Cruising

Spring Break has officially started, and boy, am I excited!!! Last October, Jim surprised me with an anniversary present - A CRUISE. A real and actual honeymoon (10 years later)! Wow! He will never outdo this one. I was shocked and excited and ready to go right then.

Well, the waiting is over. Spring Break is HERE. And it's cruise time, people. I'm elated! See you when we get back!

P.S. (to Jack and Emma) I will MISS YOU SO. Behave, my babies.

Emma Argues

Emma's entering an arguing-for-the-sake-of-arguing phase. Sometimes it's cute. Sometimes it's not. Sometimes I think she just feels the need to say the opposite of what I'm saying to ascertain the fact that she is an independent two year old and can. Sometimes what she's arguing makes no sense. Sometimes it does. Sometimes I'll pull a Bugs Bunny on her just for a laugh.

Now I'm sure, as she grows older, there will be plenty of mother daughter arguments that I'll want to forget. But for now, here's one to remember:


Emma: "I want to go to Sunday School, Mom."

Me: "But Emma, it's not Sunday today."

Emma: "It IS Sunday, Mom."

Me: "No, today's Thursday. It's not Sunday."

Emma: "It IS Sunday, Mom! It IS! I want to go to Sunday School!!!!"

Me: "Emma, it's not Sunday today. I'm sorry."

Emma: (walking over toward the window) "It ISSSS Sunday, Mom. The sun ISSSSS shining!"

Geocaching

I don't have a lot of hobbies really. I tried to cross stitch as a child. I'd seen my mother be passionate about the craft. I couldn't stick with it. When dainty little threads get tangled and I can't easily accomplish the untangling, I want to punch someone in the face. Fishing was never too much fun for the same darn reason. Curse you, you snagging bushes across the river! I tried scrapbooking for awhile. I loved it, but it was time consuming, expensive, and messy. Storage for equipment was also an issue. Later, I was given a guitar because over and over again, I'd expressed a desire to learn to play someday. Someday hasn't come yet, but the guitar does add an element of decor to our office. And then, one day a friend recommended blogging. Blogging is about the only thing that has seemed completely natural and joyful as far as hobbies go. I smile as I write to you even now. Two hundred and some odd entries later, I am pretty sure it's gonna keep on making me happy. But today? Today I just might have discovered a NEW hobby.

Lately, I've learned about geocaching. What IS geocaching? Imagine the movie National Treasure, and blend it with a White Elephant Gift exchange. Waaa-lah! = Geocaching.

Geocaching is an outdoor scavenger hunt for hidden waterproof containers bearing "treasure". Ideally, a geocaching participant uses the exact geographic coordinates of the hidden container with a GPS device. One could use their mobile smartphone... if one was smart enough to figure out how. (I was not.) If you're extremely lucky and persistent, though, one could just go on a wild goose chase, simply willing oneself into a find. (Disclaimer: A strong will may work only if you've also got extremely descriptive internet clues to go along with it. I did.) Anyway, you locate a hidden container somewhere on the planet, open it, sign the log as if to proclaim that "so and so's been here", and if you wish, replace a "treasure" inside with something you're willing to part with. The treasures are small, cheap, and overall pretty stupid, but if you get hung up on that, you're completely missing the point. The neat thing about geocaching is that it is simultaneously popular AND obscure. That's weird, if you ask me. If you visited http://www.geocaching.com/, for example, you would see a world map with little cache icons ALL OVER IT. It is very likely that there are tons of hidden little containers that have been planted right in your neighborhood, town, or city. But have you or your neighbor ever heard of geocaching? Probably not, right? I sure hadn't. All of this mega fun is right there under your nose! Who knew?! It's exciting.

Danavee and I set out on our first round of geocaching just this morning. Here is the highlight reel:

See this footbridge over Kansas Expressway? I bet you've driven your car under it a hundred times, never once considering that it possessed treasure! But, oh yes, it does.

Danavee and I made a plan. We put our heads together to decipher the clues. We exited the car and nonchalantly ascended the bridge to find what was hidden there.

