Tag: activities

What Day Is It?

Upon waking up Saturday mornings, DH likes to announce that the week-end, “is over”.  I used to think that this was a silly thing to say.  It’s Saturday morning! The sun is out! The birds and singing and we have the whole day in front of us.

Then we had children.

Saturday and Sunday became bookends between which we crammed birthday parties, trips to the zoo/museum/the grocery store, family time, various sporting lessons, and household clean-up. By the time we actually heard the birds singing, it was because it was Monday morning.

As an married adult with children, I see that an entire summer is whipping by at a break-neck pace.  Just like how Christmas decorations start rolling out around Columbus Day (second Monday in October, people), the back-to-school paraphernalia appears sooner and sooner.  It’s the end of July, but I’m pretty certain that July 5th saw the red,white and blue replaced with school bus yellow and composition notebook black and white.

I walked into my neighbor-hood Target and was assaulted by the Back-to-School savings I could take advantage of.  The savings were so great, the deals so plentiful, that I actually forgot what I had gone in there for in the first place.  Suffice it to say, the only thing that got saved was the economy due to the generous boost from the Dixon family.

Growing up, I looked forward to back-to-school shopping like it was an early Christmas.  I roamed the aisles of Drug Fair (what you non-Jersey natives would call CVS) and loaded up.  New Trapper Keeper! Lisa Frank notebooks!  Pencils! Sailor Moon pencil case with the hidden compartment for me play with instead of paying attention in math class!  My mom would take me to the Bridgewater Mall (sweet!) for new back-school-clothes. . .well, sort of.  We had uniforms in high school, so new clothes meant choosing between new navy tights or new navy knee socks.  Decisions, decisions.

After bowing out of school last October, I thought the giddiness of back-to-school preparation was behind me.  Then I realized, Morgan is on the cusp of her entrance into the official school system:  KINDERGARTEN.

Wow. 

How did we get here?

And kindergarten now, is way different from when I was in kindergarten.

Can you find me? It’s like “Where’s Waldo”, isn’t it?

First of all, there’s a school supply list.  There’s stuff, beyond a pack of pencils and a bookbag, that we have to get for the classroom.  Like baby-wipes and band-aids.  Like multiple packets of crayons and markers.  I had heard the school budgets had been cut, but wow. 

How about this? Gone are the days of AM and PM classes.  Kindergarten is all day — 9 to 3! Those are banker’s hours!  What am I going to do with myself while Morgan tells all of our family business to her teachers and peers (you know she will; volunteering our personal information is her #1 hobby)? 

And homework!  I hear there’s homework in kindergarten.  Who knows what kind of dittos (do they still even have those?) and worksheets she’ll be bringing home.  I’m about to order up some “Math Made EZ 4 U” off of Amazon because I am russssss-teeee. 

My parents had given me this book when I started school called “School Days.” It’s a little scrapbook that you fill out at the beginning and end of every school year with stuff like the name of  your school, your photo, names of your teachers and friends, what you want to be when you grow up, and so forth.  Mine is busting apart at the seams.  There are little pockets to stick in momentos for each grade and I’ve got Valentines, notes I passed, report cards, all of that junk.  I found the 2010 version for Morgan and I wonder how hers will compare to my own over the years.  

It’s weird, turning the corner from your childhood/ adolescent self and walking down that adult/parent road.  I can already see the first day of school coming: Morgan will slip into the clothes she’s picked out the night before.  She’ll slide into her slightly too-big-backpack.  We’ll take her picture on the front steps, maybe she’ll even let Coever stand next to her for a frame or two.  We’ll walk down to the school and guess what adventures lay ahead. I’ll take her hand from mine to put it into the hand of her teacher, a woman I will eyeball until she understands that I am entrusting her with one of my two greatest treasures.  She should conduct herself accordingly.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.  It’s the last week of July; there’s plenty of summer left!  There are still trips to the beach, to Busch Gardens, to visit the grands.  We’ve got playdates to fill up our mornings, arts & craps ::shudder:: to fill up the afternoons, and trips to the ice cream parlor for our evenings.

