Stimeyland

Jack's Measurable Social Progress Day

noreply@blogger.com (Stimey) — Fri, 17 Feb 2012 04:53:00 +0000

I have been struggling a little bit with what to write here lately. I currently have all kinds of angst over...lots of stuff. I miss Susan. Jack is struggling mightily. There are commitments I am torn about keeping or dropping. Things aren't super awesome.

I keep writing and deleting, writing and deleting, which is an extremely frustrating experience, and one which ultimately results in my writing nothing.

But I'm going to put all that aside for a minute to tell you about Valentine's Day. Yes, I know I'm late, that all of the half price post-Valentine's Day chocolate has already been purchased and consumed, but I have some things to say.

Two years ago at Jack's school Valentine's Day party, I realized that he didn't know the names of any of his classmates. I realized that his not knowing this super basic information about his peers was indicative of his lack of real inclusion in his classroom. It knocked me down hard. Ever since, I've been very watchful during Valentine's Day parties to see how he does. I consider the day to be Jack's Measurable Social Progress Day.

That soldier in the upper left? Jack saluted him for, like, five minutes.

This year during card passing out time, I didn't help Jack at first. He took a valentine and wandered around looking for the desk of the girl to whom it was addressed. Most of the other kids had passed out half of their cards by the time I finally stepped in and helped him find her desk.

At that point, I realized that he needed help. So I handed him the valentines one at a time and let him search for the kid, but only helped him if he was obviously clueless about who the child was. Jack did really well. It helped that once we were two or three cards in, most of the other kids were done and sitting at their desks so they were easier to find.

He didn't know everyone's names, but he knew a lot of them, and the kids were all lovely to Jack. Jack had even written some extra stuff to a couple of the kids on their cards. It's cool to see him starting to be interested in his classmates.

Part of the jumble of angst I am feeling is stress about Jack's educational placement and whether he is in the right place. So it is lovely to see that even if he's having a really tough time (and he is) and even if the social gulf between him and his peers is widening (and it is) that he is able to be part of the class.

Jack also made valentines for all of our pets and set about distributing them after school. I still haven't found the one he gave to our remaining (child hating) cat, but he didn't have bleeding scratches when he came back from giving it to her, so I'm not too concerned.

The two remaining mice (geez, our house is kind of depressing these days) were out and about and no doubt enjoyed their valentines tremendously.

"Oh, Jack! But I didn't get you anything!"

The dog was less excited to get her valentine.

It says "WOOF!"

Then Cassidy reciprocated Jack's love by giving him a big ol' sloppy kiss. I really enjoyed watching that.

Jack enjoyed it less.

Oh, right, and I let the rest of my family know that I love them too. (By the way, don't do your Valentine's Day shopping at Target ON Valentine's Day after your family gives you a lovely heart-shaped locket engraved multiple times with the word "Love." The pink sections of the store were long since picked clean.)

Now all I need is someone to tell me how to get a tiny photograph of all three of my children into a heart-shaped locket. It's harder than it sounds. I hope you all had a happy Jack's Measurable Social Progress Day too!

Outrageousness

noreply@blogger.com (Stimey) — Wed, 15 Feb 2012 02:47:00 +0000

In the field of outrageous claims by small people, the other day when I was driving Jack to school, he stated with total conviction, "I invented autism."

So there you have it.

Feel free to send all your complaints and kudos to him.

*****

In the field of outrageously poor parenting by yours truly, please head over to White Knuckle Parenting today, where I wrote about My Worst Parenting Choice Ever. Seriously. It's a good one. Zombies may or may not be involved.

Score One For Jack

noreply@blogger.com (Stimey) — Sun, 12 Feb 2012 03:18:00 +0000

Jack kicked the shit out of a social event yesterday. A couple of local high school hockey teams had a game that they made into a fundraiser for the super awesome Montgomery Cheetahs and we were all invited to hang out, eat pizza, and watch.

(Related: Remind me to tell you sometime about the super awesome Skate-a-thon fundraiser we're having on May 12, which just happens to be Jack's birthday. You are ALL invited—nay, EXPECTED—to attend. Mark your calendars now.)

Anywho. This game was at a skating arena, which seems obvious now that I've written that out, and the Cheetahs had the party room in which to hide from the crowds of hockey spectators. It was kinda like we were in the owners box. It rocked.

Usually at these types of events, which are crazy overstimulating and stressful for all of Team Stimey, Jack ends up madly spinning until I shove an iPad in his hands and force him to sit under a table or something. Meanwhile, Sam and Quinn find people to act insane with and run around until I lose it and start shouting.

It can be stressful. Add to that the fact that I want Jack to bond with his teammates, but don't see it happening. Last year, at the hockey tournament we went to, I'm not entirely sure that Jack spoke to one other kid.

Well. Times are changing. That photo up there? I had to crop it that way so as to not include the other kids he was playing with—and because I wanted to show you that smile. It's starting to click for him. He spent the evening talking to his best friend T, who also plays on the team, and playing tag with a gang of other kids. (He also spent some time confusing the teenager behind the counter at the snack bar, but that's something else entirely.)

Last week, we were at a different event where there was another Cheetah in attendance. Jack didn't recognize him, but once we told him that the kid was on the team, Jack worked really hard to talk to him and sit next to him. It was awesome.

THIS is what special hockey is about, people. Sure, it's about the game and the pride and the exercise and the working together as a group and all, but this? This coming together as a team and feeling a connection with other kids because you're part of the same group, the same thing? WANTING to play with other kids, who WANT to play back? Special motherfucking hockey people. That's all I'm going to say.

I was so proud of Jack. Honestly, he could have given me lessons about how to manage a crowd. You know how sometimes you meet someone for the second time and you realize that you said just about the exact same things to them the second time around as the first, because apparently speaking to the other humans is too hard? Yeah, that. (Hi, Rachel!)

