Dumbells

MyHusband was watching the news and I was sitting on the couch knitting a sock for my oldest. There was a “news” story about lipo-suction. It can be used to get rid of floppy upper arms. They called them bat wings. I stopped knitting to watch clips from the procedure. It was gross and looked painful. They finished the story by saying the procedure was now available for so many thousand dollars. I was about to temporarily loose my faith in humanity when the camera turned to Jim Vance.

 “Or you could buy some dumbbells and do tricep exercises,” he said.

I love that man.

Thinking about College

Doctor that fixes broken hearts
Midwife in a under the sea laboratory
Artist
Rock Star
Hotel Tester
World traveler in a submarine
Tight Rope Walker in the Circus
Archeologist
Potter
Dog Groomer
Marine Veterinarian

There are so many things a child can grow up to be. The list above is a sample of the various career choices my children have considered in their collective 20 years. I don’t suppose any of these require a college degree, but they would need knowledge and skills. They would also need the desire to find people willing to share their knowledge and skills…or their submarine. Success in any field requires connections and networking.

As they get older their choice of careers may change and they may want a career that requires the skills to perform open heart surgery, design underwater laboratories, or prosecute the people responsible for injuring frogs and sea turtles. The best way to obtain this knowledge and these skills is by taking advantage of the concentration of knowledge and the extensive social networks on college campuses all over the world. That’s the most efficient way of doing it.

Even though I don’t feel college is always necessary, I hope my children go to college. I believe that a college degree will make their life a little easier. A better paying job means less worry over money. The social connections they make could mean more opportunities for advancing in their career. I would like them to have a fancy piece of paper that opens doors for them. It doesn’t matter to me that none of my beliefs are necessarily true. I’d rather they have something they don’t need than to be without. That’s called being a parent.

So when asked the question, “Is ‘college for all’ a worthy goal or even necessary?” it’s a simple answer. Sure, it’s a worthy goal. All children should be told, if they’re willing to work at it, they can do anything they want. If a person wants to go to college, they should. If a person wants to fly planes or spend their life creating junk sculptures, they should. College is a worthy goal but it should be a goal that can be dropped and replaced when there is a better means to the ultimate goal – responsible adults doing what makes them happy.

More thoughts on this and other topics at the Thinking Parents Wiki

The Road Ahead

Today I was sitting at a stoplight and I looked over at the person sitting in the car to my left. It was a very old woman. She was dressed nicely, like old women do, and her hair perfectly styled. I imagined she was wearing just a little too much flowery scented perfume. I wondered if she was feeling happy for her independence or if she wished she had someone to drive for her. She was in the turning lane to go to the mall and I wondered what she was going to buy. Then I started to imagine what she looked like when she was twenty. It seems that some things are not to be imagined.

At that moment, a huge gust of wind came and blew through her window. One side of her hair lifted completely up and stood on the top of her head. It was still in a perfectly formed curl. The loose skin from the left side of her face was pushed under her chin and started to flap in the breeze. I thought, Holy Crap, I didn’t need to see that! I spent the rest of the trip with my eyes firmly focused on the road ahead of me. The literal road was familiar, but the metaphorical road, that one kind of scared me and it didn’t seem as long as it should be.

Extra Credit?

I’m not writing anything for this edition of Thinking Parents – Do you agree that ‘college for all’ is a worthy goal? I am, however, submitting four logos. Maybe I can get some extra credit or something. If you’re a thinking parent and would like to add your opinion, head on over there. It’s a self-serve wiki. Just add your link to the bottom of the page. All thinking parents are welcome. (I think the pages are left open, so if you have something to add to the past topics you can do that too.)

If you’d like a larger logo you can get the 200X200 size here.  I have a few more ideas for logos so check back in a few weeks.

The Sweetest Sound

I was looking at the calendar today and noticed that there are only seven weeks before the start of the new school year. This isn’t something I normally care about, but this year is different. My oldest will heading off to middle school this year. I have mixed feelings about it.