Back-to-school can wait.  The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and we are just getting started.

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IN: ON: July 26, 2010 TAGS: , , BY: Hilary
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photography projects & DIY

(No) More Mermaids!

So, last June,  I first introduced you all to my novel activity for the summer:  Finding as many Norfolk Mermaids as we can and snapping some photos of the girls with the mermaids.  Never would I have imagined that a year later, we’d still be coming across these statues.  We’ve been armed with our copy of “There Goes a Mermaid” and I’ve consulted my Norfolk Mermaid Poster, but the recent ones we’ve found aren’t even mentioned in those two sources.  I have no clue as to how many mermaids there are, if we’re even close to having found them all or what.   Suffice it to say, I’m over the whole thing.  I did what I set out to do — *koff*koff*Kill daylight ’til bedtime*koff*koff* — and the girls have a nice book of memories as a result.  And yet, here we are, July of 2010. 
 We are still finding mermaids. 

There wasn’t any accompanying plaque or tablet identifying this one, so let’s just call her Stars and Stripes.

I have no idea what to call this one.  I want to say $5 Hoa-ah, since she’s parked out in front of an EconoLodge and a Motel 6 on Military Highway looking like a. . .well. . you know.

It was a situation where, by the time I realized that even though it was one in the afternoon, the locale was still pretty sketch-tastic. The girls had already seen the mermaid and were bugging out in the backseat.  True, I’m a grown-up.  In fact, I’m THE grown-up in the this situation and as such, could have made the executive decision to abort.  But I didn’t.   I will say that the girls could have been doing headstands and picking their noses when I took this picture, for all I cared.  I’m pretty sure the surrounding establishments rent by the hour.  I hustled them to the mermaid, took the snap, hustled them back to the car, locked the door, and laid waste to the parking lot as we high-tailed it back to our neighborhood.    

 As much as I want to talk tough and say that I’m done with this project, I know if I hear of another mermaid, we’ll be there, camera in tow.

And if it’s in a real sketchy area, we may just snap the mermaid from the car and PhotoShop the girls in later.

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IN: photography projects & DIY ON: July 19, 2010 TAGS: , , , , , , BY: Hilary
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And then. . .and then. . .and then. . .

When people ask me what I do, I prefer to say that I work at home with my kids.  I’m not ashamed to be at home; in fact, I’m beyond lucky to be able to do so.  The thing is, I try not to say that I’m a “stay-at-home-mom” because, I’m really rarely at home. 

I’m up well before the kids, having tackled a multitude of tasks that keep this well-oiled household performing at peak condition.  By the time the girls have gotten up, I’ve ticked off several things on my to-do list, given my day planner a thorough once over, mapped out the best routes from A to Z and points in between, and have packed at least two bags with snacks, changes of clothes, and assorted books and toys to keep everyone sane and entertained.

On any given day, we’ve got something to do, somewhere to be and usually someone to share that fun with us.  Maybe it’s swimming lessons, maybe it’s the zoo, maybe it’s Paint Your Own Pottery *shudder* or some other arts & craps.  I’ve got us so scheduled and committed to playdates that Morgan not only asks, “What are we doing today?”, but “Who’s going to be there?” Heaven forbid I tell her that it’s just going to be us three. I don’t think my ego can take the look of disappointment mixed with resignation on her face.

But now, Morgan added yet another question into the mix.  Her new follow-up is, “And then what are we going to do?” 

As if breakfast, dentist appointment, soccer camp, lunch with a friend, swimming lessons, a trip to Target, a trip to Trader Joe’s, a trip to the Dollar Tree, home, shower, hair do’s, playtime outside with the neighbors, playtime inside, a quick episode of Charlie and Lola, dinner, time with Daddy, and getting ready for bed isn’t enough. 

I’m worn out just looking at that list.

