion starting at the PTA regarding making the school lunches healthier, which should be interesting to watch. I've never imagined that school lunches could be a healthful standard. If you want healthy things, pack it yourself.
We're reading Despereaux and nearly halfway through it. I am thinking of starting the Narnia series for winter, but I'm still not sure. I may start the Oz series, but that depends on what I can find at the library. Keith enjoys me reading to him more than he likes reading independently, which is nice in some ways and not so nice in others. Wouldn't it be great if he would read quietly for awhile?? Mom is getting him a subscription to Highlights, which is fantastic. The last time I got him a Highlights magazine, he pored over it.
I had Jazz Fest on the schedule for today, but Keith says that he would rather not go. So, our trip to the library will be calm and leisurely. Fine by me. We can spend a little time in downtown Evanston. Tomorrow is a free concert by the Chicago Chamber Orchestra, which just so happens to to be across the street from the Crown Fountain. Seems that a picnic lunch and a romp in the fountain are in order!
I suppose we could start thinking about Halloween... but I may wait until this beautiful weekend is over first.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Six Years Old, and What a Party
Well, it's done. And true to form, I didn't take many pictures. I was far too busy wrangling children to deal with the added stress of "Okay, now pose for me!"
Typical of suburban fashion, folks arrived about twenty to thirty minutes late. I had planned for this, saving the big games for 4:30. We played one of the water balloon relays, but the temptation of three bags of water balloons proved to be too much for the kids. The second game quickly devolved into an all out war. Kids were dashing all over, playing out a dozen little psychologies at once. Kids were hoarding balloons, kids were stomping balloons, kids were aiming for adults, kids were chasing and threatening each other, but everyone was screaming with laughter. Some kids were offended at getting wet, other kids had come in their bathing suits. The parents were standing off, enjoying the show.
I rounded them back up for pinata time, and I was overwhelmed by the shouts of "me next! Me next!" at who would take the next three swings. I resorted to closing my eyes and laying a hand on a kid, it was the only way. The pinata was great, it broke up fast enough that no one got impatient yet slow enough to provide some suspense. The fast grab free-for-all left a few of the slower kids crying, but I don't think it's truly a party until someone cries.
Dinner, with hot dogs and hamburgers, was enjoyed by all. All save the ONE vegetarian who did not identify herself. This kind of irritated me. I asked for dietary restrictions. No one said anything. Had she said, "I am vegetarian, please provide some tofu," I would gladly have brought it. But no. Argh. The funny part was that her husband had two hamburgers and remarked to Patrick that they were a "rare treat."
As I had an enormous cake, I began slicing and said, "I expect everyone to eat lots of cake." The kids were happy to oblidge. One of the girls ate two pieces, and the rest had one huge slice apiece. Ice cream cups were distributed, candy divided, and then the kids ran around the park for the rest of the time we had. The parents were fine with this; they were burning off their excitement and sugar-fueled enthusiasm. It was a gorgeous day, and best to spend it outdoors.
Patrick made s'mores for the kids who stayed long enough, and those were well recieved. They enjoyed watching him carefully toast their marshmallows and sandwich them up. I gave some kids some temporary tattoos while they waited.
Everyone told me that the party was a smashing success, and I wish I felt the same. I think we had about eighteen kids. Eighteen. I'm not sure because I lost count. At some point, I think it was during the massive water balloon fight, I looked around myself and wondered how in the hell this happened. Here we were, in the thick of kids I barely knew, and they were all friends of my son. My SON'S FRIENDS. I was aware of these children on some plane, but I didn't know them well enough to tell anyone what kind of candy they liked or what they were allergic to. But Keith could tell me.
It hit me; My son is old enough to socialize on his own terms. He makes friends relatively easily, and keeps them rather well. I'm sure that there will be the usual passing into and out of his life, but if all these children stay at Oakton for the duration of his five years there, then some measure of camaraderie will stay with them.
Not only can he follow directions, feed the cats, write the alphabet, spell "Kwik-e-Mart", read with a large degree of skill, clean up basic things, and perform basic addition and subtraction, he can make subjective decisions for his own person. We're reaching an age where he can definatively state what he likes and does not like, decide who he wants to play with, and what kind of games he wants to play.
It's not that he doesn't need me anymore. I don't feel less needed. On the contrary, I feel more needed than ever before. He doesn't need me to do basic, black and white things for him. He can do that on his own. What he needs me for now is guidance through an incredibly complex world of media and stuff and Hannah Montana and Transformers. He might want to watch X-Men, but he needs me to put it into some perspective for him so he can make sense of it. He can play car crashes with his toys and on video games, but he needs us to reinforce that while driving on the sidewalk is fun in a game, it's not appropriate in reality. These are hard things to teach, because I have to do it constantly and there are so many things out there that would steer him down a negative path. These lessons test my own resolve, my own values, and even my own person. Diaper changes were easy by comparison.
We've already learned some lessons; that the toys on TV look a lot more fun than they really are. That sometimes things are too expensive for us to buy. That malls can be boring. Sometimes hand dryers don't work and we have to wipe our hands on our pants and this is okay. Sometimes the kids on the playground can be little jerks. That beauty is in the small things. Love is best expressed every day and not just on "special" occasions.
There are some life skills we need to work on. Understanding that you can't get your way all the time, and sometimes bad things happen but we need to move on from them. And that failure doesn't inherently make one a "loser." We can work on those things as we move forward. I'm sure year six and first grade have a lot to teach us.
