I do realize that I left most of you hanging with the Punk/School situation.
Here's a quick update.
After Christmas break Punk and I had a long talk. At that point, he had spent the better part of the month doing everything in his power to "make a good situation for himself." And while both his father and I applauded the effort, we were not so certain that the life lessons he learned were great ones. In essence, this is what Punk took away from it:
"When people are nasty to you, it is your fault."
"If an adult says 'I don't like your personality' (OH yes she did), then you have a responsibility to change who you are."
"Even when you don't understand what you did wrong, tiptoe around the people that you seem to be pissing off just to make them happy."
I am not sure those are the type of things I want Punk to be taking from his elementary education.
However, in the interest of fair and honest coverage, I decided to ask around. I didn't want to be anybody's fool, and while I truly believe that he is a good kid, nobody's perfect, and I wanted to investigate before we made any real decisions.
After all, the current principal had assured us all the Punk had "Deep and serious social issues. That the entire staff was EXTREMELY worried about him." She made him sound like Columbine material - and if that were the case, something had to be done - NOW.
First stop was his former elementary principal. I stopped into her office, did not even have to introduce myself. She asked right away, "How is Punk? How does he like his new school? I really miss that kid."
What? MY kid? The future Unabomber? Seriously?
She went on to say that one of the most endearing traits about him is that everyone who knew him (and most people did) liked him. His teachers knew that if they put Punk in a group, the group would work together and get along - it's the kind of guy he is.
She went on to say that Punk was a highly gifted child, mentally, emotionally, and socially - a child with absolutely "NO social issues whatsoever" (an unprompted comment I might add). She continued to elaborate on the fact that he seemed to do well in any environment, was polite, courteous and appropriately funny.
When I shared some of his current issues at the new school, she looked almost sad and said, "Oh - I would hate to see Punk lose his fantastic sense of humor and become one of those people who forgets how to joke around just because he is trying to please somebody else."
OH
MY
GOD!
Far cry from "Punk, this goofing around persona you have just isn't working for you. Maybe you should try something else." (The last words his current principal spoke to him.)
Alright - so that was only one opinion right?
That's what I thought too.
So, in an effort to maintain Punk's self esteem, I took both he and Kooka back to the old school to wish their former teachers a Merry Christmas.
The reception was unreal.
As he walked down the hallway, kids came out of their rooms shouting his name, high fiving him, asking if he was coming back. Teachers shook his hand - not just HIS teacher, LOTS of teachers. They said they missed him. One class invited him to just come hang out for a while, while Kook and I walked to the other wing.
WTF?!! Does this sound like a kid with poor social skills? A kid who "looks for conflict"? A kid who I should be EXTREMELY worried about?!
Sooooooo - being the pessimist I am, I still wanted to know what was going on. I mean, Punk's troubles could not possibly be the result an overly defensive administrator going to any length at all to save face . . . could it?
Maybe the kids at this school are different. Maybe the parenting styles are not the same. Maybe Punk does not fit in with the kids at the new school - maybe it is that.
Which does not explain, why out of the 10 boys in his class, Punk has been invited to 5 birthday parties this year, 7 sleepovers, and who knows what else. It also does not explain what happened to my "socially deviant" son this afternoon.
As I was picking him up from yet another birthday party today, (a birthday party attended by kids from his NEW school) the birthday boy's mom approached me. "Oh," she said, "Brent just LOVES having Punk as a friend. He always said such good things about him, and when I met him myself today, I could see that they were all true. Punk is such a lovely child, an absolute delight. What a wonderful soul he is - thank you so much for letting him be here today."
Uhhhh - you're welcome.
But as she is gushing - another mom steps up and interrupts, "Are you Punk's mom? I am Erik's mom, and he is just dying to have Punk come over to play, he talks about him all of the time, and has been pestering me for weeks."
OK.
And you won't believe this - but as this mom is finishing up, Mom number THREE steps in to ask if I think HER son and Punk can play sometime, because Punk is (and I quote) "The kind of boy all mom's want their kids to hang out with."
Yeah - and when we get home - friend number 4 from new school wants to come over and play.
Where the hell is the principal now? Can I tape record this? Do I need to depose these women in her office?
Anyway - this is where we end up:
Punk and I had a long talk. I told him that I appreciate how hard he worked to make things better for himself, but that he deserved better than what he was getting from the adults around him. He deserves to be surrounded by people who believe in his innate goodness, not people who constantly question his personality.
A huge grin spread over his face.
"Mom," he said, "I just feel so good about myself now. I was starting to think that I really was a bad kid. That I was a troublemaker. I didn't even know what I had done, but I felt like everyone thought it, so it must be true. But when I saw my old teachers, and hear those things from my friend's mom's, I know who I am. I am a good person, and it feels really nice to hear THAT for a change."
I bet it does.
So I will say it again.
Punk is a great kid.
He has a beautiful heart and an amazing spirit.
He is loyal, peaceful and honest.
He believes in doing the right thing, even when it is difficult.
And right now, I am sickened by the people who tried to make me believe I was wrong about that.
Even more sickened that they tried to make HIM believe it.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Sunday, December 27, 2009
hate to say "i told you so"
Just for fun, I was reading about where all of the first families spent their Christmas holidays. I came across this little gem . . . none of it surprises me, especially the good parts:
Here’s a great question that was raised by a comment on our site: where have First Families traditionally spent Christmas?
It’s been noted that both Reagan and George W. Bush spent Christmas at the White House or Camp David, so that the agents protecting them could keep relatively normal schedules and be with their families on the holidays.
The Utopias, of course, are heading to Hawaii for Christmas, at great public expense flying Air Force One thousands of miles away on the taxpayer dime, and renting a $4,000 a night, giant mansion for them to play around in when the White House and Camp David are already bought and paid for by the public.
Their jetting off on an expensive taxpayer funded trip to Hawaii wouldn’t be quite so offensive if his family were actually still there… and since they can drag her family around on our dime too, why not head to Hawaii? It’s cold and dreary in Chicago right now, and not much better in DC. They probably believe that those Secret Service agents are so flattered to be in such an “unprecedented” and “historic” administration that they are glad to be away from their families during the holidays.
Besides, it’s been months since we’ve seen his glistening pecs and her fantastic arms!
What recession, right?
We honestly don’t know what the Clintons, George H. W. Bushes, Carters, Fords, Nixons, Johnsons, Kennedys, Eisenhowers, or Roosevelts did for Christmas, or where they spent it.
It might be a fun research project today and tomorrow to figure this out.
We never knew the Reagans decided to stay at the White House so they wouldn’t inconvenience the staff with a vacation during holidays…but it doesn’t surprise us at all that Reagan was decent and kind enough not to tear moms and dads away from their kids to do their duty when he didn’t need to.
And, frankly, it really doesn’t surprise us the Utopias gleefully abuse every perk afforded them. This is the woman who, after all, has been given everything she ever dreamed of and, yet, still asks “What are you getting me for Christmas? You should feel pressure” on national television.
Hope!
Change!
Me Me Me!
To be fair, I looked up the other Presidents as well. Most of them stayed in DC or Camp David to help their staff members stay close to their families. The Kennedy's the Bushes,the Eisenhowers, the Rooseveldt's the Reagans.
I am just glad that I was able to pull this off of somebody else's website - because I'd be tarred and feathered if I had written it myself.
Here’s a great question that was raised by a comment on our site: where have First Families traditionally spent Christmas?
It’s been noted that both Reagan and George W. Bush spent Christmas at the White House or Camp David, so that the agents protecting them could keep relatively normal schedules and be with their families on the holidays.
The Utopias, of course, are heading to Hawaii for Christmas, at great public expense flying Air Force One thousands of miles away on the taxpayer dime, and renting a $4,000 a night, giant mansion for them to play around in when the White House and Camp David are already bought and paid for by the public.
Their jetting off on an expensive taxpayer funded trip to Hawaii wouldn’t be quite so offensive if his family were actually still there… and since they can drag her family around on our dime too, why not head to Hawaii? It’s cold and dreary in Chicago right now, and not much better in DC. They probably believe that those Secret Service agents are so flattered to be in such an “unprecedented” and “historic” administration that they are glad to be away from their families during the holidays.
Besides, it’s been months since we’ve seen his glistening pecs and her fantastic arms!
What recession, right?
We honestly don’t know what the Clintons, George H. W. Bushes, Carters, Fords, Nixons, Johnsons, Kennedys, Eisenhowers, or Roosevelts did for Christmas, or where they spent it.
It might be a fun research project today and tomorrow to figure this out.
We never knew the Reagans decided to stay at the White House so they wouldn’t inconvenience the staff with a vacation during holidays…but it doesn’t surprise us at all that Reagan was decent and kind enough not to tear moms and dads away from their kids to do their duty when he didn’t need to.
And, frankly, it really doesn’t surprise us the Utopias gleefully abuse every perk afforded them. This is the woman who, after all, has been given everything she ever dreamed of and, yet, still asks “What are you getting me for Christmas? You should feel pressure” on national television.
Hope!
Change!
Me Me Me!
To be fair, I looked up the other Presidents as well. Most of them stayed in DC or Camp David to help their staff members stay close to their families. The Kennedy's the Bushes,the Eisenhowers, the Rooseveldt's the Reagans.
