Diary of a Single Mom on the Edge

foto friday: future Einsteins of America edition

Here is Hijo in front of his science fair display.  He was especially proud of the way he wrote the letters for "Electro-Science."  Of course, the word "electro-science" doesn't really exist, but we had to have an "o" in there somewhere so that we could substitute a lightbulb for that letter.  Anyway, he was very happy to be there and check out every one else's projects, and was equally happy to have scored some brownies along the way.  These kids are all geniuses; there was so much cool stuff there, including, inevitably a couple of volcanoes spewing forth foamy red lava.

There was also an art walk portion of the evening and there were kids dressed up like various artists.  Frida Kahlo, Vincent Van Gogh, and Andy Goldsworthy were all represented.  Even Paul Klee was there.  Other kids were re-enacting famous paintings. They posed behind empty frames that were suspended from the ceiling.  It was quite impressive.  The kids really looked like the artists they were depicting and I was amazed by how closely they could re-create the paintings with their live tableaus.  I am ever in awe of the teachers and staff who come up with these ideas and help the kids put them together.  It was a great evening.  I am so glad to be a part of this community.  I made a wise choice in coming here.

the perfect age

Between Little League and volunteering at Hijo's school, I've been spending more time with more kids than I usually do.  Man, I often find myself thinking, I sure love these kids.  There is something about this age that is so appealing to me.  They are so engaged with life and the world, yet they are aware of how small they are within it. They are sophisticated and silly.  They are full of energy and curiosity and excitement.  They love it when adults show an interest in them.

Today is the science fair, and we got to preview it during class.  I am continually amazed by the creativity these kids show in their work at school.  There were some very elaborate and fascinating displays, and some were simpler like Hijo's.  They were all so proud to show off what'd they'd done.  They gathered at the exhibits that had an interactive element to it and did things like try to generate enough static electricity to make a flourescent lightbulb flash.  They loved watching science in action.

Last night was another Little League game.  My dad came along, and Hijo was happy to have his grandpa there.  I mentioned to him that watching the game, I just wanted everyone to do well.  Even when the other team was at bat, I found it impossible to not want them to hit the ball.  They stand at the plate; most of them seem a little bit unsure.  The ball is about to come hurtling at them, and they have to react quickly.  When they hit the ball, they run as fast as they can towards first base.  I hope they can hear us cheering.

science fair

I remember long ago when Hijo's teacher told me that some day far far into the future there would be a science fair, and wouldn't it be cool if Hijo could participate.  Oh yes, yes, I agreed heartily.  Hijo should definitely take part in the science fair.  Science is cool!  Hijo loves science.  We will come up with a super fantastic interesting and educational science fair project.  It will be the best science fair project in the history of science fairs.

It turns out that the day that was far far into the future is in fact this Thursday!  Holy cow! How did that happen?  And what, for the love of coffee, are we going to do? 

All my scrambling around to find the answer to that question has led me to understand that there is a deep need in the world.  A need for a book.  A book called something like, Fifty Great Science Fair Projects That Can Be Done in Three Days, or Science Fairs Made Easy: Everything You Need For A Really Great Project.  I was sorta hoping that someone had already written such a book, and I would find it, but I think the onus is on me. 

Meanwhile, I think one worthy subject just might be a study of what makes a parent panic more, watching her child get ka-thwacked by a speeding baseball yet again, or realizing that the science fair is the day after tomorrow.

the challenge

Hijo's teacher has set forth a challenge for this week:  no TV, no movies on video.  Hijo has accepted the challenge.  Instead of watching PBS like he usually does in the morning before school, he is doing homework.  Wow, I like this already. 

foto friday: gone fishin'

Ah, the good life.  Sitting on a dock in the sunshine with a fishing pole and a friend.  In this foto, Hijo looks very determined to land his fish.  Today there is a fish-related field trip for school.  I am tagging along and will report back with all the exciting details.

Update!

That little dude in the paper cup is a salmon fry.  He was dubbed "floaty." 

