Hopeless

Here are things I'm hopeless at:

Sticking to a Christmas budget. Things change daily, and thus the budget must as well, right?

Staying up late reading anymore. So sad I just fall asleep in the middle of great books.

Tolerating hard rock music. Headache.

Getting exercise done before 10 in the morning.

Turning off Christmas music in December.

Abstaining from caffeine and chocolate.

Planning dinner much before dinner time.

Making Sammie practice the piano.

Keeping Nathan from tearing up socks and jeans.

Putting things back where they go.

Here are things I'm not hopeless at:

Buying Christmas presents.

Wrapping Christmas presents.

Thinking of all the people who would like a Christmas present and finding a nice gift.

Driving all over the place.

Taking naps on Sunday afternoon.

Ignoring family on Sunday afternoon.

Forgetting doctor appointments.

Hugging my son at school--he despises this!

Delegating others to take out the trash and do other chores.

Having people over for dinner.


Just some strange reflections today.

The Season of Lost Gloves

Baby it's cold outside! And so we begin the yearly ritual of my kids losing gloves and me searching desperately for them so their teachers don't think I'm a negligent mother. Oh yes, also so their hands don't freeze at recess. Here's a typical conversation on a weekday morning at, say, 7:50 am.

ME: Leah, where are your new purple gloves? (Me sorting through a pile of winterwear)
LEAH: I don't know. (Continues reading her book)
ME: When did you have them last?
LEAH: What? (Turns the page)
ME: (Louder) When did you have them last?
LEAH: When I played in the snow on Saturday.
ME: (grumble, grumble, they're probably in a soaking heap somewhere)
LEAH: Or, I may have left them at school. They could be in the lost and found.
ME: (Remembering that the lost and found at school takes up nearly an entire hallway) Well, could you look for them?
LEAH: Where?

UGHHHH!

Then there's this 1st grader at school named Spencer who was sobbing last week at recess over a lost glove.

ME: Spencer, why are you crying?
SPENCER: 'Cause I lost my glove. ( sob, sob)
ME: Have you looked around the playground?
SPENCER: (Choking on his sobs) Yes, I've walked all over twice.
ME: It's OK. I bet it's in your backpack or class.
SPENCER: I bet it's not! My Mom told me I can't ever lose gloves or she'll really be mad at me!
ME: She won't be mad, Spencer. Gloves just get lost.
SPENCER: Yes, she will!!! ( Runs away from me)

If Spencer is any indication, I have failed as a mother to instill the value of gloves into my children. Maybe I need to be angrier about gloves, like Spencer's Mom. On the other hand, I don't want my kids crying and searching the playground all recess long for fear of what their mother will say.

Maybe I should just go out and buy 20 cheap pairs of gloves to replace the ones that get lost. But I can't imagine sorting through a bigger pile of gloves in the morning, searching for ones that match (again so my kid's teachers don't think I'm negligent).

How many more months of gloves are there?

Five Days of Fun

I can tell it was a good Thanksgiving break because I'm not so anxious for the kids to go back to school tomorrow. In fact, I enjoyed doing so many things with the family over the break that I kind of wish we could keep the good times rolling and not go back to reality. There is too much of a good thing, though. At some point we'd decide we'd had enough of each other and the money would run out (if it hasn't already!) So I guess it's a good thing holidays don't go on indefinitely.

I actually couldn't believe myself this past weekend. I have NEVER gone shopping the day after Thanksgiving and I went all weekend long. The worst line was at Gymboree. But while I waited I met a couple of women and we became fast friends. We saved each other's places when our eyes would catch something else so adorable that we just had to take a little peak. People were nice and friendly. Of course I wasn't in line at 4 am trying to be the first 20 to get some fancy gadget. I was hanging with the civilized shoppers--those who want a good deal but aren't about to lose a night's sleep in order to save $10, $20 or even $50. Plus, Darren and I discovered that you can get almost anything you see in the ads online for the same price. You just don't get the amazing doorbuster stuff. We don't want that stuff anyway.