We'll get there.
Meanwhile, I'm left looking at the pile of toys left in the wake of this. Speed Racer and Hot Wheels and Transformers. I don't think I can keep back the Action Figures and Boy Toys much longer, and I'm making peace with that. We also got a cool "Battleship" game! I'm thinking that we may hold a "kiddie yard sale" to get rid of some of his older toys. He could learn about earning more money and clean out his clutter in the process. (The new allowance system is turning out to be a dream! Already I'm saying that if he wants X he can buy it himself.)
Today we learn the art of the Thank You note. And eat leftover cake and watermelon.
Typical of suburban fashion, folks arrived about twenty to thirty minutes late. I had planned for this, saving the big games for 4:30. We played one of the water balloon relays, but the temptation of three bags of water balloons proved to be too much for the kids. The second game quickly devolved into an all out war. Kids were dashing all over, playing out a dozen little psychologies at once. Kids were hoarding balloons, kids were stomping balloons, kids were aiming for adults, kids were chasing and threatening each other, but everyone was screaming with laughter. Some kids were offended at getting wet, other kids had come in their bathing suits. The parents were standing off, enjoying the show.
I rounded them back up for pinata time, and I was overwhelmed by the shouts of "me next! Me next!" at who would take the next three swings. I resorted to closing my eyes and laying a hand on a kid, it was the only way. The pinata was great, it broke up fast enough that no one got impatient yet slow enough to provide some suspense. The fast grab free-for-all left a few of the slower kids crying, but I don't think it's truly a party until someone cries.
Dinner, with hot dogs and hamburgers, was enjoyed by all. All save the ONE vegetarian who did not identify herself. This kind of irritated me. I asked for dietary restrictions. No one said anything. Had she said, "I am vegetarian, please provide some tofu," I would gladly have brought it. But no. Argh. The funny part was that her husband had two hamburgers and remarked to Patrick that they were a "rare treat."
As I had an enormous cake, I began slicing and said, "I expect everyone to eat lots of cake." The kids were happy to oblidge. One of the girls ate two pieces, and the rest had one huge slice apiece. Ice cream cups were distributed, candy divided, and then the kids ran around the park for the rest of the time we had. The parents were fine with this; they were burning off their excitement and sugar-fueled enthusiasm. It was a gorgeous day, and best to spend it outdoors.
Patrick made s'mores for the kids who stayed long enough, and those were well recieved. They enjoyed watching him carefully toast their marshmallows and sandwich them up. I gave some kids some temporary tattoos while they waited.
Everyone told me that the party was a smashing success, and I wish I felt the same. I think we had about eighteen kids. Eighteen. I'm not sure because I lost count. At some point, I think it was during the massive water balloon fight, I looked around myself and wondered how in the hell this happened. Here we were, in the thick of kids I barely knew, and they were all friends of my son. My SON'S FRIENDS. I was aware of these children on some plane, but I didn't know them well enough to tell anyone what kind of candy they liked or what they were allergic to. But Keith could tell me.
It hit me; My son is old enough to socialize on his own terms. He makes friends relatively easily, and keeps them rather well. I'm sure that there will be the usual passing into and out of his life, but if all these children stay at Oakton for the duration of his five years there, then some measure of camaraderie will stay with them.
Not only can he follow directions, feed the cats, write the alphabet, spell "Kwik-e-Mart", read with a large degree of skill, clean up basic things, and perform basic addition and subtraction, he can make subjective decisions for his own person. We're reaching an age where he can definatively state what he likes and does not like, decide who he wants to play with, and what kind of games he wants to play.
It's not that he doesn't need me anymore. I don't feel less needed. On the contrary, I feel more needed than ever before. He doesn't need me to do basic, black and white things for him. He can do that on his own. What he needs me for now is guidance through an incredibly complex world of media and stuff and Hannah Montana and Transformers. He might want to watch X-Men, but he needs me to put it into some perspective for him so he can make sense of it. He can play car crashes with his toys and on video games, but he needs us to reinforce that while driving on the sidewalk is fun in a game, it's not appropriate in reality. These are hard things to teach, because I have to do it constantly and there are so many things out there that would steer him down a negative path. These lessons test my own resolve, my own values, and even my own person. Diaper changes were easy by comparison.
We've already learned some lessons; that the toys on TV look a lot more fun than they really are. That sometimes things are too expensive for us to buy. That malls can be boring. Sometimes hand dryers don't work and we have to wipe our hands on our pants and this is okay. Sometimes the kids on the playground can be little jerks. That beauty is in the small things. Love is best expressed every day and not just on "special" occasions.
There are some life skills we need to work on. Understanding that you can't get your way all the time, and sometimes bad things happen but we need to move on from them. And that failure doesn't inherently make one a "loser." We can work on those things as we move forward. I'm sure year six and first grade have a lot to teach us.
We'll get there.
Meanwhile, I'm left looking at the pile of toys left in the wake of this. Speed Racer and Hot Wheels and Transformers. I don't think I can keep back the Action Figures and Boy Toys much longer, and I'm making peace with that. We also got a cool "Battleship" game! I'm thinking that we may hold a "kiddie yard sale" to get rid of some of his older toys. He could learn about earning more money and clean out his clutter in the process. (The new allowance system is turning out to be a dream! Already I'm saying that if he wants X he can buy it himself.)
Today we learn the art of the Thank You note. And eat leftover cake and watermelon.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)