There are times when I want to just turn around (because I’m inevitably driving down the road) and say, “Really? Aren’t you tired?”  Sometimes, even when I know exactly what the next two or three activities are, I beg off and say, “Let’s just play it by ear.”  If I provided her with an itemized, color coded, cross-reference comprehensive itinerary,  I still think she’d be asking me what’s next on the agenda. Other times, I honestly don’t know what’s next.  I know what I’d like to do (hello, nap like Rip Van Winkle), but it’s doubtful that what I’d like is going to win out.  I’m working towards win-win situations.  I’ll keep you posted on how that is working out.

The other day, the girls had summer camp in the morning, lunch with a friend, a long trip to Busch Gardens, then an extended playdate that lasted well into the evening.  By the time we picked the girls up at 11pm, I figured they’d be down for the count.  Both of them were still going full tilt, without having had the benefit of naps.  Outside in their pajamas, they were ricocheting off of eachother and their best buddy as we wrangled their carseats into the car.  No sooner was everyone buckled in and the key in the ignition, did Morgan ask, “Now what are we going to do?”

Hello! It’s 11 o’clock at night. I am so tired I could carry home groceries in the bags under my eyes.  So here’s what we’re going to do.  We’re going home to board the SleepyTime Express and I’m going to put pedal to the metal because that’s one train you little heffs need to be on.

I didn’t say that, not out loud anyway.  I was too tired to deal with the Pavlovian-esque response that comes with mentioning the words sleep and/or bed (i.e. tears). I just said, “Let’s just play it by ear,” and drove off into the night.

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IN: ON: July 7, 2010 TAGS: , , BY: Hilary
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I Wanted an Alpaca, but my dad said, “No!”

 Last week, while we were on vacation, we took the girls to Island Alpaca, an alpaca farm on Martha’s Vineyard.  For $5 a person, you could take a self-guided tour through the farm, then head into the barn to see some alpacas.  You finish up your tour by visiting the alpaca gift shop where they had all things alpaca and all things made from alpaca parts — well, from their fur.  Or is it wool? I forget. Whatever it is, it’s super plush and uber warm.  You can make all kinds of things out of it, from mittens and scarves to neck warmers and hats — as the girls were kind enough to model.

I had heard of alpacas before, probably as in, “I’m going to need a Sherpa and an alpaca to get all this crap from here to there”.  Or maybe I made that up the first time I hauled our daily dose of crap from the house to the car.  But I digress.

We lucked out the day we went because one of the alpacas had given birth just hours before we arrived.

 I swear, I thought that thing was dead.  The owner of the farm was on the phone when we came through the gift shop.   She stopped chatting long enough to tell us about the newborn and said she’d be out in a sec.  Well, she took her sweet time, and as Mo and Co wait for no man, so we moseyed outside.  Thankfully, I went out first because when I saw that limp noodle, I thought, “Oh, how in the world am I going to explain this?”  I mean, well, look at it!  It was just laying there!
I didn’t expect the mother alpaca to be cuddling it or  reading “Good Night, Moon” in a gliding rocker, but I expected a little bit of levity or something.  My relief came quickly, however, because the lil’ baby sat up a few minutes after we arrived.


Awwww, so cute.  And surprisingly, un-smelly.  At least, not as smelly as the one’s in the barn.

This one was particularly fragrant and Morgan wasted no time telling us just how stinky he was.

 I think her face actually says it all. . .

Alpacas look a lot like llamas and spit like llamas, too.  Two of them actually got into it while we were there.  They had their necks twisted ’round each other, they were braying or whatever sound an alpaca makes, they were doing it.  And the spit was flying.  I opted not to get any shots of that.  Gotta protect the camera and all.  One of the signs on the tour said that they were “cousins” and from the camelid family, so I guess the camel is up in their family tree, too.  Yeah, I learned quite a bit in our brief little encounter, but the best part was yet to come.