It's taken me a while to realize that these overstimulating events don't just affect my kids, they affect me too, rendering me sort of incapable of managing my children or holding up my end of a conversation without wild hand gesturing and furtive glances around the room on my part.

Sam and Quinn, my social butterflies, sort of sat this one out, which was weird because this is usually the exact type of situation in which they tend to run all over the place, making me freak out entirely. Instead, they sat on the ground and played chess on my iPad.

Nerds!!!!

Thank God for small favors.

Near the end of the evening, I was packing up our stuff when I noticed Jack was no longer in the room. I scooped up our stuff and herded Sam and Quinn out of the room and past a semi-frantic dad who had just located his child who had done the same thing Jack was in the process of doing, which was disappearing entirely.

We found Jack just as the game buzzer rang and people started bolting from the packed arena. At this point, I started shoving my kids out of the building in order to avoid parking lot gridlock. It turns out that Jack had picked a really opportune time to wander off close to the exit. Good on him.

I'm going to give Team Stimey a thumbs up for this outing. Jack may even get an extra fist bump. And the Cheetahs get my eternal love.

Team Stimey and the Cat

noreply@blogger.com (Stimey) — Fri, 10 Feb 2012 03:29:00 +0000

Dear 2012: Go fuck yourself. Seriously. You have not been good for anyone.

For all of you out there having a bad time, you have all of my love. Don't ask me how each of you can have all of my love. It's possible and you have it, so shaddup.

Related: I hate everything.

Like that photo. It looks like a closeup of Jack, but if you click to embiggen the photo, you will be able to see the tear stain on his cheek that I noticed after he came home. Welcome to Jack and school these days. Did I mention that I hate everything?

I have to stop.

So. The feral cat we accidentally trapped in our car.

Lately I've caught myself talking to people and then drifting off only to come back to the knowledge that I have been gazing past whoever has been speaking to me. The "evening routine" version of this is getting out of my minivan at night and leaving the sliding side door open in the rain. I did that last night.

When Alex got home from work, he noticed that the door was open, so he used his set of keys to close the door.

Then he noticed the animal inside.

Thinking Team Stimey might need a laugh, he came into the house to, you know, get the whole family to go outside and see if it was a feral cat or an opossum that was now feasting on the goldfish crackers in the cracks of our car seats. (It turned out to be a gigantic, kinda terrified looking gray tabby cat.)

The children thought the cat in the car was the most hilarious thing that had ever happened in their lives.

Somehow we ended up surrounding the car and the cat FREAKED OUT. It started ping ponging around the car—trunk area, back seat, dashboard, back to the trunk. We finally had to open three doors and give it a wide berth before it was brave enough to run for the bushes.

On the upside, now our car smells like panicked feral cat pee.

Did I already tell 2012 to fuck off? Because I seriously mean it.

Laughter and Tears

noreply@blogger.com (Stimey) — Thu, 09 Feb 2012 03:32:00 +0000

Susan's funeral service was today. It was wonderful to see so, so many of her friends there. It just felt that in a gathering of those people that she should have been sitting among us. I loved hearing Canape sing a song and play the piano for her. Her song took my breath away.

Then, after the service, walking downstairs to the reception, I missed the last step and totally fell down the stairs. I am such a buffoon. It was a very Stimey moment. I think Susan would have approved.

At least I didn't puke on anyone. I think Susan would have approved of that too.

There was both laughter and tears today.

On Tuesday, I posted about Susan over at my White Knuckle Parenting column, which is ironic, because Susan was the opposite of a white knuckle parent. (That site seems to be running a bit slow, so check back if it doesn't pop up the first time.)

That's it for today. I think tomorrow I will ease back into it with a post about the feral cat we accidentally caught in our car this evening.

I Already Miss You, Susan.

noreply@blogger.com (Stimey) — Tue, 07 Feb 2012 04:46:00 +0000

Susan passed away today. Although it will probably be yesterday by the time you read this. I am up late, my eyes tired from tears, but unable to sleep. This is the last day that Susan lived; I want to see it through to its end.

I still can't believe she is gone. Susan has been part of my life for so long that I can't imagine life without her. I look at her photograph and am so sad that I will never again see that beautiful smile she is flashing in every single one. My heart aches for her family; for her best friend, Marty; for all of us.

I think most of us are lucky to have a few close friends. It speaks volumes about Susan that she had so many. Susan inspired so very many people. Her life was far too short, but she had more of an impact in so many disparate worlds—aerospace, cancer research and support, blogging, family, friendship—than many of us will have if we live to be a hundred.

Curt, you may call yourself WhyDaddy, but you will always be WonderDaddy to me. Susan bestowed you with that name in a time of great pain for her, and no doubt for you as well. I have watched you take care of Susan and your sons with your own grace and dignity and helped Susan maintain hers.

I can only imagine how deep your pain must be tonight. I know that Susan would have done anything to keep that pain from you and your kids. I hope you are able to find some peace in the knowledge that thousands of people are thinking of you, sending their love and their prayers to you tonight.

I love you, Susan. And I miss you already.

The Museum with Team Stimey, in Pictures

noreply@blogger.com (Stimey) — Fri, 03 Feb 2012 15:45:00 +0000

Sam had a field trip to the Natural History Museum on Friday and he came home all excited about it and wanted to take the family back there last weekend. Mostly he wanted to show my mom (who is in town visiting) the Hope Diamond, which is housed at the museum.

I listened to Sam tell a lot of people about going to see the Hope Diamond and every single one of them followed up with, "You know, a lot of people think that the Hope Diamond is cursed." Which is funny, because that was the first thing Sam said about it too.

Regardless, Team Stimey packed up and headed down to the museum for a four-second glimpse of the diamond in question.

Being who I am, I took a lot of photos. Being who they are, Quinn and Sam did as well.

We are quite the scene when we travel in a pack.

