Outlook? Out of Control

Either my Outlook is experiencing a serious malfunction, or my life is more out-of-control than even I realized.

The End of an Experiment

I held out for well over a year, but finally decided to surrender and hire help again.  This is the first Saturday morning in a long time I haven't spent cleaning my house.  (Of course, I'm doing a mountain of laundry, but that's life.  I'm waiting for the day we all wear disposable clothes like in The Uglies series by Scott Westerfeld.)  Do you think it's okay to keep the green handbag?  

Application of Some Happy -- Educational Applications to Make Your Life Easier

I don't know about you, but on an enjoyment scale of 1 to 10 (with 1 being not enjoyable at all, and 10 being extremely enjoyable), fighting with my head-strong elementary school child over homework and test preparation is about a NEGATIVE 10.  My deep-seeded fear (truth be told) is that she will crash and burn without my incessant nagging encouragement.  If I were a braver woman, I would pull the plug, stand back and observe.  Great balls of fire.

Here are two applications that give my nagging a break.  Perhaps they will lighten your nagging itinerary too. 

SpellBoard.  This nifty application allows you to type in the weekly spelling list, speak the words and a sentence with each word (if you want to) and then hand the iPad to your child for testing. 

I actually have my daughter create the test herself, because (a) it helps her learn the words, (b) she likes to say the words in silly voices and make up crazy sentences, and (c) it's one less thing for me to do.  The app even has a whiteboard feature so your child can practice writing each word (instead of just typing in the answers). 

MathBoard.  As you can guess, this application helps your child study for math tests.  You can choose addition, subtraction, multiplication, division, etc.  You can even choose which numbers must be used (for example, if my child is being tested on minus 9 math facts, I make 9 a required number).  This app has been a life saver for me, as my child appears to respond better to critcism from a computer than she does to criticism from me. 

Upside?  Your child has a better chance of acing her spelling and math tests without you ripping out your hair in the studying process.  Downside?  Good luck getting your iPad back (now that your child can say she needs it for EDUCATIONAL purposes). 

Along these lines, I've been thinking about the topic of teaching your children to be competitive (or not, and how), but that's for another post. 

Picture Day

Here is a no-doubt incomplete list of things I was supposed to remember this morning, all before the 7:35 a.m. school drop off:

1. One child's library books are due on Mondays, while the other child's books are due on Fridays.  Is Tuesday the new Monday this week given that Monday was Labor Day?  No idea.  (In fact, we scrambled for no reason because Tuesday is NOT the new Monday when it comes to library day.)
2. One child has PE on Mondays and Thursdays, and the other has PE on Tuesdays and Fridays.  They must wear proper shoes on such days or be subjected to shame.  See number 1.  Is Tuesday the new Monday?  
3. The PTO fundraiser order packets are due today.  According to my older daughter, it is essential that I turn in the packets even though I'm too cheap to purchase the unnecessary wares they're peddling.  If I don't, her class will not have a popcorn party, and it will be ALL MY FAULT.
4. One child wants blackberries in her lunch and the other absolutely does not.  (Note to self, do not ever send blackberries again, because child who insisted on them proceeded to irreparably stain her shorts with the berry juice and then cried inconsolably, which prompted her teacher to then ask each and every teacher in the school if she/he had a stain remover stick she could use to get the berry juice off my daughter's behind.  I know, because her teacher emailed me about the episode.)
5. One daughter has snack time, and the other does not.  If I pack a snack for the wrong one, I'll either have a daughter relying upon the charity of others, or a daughter getting in trouble with her teacher for trying to sneak a snack when no such time for snacking is designated.  
6. One daughter needs three different colors of apples for an "autumn" school project, and no I can't color them with a marker.  Red, yellow, green.  Like a traffic light.  
7. PICTURE DAY.  I especially appreciated the curbside sign as I pulled into the parent drop off area:  "Remember, today is picture day!"  Given that there are seriously intent traffic-directing-ladies with big foam pointing-finger gloves saying "pull all the way forward" -- no stopping, no waiting, no kissing your children goodbye -- how am I supposed to prepare my children for picture day at that late juncture?  Little bit late for an information-overloaded mother, don't you think?  

In the spirit of picture day, here are some really bad photos that are pretty funny:  http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/08/04/bad-yearbook-photos-colle_n_670505.html

To [Not] Do List

The comments to one of my last posts have me thinking about "to do" lists, "to not do" lists, and the importance of perspective in the midst of it all.  I am a list maker.  I record reminders of things I must do on tattered scraps of paper slipped into the pockets of whatever I am wearing, tucked into my bag, sticky-tabbed to surfaces, captured in emails to myself, and wherever else I can think to make my lists.