But wait! ACT NATURAL. Look closely in the background and you'll see some biking/non-geocaching passersby. Passersby are hazardous to the sport, they say. If you are seen poking around in strange places, it potentially ruins the secret society aspect of the fun. You DO NOT want any ol' yahoo to walk up to you and say, "Hey there, uhhh, whatcha looking for.. hiccup?" (This yahoo has the voice of Disney's Goofy in my imagination, so that's why the hiccup... in case you were wondering.) In order to prevent a geocaching calamity, we improvised. We quickly plopped down on the retaining wall, acting as if the random "PEACE" gesturings that we were giving to each other was something normal people would be doing. Geocaching takes smarts and quick thinking, see. When they and a few others had passed, we attempted again.

We ambled up the ramp, looking for something the size of a 35mm film canister. This first pass was unsuccessful. Argh. Back to the car for some additional reconnaissance work.

Lo and behold! Ten minutes later... Danavee shouted (from prone position), "OH MY GOSH, I FOUND IT!" We were SUCCESSFUL and elated geocachers. The feeling of discovery was absolutely thrilling. Our jumping up and down and screaming was conspicuous, I'm sure. But who cares? WE FOUND IT. And now, to the car for the big reveal...

Oh yeah, geocaching. I like you. And I'll be back again for more.

Thanks, Brigitte Dale, for the inspiration!

Roller Skating Revelry

The family went roller skating today to celebrate Jim's parents' 40th wedding anniversary. 40 years is a long time, by the way. Happy Anniversary! In keeping with the theme of "things long withstanding", we went to Skateport (yes! it's still around) during their 2-4 p.m. Saturday free skate. The place looks EXACTLY the same as it did when I started going to skating parties in first grade. Same benches. Same carpet (ew). Same clackety floor tile at the snack bar that makes skating without falling pretty darn near impossible. I'm even willing to bet that the possibility that Jack was wearing an exact pair of skates that I wore as a child is not that far fetched. It was fun to reminisce and celebrate the day.

From left to right: Jim's dad (an excellent skater), Jack (an unsteady, but zippy skater who is not pictured much in this entry because he never remained still for long), Cecilia, Rose, Aunt Kim, and Maria (all skaters who did the Henze name very, very proud), Emma (a child born-to-move... not necessarily skate, but for sure, move), and me (a skater who activated muscles today that haven't been awake since goodness knows when). Not pictured but behind the camera: (Jim's mom and Jim - excellent skaters, in theory, although they both opted out of skating due to common worries of falling and hurting their wrists. Like mother, like son.)

Most of my Skateport time was spent skating with, chasing after, or dancing with Emma. We had a fantastic time.

Initial attempts

Getting a little better

But when all else fails, just DANCE, people.

The Monitor

I still sleep with the baby monitor next to my head at night. Technically, I guess I have no "babies" in the house to monitor anymore, but you know. It's something of a comfort. Jim used to give me grief about my attachment to the thing, but I think he's long given that up. We're both pretty sure that I'm not going to change my worrywarting ways. Logically, I know I probably don't need it anymore as Emma's getting bigger and bigger. But emotionally, I'm attached to the sound of Emma breathing, I guess. With Jack, I did the same.

Most nights, I hear virtually nothing as Emma's a pretty sound sleeper. But I'm also a sound, sound, sound sleeper. On the rare occasion that she wakes up and needs me, wakes up sick, or is just upset in the middle of the night, it's been a good thing to have the monitor on emergency eavesdrop duty. And so I keep buying batteries for it.



Apart from my emotional attachment to it, the monitor has come in handy a time or two, though, for sentimental purposes. Early Saturday morning, here is what we woke up to:


Jack (walking into Emma's room): Good morning, Emma.

Emma: Good morning, Jack. I want Mom. I want Mom, Jack!

Jack: Want to go downstairs, Emma?

Emma: No! I want Mom, Jack.