My kids are so used to me making them stand in front of something and posing in a certain way that they didn't even blink when I told them to go be surly in front of the Easter Island statue. Fortunately, surly comes easy to Team Stimey.

Blurry also comes easy to us. And goofy.

We always hit the dinosaurs first, because EVERYONE always hits the dinosaurs first, where we found this handy measuring device on one of the walls.

Jack is Paleozoic feet and Permian inches tall.

After dinosaurs, we headed off to the Hope Diamond. Sam now has many, many photographs of this necklace.

You know, a lot of people think the Hope Diamond is cursed.

My personal favorite thing in the museum is the crystal ball. If anyone is looking for a gift to give me, I would like a giant, perfectly flawless crystal ball—mainly for the photography opportunities. That way, I could take my time on setting up my photo and not worry about strangers in my shot, because getting four people to pose in a crystal ball was a lot like trying to herd small, distorted, upside-down cats.

Quinn, my mom, Sam, Jack.

At museums, my family does a lot of pinging around from exhibit to exhibit, but Jack likes to take a more in-depth approach. We sat on a fair number of carpets to watch videos. I feel that the obstruction of traffic flow is justified by a child learning.

See Jack. See Jack learn.

I don't remember going through the skeleton exhibit with my kids before, but it's kind of fun. Quinn really wanted a photo of the human skeleton. Then I made Alex feel bad by telling Quinn, "That's a skeleton like yours on the left. And that's a skeleton like Daddy's on the right."

If I've said it once, I'll say it again:

You're so glad you're not married to me.

We didn't stay at the museum for very long. We didn't even go to the mammal hall to see all the taxidermied animals posed in humiliating ways. We did, however, watch a video about the creation of Earth, which was just enough to give Quinn confirmation of some completely erroneous and outrageous ideas he holds about star dust and how it is the base of everything.

We did have one last photo op on the way back to the car.

In case it's too small to read, the sign says, "Colossal Head."

Did I mention that you're glad you're not married to me?

One Thing That Made Me Laugh

noreply@blogger.com (Stimey) — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 02:24:00 +0000

Jack, in the car on the way to school today:

"Can I have a flamethrower? What if I promise not to use it in the house?"

Then he asked if we had any war bonds we could cash in to buy a grenade launcher. I'm blaming this one on Calvin and Hobbes.

*****

Do you want to know what is awesome? Big kids. Big kids that can buckle their own seat belts and fetch you beer and outwit you at card games. Read more about why I think big kids are awesome, over at the Wheaton Patch.

*****

Also, 2012 sucks balls.

My Friend Susan

noreply@blogger.com (Stimey) — Sun, 29 Jan 2012 04:55:00 +0000

I love her smile.

My friend Susan is all I have been thinking about for the last few days. I love that woman so much.

You may have seen the slide shows that Teach Mama put together for her to watch. They're full of photos of friends of Susan's. They are beautiful. When making them, she suggested that we take photos of ourselves with a word that we felt describes Susan.

For a lot of reasons, I chose "THOUGHTFUL." I chose that word because it combines two things that Susan has so much of: brains and heart. There are so many times that I have watched her make thoughtful, active decisions when so many others (i.e. me) would just flail away and hope shit worked out. There are also so many times when she could have legitimately been focused solely on herself only to reach out to me about something going on with my family. I'm not the only friend she does this for either. She is an extremely giving person.

As I've been thinking of her so much over the past few days, so many stories and memories came to mind. I remember back in the day when I first knew her and her older son was such an adorable little guy then (still is, although bigger now) who would wander around during our moms' club meetings, winning the hearts of all the moms there. There was the night she and I and another friend got together to share our wedding photo albums with each other. I spent a big chunk of that night cuddling with her sweet second son, who was just a baby at the time. Recently, I would go over to her house with Big Gulps for each of us and we would drink them and talk. It's kinda our thing.

So many good memories. So much laughing. And every time I hang out with her, I swear I learn something. Her husband is such a great partner for her and has always managed to be charming and delightful when I've been around. (Even that day years ago when he was trying to work on his important, you know, SPACE STUFF on his laptop on the couch as I chased my three recalcitrant kids around their living room in an effort to extract them from his house.) I am grateful to have gotten to know him as well.

A couple of weeks ago, I was there when the sun came out from behind a cloud, activating this little solar powered rotating prism he had gotten for Susan. We sat in the swirling rainbows that her husband had given her. It was really cool.

And her kids. Everything is for her sweet, beautiful kids who have always been so kind, creative, and fun.

Susan is an extremely loving, present, smart, fun, brave, wonderful, strong woman. I love her dearly and am so grateful to have her in my life.

Susan has given a lot, be it to her family, to her friends, to women in science, or to women fighting cancer. It's our turn. I know a lot of you want to share your love with her too. If you are so inclined, share a memory or a love note with Susan on the WhyMommy Love Fest Facebook page. Send mail to her at her P.O. box: Susan Niebur; 11006 Veirs Mill Road, Suite L-15 #112; Wheaton, MD 20902. If you pray, know that she does too, and I'm sure she would welcome your prayers.

As for me, it's simple. Here is what I have to say: Susan, I love you. Always. I just want you to know that.

:(

noreply@blogger.com (Stimey) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 03:50:00 +0000

Hey. It's not been an awesome couple of weeks, has it?

If you're looking for funny and self-righteous outrage, can we just pretend that I posted this column about how terrible homework is here?

Mostly, however, I just want to send my love to my friend Susan. She's one of the good ones.

The Izz-Bird

noreply@blogger.com (Stimey) — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 04:49:00 +0000

I had a cat named Izzy. She used to be Isabella, but about five minutes after I brought her home, I realized that Isabella was way too sophisticated for her, and Izzy she became. Also, sometimes Izz-Bird, or more accurately, The Izz-Bird.