But I must say I have never thought to make a list of the things not to do.  Even if we don't list them, we all do make choices every day about what we will do and won't do.  What we DON'T do makes room for what we DO.  Here are a few entries from today's unwritten "to not do" list:

To NOT Do:

1.  Make anything elaborate for dinner (jump on the trampoline with the kids instead)

2.  Sleep for an extra 30 minutes in the morning (get out of bed and go running instead)

3.  Sign up to volunteer at my child's school (accept that I can't be everything to everyone)

We all have our lists, and we all have our tradeoffs.  There's the good, there's the better, and there's the best ways to spend our limited time, and it's surely different from person to person and at different times in the life of any one person.   What's on your "to NOT do" list?   

Amazing Yourself

On a very regular basis, I have to think of a way to respond to the well-intended comment "I just don't know how you do it all!"  This comment, or some variant of it, is usually intended as a compliment, but the cold hard truth is that I don't.  Granted, I have a crazy, busy life.  But time is a finite resource.  You can't manufacture more.  You can sleep less and multitask more.  You can skip meals, eliminate television.  You can even delegate some of your tasks to someone else.

But I am here to tell you that no one does "it all."  My response to the comment is typically some self-deprecating assurance that I'm actually not so amazing.  Actually quite ordinary.  Sometimes quite deficient.  As T.S. Eliot put it:

I am no prophet — and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
. . . 
No!  I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

One day this week, I had a business lunch with two successful women.  As is par for the course of my life, both expressed awe at my ability to "do it all."  Neither woman currently has children and both exclaimed that they struggle to keep their own lives in check and couldn't imagine managing a three-ring-circus of a life like mine.  My response this time was simply:  You might be surprised at your own capacity.  You can do so much more than you think you can.

I have been enjoying the Winter Olympics.  Have you too?  The other night, I watched Shaun White blast off the top of the halfpipe like a rocket headed into orbit, only to race back towards the earth and straight into a mind-blowing contortion of twists and rolls.  

I stared in slack-jawed awe at the wonder that such a feat is even possible.  That a human being should have such capacity!  Watching that display, I couldn't help but think about my own capacity--and the capacity of each and every person--for the amazing.   

I like the way C.S. Lewis expressed it:

"It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship . . . .  It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no 'ordinary' people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. . . .   [I]t is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub and exploit." 

It is true that I am no prophet, nor even a Hamlet.  I will likely never compete in the Olympics or disturb the universe in any cosmic way, but I can amaze myself by stretching beyond my own perceived possibilities.  (You can too.)


Post Script:  The beginning of this post makes me think of a book that I quite enjoyed.  I Don't Know How She Does It by Allison Pearson.  

Exhibit A

This is Exhibit A in a mountain of evidence that testifies to my time management problems.  You've heard of delusions of grandeur?  I have the lesser known condition that might be termed delusions of capacity.  Why, I must ask myself, do I take on such projects that matter not an iota in the grand scheme of things?

Tomorrow is the 100th day of school at my daughter's elementary school.  To celebrate, the teachers and administrators have contrived all sorts of activities, many of which unfortunately require extensive effort from time-strapped parents like me.  Gather and bring to school 100 coins.  Bring a donation of socks for soldiers.  Bring 100 snacks to share.  And -- the biggie -- bring a shirt decorated with 100 items.  Why didn't I do something easy like puffy paint a shirt with 100 dots/blobs?  Instead, I waited until the last minute (when it was too late to go to any store to purchase supplies for this ill-fated project) and then had to look around at what I could use that I already have.

Then I had the brilliant idea to sew 100 flower beads onto my daughter's shirt.  How long can it take (I asked myself)?  Let me tell you; I know it doesn't look like it, but it can take a LONG TIME.  Especially if you're as domestically challenged as I am.  And was my daughter thrilled and appreciative when she saw me laboring with needle and thread while simultaneously making (burning) dinner with a screeching toddler attached to my leg?  No.  "I wanted 100 bird feathers," she said.  No response from me.

The worst thing about these sorts of projects is that you get about half way through and realize you've made a terrible mistake, but it's too late to abandon ship.  Instead, you must push on, vowing never to repeat your foolishness.  But I always do.

I'm going to start right now with a mantra for February:  "Step away from the craft paper.  Put down the glue -- and the glue gun too.  Do not attempt to make hand-made Valentines.  I repeat, do not attempt it.  That choice only holds frustration and regret.  Buy the cheap Disney Princess Valentines and call it good."