It was a great weekend. We had a divine Thanksgiving dinner at my sister-in-law's house, Kim, who is just the best pie-maker ever! She made something like 10 pies because she just loves to do it. I talked to my brother who was preparing to tie his turkey carcass to the back of his Chris Craft boat to attract crabs which he would eat with all the other boaters and their turkey-caught crabs. That sounded like a lot of fun to me. I talked to my sister who was cleaning baby toys out of her son's room. How fast the kids are growing up! My kids had tons of fun having sleepovers with their cousins.

Darren and I got to have dinner with his best friend from high school and his wife. We got to have dinner with our good college friends Steve and Danell Murdock. I got to have lunch with my girls while Darren and Nathan watched the BYU-UTAH game. What a bummer that the Utes lost! I feel richly blessed and spoiled for how much fun I had over the holiday. Looking back, there was a lot of food involved in this holiday. I guess it's time to be good again tomorrow.

I have watched Hairspray (the movie) three times since I bought it Tuesday! I just love that movie. I took the girls to see Enchanted--everyone loved it. I am almost done with my Christmas shopping. This is a good feeling. I got Thanksgiving decorations down and will clean (well maybe) tomorrow so I can start putting up Christmas. This weeked we will shop for a tree and have a candy making party as well.

Back on the Blog Wagon

My friend Alison told me she missed my blog and I see that it has been some time since I last wrote. Those who check (maybe 2 of you--Mom and Alison) know that I've been engrossed in a novel. Writing a novel really takes over your life. I wrote it September, kind of let it sit in October, and got back to editing and rewriting in November. Now I'm busy writing a cover letter and a synopsis to go with it. Writing a synopsis is hard work because it forces you to see that there are many things that make entirely no sense in your novel. So then you go back to the novel and rewrite, then back to the synopisis and write it again. At that point the cover letter needs changing too.

What a beautiful fall it has been. I have loved being at recess every day in 60 degree weather as Mrs. Duty Guard. I am seeing it all every day. Blood, vomit, tears, and bumps the size of oranges. Fights, cliques, pure joy, pure pain and naughty language--all the stuff that makes up life you can see right there on the playground. Kind of like that book "Everything I Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten." I am learning it all--again. I am learning which kids my children will NEVER play with and what kids I hope they become friends with. I saw great Halloween costumes and a couple of kids whose parents don't believe in Halloween and didn't dress up.

Four square, hopskotch, jumprope, jacks, girls chasing boys and boys chasing girls---nothing 's changed much since I was out there running with my hair in the wind 35 years ago. Bruises and scrapes, chattering, hurt feelings, imaginary cuts and bruises, imaginary pets, imaginary friends--every child trying to fill some need for 30 minutes on the playground.

There are some very sad kids out there that break my heart. There are very angry kids out there that try my patience and make everyone feel bad. There are some incredible athletes out there who are destined to lives filled with sports. There are quiet kids that sit calmly and watch. There are kids who need major therapy. There are kids who are fun and outgoing, and attract other kids like the Pied Piper. There are those who desperately need friends, and those who have too many friends. There are kids who can't tell truth at all and others who can't tell a lie. There are kids who help the ones who struggle, and they are the ones who will be truly great in life. The ones who can see other children suffering and ease their pain--they make it all worth it.

It is supposed to turn cold this week. I can't complain. I have been spoiled out there on the playground in the gorgeous fall sun. I am thankful for that. I'm thankful to see my kids for a few minutes in the middle of the school day even though they bum money off me for beef jerky. Now that's one thing that's changed. I couldn't buy beef jerky at my elementary school. Now it seems to be a staple of life. How strange. Kids want it like candy--more even.

Only two days of school this week and then we're all home together feasting and playing and deciding weather to put up Christmas or wait another week. Happy Thanksgiving!