I am just glad that I was able to pull this off of somebody else's website - because I'd be tarred and feathered if I had written it myself.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Saturday, December 19, 2009
fireflies
This song is mommy and my favorite song. But I know the words better than she does. You should listen to it right now, I think you will like it.
Kooka
Kooka
Friday, December 18, 2009
merry cheesemas
It is one of our many many holiday traditions.
And if you've ever tasted one - consider yourself lucky. Just how lucky, I didn't even realize until this year.
Of course I am talking about CHEESBALLS!
They have been a Christmas tradition since I was a 4th grader, and it is one that both Punk and Kooka say they want to share with their own kids someday.
There is much love and time and mess that goes into our Christmas concoctions. Kooka loves the grating and squishing. Punk loves the grating, squishing and nibbling. I love everyone being together laughing and happy. Everybody wins.
Well, not everybody.
I was informed this year, that due to our limited supply of cheesey goodness, a person must be deemed "cheesball worthy" to receive one. Punk and Kooka claim it's an honor to make the list.
Qualifications include: being a blood relative (DNA samples required), or being in general someone who has made no attempt whatsoever to piss off Punk or Kooka throughout the entire year. It helps if you have lobbied for this cheeseball throughout the past twelve months by sucking up, telling them how smart they are, giving them candy, piggy back rides, or reading long stories to them.
If you don't fall into one of those categories you better get working on next year. Our freezer full of cheese is dwindling.
The two best parts - squishing and nibbling.
And if you've ever tasted one - consider yourself lucky. Just how lucky, I didn't even realize until this year.
Of course I am talking about CHEESBALLS!
They have been a Christmas tradition since I was a 4th grader, and it is one that both Punk and Kooka say they want to share with their own kids someday.
There is much love and time and mess that goes into our Christmas concoctions. Kooka loves the grating and squishing. Punk loves the grating, squishing and nibbling. I love everyone being together laughing and happy. Everybody wins.
Well, not everybody.
I was informed this year, that due to our limited supply of cheesey goodness, a person must be deemed "cheesball worthy" to receive one. Punk and Kooka claim it's an honor to make the list.
Qualifications include: being a blood relative (DNA samples required), or being in general someone who has made no attempt whatsoever to piss off Punk or Kooka throughout the entire year. It helps if you have lobbied for this cheeseball throughout the past twelve months by sucking up, telling them how smart they are, giving them candy, piggy back rides, or reading long stories to them.
If you don't fall into one of those categories you better get working on next year. Our freezer full of cheese is dwindling.
The two best parts - squishing and nibbling.
christmas program
Here are the long awaited photos of the Christmas program.
Punk was a nearly perfect Joseph in his camoflauge robe and pillowcase do-rag. He stood in front of the church smiling dutifully at the baby Jesus for over a half-an-hour. Only occasionally did he channel his inner Cher by flipping said pillowcase over one shoulder, then the other. Though neither he, nor his new wife could have been too enamored with the baby, since they left him sitting alone in the manger as they exited the church.
Kooka was a lovely little something-or-other. She sang beautifully, but I am still not sure what exactly it is that she was supposed to be. All I know is that I was less worried last year, when she was a sheep. This time around she looked like she was going to be sold to the highest bidder.
Punk was a nearly perfect Joseph in his camoflauge robe and pillowcase do-rag. He stood in front of the church smiling dutifully at the baby Jesus for over a half-an-hour. Only occasionally did he channel his inner Cher by flipping said pillowcase over one shoulder, then the other. Though neither he, nor his new wife could have been too enamored with the baby, since they left him sitting alone in the manger as they exited the church.
Kooka was a lovely little something-or-other. She sang beautifully, but I am still not sure what exactly it is that she was supposed to be. All I know is that I was less worried last year, when she was a sheep. This time around she looked like she was going to be sold to the highest bidder.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
slacker
My aunt with the Texas accent and no snow to shovel, recently brought to my attention, that I am doing a rather crappy job of updating this blog lately.
Therfore I feel compelled to post something - even if it is not all that interesting.
Our week started out with a snowstorm. Of course the professor was out of town - he's always conveniently out of town when it snows. And within days someone invariably asks him how he's liking Minnesota, and he says, "I don't understand why everybody says the winters are so hard . . .we have WET snow out east . . ."
Wet schmet.
Our dry snow was plenty challenge for Punk and Kooka and I. Thankfully I had a headmaster's holiday on the day of the storm, and didn't have to go to school. It took the three of us FIVE HOURS to shovel the driveway. Granted, we had two pair of decent gloves and three $4.99 shovels between us - but STILL. We just managed to get it cleared out when the snowplow came through and covered us up again. Somehow, Punk and I mustered enough energy to clear it off so the professor to pull his van in when he returned from the airport.
And right now, Punk and Kook are working on the world's biggest snowfort in our yard. Gotta go.
Therfore I feel compelled to post something - even if it is not all that interesting.
Our week started out with a snowstorm. Of course the professor was out of town - he's always conveniently out of town when it snows. And within days someone invariably asks him how he's liking Minnesota, and he says, "I don't understand why everybody says the winters are so hard . . .we have WET snow out east . . ."
Wet schmet.
Our dry snow was plenty challenge for Punk and Kooka and I. Thankfully I had a headmaster's holiday on the day of the storm, and didn't have to go to school. It took the three of us FIVE HOURS to shovel the driveway. Granted, we had two pair of decent gloves and three $4.99 shovels between us - but STILL. We just managed to get it cleared out when the snowplow came through and covered us up again. Somehow, Punk and I mustered enough energy to clear it off so the professor to pull his van in when he returned from the airport.
And right now, Punk and Kook are working on the world's biggest snowfort in our yard. Gotta go.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
getting married
Somebody in our family is getting hitched next weekend.
It isn't me.
It is Punk.
He's becoming a father as well.
The only reason I am not alarmed is because the whole thing happened through immaculate conception.
If you want to catch Punk as Joseph next Sunday - make sure you come to the 10:45 service at our church.
If there is any typecasting going on, Kooka will undoubtedly be portraying one of the census workers.
It isn't me.
It is Punk.
He's becoming a father as well.
The only reason I am not alarmed is because the whole thing happened through immaculate conception.
If you want to catch Punk as Joseph next Sunday - make sure you come to the 10:45 service at our church.
If there is any typecasting going on, Kooka will undoubtedly be portraying one of the census workers.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
grinch
Kooka and I have never been Obama fans anyway, but now that he is the "Grinch who stole Charlie Brown's Christmas" - we are even more disgusted. (I won't even mention what Punk had to say.)
Thursday, November 26, 2009
thankful
The past year has been difficult for all of us, but we also have much to be thankful for.
No matter what difficulties have come our way, we are lucky and we know it.
So last night we went to help prepare a Thanksgiving meal for the homeless. We helped peel and chop 1000 pounds of potatoes. Today, the professor and I are going back to help serve, while Punk and Kooka are in Wisconsin.
And even though it is pretty hard to be without your kids on Thanksgiving, as long as they keep growing into the kind of people who can peel vegetables until midnight to help another human being - I will always have something to be thankful for.
No matter what difficulties have come our way, we are lucky and we know it.
So last night we went to help prepare a Thanksgiving meal for the homeless. We helped peel and chop 1000 pounds of potatoes. Today, the professor and I are going back to help serve, while Punk and Kooka are in Wisconsin.
And even though it is pretty hard to be without your kids on Thanksgiving, as long as they keep growing into the kind of people who can peel vegetables until midnight to help another human being - I will always have something to be thankful for.
Monday, November 23, 2009
difficult people
Punk is learning a hard lesson at school.
There are difficult people in this world - people who cannot accept responsibility for their own culpability in certain situations, people who genuinely feel that they are smarter than others, people who will judge you just to make their own agendas seem valid.
And some of those people are not students.
And to be clear - it is not his teacher either. Punk loves his teacher. We all do.
I actually had a full length post written here - a full explanation about Punk's trials at his new school. But I have decided that the ramifications of printing the truth may have consequences for my younger child, who as of this writing is still at the school. (It isn't her teacher either - we absolutely adore her).
So I am moving this post to the private blog - and if anybody really wants to know what's going on - feel free to ask.
There are difficult people in this world - people who cannot accept responsibility for their own culpability in certain situations, people who genuinely feel that they are smarter than others, people who will judge you just to make their own agendas seem valid.
And some of those people are not students.
And to be clear - it is not his teacher either. Punk loves his teacher. We all do.
I actually had a full length post written here - a full explanation about Punk's trials at his new school. But I have decided that the ramifications of printing the truth may have consequences for my younger child, who as of this writing is still at the school. (It isn't her teacher either - we absolutely adore her).
So I am moving this post to the private blog - and if anybody really wants to know what's going on - feel free to ask.
Friday, November 20, 2009
new gig
Punk got his first commercial gig, and the retailers seem to love his style, because they keep commenting on the cool logo.
He drew the labels for the S.O.S. soap sack, which you can now buy at the local co-op and at Ooh-La-La.
They are pretty handy little devices, especially if you like to buy the homemade soap like we do, but our favorite part of the whole thing, is the great cartoon.
christmas bells
Tonight we went to ring the red kettle bell at the mall. We were only there for two hours, but Punk and Kooka did a great job, and I think they pulled in over 200 bucks.