Here is Hijo simulating the release of floaty into the wild.  (I say simulating, because during the actual release, the camera decided to not cooperate, making a re-enactment necessary.)  Go, little floaty!  Be free!  Swim like the wind 'til you reach that ocean!

I was in charge of four kids for all of about an hour and a half, and I am wiped out.  I have no idea how the teachers do what they do on a regular basis.  I am in awe. 

Other highlights of the day included me teaching the kids how to hold a blade of grass between their thumbs and blow, thereby making an extremely obnoxious noise ("Sounds like a fart!" one kid happily exclaimed) that I'm sure the other adults would like to have strangled me for encouraging.  I'm proud for doing my part, because if there's anything the world needs, it's more salmon and the sound of farting ringing through the air.

wishes

Hijo took one for the team yesterday.   During Little League game number two he decided to stop a ball with his chin.  It was a minor injury; he only missed one inning, but it was interesting in that I almost saw it coming.  The coach decided to put Hijo in the pitcher's position on the field (the kids don't actually pitch, but they put one there for fielding purposes).  When I saw him standing there, I thought, that puts him right in the path of most of the balls these kids will hit.  Sure enough, within about five minutes, he got bonked.

Later, when I told Hijo that I had been kind of worried when I saw him playing that position, he chastised me. 

"Mom!" he said, "you can't think like that.  It's dangerous."

"I don't think my thoughts are that powerful," I told him. But it got me thinking. 

It seems that we do often believe in the power of our thoughts.  It's like that phrase "be careful what you wish for."  As if, by wishing for something we can make it happen, and therefore great caution is required.  If it were that simple, wouldn't we all be rich and in love?  If merely thinking of something made it real, wouldn't the world be a very strange place indeed? 

On the other hand, much of the action that we take and the things that we create that do manifest in this world start out as ideas or thoughts.  We dream, we plan, we act.  I think that intention is important.  There is some kind of power there.  But I don't want to be cautious.  If I am going to dream, I want to dream big.  If I am going to make a wish, it is going to be the most outrageous wish I can come up with.  And if I am going to worry about something, I am sure not going to torture myself with thinking that my fear can make it come true. 

tuesday this and that

Yesterday was Hijo's first official Little League game.  Let me tell you, there are few things as much fun as watching a bunch of boys who have never played an actual baseball game before standing in the outfield in the pouring rain while the coaches fiddle around with the pitching machine.  For some reason, even though the rain got steadily harder, and the (positively medieval looking) pitching machine was so hampered by the wet balls that it could barely spit them out much less get them over home plate, they didn't call the game.  Instead it went on and on.  The parents huddled under umbrellas or jackets held aloft and gamely called out encouragement to the batters.  Many folks gave up and retreated to their vehicles.  There was not a whole lot of action on the field, though they did manage to score one run against us.  It just rained and rained, and Hijo stood in the ready position, and the ball never came his way. 

Finally, someone realized the utter folly of such a game, and sent us all home soaked through and perhaps slightly less enthused about being in Little League than we had been earlier in the season. 

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Tracey over at Picture This, who in addition to being very talented is also one of the nicest people you could ever meet, is having a foto contest.  Her contests are always a lot of fun, and there are prizes!  Details can be found here.

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I feel especially blessed today that the biggest thing I have to complain about is getting soaking wet.  My taxes are done, I'm getting some cool writing gigs, and Hijo is alive and well.  What a strange messed up place the world seems like sometimes.

foto friday: the men in his life

When you're a single mom of a son, you tend to look at men a bit differently.  You are more careful about which ones you let into your life, and very grateful for the ones that are there by default (ie your family).  Because each and every man that your son interacts with isn't just a man, he's a Role Model.  At eight, Hijo pays a lot of attention to figuring out what it means to be a boy or a girl, and by extension a man or a woman.  And since he spends a lot of time with women in his everyday life, he especially enjoys it when he gets to hang out with the guys.*

Above he is pictured with the most fun person EVER, his Uncle F., and best buddy Grandpa.  Uncle F. (my sister's husband) has taught him many things, the most important of which just might be the phrase "pain is temporary."  Uncle F. also carries Hijo around on his shoulders and is generally much cooler than anybody else.  Among other things, Grandpa lets Hijo drive around with him on the tractor-mower, throws baseballs with him, and sets stuff up on the computer.