Duty Guard

I got a new job. It's only a five hour a week job and the pay is, well, it's not really pay. It's more like money to go to lunch with friends, only now my job is during lunch!

I am the recess duty guard at my kid's elementary school. I'm one of the ladies who wears a bright orange vest with a pocketful of band aids and has a radio on my belt in case I need to get in touch with the office. I stand outside for an hour watching what's going on, who's gotten hurt and who's not following the rules. Then, I imagine I am supposed to take care of whatever problem comes up. Tomorrow's the big day when I start. I am strangely excited for this.

Nathan and Leah are excited that I will get to see them during their lunch recess. Nathan said, "Cool, Mom, now I can come to you for beef jerky money." Leah, I can already see it, will be standing beside me with a silly grin on her face. It's the same grin I see when I come to her class to read on Thursday afternoons. She acts like I'm the coolest Mom ever. Sadly, that sentiment fades as they grow older. Nathan only wants me around so I can buy something for him.

Ever since my oldest was in kindergarten and I watched her play by herself at recess, I've worried about my kids at recess. It seems to me that if anything negative is going to happen at school, it will happen during recess. I worry if other kids are being nice to them. Are they being cliquey or are they including other kids in their games? Are they all alone? Are they sad? Did they like their lunch? Are they too hot or too cold?

Now I will get to see first hand the goings on at elementary school recess, good or bad.

The Life of a Political Scientist

Darren just called me, all excited about some news. His article "Democratization of Some Country in Relation to Criminal Courts in the Somewhere of Something as Relating to Previous Democratizations of Something of Somewhere" was accepted into International Organizations, a very hard-t0-get-into political science academic journal. It is considered a "top tier" journal, as ranked by other political scientists, one that he has been striving to publish in for many, many years.

He hasn't sounded that excited since he saw his peas poking through the ground last April. He informs me we will seriously celebrate. He said something about"uncorking the champagne" so to speak. How does one do this if one doesn't drink? We'll see what he has in mind.

Publishing, as I am learning, is brutal test in exhibiting abnormal patience. In political science, first you spend months thinking of an idea and then running that idea by your colleagues who may shoot it down in five minutes. If they think it has merit, or if they think it doesn't, you begin the process of collecting data and researching. Most often you have the help of an RA (research assistant) but sometimes not, if you've blown your research budget on other things like fancy computer software or Turkish baths at your latest conference in Turkey, the one on "Defining International Democratization as it Relates to Blah, Blah of Blah Blah, and How that Theory is Instrumental in Shaping the Blah, Blah or Blah Blah."

Then you painstakingly sift through all the data, and form your conclusions, all while wishing your were back in the Turkish bath where your true creativity can flow. Then you write. Depending on your pace, sometimes this takes weeks, sometimes months, sometimes years. Along the way your colleagues critique your work and offer constructive suggestions that you may or may not consider.

Then you submit your work to a journal. Then you wait, perhaps up to six months or more. Then you get a letter saying, "revise and submit" accrording to the reviewer's comments. Some reviewers are kind and constructive of your work. Others are downright mean and nasty, and make suggestions as if they were undergoing some sort of physical torture at the exact moment when they were reading your article. After sinking into despair for a few days because your ego is not shot to hell and needs serious plumping, you decide what to do. Are you willing to do as the reviewers suggest and get in the coveted journal, or does what they suggest compromise the integrity of your work? This you must decide.

If you decide you want to be in that journal no matter what, you get down to the business of rewriting, a process that can also take weeks, months or years. If it is a co-authored article, you must discuss with your co-author how this is to be done. On occasion there is a disagreement between the two of you as to how to proceed, you spend another month working that out. Then you begin reworking. And hope your colleague does too, and doesn't decide to have a mid-life crisis, leaving you with the bulk of the project. When he calls you from the beach in Hawaii to discuss his lack of progress, you start to wish you'd never started.