On another note - both kids went to see Santa today, and were surprised/freaked out when he said "Kooka, you have been a really good girl this year, but I need you to pick up those doll clothes that are always laying on the floor. And Punk, you are such a great kid, and things have been tough in your school, so just keep listening to your mom and dad."
Even I was amazed.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
punk's poem
It has no title, but I think it is beautifully Punk, here is the start of his winter poem assignment:
As winter dawns near,
the critters flee from the icy layer of cold that muffles fall.
It's as if the animals are being pursued by a wave of snow.
Some birds fly away.
Some critters dig to make an underground home.
Some adapt and change to fit into winter.
Some,
fall fast asleep.
The whisper of winter chases animals into their warm shelters.
As winter dawns near,
the critters flee from the icy layer of cold that muffles fall.
It's as if the animals are being pursued by a wave of snow.
Some birds fly away.
Some critters dig to make an underground home.
Some adapt and change to fit into winter.
Some,
fall fast asleep.
The whisper of winter chases animals into their warm shelters.
Monday, November 16, 2009
help
I don't know who these girls are, and my only hope is that they don't have parents like the balloon boy, or a father like Joe Jackson. I hope that they are doing this of their own free will, because they don't look terribly happy about it - but damn they are good!
Why doesn't Disney hire kids like this instead of kids they have to teach to sing?
Why doesn't Disney hire kids like this instead of kids they have to teach to sing?
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
update
It's been a while since the last post, but time is precious, so here is a quick list of our life right now.
* Dance show on Wednesday night. Two hockey players, one soccer super-star, and a concert violinist dancing to my hip hop choreography. (Crazily - they look amazing together)
* Kooka is reading Matilda by Roald Dahl
* Punk is reading Al Capone Does My Shirts by Gennifer Choldenko
* Kooka has been busy for weeks on her inventions - the latest of which is a go-kart.
* My little brother's birthday is Saturday
* Both kids wrote out Christmas lists already, and are wondering why we don't have a tree up yet.
* Volunteering on Thanksgiving. Hopefully the kids will get to help out a few days before.
*Went to see the Director's play last weekend. Scared the bejesus out of everybody. Guess who's still sleeping with the light on . . .
* Working on a Flash Mob, and can't say any more about it. Shhhhhhhhh
* Dance show on Wednesday night. Two hockey players, one soccer super-star, and a concert violinist dancing to my hip hop choreography. (Crazily - they look amazing together)
* Kooka is reading Matilda by Roald Dahl
* Punk is reading Al Capone Does My Shirts by Gennifer Choldenko
* Kooka has been busy for weeks on her inventions - the latest of which is a go-kart.
* My little brother's birthday is Saturday
* Both kids wrote out Christmas lists already, and are wondering why we don't have a tree up yet.
* Volunteering on Thanksgiving. Hopefully the kids will get to help out a few days before.
*Went to see the Director's play last weekend. Scared the bejesus out of everybody. Guess who's still sleeping with the light on . . .
* Working on a Flash Mob, and can't say any more about it. Shhhhhhhhh
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
more from the "are you freaking KIDDING me?!" dept.
The class bully has not stopped. In fact, Punk has suffered at least 3 more assaults since the last writing.
We have been told that "there is no such thing as a bully" and that perhaps Punk has brought this on himself by "talking to this child" or "sitting at the same table." Everyone involved agrees that Punk has really done nothing wrong, but since he has no "special needs" - he needs to be the bigger person. He is supposed to understand that certain people have issues - and if their issues cause him physical scarring or even brain damage - well that is the way of the world - or at least the way of this particular school.
Ok.
Whatever.
That's not even the point today.
Today's file includes this little gem:
After another "difficult" child was stealing from Punk and his friends, Punk did exactly what his father and I asked him to do - he confronted the situation verbally. The kid then began clawing at Punk and pulling on his clothes. So Punk moved to plan B (also dished out by his fed-up parents) which was to physically extricate himself from the situation. We told him to put his hands out and shove, push, whatever you call it, to regain his physical space and safety.
According to his report - he did not even do what we asked. He turned and brushed the kid off of him. Said child fell to the ground and began complaining that Punk shoved him.
Good thing Punk is a near Buddhist. The kid is no saint - he is a bit of a goofball, and an incredible smart-alec when the occasion calls. But anyone who has met him knows that he is a pacifist. The kid won't even swat mosquitoes. He is not a hitter - which is sort of a shame at this point.
So tonight, Punk recalls his trip to the principal's office for me. "Mom," he says, "It's almost funny at this point, because the principal looks at the other kid and says, 'YOU stop clawing people,' then turns to me and says, 'and YOU quit shoving!' Like it is MY fault I had to pry this kids' nails off of my skin."
He actually laughs out loud when he says, "Oh no mom - you didn't hear the best part yet. Best part is when the teacher said, 'You know Punk if you are hitting people we will have to remove you from school.'"
Say it with me folks . . . WTF????!!!!!
Yeah - Punk's words were "Are you FREAKING KIDDING ME?! I have been pummelled in the face for two months, and the ONE time I actually take my parent's advice and protect myself, I am threatened with suspension?! What the . . . ?"
And if he had let the F word slip out, I could not possibly have blamed him.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
halloween
In case you have never been to our house at Halloween - your loss.
We go all out - Punk and Kooka especially.
This was just during trick or treating - the party afterward was even MORE amazing.
We go all out - Punk and Kooka especially.
This was just during trick or treating - the party afterward was even MORE amazing.
Friday, October 23, 2009
groceries
I am obviously shopping at the wrong grocery store.
Because most of this happens when I go to Cub Foods - but not nearly as much confetti.
But still - this video makes me incredibly happy.
Oh - and in case you're wondering - my role is usually the hot girl in the leather jacket - and yes, my legs do get really tired from climbing on top of the frozen foods containers.
Because most of this happens when I go to Cub Foods - but not nearly as much confetti.
But still - this video makes me incredibly happy.
Oh - and in case you're wondering - my role is usually the hot girl in the leather jacket - and yes, my legs do get really tired from climbing on top of the frozen foods containers.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
good company
Some kids have a watch dog.
Some have a kitten to curl up in their lap.
Not my kid.
Punk has been sick for 5 days, out of school for 3, and Walter the toad has taken very good care of him.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
the worst feeling ever
As much as I hate to get on an airplane tomorrow, what I hate even worse, was the fact, that for about 30 minutes tonight, I thought my child was lost (or worse - yes worse) in the woods.
He was on a school trip, and in case you are wondering - has been pulled from such school, until somebody - anybody, will tell us why the hell this happened - and what (if anything) they'll do to keep it from happening again.
I am exhausted from crying, Punk is not doing much better. He is OK, and the story is too long to explain here . . .but I will say this much:
The girl who has hit him in the face no less than 4 times this year, is still in his class despite their "so called" zero tolerance policy on violence. Apparently she gets an exception to beating the $#!t out of her classmates because she is "special needs" (Punk is not the only one who has been hit by her). And I am pretty sure that her "special need" is that she needs a "special kick in the ass" - but I digress . . .
First we have the issue with the class bully, and now nobody knew where our kid was for 45 minutes in the woods at dusk.
To be continued . . .
He was on a school trip, and in case you are wondering - has been pulled from such school, until somebody - anybody, will tell us why the hell this happened - and what (if anything) they'll do to keep it from happening again.
I am exhausted from crying, Punk is not doing much better. He is OK, and the story is too long to explain here . . .but I will say this much:
The girl who has hit him in the face no less than 4 times this year, is still in his class despite their "so called" zero tolerance policy on violence. Apparently she gets an exception to beating the $#!t out of her classmates because she is "special needs" (Punk is not the only one who has been hit by her). And I am pretty sure that her "special need" is that she needs a "special kick in the ass" - but I digress . . .
First we have the issue with the class bully, and now nobody knew where our kid was for 45 minutes in the woods at dusk.
To be continued . . .
Sunday, October 11, 2009
travel
Traveling to Florida. But not for a good reason. Somebody we love is gone.
I didn't get to know him long enough, but I know that he serenaded me in pizza parlor parking lot, tackled me on accident, and taught the professor to make amazing jelly pancakes.
We are all sad this week.
I didn't get to know him long enough, but I know that he serenaded me in pizza parlor parking lot, tackled me on accident, and taught the professor to make amazing jelly pancakes.
We are all sad this week.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
math
OK - so we are into the part of the school year where math drills are coming home in the backpacks. I, by the way, happen to be totally cool with that. It's a worthwhile endeavor. If Mrs. Fleischer hadn't made me memorize my times tables I would still be counting 7x6 on my fingers.
But Punk concerns me a bit.
His new school allows for "creative answers." Again - I am totally down with giving credit for somebody who thinks outside of the box . . . but . . . in this class you can actually get credit for coming up with a fantastic theory and still getting a completely wrong answer.
And this is why I am worried:
Last year, Punk is taking a big math test - not his first - wasn't like he'd never done it before, so I can't blame naivete'. The question goes something like this:
It takes 1 roll of paper to print 15,000 ten dollar bills. Each ream of paper weighs 26 pounds. You have 1,000,000 in the bank, and would like to withdraw it. The trouble is that your breifcase will only hold 11 pounds at a time. It takes 1 hour to get back and forth between your house and the bank. How much money can you fit into your briefcase at once, and how many hours will it take to make the withdrawl?