This is her:

Now, I'm sure YOUR cat is awesome and all, but Izzy is the best cat. She spent the first half of her life being a silly, playful cat and then she relaxed into a wonderful, cuddly cat for a long time. I used to have to fake sleep in the morning, because if she caught me with my eyes open, she would poke at my face with her paw so I would pet her.

She also spent a couple of years as one of Jack's best friends.

About a year and a half ago, Izzy got sick. Really sick. We weren't sure she was going to make it. She was in renal failure and it was touchy for a while. Soon enough though, we got her medicine and fluids under control and she stayed happily healthy on her maintenance plan. She was expensive as hell, what with her four twice-daily medicines, her special food, and her daily subcutaneous fluids, but she got her energy back and was fun and happy for 18 months.

We had a little routine, Izzy and I. Every evening for the past year and a half, I would go upstairs to my bedroom, where she mostly stayed, and I would feed her. I would lie on my bed and she would eat and then she would come sit with me. I would hang out with her for an hour or so and give her the medication and fluids that kept her healthy. I would scratch her under the chin and she would purr.

That cat purred all the time.

Then, a week or so ago, she started getting noticeably bonier. And more lethargic. And I couldn't not take her to the vet. So yesterday, I took her in and the vet did some tests and the results weren't good. Our options were to go "all in" with a blood transfusion, hospitalization, and IV fluids or to...well, that part was sort of left unsaid.

But even if we did go all in, there were no guarantees. It seemed like a lot—for us, for Izzy, for our kids—with little chance of long-term success. I had known for a year and a half that this decision was coming. I knew there would come a day when I would be sitting in an exam room and have to make the last appointment I ever wanted to make. But it was the right choice for my family and it was the right choice for Izzy.

She was cuddly. Always cuddly.

I made an appointment to come back the next morning, because I needed my kids to be able to say goodbye. They have all known Izzy for their entire lives. They deserved to say goodbye. And I needed to do so as well.

My kids were sad. Alex was sad. Sam was brokenhearted, but always practical, noted that he would have to try to make friends with Denali, our other cat, who does not like children. Jack went upstairs and laid down next to Izzy, put his finger out for her to sniff and said, "I love you, Izzy." Quinn giggled at how cute Izzy was and patted her on the head over and over and asked if we could make a poster to remember her.

I spent the whole evening with Izzy. The rest of Team Stimey came to visit now and again throughout the evening. Sam, Jack, and Quinn all made notes for Izzy to tell her she was the best cat. They all let her know how much they loved her. They were all very gentle.

This morning everyone said goodbye to Izzy before they went to work and school. I came home and sat with her until it was time to take her in. The whole event was very gentle. The vet gave her a sedative so she would fall asleep and I scratched her under her chin as she did.

She fell asleep purring.

I'm going to miss her. I'll miss her soft fur. Tonight, when I didn't have my excuse to spend a quiet hour upstairs with my furry buddy, I missed her a lot. But I'll be okay. She lived for almost 16 years, and she had 18 months of healthy life more than we thought she would. The munchkins are all very sad, but we're talking about it and they're going to be okay.

And that poster? The one Quinn wanted to make to remember her by?

It's beautiful.

Rear Window

noreply@blogger.com (Stimey) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 03:40:00 +0000

My family is having a little bit of a pet crisis today. It will be "resolved" tomorrow, but not in the happy way. I'll tell you about it later.

I decided to tell you about something different and light and funny because it is less sad. Somewhere along the line, I decided that the light and funny post should be about my rear windshield wiper. Because that is a logical leap.

I think I mistook "light and funny" with "stupid and boring."

I even Photoshopped a whole graphic about the rear windshield wiper story.

Then, I got ready to actually write the post and I looked at the notes that I'd scribbled earlier today that I thought were really funny at the time and it occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, I thought the windshield wiper story was funny just because it was not tragically sad, like my cat story.

Mental note: Don't judge humor whilst crying and clutching your sick cat.

Really, here is the story: The wiper was broken and loud. Alex told me how to fix it. I fixed it.

I am going to go cuddle with my kitty tonight. See you tomorrow.

*****

Remember the playground? You know, the scary one, where I rolled my kids in bubble wrap and refused to let them play, taunting them with the joy of the non-helicopter parented kids? I wrote about it again, this time over at the local Patch.com site I write for. I have a new friend over there in the comments section who HATES ME.

Finally. A Good Parenting Decision.

noreply@blogger.com (Stimey) — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 04:44:00 +0000

You know how I always dress Jack in camouflage, which is the dumbest thing ever because he likes to explore plants and dirt and whatnot, but always at the periphery of whatever location we are in? Well, Alex and I smartened up. After Jack took apart the zipper on his last winter coat (which was black with camouflage-y markings), making it substantially less warm, we bought him a new coat—in the brightest color the store had.

It's even brighter than it looks. We will never lose him again.

Also, because January is apparently spring, all winter coats seem to be 50-70% off. Awesome.

And, yes, Jack is giving the dog bunny ears for the photo above. It is endlessly humiliating to be our dog.

A Little Bit About Everyone

noreply@blogger.com (Stimey) — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 04:22:00 +0000

I'm kind of avoiding a lot of stuff right now, so I decided to tell you about a few things that have been happening around here, things that might not make their own successful post, but will do nicely when stacked together.

Hey, do you remember Quinn's school photo? The one that was so bad that I had it retaken? The one wherein his eyes were closed? If you don't remember, you should go look at it now before you continue on.

Well, I sent him in for his retake and told him to try to keep his eyes open. Then I sat back and waited for the arrival of a retake photo in which Quinn's eyes were almost comically open.

It is even better than I had hoped.

I do believe someone combed his hair as well.

*****

The principal at Jack and Quinn's school is leaving for another job. And since he was already gone on a short-term assignment, that means he is just GONE. He's not coming back. I have feelings of distress about this for a lot of reasons, but one of the biggies is because I knew Jack was going to be sad.

