journeys of a restless mind

how I become one of those parents

I'd mentioned on twitter that Hijo made the honor roll during his first quarter in middle school, and that I got pretty jazzed seeing his name in the paper. This turned into a conversation with my twitter buddy @ET2U about how, watch out, soon I'd be sporting one of those "proud parent" bumper stickers, and man weren't they obnoxious and what about those kids who work really hard, bust their butts, but still only get average grades? I secretly vowed to never put one on my car, to never be "one of those" parents.

So naturally, when I got home from work that day, I was met by a very excited child. "I've got a surprise for you, mom!" he said, and showed me his official honor roll certificate and alongside it, one of those dreaded bumper stickers. "Let's go put it on the car right now!"

I waffled. I hemmed and hawed. I procrastinated. I mentioned how putting stickers on the car isn't good for it because you can't get them off, and what if, heaven forbid, there came a time when he wasn't an honor student anymore. Then we looked at it more carefully, and discovered that it wasn't a sticker, it was one of those (highly fragrant) vinyl window dealios.

"I know," I said, feeling very clever, "we can put it up in the window here at home."
"No, mom, because then nobody can SEE it."

What's a mother to do when faced with such obvious enthusiasm and pride? (Not to mention relentless badgering.) I think you know.

caching in

That's no mere walk in the park, folks. No, that's what known as geocaching, which is the coolest thing ever, because a) it's fun and b) Hijo's uncle Frank, who is the coolest person in the world, introduced it to him. Here's the deal. Turns out that people have gone and hidden stuff all over the place. Wherever you might be, there's probably something hidden right there, but you don't know about it because you haven't logged on to the handy dandy geocaching.com website.

If you were cool, like Hijo and his uncle Frank, you would have logged onto the geocaching.com website, and there you would have learned about some cool hidden stuff, and most importantly, you would have learned the coordinates of exactly where the cool hidden stuff is hidden, and you would enter those very coordinates into your cool GPS gadget. Ah, yes! Although you cannot see it in this picture, Hijo is holding a GPS gadget which points him in the direction of the cool hidden stuff. So, you can see why this is appealing. It's a treasure hunt PLUS a cool gadget to play with. That's boy nirvana right there.

This is how it works. You go to the geocaching.com website and pick a couple of cool caches to find. You enter the coordinates into your cool gadget. You hop in the car with your mom and drive to the parking spot nearest to the coordinates. You hop out of the car, point your gadget to the sky, and then you start walking. At first, it is all very exciting, as the gadget tells you exactly how many feet away from the super secret hidden cool stuff you are. And you walk. And you get closer. The suspense is almost too much. But then you get really close and the gadget goes all bonkers on you and tells you the cool hidden stuff is this way. Oh wait, no, it's THAT way. It's five feet, it's thirteen feet, it's, well, it's time to look for it your own damn self.

cotidiana

Even though the last time I attempted a foto-a-day-for-a-year type project, I failed to make it through a whole year, I've gone and started another one.

It's simple, just a shot a day for a year. I'll post all 365 to my flickr account, and a totally random selection here.

Day one: card sharp

 

Day two: lamp chain

 

("Cotidiana" is one of my favorite words in Spanish. It means quotidian, but sounds so much better.)

brace yourself

Hijo has entered that fabulous stage of life that we used to call "having braces" and which is now known as "endless orthodontia treatment." They like to get 'em young these days, and treatment comes in stages. One stage coming before all the permanent teeth are in, and the next stage after. This maximizes the duration of your relationship with the orthodontist, which consists of you writing checks to him.

So, while Hijo does not yet have braces, he does have a bite plate, a sub-lingual arch, and head gear which he wears from the time he gets home from school until he wakes up the next morning. It's nice that he doesn't have to wear the head gear to school, because although it is relatively discreet, people do, of course, notice it. And some of them feeled compelled to comment on it. This is harder on me, I think, than on Hijo. We were in the grocery store the other night and some young dude was so astonished at the sight of Hijo that he stoped in his tracks and said, "What happened to you?" And when Hijo didn't hear him, he walked over to us, put his hand on Hijo's arm and asked it again.

I am really wishing that Hijo had replied that he was part robot or something, but of course I didn't think of this gem until two days later. Instead, we patiently explained a bit about getting your teeth straightened, while the mothe of this young dude didn't even have the decency to look embarrassed for her kid pointing out loudly and in public something he found odd about my kid.