For a moment let's ignore the fact, that even M.I.T. doesn't even assign problems this convoluted, and take at face value that most fourth graders are going to attempt a logical response.
Not my kid.
His answer goes something like this:
"Is it a weekday? Because if it is - who cares - I'll just come back tomorrow, I'm in no hurry. Nothing I want costs more than a hundred bucks, and I know that much will fit. Besides, one briefcase full of cash should be enough for anybody. Is anybody really that greedy? If you have that much money you should just share it - why bother coming back at all? And my mom always says your money is safer in the bank anyway."
This is followed by a cartoon of a man with an overflowing breifcase being admonished by an angry mob.
So not only did he make no attempt to actually solve the problem - he wrote down NO numbers whatsoever, dragged my name into his communist response . . . and still got half credit!
And THAT my friends is why I have math phobia this year
But Punk concerns me a bit.
His new school allows for "creative answers." Again - I am totally down with giving credit for somebody who thinks outside of the box . . . but . . . in this class you can actually get credit for coming up with a fantastic theory and still getting a completely wrong answer.
And this is why I am worried:
Last year, Punk is taking a big math test - not his first - wasn't like he'd never done it before, so I can't blame naivete'. The question goes something like this:
It takes 1 roll of paper to print 15,000 ten dollar bills. Each ream of paper weighs 26 pounds. You have 1,000,000 in the bank, and would like to withdraw it. The trouble is that your breifcase will only hold 11 pounds at a time. It takes 1 hour to get back and forth between your house and the bank. How much money can you fit into your briefcase at once, and how many hours will it take to make the withdrawl?
For a moment let's ignore the fact, that even M.I.T. doesn't even assign problems this convoluted, and take at face value that most fourth graders are going to attempt a logical response.
Not my kid.
His answer goes something like this:
"Is it a weekday? Because if it is - who cares - I'll just come back tomorrow, I'm in no hurry. Nothing I want costs more than a hundred bucks, and I know that much will fit. Besides, one briefcase full of cash should be enough for anybody. Is anybody really that greedy? If you have that much money you should just share it - why bother coming back at all? And my mom always says your money is safer in the bank anyway."
This is followed by a cartoon of a man with an overflowing breifcase being admonished by an angry mob.
So not only did he make no attempt to actually solve the problem - he wrote down NO numbers whatsoever, dragged my name into his communist response . . . and still got half credit!
And THAT my friends is why I have math phobia this year
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
new school
We miss homeschooling.
I thought this new school would be a bit more like homeschooling, and we have not given up on it yet, but yesterday neither kid could tell me a thing they learned (though I am sure they did - their teachers are excellent) - and Punk's new friend was drawing "I hate South Iraq cartoons on our chalkboard . . . so I am not yet convinced this is the place for us either.
I thought this new school would be a bit more like homeschooling, and we have not given up on it yet, but yesterday neither kid could tell me a thing they learned (though I am sure they did - their teachers are excellent) - and Punk's new friend was drawing "I hate South Iraq cartoons on our chalkboard . . . so I am not yet convinced this is the place for us either.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
bad mother
If you haven't seen Mary Poppins yet - you absolutely must. I took the kids (and 40 students) to the cities last week to catch one of the last shows.
Kooka could not wait to don her own Mary Poppins outfit for the occasion. She got so many compliments from total strangers as we walked downtown . . . including these guys.
Insane Clown Posse was playing at a nearby club, and their fans were all over the place. They do look creepy - especially if scary clowns freak you out (aka - Punk), but they did break character when Kooka walked by. "Ohhh my gosh - she is sooooo cute!" they said. Kooka responded with a quick "thank you."
But I just couldn't let the moment pass - sweet little Mary Poppins chillin' with ICP . . . it was too much to resist - too weird. Hope this doesn't make me a bad mother.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
before and after
Let me be the first to admit that I went overboard . . .
. . .like freakishyly, frighteningly Jon-Bennet overboard.
But Kooka wanted a "big" makeover last weekend. (Emphasis on BIG)
The best part is that somehow she theorized on her own that you are supposed to make a "frowny face" in your "before" picture, so that no matter what happens your "after" picture looks better.
BEFORE
AFTER
. . .like freakishyly, frighteningly Jon-Bennet overboard.
But Kooka wanted a "big" makeover last weekend. (Emphasis on BIG)
The best part is that somehow she theorized on her own that you are supposed to make a "frowny face" in your "before" picture, so that no matter what happens your "after" picture looks better.
BEFORE
AFTER
jealous
It is not too often that I am jealous . . . but now is one of those times. I really really really wish that I had been the one to dream up this choreography:
Thursday, September 10, 2009
one of these days
I have Christina to thank for getting THIS little gem in my head.
If you listen to this once - just ONCE, you will be doing the chicken dance all day, and have this insane song running through your head.
Worst part is - I can't even pronounce the words. . . so I end up running around sounding like a mentally deficient toddler singing along to Japanese Sesamee Street.
One of these days - I will pay her back.
If you listen to this once - just ONCE, you will be doing the chicken dance all day, and have this insane song running through your head.
Worst part is - I can't even pronounce the words. . . so I end up running around sounding like a mentally deficient toddler singing along to Japanese Sesamee Street.
One of these days - I will pay her back.
wow
Punk entered this contest in the second grade. It was only by googling his name today that we found out he'd actually won something.
Well, actually, he didn't win anything but respect . . . but still, landing in the top 20 out of 800 is pretty amazing. Even more amazing when the entrants are 6-14 years old . . . even more amazing when he is the youngest kid to even make the list.
His drawing is pure Punk - but his essay was not too shabby either . . .
Made us all feel pretty good today.
Check it out here:
PUNK'S CONTEST
Well, actually, he didn't win anything but respect . . . but still, landing in the top 20 out of 800 is pretty amazing. Even more amazing when the entrants are 6-14 years old . . . even more amazing when he is the youngest kid to even make the list.
His drawing is pure Punk - but his essay was not too shabby either . . .
Made us all feel pretty good today.
Check it out here:
PUNK'S CONTEST
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
first day - no jitters
New shoes, new clothes, new school - no problem.
Both Punk and Kooka gave their new school two thumbs up.
Punk's favorite part was how easy it was to make new friends.
Kooka agreed - but also really liked that they get to eat lunch in their classrooms.
Monday, September 7, 2009
boycotting target
Had to stop at Target for a few last minute school supplies - because even though both kids had gym shoes, what they didn't have was any actual shoes to wear to school - which means Punk would show up barefoot, with his hair in a fauxhawk, smelling slightly of swamp. Not exactly the kind of first impression we need to make in a new school - and at least I can DO something about the barefoot part.
So I go to check out tops for Kooka - size 6x mind you. I have one in my hand, when I take a closer look at the sign - "Fun and Flirty."
Seriously?
Flirty?
In second grade?
Does that need to be part of their already cheapening advertising campaign? . . . "Hey six year olds - it's fall, time for phonics class, dodgeball and hooking up! What better way to catch that special someone's eye at recess, than with our fun and flirty ensembles. Add a pair of smokin' hot low rise jeans and jailbait lip gloss - and you'll never have to sit alone at lunch again."
In case you're wondering -
no, I did not buy them -
purely out of principal.
Which is too bad - because they were cute.
So I go to check out tops for Kooka - size 6x mind you. I have one in my hand, when I take a closer look at the sign - "Fun and Flirty."
Seriously?
Flirty?
In second grade?
Does that need to be part of their already cheapening advertising campaign? . . . "Hey six year olds - it's fall, time for phonics class, dodgeball and hooking up! What better way to catch that special someone's eye at recess, than with our fun and flirty ensembles. Add a pair of smokin' hot low rise jeans and jailbait lip gloss - and you'll never have to sit alone at lunch again."
In case you're wondering -
no, I did not buy them -
purely out of principal.
Which is too bad - because they were cute.
Friday, September 4, 2009
it's official
So I am teaching my class the other day - Dance 1 to be exact - and we are doing the whole "get to know you" stuff. The students fill out a little sheet and we go around and guess who said what - blah blah blah.
So I get to the Russian kid - who speaks 5 different languages (YEAH - FIVE), and this gets the whole room talking, and I realize that aside from me - everyone in the room is fluent in no less than THREE languages. And we're talking HARD ones - French, Madarin, Russian, Korean.
Fantastic.
I am the teacher, and officially the dumbest person in the class.
So I get to the Russian kid - who speaks 5 different languages (YEAH - FIVE), and this gets the whole room talking, and I realize that aside from me - everyone in the room is fluent in no less than THREE languages. And we're talking HARD ones - French, Madarin, Russian, Korean.
Fantastic.
I am the teacher, and officially the dumbest person in the class.
Monday, August 31, 2009
one teensy problem
I will post pictures or video or something of the new house soon.
For the most part, I am in love with this place. Big backyard, everybody's bedroom on the same level, finished laundry room, mature trees, space for dancing in the basement - all things I didn't even know I loved until I didn't have it. But there is always something - always some little hook - that isn't quite right, and I discovered it today.