See, for the first couple of years of elementary school, Jack was sent to the office on a regular basis, but the principal, you know, got it and managed to make Jack feel good about himself. Sometimes when Jack just needed to calm down a ~~little~~ lot, he would get sent to the principal to chill out. The dude was pretty much Jack's best friend for a while.

I told Jack this morning and he started to cry. I felt like joining him.

*****

As for Sam, well, he gets cooler every single day. I had no idea how fun age ten was. I also had no idea how much better ADHD medicine could make Sam's life. That dude has gotten so much more chill since starting his meds this fall. He's happier, he's less anxious, he talks more, he lets people do things like hug him. It's really amazing. If you would have described current Sam to me four months ago, I wouldn't have believed you.

Honestly, on a day-to-day, practical, count-the-meltdowns basis, he used to be my hardest kid. Now he is an absolute delight. He smiles more too. I love that.

Love that kid.

*****

I got a haircut today, but because I live with four boys, no one really noticed. I mean, I cut off probably 8 inches and now I have bangs, but my kiddos still haven't noticed. To his credit, Alex figured it out in under an hour.

I had to suffer through almost an hour of small talk for it (I think maybe that's why I only get my hair cut once a year or so), but I'm happy with the results.

*****

Alex did some stuff too, but they were fancy lawyer things, so I don't know what they were.

I Wish I Had Something to Say

noreply@blogger.com (Stimey) — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 04:21:00 +0000

I was hopeful that I would write a really fun post today, something to get us over the controversy of the playground, but I got nothin'. My kids are in school instead of being at home doing amusing things for your benefit.

Also, Jack falls apart at school every January, which means that school is kind of a shitshow right now. Which is kind of a bummer.

I also have this cyclical, chronic, low-level depression thing going on, but that isn't a lot of fun to talk about either.

Here is what I DO have:

• You guys, there is this awesome show that I'm sure none of you have ever heard of before, but holy shit, I've been watching Breaking Bad on Netflix streaming (*I* still love you, Netflix!) and I am in love. It's fortunate that I'm not sixteen years behind the trends or anything.

• As if living with other human beings isn't noisy enough, my dog, who spent the day right next to me, had a near-constant stomach gurgle for several hours today.

• We hired a cleaning service because I am terrible at, you know, house upkeep. However, the stress of avoiding them on the day they come is reaching epic proportions. This is mostly because I feel bratty for being home during the day, but not cleaning. The other six days of the week, however, are spent in sparkly clean joy.

• I had to go see Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chipwrecked. THAT was the longest six years I ever spent in a movie theater. I wrote about that movie in terms of the sacrifices of parenthood over at Patch.com.

• I'm hoping that that link right up there (^) can count as your post for today if this one doesn't.

An Itemized Tour of the Most Terrifying Playground in the World. EVERYBODY PANIC!!!!!

noreply@blogger.com (Stimey) — Sun, 08 Jan 2012 17:26:00 +0000

Let's talk about playgrounds. Some playgrounds I like. Some playgrounds upset me.

Playgrounds I like include the following features:
1) Fences
2) Clear sight lines
3) Small areas
4) Few people
5) Easy parental access to all play structures
6) Fun playground equipment

Team Stimey went to a playground today that had exactly one of six of those features. Team Stimey Junior had a blast because that one positive feature was fun playground equipment. Team Stimey Senior had a heart attack because the rest of the park seemed ACTIVELY DESIGNED to aid kidnappers and kids who tend to meander off.

It was difficult to take a photo of the whole playground, because it is huge, which was awesome for the munchkins, but terrible for me. I do have this professionally marked up and annotated photo that can give you an idea of what we're dealing with here.

I felt too lazy to use the Type tool in Photoshop. Sorry.

Shoot. I used numbers up above too. Listen, I'm sorry that I have two lists of six in this post. You are just going to have to deal with them. God, Stimeyland has gotten confusing.

1) There is a long, raised wooden boardwalk dividing the playground. Note the fence, presumably to keep kids from jumping off of it, but effectively forcing parents to walk all the way around if they need to chase a quick, agile child. There are also child-size openings in the fence under the boardwalk. More on that later.

2) Off that way is the sandbox, the baby swings, and some bouncy toys. Also off that way is easy access to the untamed forest bordering the playground. I get that the park designers probably did this to keep little kids separated from bigger, rampaging older children. To that, I say, thank GOODNESS no little kids have OLDER SIBLINGS. Or that there aren't sensory seekers who will hang out in the sand, leaving their more active siblings wandering unsupervised. You know, in theory.

3) Swings and giant web climbing structure. Giant.

4) HUGE slides that start on one side of a raised area that has a fence/ladder system clearly not designed for adults and that let out on the other side of said barrier. Even the little kid slide is set up this way.

5) Other playground equipment. This was home to this spinny thing that Jack loved and on which he made friends with more than one girl who was interested in helping him spin as fast as he could. That was my favorite thing in the park.

6) Giant synthetic mountain. Honestly, pretty goddamn awesome. But also kinda perilous. Plus, the entire backside of it was not only (naturally) blocked from view, but provided a perfect unsupervised escape route for curious kids who like to check out what is happening in other, less populated parts of the park.

Enjoy your tour? I'd like to highlight some of the more stressful aspects of this park that brought out the neurotic parent in me. In my photos, I tried to include as few random people as possible, but it was difficult considering how crowded it was. Fortunately Alex was there to actually watch the children while I wandered around documenting how hard it was to watch your children.

It was also, like, 65 degrees, so we ran into every local friend we had who also decided to go to the park yesterday. Hello? January? Where are yooooouuuuu?

So. Let's start with that boardwalk, which not only divides the playground in two, but eliminates clear sightlines, so you can't stand in one place and watch all of your children. Other than the obvious, I have a couple of issues.

I know! Let's teach kids to play in drainpipes!