Don't get me wrong, I firmly believe that women can and do raise good men.  I know that in many--well, most--ways I am the biggest influence and guide for Hijo.  But that doesn't stop me from appreciating all the men that take the time to share themselves with him, who give him a glimpse into what he might be like someday when he is big.  As you can see in the foto, when he's hanging out with these two, Hijo is one happy boy.

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* I don't mean to be leaving Hijo's dad out of this mix at all, he's a very important part of Hijo's life, but for various reasons, I'm not comfortable blogging too much about him.

plus it makes me sneeze

I know that I have a tendency to blather on and on about my yard these days.  Don't worry, having a yard will soon be no big deal and I won't feel the need to keep writing about it, but for now it is shiny and new and requires me to develop all these skills which seem so foreign.  Like simple plant indentification, for example.  I was talking to my landlord the other day and she was telling me all the different plants that I had in various beds around the house, except she wasn't using words like "tulips" or "roses," but rather long Latin names that meant absolutely nothing to me.  And she was rattling them off like they were common knowledge. 

Then I wandered around in my little back yard and realized that the big unruly bush that takes up a majority of the space back there is actually a lilac!  I had no idea.  In its wintry form it looked very different from the city lilacs that I'm used to (and of course there are 9738 different lilac varieties).  Only now that it is budding have I been able to figure out what it is, and it brings me much joy.  I have every intention of hacking that thing to pieces carefully pruning selected branches in order to keep the inside of my house filled with heavenly lilac-blossom smell once it bursts forth.

Finally, I have no more excuses not to mow the lawn.  My father dutifully hauled over his old mower, and it's sitting there waiting for me to set it loose upon my dandelions.  I confess I'm a little bit afraid of it.  I know that as a teenager I used to mow our lawn all the time, and with a similar machine, but this particular one seems so big and loud and unpredictable.  Can't that thing slice your toes off as easily as it cuts grass?  What if it just takes off across the lawn by itself?  Won't it frighten the deer?  At the very least, I'm sure I'll run over a rock that will get flung right through our  living room window, and I know my landlords don't want that.  Luckily, it won't be too much longer before lawn maintenence becomes an Hijo chore.  Only thing is, he's afraid of the mower, too. 

a trip to the clinic

It's always a bit disconcerting when you take your child to the doctor with a mysterious rash, and they appear to have no idea what it is any more than you do.  It seems the body will use almost any excuse to cover itself in red itchy welts that could mean nothing more than the need to stock up on Calamine lotion, or could just as easily be dangerous and highly contagious.  Luckily, Hijo's spots fall into the first category.  It was pretty funny, though, to watch Doctor #1 come in, then go out and consult Doctor #2, who then came in and they both looked and touched and discussed, then Doctor #2 went out to consult something, and then he came back.  Then they both went out again and came back, and finally a diagnosis was made.  I wouldn't be surprised if they just made something up to tell me, but really still had no clue other than it wasn't anything nasty that could harm Hijo or anyone else.

So off we drove to school, me relieved to get him back into his regular routine, and he relieved that he gets to go play baseball this evening.  The best part about the whole expereince in Hijo's estimation?  The scale!  He has this strange fascination with weighing himself, and will step onto one and announce his weight 20 times a day if you let him.  The scale in the clinic was not one of those old-fashioned balance beam types, but rather a fancy bathroom scale with a huge round dial.  He stood on it and would not get off the whole time the nurse was asking him questions.  I finally let him know it was OK to dismount, but he had to step on it one more time after the doctors left and before we went home.  No, he still hasn't broken fifty pounds, Calamine lotion notwithstanding.