I borrowed a mower, so I could tackle the 4-inches of grass that were threatening to engulf the house. About ten minutes into it, my dream home became less dreamy.
Toads.
The first two didn't bother me - they were small, and crouched down pretty low to avoid being hit on the second pass with the mower. But after the 12th one, I just screamed. Screamed so loud that Punk and Kooka came running over to see if I was OK.
It was like a plague.
These things were all over the place - big ones - trying to crawl back under the mower - which I was now terrified to move - lest we all be sprayed with copious amounts of amphibian guts.
There are TWO gianormous problems with toads.
ONE: The only things that eat them are owls - which are in short supply around here, SNAKES - which I can do without thanks, and other, bigger toads. I can't win this one. No toads means there must be snakes - or giant toads in the yard. But the other option is having the little ones try to burrow into my keens as I mow. Neither is acceptable to me.
TWO: Even if the mower did manage to quietly and cleanly obliterate the disgusting little gnomes, toads happen to be Punk's very most absolute favorite animal on the planet. So there is a fair amount of guilt associated with this issue. I guess for me it would be the equivalent of having Punk come in after a day of yardwork and say "Hey mom, you might not wanna go outside for a while. I think I accidentally plowed over half-a-dozen bottlenosed dolphins out there." The trauma would be more than I could take.
So what am I supposed to do? If I call Punk to get them out of my way, he goes into rescue mode immediately. As I type - there are SIX of them housed in his bedroom. SIX!
At the going rate for crickets - we are now into $350 a year to feed these fricking things! FEED THEM!!! My GOD - why didn't the mower just do it's job?!
Eventually, the professor took pity on me, and stopped moving furniture long enough to finish the backyard.
I am seriously considering buying an owl.
For the most part, I am in love with this place. Big backyard, everybody's bedroom on the same level, finished laundry room, mature trees, space for dancing in the basement - all things I didn't even know I loved until I didn't have it. But there is always something - always some little hook - that isn't quite right, and I discovered it today.
I borrowed a mower, so I could tackle the 4-inches of grass that were threatening to engulf the house. About ten minutes into it, my dream home became less dreamy.
Toads.
The first two didn't bother me - they were small, and crouched down pretty low to avoid being hit on the second pass with the mower. But after the 12th one, I just screamed. Screamed so loud that Punk and Kooka came running over to see if I was OK.
It was like a plague.
These things were all over the place - big ones - trying to crawl back under the mower - which I was now terrified to move - lest we all be sprayed with copious amounts of amphibian guts.
There are TWO gianormous problems with toads.
ONE: The only things that eat them are owls - which are in short supply around here, SNAKES - which I can do without thanks, and other, bigger toads. I can't win this one. No toads means there must be snakes - or giant toads in the yard. But the other option is having the little ones try to burrow into my keens as I mow. Neither is acceptable to me.
TWO: Even if the mower did manage to quietly and cleanly obliterate the disgusting little gnomes, toads happen to be Punk's very most absolute favorite animal on the planet. So there is a fair amount of guilt associated with this issue. I guess for me it would be the equivalent of having Punk come in after a day of yardwork and say "Hey mom, you might not wanna go outside for a while. I think I accidentally plowed over half-a-dozen bottlenosed dolphins out there." The trauma would be more than I could take.
So what am I supposed to do? If I call Punk to get them out of my way, he goes into rescue mode immediately. As I type - there are SIX of them housed in his bedroom. SIX!
At the going rate for crickets - we are now into $350 a year to feed these fricking things! FEED THEM!!! My GOD - why didn't the mower just do it's job?!
Eventually, the professor took pity on me, and stopped moving furniture long enough to finish the backyard.
I am seriously considering buying an owl.
whew
The new house feels like home. It felt like that from the moment we walked in.
Both kids slept in their own rooms last night - no arguments, no worries.
We still have a lot of work to do - and I need to be in class tomorrow - but things are finally coming together.
We have wonderful neighbors - and two of our favorite girls came over to play today.
Come visit us soon.
Both kids slept in their own rooms last night - no arguments, no worries.
We still have a lot of work to do - and I need to be in class tomorrow - but things are finally coming together.
We have wonderful neighbors - and two of our favorite girls came over to play today.
Come visit us soon.
Friday, August 21, 2009
moving
We are moving - again. This time we are happy about it.
Might be quiet here for a while until we get settled.
We've only moved a few things.
The first two things Punk brought over were his robot dinosaur - and the grenade.
Thanks Pa.
Might be quiet here for a while until we get settled.
We've only moved a few things.
The first two things Punk brought over were his robot dinosaur - and the grenade.
Thanks Pa.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
quote of the week
.
.
.
"Hey Pa - thanks for the grenade!"
Punk -
upon receiving real military weapons from his grandfather
.
.
"Hey Pa - thanks for the grenade!"
Punk -
upon receiving real military weapons from his grandfather
Sunday, August 16, 2009
school supplies
Much to everyone's disappointment, it is almost time to shop for school supplies.
This used to be easy - a new notebook, and some sharpened pencils and we were done. Maybe some new markers for good measure . . . but we didn't need much else.
That is, until Kooka decided to take a swing at public school - last year's supplies for first grade alone (not counting clothes) set us back over $65. SIXTY-FIVE dollars! Sixty-five bucks worth of glue sticks, and tissues, and pencils, and dry-erase pens, and God-knows what else.
This year, both kids are going to a new charter school. Not that they didn't good opportunites last year - it was an important experience for both of them. Still, we think this school will be the next best thing to homeschooling.
But we haven't received our school supplies list yet. Based on what I know, it will likely be something like "a handful of river pebbles, one feather, and organic wood pulp so they can make their own paper."
Regardless - second grade should cost us less than first.
This used to be easy - a new notebook, and some sharpened pencils and we were done. Maybe some new markers for good measure . . . but we didn't need much else.
That is, until Kooka decided to take a swing at public school - last year's supplies for first grade alone (not counting clothes) set us back over $65. SIXTY-FIVE dollars! Sixty-five bucks worth of glue sticks, and tissues, and pencils, and dry-erase pens, and God-knows what else.
This year, both kids are going to a new charter school. Not that they didn't good opportunites last year - it was an important experience for both of them. Still, we think this school will be the next best thing to homeschooling.
But we haven't received our school supplies list yet. Based on what I know, it will likely be something like "a handful of river pebbles, one feather, and organic wood pulp so they can make their own paper."
Regardless - second grade should cost us less than first.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
kooka's prize
We are not really sore loosers at our house - not really at all. And if the truth must be known, I am rather glad to be done with all of this "please judge my child worthy" business.
But today is a little difficult. It is hard to explain to a seven year-old why she didn't win, when random audience members came up to her afterward and said things like "What the hell happened?" One person even went so far as to say, "WTF? Give me a fricking break! She was hands down the best in all three categories!"
Two visiting princesses found her after the show to say, "You were amazing! I do not understand why you didn't win."
Makes it even tougher to swallow when their chaperone says, "Yeah - I remember you from last year - you got ripped off then too."
Nice.
None of that bothered me today - we weren't looking for a win. But, when the "lead" judge gave her a dirty look and elbowed the center judge as if to say "It's an act - she's really a little snot," it was about all I could handle. She accused Kooka of the same thing last year.
Hate to come right out and say this - but I have to.
Contrary to popular belief - some kids do actually have manners. Not that mine are perfect by any stretch, however, Kooka happens to be a good looking kid with near impeccable manners when she is in a public setting. She is talented - (she added the magic trick to her song - not me). She sits quietly, she doesn't fidgit, she looks you in the eye when you talk to her, she loves to be on her best behavior and be praised for it. She is a bit serious and likes to do things right - always. She doesn't make many mistakes because she is hard on herself - she likes perfection - it is who she is.
She is not a fake, or a fraud, or pretending to be something she is not. She is my daughter - my amazing beautiful daughter, who was not only poised and well-spoken today, but who - when it was all said and done - clapped for the winner with a smile on her face, and had the spirit to say this:
"Mom - if they don't want me like I am, then I am lucky to have not been chosen. I am happy being me."
There is no prize in the world better than hearing those words.
But today is a little difficult. It is hard to explain to a seven year-old why she didn't win, when random audience members came up to her afterward and said things like "What the hell happened?" One person even went so far as to say, "WTF? Give me a fricking break! She was hands down the best in all three categories!"
Two visiting princesses found her after the show to say, "You were amazing! I do not understand why you didn't win."
Makes it even tougher to swallow when their chaperone says, "Yeah - I remember you from last year - you got ripped off then too."
Nice.
None of that bothered me today - we weren't looking for a win. But, when the "lead" judge gave her a dirty look and elbowed the center judge as if to say "It's an act - she's really a little snot," it was about all I could handle. She accused Kooka of the same thing last year.
Hate to come right out and say this - but I have to.
Contrary to popular belief - some kids do actually have manners. Not that mine are perfect by any stretch, however, Kooka happens to be a good looking kid with near impeccable manners when she is in a public setting. She is talented - (she added the magic trick to her song - not me). She sits quietly, she doesn't fidgit, she looks you in the eye when you talk to her, she loves to be on her best behavior and be praised for it. She is a bit serious and likes to do things right - always. She doesn't make many mistakes because she is hard on herself - she likes perfection - it is who she is.