Jack loves that damn tube. And it's the last place you're ever going to look for him. It also provides a way for kids to quickly and invisibly dart to an entirely different part of the park. Yes, there is access for adults to squinch by as well, but that access also allows children to get under the boardwalk where you CANNOT REACH THEM.

Oh, hi, Sam. Running from me much?

Shortly after I took that photo, he scooted out of a small hole on the other side of the boardwalk. It was upsetting.

Honestly, at some point, I just gave up on Sam. I figured that he was the least likely to wander off or be kidnapped. Sorry, Sam. You're one of my very favorites, but this is the cost of competence.

Next, let's discuss the division between the top of the slides and the bottom of the slides. That division is a fence atop a six-or-so-foot cement wall that has grooves etched into it for kids to use as ladders.

To be fair, the slides are kinda super awesome.

I managed to capture Quinn in a demonstration of these ladders for you.

Step one: Climb the unclimbable ladder grooves:

Note the girl next to him that needed assistance.

There was a lot of that. It's a weird system.

Step two: Squeeze through the child-sized fence hole at the top.

Seriously. Not a lot of adults are getting through that.

At least without embarrassing themselves.

Step three: Change your mind at the last second and decide that you'd rather wander around unsecured on the DANGER! DANGER! DANGER! side of the fence.

What six-foot drop?

Speaking of Quinn and danger at the park, should we take a moment to discuss fashion dangers? Because, come on, Q-ball. GQ isn't going to come calling if this continues.

Second-hand karate pants are bad, but he HAS found

the only way to make Crocs cute.

Moving on to the giant web structure. I can't really nitpick about this one too much because it falls squarely in the fun playground equipment category, but I am always terrified that my kids are going to fall and then ricochet all the way to the ground.

Then Jack climbed even higher and started jumping. True story.

Fortunately, Montgomery County Fire and Rescue was there.

Although they may have just been watching their own kids.

Speaking of watching your own kids, there was some sketchy parental supervision going on as well.

Dear lord, THAT doesn't seem safe, kid in the green shirt.

Oh. Hi, Sam.

Christ, kid, use your hands!

Oh. Hi, Jack.

Oh, and let us not forget the dangers of not thoroughly considering who you will marry and who will then proceed to post embarrassing photos of you all over the internet a mere twelve years later.

Hi, Alex!

I don't have a whole lot to say about this next photo of the synthetic hill, but I thought you should see it. Also, I saw an older kid doing multiple cartwheels down it, which was terrifying to watch.

I did enjoy Quinn's shadow here though.

At some point Jack took a break on the top of a REAL hill. I took this next photo to demonstrate the woods directly adjacent to the park and how easy it would be to (a) wander off into them, or (b) hide in them and wait for an unsuspecting child to take a break on a real hill.

Remain vigilant, people.

Let's move on to the little-kid part of the park, which, incidentally, is the only place my kids were harmed. There were three injuries sustained, all by Jack. First, he pinched his fingers in the swing for disabled kids. (And then it took me a while to figure out how to unlock it and get him out.)

Plus, he kept trying to kick me. Seriously. Remain vigilant.

In terms of real injury, however, I am about to show you the most dangerous item of playground equipment at this park. Jack was injured TWICE. Those of you with nervous constitutions may not want to look.

I know. It's almost like they're ASKING for a lawsuit.

Jack banged his tooth on it and then he fell right off of it when he was sitting on its forehead. That last may have been off-label use, however.

Park designers: I am available to consult. Really. Call me.

Homework and Orange Love

noreply@blogger.com (Stimey) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 03:34:00 +0000

I feel like there is one post that I could just put up over and over again, every six months or so. When Jack's homework tonight sent me into a tailspin that triggered doubts about the rightness of his entire educational plan, I was about to write that post again.

After more than an hour of coercing Jack into completing three answers on his homework (which was about 5% of what he was supposed to do tonight), I released him. I figured that if the prospect of doing all that homework felt incredibly bleak to me, it must feel even worse for Jack.

Then he went and played school in his room. I don't get him sometimes.

Tiger's View Elementary School, naturally.

I wrote an email to his teacher and I didn't send it. I started to write a post here and then I decided not to. I got in a fight with Sam and took a time out upstairs. I came downstairs just as Alex was putting the kiddos to bed.

A few minutes later, Sam came out of his room with several notes. The first one said, "Roses are red, violets are blue, but my love for you is orange." The second one said, "I'm very happy, but my love for you is larger." (I'm not quite sure what it is larger than, but that's okay.) This was the third one:

Rainbows have always been his specialty.

Somehow, even when I feel like I'm doing everything wrong, one of my kids comes along to show me that I'm doing something right. God forbid there is ever a day when all three of them send me down the rabbit hole at the same time.

I'll deal with the school stuff. I'll think about it tomorrow. But tonight, I'm going to enjoy some orange love.

I'm lucky to have those guys.

*****

Speaking of parenting and how I'm, you know, super awesome and infallible at it, I wrote a White Knuckle Parenting column on Tuesday about my parenting resolutions for the coming year. (Not to be confused with my running resolution, which I have been kicking ass at, by the way.)

The Pursuit of Happyness

noreply@blogger.com (Stimey) — Tue, 03 Jan 2012 04:34:00 +0000

Jack wanted to show me something this morning. By the time I wandered downstairs to see what it was, this is what I encountered:

In case you can't see what it is he had set up shop to sell, here is a close-up of his sign:

The only problem with his business plan is that he can't help giving away happyness for free. He kind of spreads it wherever he goes. It's hard to sell it when it already follows you around. Although this was a better try than his last plan, which was to sell empty boxes at his school for $20 each.

Maybe my favorite part of Jack's sales pitch is that he was offering incentives with his happyness. Jack's happyness comes with fruit juice and a bowl of goldfish crackers—as well as a reminder that you need to pay your $10 tomorrow for more happyness.