Morgan was really taken with the experience and she talked about it for the rest of the day.  She talked about it for the rest of the week, as a matter of fact.  She even made up a song about alpacas and how she wanted one for a pet.  The song has had many revisions since the first version (see below)

“I went to the farm to get me an alpaca as a pet. 
The farm was closed, so I stole it anyway 
and I brought it to my house. 
But then the police came 
and said, ‘Hey do you have an alpaca as a pet?’
And I said ‘Yes, I do.’
So they took me to jail, but I got out
and I brought the alpaca back to the farm.
And the lady gave it to me anyway.
So now I have an alpaca as a pet.”

There wasn’t any discernible tune, but she made it work.  By the time we got back to VA, she came up with another version.

I’m sure there will be a remix featuring Lady Gaga and Nicki Minaj by the end of the week.  Look for it on iTunes.

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IN: ON: June 30, 2010 TAGS: , , BY: Hilary
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And here we go. . .

The last few days have been spent wrapping up all of the loose ends that come with the end of school.  Never since my own grade school years have I experienced such a fervor that comes with the warmer weather, the constant inflow of artwork, school papers, and the need for snacks and gifts for class parties.  While both pairs of teachers the girls have had this year have done a yeoman’s (look it up) job of continuing to turn them into shining stars, the gift cards and potted plants we bestowed on them hardly seem like a fair trade.

Seriously, say what you will about public or private school.  It all comes down to the teacher. Exhibit A: Morgan can read, and I’m not just talking Dr. Seuss.  She’s reading all manner of street signs, tee-shirt logos, and I saw her thumbing through my Glamour magazine asking me what exactly are the 100 wildest Dos and Don’ts of Summer. As for Coever, this little biscuit knows the days of the week (as sung to the tune of the Addams Family, (which is HEE-larious) and she knows her planets, in order.  How old was I when I learned the planets in order? Hmmm, what’s today’s date? 
Anyway, school days are behind us and we have jumped into summer fun with both feet.  There is a bit of housekeeping that I have to address, however.  My blog entries have been coming in fits and starts lately.  We’re just busy, but that’s no excuse not to report on a major change in the Dixon household. 
Coever got a big-girl bed. . .
with Hello Kitty Sheets!
And she is BEYOND excited about it.  She finds a way to work it into daily conversation with just about everyone she sees.  Earlier this week, I took the girls out to find two other mermaids that have moved into the Downtown area.  As we made our way back to the car, we stopped at a crosswalk just outside our neighborhood FarmFresh Market.  Several people were waiting for the light to change, and one older gentleman was sitting on the lip of the post that has the crosswalk button on it.  Morgan asked me if she could push the button and I told her she needed to say “Excuse me” to the man so that she could reach it.  The man was very courteous, stepping aside to let her push the button and even complimented her on what a pretty girl she was.  He then turned to Coever and said, “And look at you!”, to which she replied, hands in the air like an old Jewish mother, “I have a big girl bed! With Hello Kitty Sheets!”But it came out more like, “Ihaveabiggirlbedwithhellokittysheets!”
The man just blinked at her a few times and said, “Okayyyyyyy”, picked up his groceries and crossed the street. 
Coever is completely crossing the threshold from toddlerhood into little person-dom.  She is constantly talking with her hands, insists on dressing herself (even if her shoes are on the wrong feet, her underwear is on backwards and she’s got both legs in one opening of her shorts), and prefacing just about every statement with “Actually,”.  She even got a haircut. 
Somehow, she got a stylist who had never “styled” (only cut) little girls hair, so the “after” photo. . . 
well, let’s just say, I hooked her up when we got home. 


Anyway, we have found three more mermaids in our continuing Norfolk Mermaid adventure.  We have a book called, “There Goes a Mermaid” and the girls are determined to find each and every one in the book.  They’ve enjoyed spotting the mermaids and comparing the photos I take to the photos in the story.