Jack: Emma, (deep breath) Mom is SUPER sleepy. She can't even hear you. Will you let me get you out of your bed? Let's go see Mom, Emma.

Emma: Ok, Jack.

(Some lifting, grunting, and general crib noise here)

Emma: Ow! Ow! You hurt me, Jack.

Jack: I'm sorry, Emma. Did you get an ow-ie? Here, let me rub it.

Emma: Thank you, Jack.

Jack: You're welcome.

Emma: I love you, Jack.

Jack: I love you too, Emma. (fading as they walk out of the room)



Yep... I'm thinking that this conversation just bought me a few months longer with the monitor still beside my head at night. I'm adding AA batteries to the grocery list right now.

"Mom, why?"

I had "the talk" with Jack this morning. It wasn't the birds and bees talk. It wasn't about strangers. It wasn't even about saying no to drugs. Now that I think about it, this talk may not even occur in all households. I guess mine is a unique perspective, and my kids are gonna want to know "stuff". So today's topic? "Why are teachers sometimes kinda mean?" A sad Jack wanted to know.

"What do you mean, Jack? Tell me more. What happened?"

"Wellll, I was trying to tell Mrs. Rose about the decorations on great grandpa's casket at his funeral. She acted like she didn't believe me. She just looked at me like I was fibbing."

"I don't understand, Jack. How do you know she thought you were lying?"

"I raised my hand, Mom. And she said, 'What is it, Jack? What do you want to say so badly that you want to interrupt our lesson and talk to me about?'.... I told her that I still have a decoration from grandpa's funeral and that I could bring it to school so that she could see it. Then she just looked at me... like she didn't believe me..."

Suddenly this picture is clearer. I feel a strange sensation. My heart hurts for my child... And his teacher.

Jack's getting older, and it's starting to occur to him that kids sometimes... annoy adults. (Gasp!) And although he's not yet old enough to understand exactly how this is sometimes something he can control and prevent, he is old enough to understand that when this happens, it's occasionally hurtful and confusing.

Jack sat there and scratched his head. I felt so badly for him at that moment. He is so sweet and innocent. And although I was the kind of kid who might've presented this story with some dramatic slant to it -- really emphasizing how much of a victim I was when I recounted it to my mother, I know that Jack is not that way (yet). He's honestly confused and clueless as to what he's done wrong. And for that, I wanted to scoop him up. Overworked and tired adults can be really thoughtless sometimes.

I know and understand what's happened in Jack's classroom. Mrs. Rose is going through her own "February". She's killing herself everyday to teach kids - kids that very often do everything they possibly can to be anything BUT receptive to the learning. Maybe she was teaching reading when the kids weren't particularly focused on the Abe Lincoln story-of-the-moment. Maybe they wanted to push each other, or make noises, or draw, or kick each other under the table, or think about lunchtime, or wave at someone in the hallway, or look out the window, or even tell stories about their uncle's neighbor's chihuahua. Maybe she was already at maximum frustration. And maybe somewhere in the midst of that incredibly exhausting and fragile tug-of-war for attention, Jack raised his hand and ended up feeling like he did. Oh, the power we have as teachers...

I hope the both of them have a better day today.

(P.S. I said "No" when he asked if he could take the funeral decoration to school with him today so that she would believe him.)

Instead, I'll let him show you. Sigh... Poor little guy.

February

This week I'm not loving my job. Yes, I'm glad and thankful to have a job. But I'm not loving my job. I'm allowed. It's February.

February is the most undesirable month of the school year, in my opinion. It's cold. It's long. It's gray. It's tedious. In the words of my friend Terri, "Everyone, once in their lives, should have to substitute teach in a February." I agree.

Sometimes to get myself through a really TERRIBLE mood, like the one I'm sporting now, I quit trying so hard to ignore the hatefulness just under my skin. I actually turn to basking and wallowing in it. I feel sorry for myself. I imagine things like... alternative career paths. Like, say, what if I made the conversation hearts of the world?

Twenty more days. Twenty more days.