For a kid who works so hard and has a fair amount of odds stacked against him, Jack is doing all right. I check in regularly with him to see if he spends more time happy or sad and he usually ends up in the happy column. This week, he has happyness to spare. There is really nothing else in life that I want him to have more; there is nothing else in life that makes me happier.

Sorry kid. If happyness is your product, you're going to have to get used to giving it away for free.

I Choose to Run: Reprise

noreply@blogger.com (Stimey) — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 04:01:00 +0000

I like the first post of the year. It feels very blank slate-y. It is also very pressure filled. Like, for some reason, my first post of the new year can't be all, "And here is a funny photograph of a mouse." Unless, of course, it is a REALLY motherfucking funny photo.

And I don't have one of those.

The first post is also a good time to post a resolution, which I usually don't do because, c'mon. Resolutions? That just smacks of, what's the word I'm looking for here? Oh, yes: TRYING.

It seems terribly unhip to, you know, TRY to do something. It also seems...hard.

But there is one thing I really, really want to do this year: run. I started this effort last year and had some success, but not as much as I'd hoped. I had been running most days and then October and November and our bad luck sidelined me and then I got out of the habit. But I'm back, baby. This year, I RESOLVE TO RUN. 2012 will be the Year of Effort for me. I am going to Try.

I originally posted what is written below at The DC Moms when I started running this fall. I post it again here because I plan to treat this resolution like it's my fucking job. I still have time before spring. I'll get there.

*****

I used to be a runner.

I mean, I wasn’t a marathoner or anything, but I was someone who would run 15 to 20 miles a week and who could run six miles in an hour and still feel pretty okay.

I worked out up to mere days before the births of my first two children. I ran a 12K race up and down San Francisco streets six months after my first son was born. I loved the way it made me feel.

Then inertia gripped me with her warm, cozy hands and told me tales of a lifestyle full of sitting on couches and not running up and down flights of stairs, which I used to do not because I left my bowl of ice cream upstairs, but because it was good exercise. That inertia is trouble, man.

This marriage with inertia has led me to a place where when I look at my life, the one thing that stands out that makes me unhappy is my lack of fitness. Here’s the great thing about this unhappiness though: I can change it; I can become more fit. Hopefully if I do, my husband will stop telling me that I’m not very jolly for a fat person—and my follow-up with a punch to his gut will be stronger.

Which brings us to my current effort to run every day that my kids are in school. I put my running clothes right next to my bed, so I can roll out of bed in the morning, tie up my shoes, drop my kids at school, and hit the treadmill. If you see me at 2 p.m. still in track pants, you know I failed in my running goal for the day.

I started by queuing up all 23 discs of The Wire in my Netflix account, dusted off my treadmill, did some stretching, and set off for Day One of Project Improvement. This is how it went:

Minute One: I am awesome! I feel great! I am going to run my way into fitness!

Minute Three: I. Am. Going. To. Die.

Here’s something you may not know—if you don’t exercise for six years, that first step back on the treadmill will likely hurl you off the back into a bookshelf. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

I think you can imagine how that first workout went from there. About 25 minutes into my run, which was rapidly turning into a run/walk, I started wishing that I’d begun my running regimen with Entourage, or any other half-hour show on the planet, up to and including Two and a Half Men, which I would have happily watched if it meant I could have gotten off of the treadmill at 22 minutes.

Note: I do not endorse watching Two and a Half Men as an exercise technique or, really, for any other purpose.

At 45 minutes, when I realized that The Wire was an HBO show and therefore has no commercial breaks, meaning I had to keep moving for a full hour instead of just 42 minutes, I started to cry.

Okay, I didn’t cry, but I was a little sad. And I might have said some curse words.

Here’s the thing though: I kept moving for a full hour. Then I did the same thing the next day and the next day. And I hope to keep doing it. Sure, I only traveled three miles in that hour instead of six, but that’s three miles more than I traveled last week.

Now that I’ve broken up with Inertia, I have to find a way to start a relationship with Perseverance. I’m awesome at starting things, less good at following through. That’s why I’m watching a multi-season TV show to keep me interested.

By the time I work my way through The Wire, Breaking Bad, and Sons of Anarchy, I figure that I’ll be down at least a couple of dress sizes and be able to run to the school bus stop without breaking a sweat—and probably have picked up a nasty drug habit, based on my entertainment of choice.

I want this to stick this time. I need this to stick this time. Clearly my desperate attempt to blend couch potato with runner shows you this? And before you say “Go outside,” I should let you know that I’m not ready to run with (or near) The People yet. Maybe by spring.

Because by spring? I’m going to have to find a new thing to be unhappy about.

Team Stimey's Year in Review

noreply@blogger.com (Stimey) — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 04:59:00 +0000

It's New Year's Eve. You are probably out partying. I am sitting home alone. Well, my children are here, in their beds. NOT asleep.* Alex is in New York at a Phish show. As I do not care much for New Year's Eve (I will be awake until midnight, but only because I am ALWAYS awake until midnight), I will spend this time looking back at last year instead of drinking heavily to obliterate it.

In January, I started my year with a dramatic social anxiety attack on my first trip to the National Press Club for a book launch. Maybe the best part of that whole scene was when I panicked after seeing a line of people waiting for a bus. Anxiety is a powerful foe. I did, however, also demonstrate when I don't have anxiety, and that is when I am at home alone competing against people who don't know I exist. January closed with one of the worst dental appointments in the history of time. At least up to then.

In February, I headed off to the National Gallery of Art when my mom came to town to visit. I was only reprimanded once by a guard. I also had to participate in some (wild, but invasive) mouse killin'.

I started March by freaking out about not being able to figure out how to get Jack to do...ANYTHING that he doesn't want to. This was the beginning of brainstorming a solution, which resulted in a system where Jack's cooperation at school earned him tallies, which in turn, earned him video game time at after school. We still use that system. I also cooked Brussels sprouts.