She is not a fake, or a fraud, or pretending to be something she is not. She is my daughter - my amazing beautiful daughter, who was not only poised and well-spoken today, but who - when it was all said and done - clapped for the winner with a smile on her face, and had the spirit to say this:
"Mom - if they don't want me like I am, then I am lucky to have not been chosen. I am happy being me."
There is no prize in the world better than hearing those words.
Friday, August 14, 2009
the great kookini
Tomorrow is Kooka's big day - her big debut as a real magician.
Not sure why I am nervous - she's been performing since she was three - but still . . .it is unnerving to have your baby out of arms reach, in front of hundreds of people, attempting to entertain alone.
But for once, she is more nervous than me. I think the combination of singing and performing magic simultaneously has her little brain reeling. It was her choice, but when she said prayers tonight it went something like this, "Dear God, I know there are more important things out there, but please, please help me not to spill my water, and help me remember my words, and just not FREAK OUT!"
Yes, dear God, for the sake of us all, PLEASE.
Not sure why I am nervous - she's been performing since she was three - but still . . .it is unnerving to have your baby out of arms reach, in front of hundreds of people, attempting to entertain alone.
But for once, she is more nervous than me. I think the combination of singing and performing magic simultaneously has her little brain reeling. It was her choice, but when she said prayers tonight it went something like this, "Dear God, I know there are more important things out there, but please, please help me not to spill my water, and help me remember my words, and just not FREAK OUT!"
Yes, dear God, for the sake of us all, PLEASE.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
homeschooling
I initially started this blog to write about our homeschooling adventures. We have had lots of them lately - but we're not quite as good as these guys. This cracked me up.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
the great american road trip - home at last
It will take days to recover - but we are finally home.
One last stop at the Corn Palace in Mitchell, SD - and we were done.
Whew.
When I get a chance to update I will . . . but in the meantime, I have to get myself ready for Camp Liz next week, school the week after, Kooka ready for the DJJD show next weekend, and Punk prepared to end his summer - which may be the toughest task of all.
One last stop at the Corn Palace in Mitchell, SD - and we were done.
Whew.
When I get a chance to update I will . . . but in the meantime, I have to get myself ready for Camp Liz next week, school the week after, Kooka ready for the DJJD show next weekend, and Punk prepared to end his summer - which may be the toughest task of all.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
the great american road trip - day 14
Someday, I will do this trip justice. But for now - here is the latest update:
The truth about South Dakota is - there isn't much there.
Miles and miles with nary a gas station - yet somehow, we had the time of our lives.
The best bang for our buck was in Rapid City, SD at the dinosaur park. For 99¢ you can get a hot dog with all the fixings, a root beer, and small bag of popcorn. While we munched Punk and Kooka climbed on the Jurassic jungle gym - 1930's era life-sized, concrete dinosaur statues. Thank goodness we were traveling with kids who really know their dino stuff, contrary to the info there - brontosaurus is not a real dinosaur, and as far as I know, t-rex did actually have teeth. But it was fun nonetheless.
We couldn't drive I-90 through this state without stopping at the badlands. It is one of Punk's favorite places in the entire world - giant mountains of ancient volcanic ash to climb and explore. Oddly enough - Kooka was wearing the exact same thing she was wearing when we were here 4 years ago - same hat, same shirt, same hoodie. I took way more pictures than I needed to - including one of the "beware of rattlesnakes" sign.
We finished our night in Murdo, SD at the LandMark Inn - which is absolutely charming and keeps their indoor pool heated to 90° and open until midnight. We ordered dinner from Prairie Pizza - amazing stuff - and to top it off, the crust is brushed with a light cinnamon sugar glaze, which you dip into the warm cups of frosting they add free to every order. Dinner and dessert all in one.
Hopefully, we'll be home tomorrow!
The giant trike outside of the LandMark hotel.
Monday, August 3, 2009
the great american road trip - day 13
We are finally heading home.
After a quick stop at a mountain man encampment, we went to visit Old Faithful, and spent the next nine hours on the most harrowing mountainside highways in America. After hours of 20-35 mph switchbacks we finally landed in Sheridan, WY.
After a quick stop at a mountain man encampment, we went to visit Old Faithful, and spent the next nine hours on the most harrowing mountainside highways in America. After hours of 20-35 mph switchbacks we finally landed in Sheridan, WY.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
the great american road trip - day 12
Day 12 - and though I am still fighting ebola - or whatever it is I've got, I could not leave Yellowstone without taking Punk and Kooka whitewater rafting.
So after a drive through the bubbling mudpots, hotsprings and other earthly rarities, we climbed aboard a giant yellow raft with our guide Tyler for a 2 hour trip down the Yellowstone River. It was amazing - but I am too sick to write much more.
Punk and Kooka want me to say that they do miss their family and friends (especially Daddy and Maia), and that they will have lots of adventures to share with you when they get back.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
why
Why are about 25 different people lurking on this site, but treats is the only one who ever leaves us a note?
the great american road trip - day 11
The Great Salt Lake is a wasteland. I suppose there is some value in being able to say you tried it - but not enough value to outweigh the absolute disgustingness of the place.
Of course that means ONE of us loved it.
Punk thought floating in the lake was "amazing," which I guess is true, if your idea of amazing is swimming in lukewarm brine with billions of gnats and trillions of sea monkeys. The rest of us thought it was like taking a dip in a hot outhouse hole.
The black clouds moving over the lake were visible from 600 yards out.
They were swarms of gnats - and they were everywhere.
Kooka reluctantly followed me in, high footing the entire time. I didn't have the heart to tell her that her Russian goose-stepping wasn't going to protect her from the infinite number of brine shrimp carousing in the water. The lake was actually orange from all of the shrimp, and the whole place smelled like semi-decayed cat food. I did manage to get her in deep enough for both of us to float, but that was about it. Punk and our friend hung around a bit longer, but not much. When we returned to pick up our bag and shoes on the shore, it was a scene of Amityville proportions. We couldn't see our shoes, or the bag - they were black, absolutely covered in gnats. I had to grab each item and do the Olympic hammer throw just to get the bugs off - and then we had to pick them up quickly, before they settled down again. I have not seen anything so vile in a long time.
On the flip side, our little cabin in Yellowstone is absolutely perfect - Laura Ingalls locks on the doors, a porch swing, the smell of dying campfires wafting through the window. As I snuggled a very sleepy Kooka on the swing tonight she whispered, "Mommy, this is one of my happiest moments of this whole trip." It was for me too. The only downside is that Punk seems to be catching my most terrible cold/sore-throat/malaria, and the one thing he has been looking forward to most ended with him cuddled up in bed early. Hopefully he (and the rest of us) will bounce back soon.
Of course that means ONE of us loved it.
Punk thought floating in the lake was "amazing," which I guess is true, if your idea of amazing is swimming in lukewarm brine with billions of gnats and trillions of sea monkeys. The rest of us thought it was like taking a dip in a hot outhouse hole.
The black clouds moving over the lake were visible from 600 yards out.
They were swarms of gnats - and they were everywhere.
Kooka reluctantly followed me in, high footing the entire time. I didn't have the heart to tell her that her Russian goose-stepping wasn't going to protect her from the infinite number of brine shrimp carousing in the water. The lake was actually orange from all of the shrimp, and the whole place smelled like semi-decayed cat food. I did manage to get her in deep enough for both of us to float, but that was about it. Punk and our friend hung around a bit longer, but not much. When we returned to pick up our bag and shoes on the shore, it was a scene of Amityville proportions. We couldn't see our shoes, or the bag - they were black, absolutely covered in gnats. I had to grab each item and do the Olympic hammer throw just to get the bugs off - and then we had to pick them up quickly, before they settled down again. I have not seen anything so vile in a long time.
On the flip side, our little cabin in Yellowstone is absolutely perfect - Laura Ingalls locks on the doors, a porch swing, the smell of dying campfires wafting through the window. As I snuggled a very sleepy Kooka on the swing tonight she whispered, "Mommy, this is one of my happiest moments of this whole trip." It was for me too. The only downside is that Punk seems to be catching my most terrible cold/sore-throat/malaria, and the one thing he has been looking forward to most ended with him cuddled up in bed early. Hopefully he (and the rest of us) will bounce back soon.
Friday, July 31, 2009
the great american road trip - day 10
Taking this trip is like breathing a giant sigh of relief - like crossing things off of life's giant "to do" list. The kids have swam in both the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. They have seen the Mojave Desert, the top of the Rocky Mountains, the places where both of their parents grew up, and several national parks. They have body surfed in Rincon, seen both the decadence of Vegas and the squalor of the southwest. They have tried new foods, stared in wonder at red-rock canyons, been chased by giant tortoises, and ridden in Walt Disney's car.
And they have done all of this - 3000 miles so far with the most amazing enthusiasm. There have been no handheld video games, no portable dvd players, no ipods - just books, friendship bracelet supplies, mad-libs, journals, and favorite CD's.
Most of our travel plans were made on expedia - and although I was a little creeped out by the $9 a night Vegas hotel, I was happy to spend $48, to stay at the Egyptian themed Luxor. Not only were we treated to a pristine ionized pool, sideways moving elevators, a scented outdoor hottub, and funky hiroglyphic decor - but we also got to stay inside the pyramid.