As her mom I want her to go and be successful. But a small part of me hopes that sixth grade dropout will be added to her résumé. I’ll never forget the day she dropped out of first grade. “I’ve thought about it, Mom, and I’m dropping out of school. It’s wasting my time. If you won’t teach me, I’ll teach myself.” She’s never been a boring child.

I’ve gone through the all the steps and got her registered. They required a test to determine her instructional level before she started. After she finished the test she was a little upset.

“I didn’t answer all the questions and I forgot what perimeter was. Then I remembered, but I forgot how to add. I’ll probably have to be in a stupid class”

I assured her that she wouldn’t be in a “stupid” class and told her I had no problems embarrassing her by bothering the counselor until she put her in the right class. We moved on and haven’t thought about it much since.

Then a letter from the school board came. I was a little slow to open it. In the last four years, my daughter has not spent one day being taught by a certified teacher. Her teacher doesn’t even have a college degree. She hasn’t used a true curriculum for three years and she spends most of her day playing. This didn’t bother me in the least until I sat there with that unopened letter.

“I’m sorry, Oldest. You know how I told you I would bother your counselor until she put you in right class? Well, it’s not going work out.”

“Is the class already full?”

“Nope. I can’t go and bother your counselor because they already put you in an advanced class. It’s a one-year acceleration. You little smarty-pants. You don’t let me have any fun. I was looking forward to fussing at your counselor!”

She sat there smiling and giggling. It was the sweetest sound. I’m going to be missing it in a few weeks.

The Moment of Reckoning

So far, I have eaten radishes plucked from my garden at the peak of readiness. I’ve sampled a few carrots and picked my first hot pepper. It was wonderfully hot. I have eaten so much fresh green lettuce that I can’t stand the sight of it anymore. I now grab full plants and pull them roughly from the ground. Then I sneak to the compost and throw them in. Die little suckers die! You are no longer welcome here.

I’m not sure what evil demon of nostalgia convinced me I needed a cornfield in my suburban backyard, but it’s doing well. The ears are just starting to fill out. Hopefully soon I’ll have some corn on the cob and corn stalks for Halloween decorations. It’s looking good.

The squash has finally decided to stop rotting on the vine and I should be cooking them up soon. I’m on my second harvest of broccoli, the cabbage is finally making heads, and three of the five potato buckets have been dumped out. This is all fine and good.

I made raspberry jam from the last of the raspberries and blackberry jam from the first of the blackberries. There are also four pints of plum sauce in my pantry. This makes me happy.

But those of you that know me best, and love me in spite of it, know that all of this is just a means of occupying myself until my true passion can be fulfilled. Yes, today is the day. The day of the fresh ripe tomato. I’m slightly overcome with emotion right now, but don’t fear. I found the corkscrew and I bought a bottle of Merlot with a chicken on it for the occasion. Life is good.

Lightly Powder Scented

I have this shirt. It’s a good shirt. It’s the most comfortable shirt ever made by man, or beast, or more likely machine. I’ve had it since I pregnant but I don’t remember with which child. So, it’s between 9 and 12 years old. It’s a size 2XL mens (100% cotton…pre-shrunk!) and I bought it because I thought I was so big it would be the only thing to fit me by the time I gave birth. Thankfully, I didn’t get that big.

It is more of smock than anything. The arms are so big that they hang down like wings. This is a handy feature. When it gets hot I flap them and make a cooling breeze. It’s a nice breeze with a light powder fresh scent, unless I forgot to put on my deodorant.

My shirt is supposed to be a light bluish-gray color but it has some white paint spatters from when I painted the trim and some green from when I painted something green. There is also a spaghetti sauce spot on the right breast area from spaghetti sauce. I feel this adds to the charm.

When I wear this shirt it is a form of creative expression. It speaks for me. It communicates an important message between me and MyHusband. He sees me in my shirt and he knows it’s saying, “Hey, why don’t you go and pretend your doing something important in the garage before your wife makes the next few hours of your life a living hell.” Non-verbal communication is important in a marriage.

My shirt has been there for me through hormonal outbursts, exhausted tirades, and dually evacuating stomach flues. It’s a true friend. I know this shirt so well it’s like I can wear it any time I want. You just don’t have many human friends like that.