 

From top to bottom, they are the Tiger Mermaid at the zoo, the Literacy mermaid at the Virginian Pilot, the mermaid at the Botanical Garden.  I don’t know the name of the fourth one, but she’s got a lot of crystals on her torso and clamshell bra, so Morgan dubbed her, “Crystal”. 
 I can’t put a name to this one either, but I will say that this is one and Crystal two of the more elusive mermaids.  Sometimes they’re there, sometimes they’re not.  It’s ridiculous because these mermaids aren’t small and they definitely aren’t light.  They’re being moved, but by whom, how, and why remains a mystery.  I was really nervous when I took the girls — on foot, no less –  to check out the last two.  I had seen them the day before as I was running errands around town, but just knew in my gut that now that I was prepared with kids and camera in tow, they’d be gone.  
There are a few mermaids that we’ve found that aren’t in the book or that are in the book but are now MIA.  And then there are some that are affixed to the roofs of buildings or high up on the side of a buildings.  I’ve tried to convince the girls that getting a picture of them underneath the mermaid or even just finding the mermaid is a victory, but they want to invest in some grappling hooks, carabiners, and harnesses.  I suppose I should be grateful they’re really into this.  We’ve got quite a collection of photos and if we can all agree on a stopping point — these mermaids are like weeds, I tell ya! You think you’ve got ’em all and a new one pops up! — I’ve got a great idea for photo book and hanging collage.  
So, the summer finds us scheduled and more scheduled.  The girls are registered for all manner of camps and sports activities.  We’ve got church camp, VBS, gymnastics, and soccer. We’re gearing up for our first family vacation in a few weeks and we’ll have the kiddie pool and sprinklers going in the between times. Busch Gardens is on the books and I’ve poured through Tidewater Parent, ripping out ads for the numerous festivals in and around our area. I even got some arts and crafts projects to keep us busy.  Yes, I’m breaking out the arts and crafts (I’m also going to make a reservation for a rubber room, just in case). 
The girls are at an age where things like diapers and naps can’t slow us down, so I plan to make the most of this summer. And first up on our extensive Summer o’ Fun 2010 checklist? 
Sleeping in. . .

  

  
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IN: ON: June 12, 2010 TAGS: , , BY: Hilary
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Just Scraping By

So, I’ve been kicking sending the girls outside every afternoon ever since the weather got nice again.  They are starting to enjoy the great outdoors and blessedly, we live on a street with lots of kids their age, so there is always someone outside for them to hang with.

Today, the girls and another little boy were outside playing “King and Queen and Princess and Prince and Witch” (whatever that is) between our house and the little boys’ house about 4 houses down.  I know we don’t live on Sesame Street or in Mr. Rogers Neighborhood, but I feel pretty comfortable having them outside while I’m inside.  I’m definitely within screaming distance.  Plus, more often than not, I end up on the porch swing with my Coke Zero and my laptop so I can keep an eye on things.

Anyway, this afternoon, the girls were in and out and in and out and in and out of the house.  First it was “I’m hot”, then “I’m thirsty”, then “I gotta pee”, then “I’m going to be in the backyard” and so forth.  I told myself, the next time they came in, I was just going to call it a day and shut the door behind them.  And yet, they didn’t cross in front of the house for a while.  For about 15 minutes, I didn’t hear anything, which, when you have a 4 and 2 year old is never good.  Just as I get up to go see, I hear Morgan screaming for all her lungs are worth.  She is sweating, flushed in the face, and holding her right hand in her left hand as though was broken.

Somehow between the tears and the flying snot and Coever’s reassuring pats to Morgan’s knee and foot (??), Morgan explains that she was running and that she fell down.  First of all, ol’ girl is in flip flops and cardinal rule of the flip-flop is that you don’t run in them unless you just are dying to make out with the pavement.  Second of all, if she was skidding on pavement, I’m thinking her knees are going to look like she went over them with a cheese grater. And yet, everything looks like it did when she left.  So what’s the problem?

“My haaaaaaaaand,” she wails, offering up her dirty palm where there is the tiniest road rash and dangling flap of skin.  I’m talking dime sized scrape here.  She’s acting like she’s got a rib poking out of her side.