But apparently we were not the only nomads shopping expedia. The punks in front of us smelled of both B.O. and marijuana (and I only cal them that because they were wearing matching shirts that said "Yes I am a Punk"). The dreadlocked one had a patch that read "point of no return" placed strategically over the backside of his pants. I don't even know what it was supposed to mean, and pretty sure I don't want to.
There were young children carousing in the hotel lobby at 12:30am - most of them speaking French - most of their parents pissed that nobody else seemed to be able to. Even the French kids in strollers were yelling at somebody.
The barely 21 year-olds barely dressed, huddled together hiking their skirts up in case nobody had noticed them yet. It was even too much for fashion-concious Kooka who exclaimed - "for pete's sake - that doesn't even LOOK good - put some pants on!"
Oh well - I wanted them to see more of America . . . guess I got my wish.
Tonight we are hanging out in Nephi, Utah - Roberta's Roadside Retreat - it is the perfect roadtrip motel - we swam under the stars, ate raspberry ice cream and lemonade pie in the hottub, and and watched bad TV until most of us fell asleep.
the great american road trip - day 9
After a much needed sleep-in, we headed for Rincon with Kelley and the boys. Punk had a blast surfing the big waves, while Kooka stuck to the waist deep sandbar about waist deep. I, for one, will never, ever ever dig my toes into the wet sand again - the live animals Kelley pulled from the shore made me more than a little uneasy. We found shells, lobster tails, sea slugs, more sandcrabs than we needed to, and tons of giant crab claws. Punk was so enthralled with the tide pools, and body surfing, that I had to drag him out of the ocean to get him dried off for the rest of our trip.
After goodbyes to our cousins, we headed to Bakersfield, CA. I won't say much about that trip here - there aren't enough words, but I will say this - when I stood in the place where my mother died, my own 7 year old held my hand and said "Thank you for letting me see this mommy," it was even worse . . . or maybe better, than visiting that gravestone.
After goodbyes to our cousins, we headed to Bakersfield, CA. I won't say much about that trip here - there aren't enough words, but I will say this - when I stood in the place where my mother died, my own 7 year old held my hand and said "Thank you for letting me see this mommy," it was even worse . . . or maybe better, than visiting that gravestone.
the great american road trip - day 8
The fact that I have a most serious sore throat might have something to do with how I feel about today - but I doubt it. Today we hung out with Uncle B - I love to spend time with him. He is a history buff, and one of the only people in the world who remembers my relatives. We looked through old photo albums, I got to hold the sword that my granddad pulled off a Nazi at Normandy and we visited the cemetery. I have 8 relatives buried in that place - 8 people I used to know - it was more than a little draining.
But the day ended with pizza and the cousins playing light sabers in the front yard - which is not a bad way to wrap things up.
But the day ended with pizza and the cousins playing light sabers in the front yard - which is not a bad way to wrap things up.
the great american road trip day 7
Day two at Disneyland was more of the same - with a few highlights - Punk got to ride the Indiana Jones ride, Kooka got to hit the teacups.(Doesn't she look like the happiest seven year-old ever?) Punk got his first ride on Space Mountain, and Kooka got to visit Storybook Village. We rode in a car that Walt Disney used to drive, and Punk's almost religious caressing of the driver's seat was alone worth the price of admission.
Monday, July 27, 2009
the great american road trip - day 6
Disneyland.
In July.
Really no more to be said - except thank God for Tiffany and her friend Jessica - they know more about Disney than Roy, Walt and Punk put together.
More Disney tomorrow.
Yikes.
In July.
Really no more to be said - except thank God for Tiffany and her friend Jessica - they know more about Disney than Roy, Walt and Punk put together.
More Disney tomorrow.
Yikes.
the great american road trip - day 5
Day 5:
If we thought we were exhausted before, it's only because we forgot how hard it is to keep up with my cousin Kelley. After a brunch at Mike's restaurant (best chile rellanos in the WORLD), we headed to the beach.
We ran through the cold Pacific waves, Kooka finally lost her wiggly front tooth while walking on the pier, Punk ran through the waves with his cousins, and Kelley dug up sand crabs for us to poke at.
After the beach, it was off to the harbor, where we met up with Tiffany (cousin #2) and went for a peddle boat trip in the ocean. Needless to say, I sort of sucked at it, and it wasn't until Punk and Kooka took control that we actually started going anywhere. We watched real crabs scuttle across the rocks below, and a huge seal popped up about a yard from our boat.
After a quick stop for ice cream, it was off to the Oxnard salsa festival, where we sampled dozens of salsas and guacamoles from all over the city. We found an amazing tie-dye dress for Kooka - and Punk picked up a free sombrero.
We headed back to Uncle B's house, where Kelley barbequed tri-tip steaks - that even Punk proclaimed "delicious." (Really - there is nothing this chick can't do).
Tomorrow she is waking us up at 5 am to go to Disneyland . . . .
Kooka's freshly missing tooth on Ventura Beach.
Oxnard Salsa festival
the great american road trip - day 4 - more
After a quick stop at the MGM casino to see the lions, we hit the road again. The trip through the Mojave desert was about 112°, so it was with some trepidation that we stopped at Calico - a real silver mining ghost town, just outside of Barstow, CA.
It turned out to be one of the highlights of our trip. Calico boasts a "mystery shack" - where the laws of gravity are flipped upside down - water runs uphill, it's impossible to stand up straight - we all loved it. We also stopped at the saloon for old time root beer. Punk loved the fact that they gave you free buckets of peanuts, and encouraged you to spit the shells on the floor. Kooka panned for fools gold - and found quite a bit.
We pulled into Ventura late that night - exhausted and ready for bed.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
the great american road trip - day 4
I am not sure how day four will end (hopefully in Ventura), but for now, Punk and Kooka are loving the extravagant Vegas lifestyle - sipping fruit smoothies poolside at the lovely Tuscany Suites.
the great american road trip - day 3
Day 3 started with a game of giant checkers in Moab. The life-sized checker set was part of the playground at our campsite. Punk and Kooka had a ball playing - and true to form, hyper competitive Kooka won, while Punk was content to just jump his pieces all over the place.
Our first stop for the day was Arches National Park. We tried to get an early start to avoid the heat, but at 10 am it was already 98°. Punk was excited to see this place because scenes from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade were filmed in the park. We drove through while playing the Indy theme song.
I did request that we actually get out and make the 100-yard hike to see Delicate Arch. If you ask Kooka about this hike, she will regale you with tales not unlike the Battan Death March - so feel free to inquire. ("Miles," she says, "miles with no shade - no water - it was soooo difficult.") I am pleased to report that she made it back down the hill in record time - before the rest of us, so apparently she suffered no serious injury.
After arches we were on the road to Vegas - which basically meant we saw nothing but Rock and canyons for 5 hours. Nothing - and that is not an exaggeration.
Vegas has been a whirlwind for us all.
Part of the appeal of the Canyonlands was the sheer "nothingness" of it all - just rock - just earth - no water, very little vegetation, empty space . . . so to travel from nothing, to the overcrowded decadence of Vegas in one day, was a bit of culture shock.
Both kids loved the lights, and the crazy ceiling on Freemont street. We watched the street artists (the guy with the spray paint cans knocked Punk's socks off when he finished an outer-space-star-wars-scene in under 3 minutes). We caught a bit of the pirate show at Treasure Island (enough to see the explosions) and the water dance at the Bellagio.
Punk spent the better part of the night protecting his little sister. "Kooka - don't look at that poster." "Kooka you should not be seeing this." - which only enticed her curiosity. I, on the other hand spent the better part of the night distracting him from the pimps - hoping that he wouldn't even think to ask about them.
For now, we need sleep - desperately - we have to get to California tomorrow!
the great american road trip - day 2
For days we've been without wi-fi. So many adventures - but nowhere to blog - and we have to get back on the road quickly - so here are a few updates.
Most of Thursday was spent in Colorado. We stood at the top of the continental divide and threw snowballs in July. We rode a tram up the Rocky Mountains, and an alpine racer down. Kooka mined for gems, while Punk tried to find his way out of a wild west adventure maze in Glenwood Springs, CO. We drove through the night until we ended up at our cabin in Moab.
The tram stopped halfway up, swaying precariously in the Rocky Mountain wind. We were at least a quarter mile in the air. Both Punk and I enjoyed the ride down much more - reaching closer to safety with each second. THe tram was the only way to get to the adventure park and the Alpine Racers. But as Punk continued to remind us - the best way to conquer fear is to face it. (Pretty sure he got that from Yoda, or Spongebob or something, but it was appropriate advice nonetheless)
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
the great american road trip - day 1
If you know us at all - you already know the story. Two weeks, eleven states - and this is day one.
For now, we are hunkered down in Big Springs, Nebraska - a Motel 6 where "they'll leave a light on for you". Would be a nice touch if the same could be said of the pool drain covers. For the past 30 minutes I have been waiting for the woman in the kiddie pool to have the sweat pants she is swimming in forcibly sucked from her body.
"Only in Nebraska." It's been the mantra for the day So many things have us scratching our heads - and most of them occurred at the Henry Doorly Zoo in Omaha.