Today I went to put it on. It was waiting for me in the bottom of my bottom drawer. I stripped down and pulled the comforting goodness over my head. I went to flap my wings when I heard a strange sound. A moan, maybe more of crackle. I examined it closely and everything appeared fine. Then I pulled gently on the shoulder seam. It moaned again. After a few minutes of stunned silence I realized the truth, my friend was dry rotting. I checked the Internet but there was no treatment. I made a few panicked calls to a clothing specialist (my mom) but the answers were all the same. There was nothing I could do but wait for the end.

It’s a sad, sad day around the ImPerceptible household, but don’t worry about me. I’m strong and I’ll be fine. Life will go on. It just won’t be as comfortable and it will no longer contain a lightly powder scented breeze. I’ll adjust.

Too Funny

Me: Are you going to drink your milk out of an elephants snotty nose?

Youngest: Hey, why not?  Yesterday I drank out of a monkeys tail.

Me: Oh. 

Keep a Hand on the Light Switch

When my oldest was about four her grandfather told her not to step on cracks because it would break her mothers back. A few days later we were walking and I noticed her stepping on a crack in the sidewalk and then looking at me. A few feet later she stepped on another one.

“Is your back OK mommy?” she asked.

“Are you trying to break my back?” I asked just a little peeved that my sweet baby was trying to break my back.

“No! I think granddad was kidding. Does your back hurt?”

I assured her I was fine and we walked on. “My little scientist,” I thought proudly even though I was a little concerned that she was willing to sacrifice my back for the sake of science. But that’s my oldest. I wouldn’t want her any other way.

I guess some things never change. She had a sleepover and I heard one of her friends say “Don’t do it you might die!” I went running in to see what the hell was going on. Apparently the legend of Bloody Mary was the topic of the night. She was planning to lock herself in the bathroom and try to summons Mary’s ghost.

“Why would you try something if you thought you could die?” I asked just a little bit peeved that my hormonal pre-teen was attempting something that she thought could end in death.

“Mom! I don’t think I’ll die. I’m proving it isn’t true.”

I choked back my laughter and gave them all a poorly prepared lecture about not doing stupid things. They finally decided that they would try to see the ghost but they would go in pairs, holding hands, with the hand of the safety person on the light switch. If they saw even a flicker of red light in the mirror they would turn on the light rendering Bloody Mary unable to harm them. I left them to their own and went back up front.

I know they’re going to do stupid things. Probably their fair share of dangerous things. Didn’t we all? But after they had finally gone to sleep I peeked in the door at the faces of little girls trying so hard to grow up and I couldn’t help but worry about them. I stood there a long time and one thought kept coming to mind. Please, please, little girls, look after each other and always keep a hand on that light switch.

I’m a Quitter

Hello. My name is ImPerceptible and I’m a quitter. Yep, you heard me. I’m a quitter. If you don’t believe me, I can prove it. Here’s a list.

Things I have quit:

1. Smoking – That was a nasty habit I wish I had never started.
2. Drinking until I puke – MyHusband is not an enabler. Spending the night with your face pressed against the toilet is a fast way to learn the meaning of moderation.
3. College – Three times.
4. My job – Several times.
5. Fishing – I don’t eat fish anymore and catch and release seems cruel.
6. Eating raisins and peanuts – I guess I haven’t quit this, I just haven’t done it in a long time. It’s the ultimate in salty sweet goodness.
7. Being too shy or embarrassed to ask for what I want in bed – Who knew men really like to know what you want. Even if Especially if it’s freaky.
8. Picking a fight with my husband and grabbing my pillow and blanket to go sleep on the couch just because I want him to come in there and tell me he loves me and doesn’t want to sleep without me.
9. Studying Karate and Judo – But I can still kick the hell out of something if I want to.
10. Caring what people think about me.
11. Not caring about what people think about me.
12. Cleaning my house with harsh chemicals
13. Being afraid of spiders

I’m sure there’s more. I’ll keep you posted. Any other quitters out there?