At times, when you have the best idea yet, the one that will solidify your work, your wife calls to tell you the refrigerator is leaking and you HAVE TO COME HOME RIGHT NOW!!!! She is yelling into the phone. You feel your precious thought struggling to stay alive. You quickly jot it down so you don't forget and go home to face the fridge. The next day the idea is there but why you liked that idea and why it fits so well into your work is gone, and you begin cussing modern applicances and all their shoddy workmanship that has ruined your career. Your colleagues console you. They are kind because they are also in the middle of revising and resubmitting. Their hair is turning gray at an alarming pace.

If you can wade through these setbacks and get it done, you send the article off again. You wait months to hear back. This time they may like it and accept it "provisionally," meaning they will publish it IF you make the following changes that are listed on the next three pages. Again, you must decide if this compromises the integrity of your work. At this point you can't remember what was even original about your work. It feels dull and weighted down with facts and other people's demands.

Two months later you mail it back with all the "provisions" changed according to the three page list. Not only is your hair gray, but it is falling out. Six months later you hear back that it will be accepted, congratulations, by the way, and you'll see it in the Fall 2011 issue.

But, HEY, it's a "top tier" journal. I suppose there are sacrifices to make in every career. What I learn from this is that patience pays off . . . . . . . eventually. If you begin a project in Fall of 2005 you will taste the sweet fruit of your labors sometime in 2011.

Way to go, Darren!

Computer Life

I spend a lot of time on the computer. So much that there is no way to keep my passwords straight. I know, I should use the same password, but some sites only want six letters and a number or some require only one number and seven letters, so there is no way to have a uniform one to make everyone happy. I often can't remember my password to I clink the link that says "forgot your password?" and then I have to remember the answers to the "reminder" questions. But then I have to think if it's Darren's Mom's maiden name or my Mom's maiden name. When I typed in my childhood telephone number, they said it wasn't correct. How dare they? That number will forever be etched in my mind along with a few others that are randomly stored in the archives of my mind.

So I started a new novel, even though the "old" one is still in publishing limbo. Right now it's at the Utah Arts Council Novel Contest, probably at the bottom of the "Are you kidding?" pile. I'm not holding out my hopes. I figure something will happen eventually, maybe when I'm old and gray. I would like something to happen before then, but I am taking to heart what I've been hearing over and over: Writing is a lesson in patience. It takes time to figure out what you're doing. Don't expect anything good to happen for a long time. It's the process not the destination.

So while I'm waiting for that ship to come in, and maybe doing a few things to help in come in, I decided to start building another ship. About 10 days ago I started staying up way too late to write, and I must say things are coming along. I have written 16,000 words in that time. I didn't say they were good words, or even in a nice order, but they are there. Most young adult novels are between 50-70,000 words, so I'm may be a third of the way from having to rewrite it about eight times. But I'm moving forward. Moving forward is better than moving backward, which I have been known to do on more than one ocassion in my life. Just ask Darren.

In other news, Nathan's green cast is falling apart and it smells horrible. I think I will vacate the room when it is removed and hope the doctor wears a gas mask. Twelve days until it comes off. I hope we can wait that long.

High school varsity swimming reared its ugly head yesterday morning at 5:30 am and then again at 3 pm. Here we go. Thanks Darren for taking the 5:30 am shift. Leah and Sammie both start clogging this week. Nathan the Sammie are gearing up for a group recital on the 13th and are practicing day and night for it (yeah right!).

I am trying to get used to the peace and quiet around here and not squander away six hours a day on the computer trying to figure out my passwords, blog and write my novel. I am trying to remember how cranky I get without exercise, and get my body on the move. I need to prioritize this. I am trying to get used to this phase when children are at school and I'm at home. It takes some getting used to. It is a beautiful but eerie silence when everyone is gone.

We threw away the green wagon that was terribly broken but had been with us for 11 years. Sammie got it for her second birthday and now she's 13. I felt so sad watching Darren throw it in the church dumpster and got a bit teary-eyed thinking of all the fun times with kids in the wagon. I guess we're onto bikes and cars instead of wagons.