The Doorly Zoo boasts the largest indoor rainforest in the world. At first glance, it's a pretty amazing scene - real waterfalls, rope bridges crossing watery gorges, ivy and vines hanging everywhere . . . it looks exactly like something Punk would build.
Which is the whole problem. The cleanliness, craftsmanship and safety precautions are about up to 4th grade standard.
The first board on the rope bridge is loose - way loose - spins 180° loose, even Punk takes off a little timidly. The rock walkways are slick with mud and water - good thing we brought those Keens.
Punk's favorite section is the Kingdom of the Night. It is here that we see vampire bats drinking cereal bowls full of blood. Here, that we wander through a simultaneous awe-inspiring, terrifying realistic swamp. There is nothing but a ramshackle wooden footbridge and a bit of chainlink fence between our feet and a swampy pool of 7 foot Florida gators. Add to this, the fact that it is pitch black in this exhibit - it's not like we can see anything anyway. And at one point both Kooka and I are fairly startled to see a particularly fat gator less than 6 inches from our foot. There is nothing to keep the oppossums on possum island, and there is a conspicuous lack of volunteers in the swamp. I half expect that creepy voodoo lady from Pirates of the Carribean to pop up and start telling us about the mating habits of the Boat Bill Heron.
And then there is the grotto. I can't even begin to describe this - it's late, we are exhausted, but let's suffice it to say, that this is a disaster waiting to happen - a disaster of Baby Jessica proportions. Right after a blind corner, there is a ten foot deep pool - open - no gate, surrounded by unstable footing. At first we thought it was some sort of clever mirror trick, or at least a plexiglass covered pool - but nooooooo - not in Nebraska! It was indeed - just what it looked like - a 10 foot deep well, waiting for an overexuberant toddler, or an old man in a hoverround to take that blind corner too quickly. (I admit, morbid curiosity did force me to linger there a bit longer than I should have.) Here is a picture of Punk and Kooka peering over the edge.
The rest of the cave was filled with bat cages held together with questionable sections of patched chicken wire. Thankfully the blood-sucking ones were behind glass. Needless to say, when the "fire alarm" went off, and the attendant told us she wasn't sure what the problem was, we assumed that a gila monster had jumped the fence, or another body was being pulled from the grotto, and we headed for the aquarium.
Anyway - tomorrow is Colorado, and a bit of Utah.
Maybe I will do tomorrow justice . . . but for now, if I could skip over Nebraska I would.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
ummmm
Looked outside the window the other day, and saw Punk outfitted in this Wile E. Coyote contraption.
Thank god we were fresh out of ACME dynamite.
Thank god we were fresh out of ACME dynamite.
Monday, July 20, 2009
crazy
Crazy. This show was completely crazy.
Don't get me wrong - the whole thing was wonderful. Punk and I had an AMAZING time working on Bye Bye Birdie. The cast was so much fun - smart, sarcastic and supportive - not to mention talented. For four months Punk had two moms, two dads and two sisters - (though his stage version was slightly more dysfunctional). Kooka got to hang out with some of the coolest teenagers in town, and I began to remember why I love my job.
But, still, having said all of that, it was still over the top - crazy over the top.
The show sold out - not just one night - every single night. This is a pretty rare occurrence for summertime community theater. I mean - we're good (really good actually), but still - it was almost creepy how badly people wanted to see this show.
We offered eight jump seats per night, and people were lined up three hours before the show started to get one. It was like the Michael Jackson's Victory Tour. No lie - there was a lady sitting outside with a pillow and blanket - wouldn't be surprised if she had camped out all night to get in. Another group of people asked if they could pay triple the price for the one remaining seat, and have three people sitting on laps. Seriously?!! On LAPS?! By that point you wouldn't even be able to see - what would be the point just to say you were there - like Woodstock?
And the post show was no less weird. Actually some some lady my age came up to the ticket booth and ask, "So - Conrad Birdie - what's he like in real life?" The lady taking tickets didn't really even know how to respond - can't say that I blame her.
Anyway - aside from the borderline mania at the box office, the show was amazing.We are so lucky to have spent the summer with our old friends, and met so many new ones too.
Punk's pics were taken in the greenroom and afterwards at the meet-and greet - where I am reminded daily - the MacAffees always stood together.
Contrary to how it looks - Punk ADORES the guy in the green shirt (we'll call him Maude). Maude taught Punk how to take a fake punch - and all kinds of dirty jokes that hope I will probably never hear.
Don't get me wrong - the whole thing was wonderful. Punk and I had an AMAZING time working on Bye Bye Birdie. The cast was so much fun - smart, sarcastic and supportive - not to mention talented. For four months Punk had two moms, two dads and two sisters - (though his stage version was slightly more dysfunctional). Kooka got to hang out with some of the coolest teenagers in town, and I began to remember why I love my job.
But, still, having said all of that, it was still over the top - crazy over the top.
The show sold out - not just one night - every single night. This is a pretty rare occurrence for summertime community theater. I mean - we're good (really good actually), but still - it was almost creepy how badly people wanted to see this show.
We offered eight jump seats per night, and people were lined up three hours before the show started to get one. It was like the Michael Jackson's Victory Tour. No lie - there was a lady sitting outside with a pillow and blanket - wouldn't be surprised if she had camped out all night to get in. Another group of people asked if they could pay triple the price for the one remaining seat, and have three people sitting on laps. Seriously?!! On LAPS?! By that point you wouldn't even be able to see - what would be the point just to say you were there - like Woodstock?
And the post show was no less weird. Actually some some lady my age came up to the ticket booth and ask, "So - Conrad Birdie - what's he like in real life?" The lady taking tickets didn't really even know how to respond - can't say that I blame her.
Anyway - aside from the borderline mania at the box office, the show was amazing.We are so lucky to have spent the summer with our old friends, and met so many new ones too.
Punk's pics were taken in the greenroom and afterwards at the meet-and greet - where I am reminded daily - the MacAffees always stood together.
Contrary to how it looks - Punk ADORES the guy in the green shirt (we'll call him Maude). Maude taught Punk how to take a fake punch - and all kinds of dirty jokes that hope I will probably never hear.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
californa here we come
So the show is almost over, the bags are almost packed, and I am about to head off on a road trip of gigantic proportions.
I have not been on a roadtrip of any significant distance since I was 10 years old and my dad dragged us and his Linda Ronstadt 8-tracks from the middle of California to Flaxton, North Dakota and back again. I have vivid memories of dirty Motel Sixes, eating Buddig Turkey straight out of the plastic envelope, and a cult leader in Utah giving me a necklace made of paperclips and contact paper.
Good Times.
Who knows what will happen this time around. My list of plans, lists, fast food coupons, MapQuest directions and possible educational stops are about 35 pages deep. I am pretty sure all my dad had was a gas station road map and a rough idea of where he could find Custer's Last Stand.
Both kids suitcases have been packed for days - double checked (daily) and nothing has been left out. We have food, two cameras, a borrowed GPS, an entire storage container full of books, two bottles of sunscreen - 50spf, educational supplies, junior motrin, sunglasses, kid-friendly atlases, freshly laundered blankets, and approximately 220 road-trip friendly songs on CD (which will make for a much more pleasant driving experience than the 3 partially melted tapes my father chose to bring with us).
In a nutshell - we are ready to roll . . . yet I am a little uncertain if all of this planning is going to serve us any better at all. My dad told us to throw some pajamas in a paper bag and make sure we had shoes on. I saw the better part of America wearing the same shirt and 78¢ flip-flops from the grocery store . . . I am not so sure that Keenes and an ipod are going to change things much.
Regardless, we will keep you all posted. 2000 miles is a long treck - I am sure we will have lote of adventures along the way.
I have not been on a roadtrip of any significant distance since I was 10 years old and my dad dragged us and his Linda Ronstadt 8-tracks from the middle of California to Flaxton, North Dakota and back again. I have vivid memories of dirty Motel Sixes, eating Buddig Turkey straight out of the plastic envelope, and a cult leader in Utah giving me a necklace made of paperclips and contact paper.
Good Times.
Who knows what will happen this time around. My list of plans, lists, fast food coupons, MapQuest directions and possible educational stops are about 35 pages deep. I am pretty sure all my dad had was a gas station road map and a rough idea of where he could find Custer's Last Stand.
Both kids suitcases have been packed for days - double checked (daily) and nothing has been left out. We have food, two cameras, a borrowed GPS, an entire storage container full of books, two bottles of sunscreen - 50spf, educational supplies, junior motrin, sunglasses, kid-friendly atlases, freshly laundered blankets, and approximately 220 road-trip friendly songs on CD (which will make for a much more pleasant driving experience than the 3 partially melted tapes my father chose to bring with us).
In a nutshell - we are ready to roll . . . yet I am a little uncertain if all of this planning is going to serve us any better at all. My dad told us to throw some pajamas in a paper bag and make sure we had shoes on. I saw the better part of America wearing the same shirt and 78¢ flip-flops from the grocery store . . . I am not so sure that Keenes and an ipod are going to change things much.
Regardless, we will keep you all posted. 2000 miles is a long treck - I am sure we will have lote of adventures along the way.
Monday, July 13, 2009
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