It wasn't horrible, and I realize the young dude was genuinely curious and not malicious, but it bugged me. It bugged me because I don't want Hijo to have to deal with ignorant people bothering him as he goes about his day. It bugged me because I used to have braces and so I am projecting a lot. It bugged me because I am reminded that I am dependent upon my mother, who is actually the person who is writing the checks to the orthodontist, not me. (Which I'm of course very grateful for, but it shows one way in which I'm falling short as a parent: financially. Which is certainly fodder for a post of its own some day.)

I keep reminding myself that in the big scheme of things, this is good for Hijo. It's good for his mandibular health and it's yet another good way for him to learn about how to deal with people and not take things personally.

And I got to say "mandibular."

headless halloween

Hijo knew from the start that he wanted to go headless for Halloween. He had some ideas about how to do it, but I confess that I wasn't so sure we could pull it off. About half our linen closet is stuffed into the shoulders of that jacket. There was much experimenting on my part, including some ill-conceived attempts at cutting up cardboard boxes to use as support. In the end, simple was best. I think the ordinariness of the rest of the outfit adds to the surprise of not seeing a head where one should be.

There was a perfect Halloween sky: the moon was large and bright and the clouds scudded across it like ships in the wind. The costume was a big hit and Hijo enjoyed the attention as much as the candy. When we got home he promptly sat on his bedroom floor and sorted everything into little piles based on type. Almond joys here, Starbursts there, Milky Ways there, etc. This behavior baffles me, as I had no desire to organize or sort or do anything with my Halloween loot as a kid except to scarf it all up, and quickly.

For Hijo, knowing he has it is almost as much fun as eating it. He hasn't even asked to have any for breakfast.

just now

I heard a knock on the door this morning, just a few minutes after Hijo left for school. He forgot something, I thought. I opened the door and there he was.

"There's a full moon in the sky!" he said. "Come see."

I walked out into the yard in my shirtsleeves and bare feet. "Look, right up there." He pointed. "Who would think there'd be a full moon in the morning?"

And there it was, bright and shining, and I looked up at it and felt the cool air all around me and Hijo ran off to catch the bus.

chameleon boy

I made one of our favorite fall dinners this evening: delicata squash soup.* The bits of produce leftover from the prep inspired some silliness.

*I added roasted garlic and used Italian sausage instead of bacon. Extremely tasty.

first piano lesson

Hijo had his first official piano lesson yesterday.

Due to unusual circumstances, I was able to tag along. The teacher sat him down at the piano and asked him if he knew how to play anything.

"Sure," he said and proceeded to play, not perfectly, but adequately, a Coldplay song that a friend of his had taught him.

"Well," the teacher told him, "I can tell you're going to be really good." 

Hijo smiled. I smiled. Even if that piano teacher says that to every kid who sits down on his bench*, I was grateful that he said it to Hijo. He was feeling pretty confident in his ability to learn to play, but having your teacher share that confidence with you within the first five minutes is really important.

The teacher pulled out a simplified version of Michael Jackson's "Beat It" which he gave to Hijo to take home and "see what he can do with it." Then they opened the beginner's book and Hijo learned the names of the keys and notes.

Watching Hijo start piano (and also band in school) has stirred up all sorts of memories and longings in me. Music seems to be one of those things that you abandon as an adult, because you have too little time, or you feel that if you aren't fantastically talented at it, it's not worth doing.

What happened to doing something simply because it's fun, because it brings us joy?

That's what I've been thinking about.

*bench=three small plastic orange schoolc chairs stacked on top of each other.

ten for ten

I've been telling everyone since Hijo's last birthday that I really like ten, that ten has to be the best year yet. A friend asked me why, so I decided to enumerate the reasons here.

1. At ten Hijo takes a shower all by himself. He doesn't even need me to set the water temperature anymore.
2. He will grab a book and read even if it's not for homework. He likes to read side-by-side with me as I read.
3. He likes to talk about his (and my) dreams. Every morning that's the first question he asks, "What did you dream?"
4. He has great taste in music. (Fatboy Slim, Spearhead, Ozomatli)
5. He's articulate. He's always had a pretty good vocabulary, but now I find him expressing himself in a way that just seems so grown up.
6. He says things like this.
7. He still loves to be tickled.
8. He can desconstruct a TV commercial.
9. He writes songs to play on his keyboard. Good songs.
10. Even though he seems to get more sophisticated every day, he's still a kid.

triumph!