So we march upstairs to the bathroom where I proceed to run her hands under the faucet.  Cold water + small wound = more screaming.  Despite my calm and my maternal doting, she wasn’t having it.  When I pulled out the witch hazel and a cotton ball, she hollered like I was coming after her with a meat cleaver.  The little skin flap that was covering the wound had dirt and grit in it; it had come come off.  I reached for the tweezers and Morgan yells — “NO!! NO!! Not the tongs!!!”

Oh, my poor, sweet girl.  I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Tongs? I guess from her perspective, that’s what they must look like.  Still, I’m trying to be Florence Nightengale and she’s looking at me like I’m Mola Ram.  Seriously, Morgan opened her mouth and gave a big “Waaaaahhhhhhh”.

Suffice it to say, we got the boo-boo all cleaned up, put on the Neosporin, and topped it off with a Princess Tiana band-aid (of course).  And she carried on throughout, but as soon as that band-aid was in place, Morgan clapped her hands together gleefully, turned to Coever and said, “Let’s go back outside!”

So they went.

And I shut the door behind them.

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IN: ON: June 4, 2010 TAGS: , BY: Hilary
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Table for Two

The other day it rained, and rained, and rained. The kids were like the little boy and Sally from “The Cat in the Hat”, “too wet to go out, too cold to play ball, so we sat in the house. We did nothing at all.”

You all know how much I loathe love arts and crafts. After school, I raided my scrapbooking box and pulled out all kinds of stickers, scrap paper, glue dots, and crayons. I was going to have the girls make some birthday cards for the birthday parties they have this week-end.  They preferred to just cut and paste and cut and paste.  Who am I to stand in the way of artistic expression?

Five minutes later, when they were bored of that, we moved onto dress ups, Play-doh, Barbies, and tea party.  I was steadily running out of ideas, the rain kept coming down and I really wanted to stave off putting on the TV for as long as I could.  I told the girls they needed to read some library books until dinner was ready.  That bought me about 6 minutes and the biggest stroke of genius I’ve had in a long time.

I pulled their activity table into the middle of the kitchen, put their Anywhere Chairs on either side, and laid out some satin napkins.  I put out two port glasses filled with milk and two crystal candle holders with some stubby candles left over from the Nor’Easter.  I called the girls to the table for dinner and told them how excited I was that they were going to join us for dinner.

The look of bewilderment on their faces evaporated as quickly as it arrived once they saw the spread on the table.  When I offered them a choice between hot dog or grilled chicken, Morgan snapped her napkin across her lap and said, “I’ll have the chicken, please.”  Coever insisted on the hot dog.  Their respective entrees came with corn on the cob and cucumbers with hummus.

Once plated on some real dishes (i.e. not plasticware) and served with their tall port glasses of milk, you would have thought Morgan and Coever were some society ladies taking afternoon tea.  The kitchen was filled with “Why yes please” and “Oh isn’t this pleasant” and “Let’s have a toast”.  I knew I took a risk with the candles and the glasses, but smack my face and call me Rosie, those two were ever so mindful of the potential to set the house on fire or impale themselves on a shard of glass.

If they toasted each other once, they toasted each other half a dozen times, each more vigorous than the last.

For dessert, the kitchen offered a choice of chocolate pudding or a Popsicle.  Didn’t the little diva (a.k.a. Morgan) request her pudding to be served in a bowl, on a saucer, with a spoon and some cool “huh-whip“?  Coever opted for the Popsicle and refill of milk, natch.

When they had dined sufficiently and lapsed into a nice post-dinner conversation about what to do next, I had to shake my head and smile.  Something as routine as dinner can be made totally brand new with the addition of a few simple touches.  I’m glad they enjoyed it.

Maybe next time, they can leave ol’ Mom a tip. . .

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IN: ON: May 19, 2010 TAGS: , , BY: Hilary
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