April was eventful. It began with a trip to Seattle to visit Nintendo headquarters to celebrate the launch of the Nintendo 3DS. It was all kinds of awesome. Because of the ads I was running at the time, my post ended up on my review blog. I also launched Stimeyland's Facebook page. Feel free to join us over there to chat!

Jack's hockey tournament in Boston took place at the end of April and counts as one of the high points of my year. It's possible that Jack feels differently. The four days Jack and I spent away for the tournament were profoundly moving, from the opening ceremonies to our return home.

Looking back on May, it seems that not a whole lot of groundbreaking things happened. Although both Jack and Quinn had birthdays and Sam tasted his first margarita.

June brought about the conclusion of dental hell. I also gave you the back story of the dental nightmare that had taken place since that January appointment mentioned above. We also bought a "Ready for Use" pool that was anything but.

In June and July I continued to pretend that I run Camp Stimey even though I don't really do it very well anymore. Nonetheless, I summarized many of the Camp Stimey activities that I'd planned for my kids since Camp Stimey started way back in the day.

I spent July driving Jack back and forth to summer camp, while I whiled away the days with Quinn and Sam. We did things like causing a commotion in front of Eric Holder and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and doing the same all by ourselves at home.

We lost our first mice, Scabbers and Poseidon, in early August. That month, Team Stimey also went on vacation in Colorado and New Mexico and puked our way across the country. This was also about the time that people started to email me every time someone in their family horked in a location that was not a toilet or a dedicated barf bowl. I take a strange satisfaction in the knowledge that for a certain group of you, whenever your well laid plans go to shit, I am the first person you think of. Our reputation is not undeserved.

That August vacation also brought Algernon to Team Stimey. I introduced him to you in September. And don't forget that day that Alex didn't run over a squirrel.

~~October~~ Sucktober destroyed us. We just fixed the car heater that broke back then a couple of weeks ago. And we never did find those shoes that Jack hid.

In November, I wrote one of my top-five favorite Stimeyland posts ever, Not Even Wrong. That month also saw the end of Whiskers the mouse, may she rest in peace.

This December saw my first ever trip to Disney World, which I consistently mis-grammaticized as "Disneyworld" every time I wrote it. Once I discovered that I had done this, the copy editor inside me (who wanted to go back and change my errors) went to war with the anti-revisionist inside me (who refuses to make after-the-fact changes). I eventually decided to call attention to my mistake in my year-in-review post. Also, Algernon went to Disney. Oh, and there was some sort of holiday event.

So, there are my highlights from the past year. There are probably more, but it is 11:50 p.m. on New Year's Eve and I'm tired and out of time. I also wrote a lot on other non-Stimeyland sites, but I don't have the energy to recap any of that.

Happy New Year, my friends. I know that 2011 was so hard for so many of you. To you, I wish you a much better 2012. You are in my thoughts.

For Team Stimey, 2011 was its usual mix of ups and downs. I made a lot of new friends this year and deepened friendships with others. I saw my children become even more amazing people than they were last year, and Alex and I settled even deeper into the realization that no one else on Earth would put up with being married to either one of us.

Thank you to all of you who were part of our 2011. Here is hoping that 2012 is interesting and fun. Happy New Year!

* I wrote that sentence at noon, but I am POSITIVE it is true at 10 p.m. (Editor's note: It was.)

The Cheetah Nation

noreply@blogger.com (Stimey) — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 04:08:00 +0000

Warning: I got sidetracked several times while writing this post. The narrative is not what you would call "smooth." Hang in there. Good luck and Godspeed!

The DC area is really lucky in that we have three special needs hockey teams really close by. Four, if you count Baltimore. Whereas a lot of special hockey teams don't have opportunities to play games very often, we are able to meet and compete on a regular basis.

Yesterday (and the day before), Jack's team and the other two area special hockey teams had a little mini-tournament. Team Stimey missed the first day because we were enjoying the air and space museum and the dentist. But we were able to see how it went, because the Cheetahs were on the news! See the story here! So very cool.

We did, however, attend yesterday, and Jack played in both games that his squad played. It was tiring. For Jack too.

You know what is adorable? Jack. You know what's even more adorable? Jack on ice skates in his Montgomery Cheetahs game uniform. I show you a lot of grainy, poorly lit photos of the back of Jack's jersey or pictures of him on the bench because I rarely manage to get a picture of his face while he's on the ice. I am a terrible photographer. If someone wants to teach me some sports photography, both me and the Cheetah Nation that has to look at my photos would be grateful.

I also, incidentally, really enjoy that the team director calls the team families the Cheetah Nation because every single time it makes me think of the Raider Nation and I imagine some crazy dude in cheetah facepaint and spikes on his jersey making a scene in the front row of the local ice rink. The imagery pleases me.

Anywho. I finally got this photo:

We can't seem to convince him to skate with his stick on the ice.

It's a little blurry. I don't know what setting I had my camera on. Maybe the little running guy one? I would think that would be the right one, but it doesn't seem to be. Anyway, Jack is still adorable, even if he's a little fuzzy.

The rink where we had the tournament was extremely cold, even for an ice rink. Fortunately, we'd been warned by the Tournament Day One-ers, so we'd brought blankets. If not for his blanket and one of the coaches who got off of the ice to hide under the blanket with him, Jack might not have made it through the first game. Do you see why I love this team? There aren't even words.

He's cute here too.

Funny story about that blanket. My really wonderful friend Joeymom made—MADE—blankets for my kids with thought and love tied into them. I sent her kids a bag of stuffed rats. I should repeat that: I SENT HER A BAG OF RATS. I am so much the friend you wish you had. To her credit, she loves me anyway.

Let's back away slowly from the topic of my inability to properly maintain my side of a relationship and return to hockey.

Someday Jack is going to learn the love of the game as worth working past his (dis)comfort level—or he'll score a goal—and his motivation will increase until he can make it through a whole game without freaking out and collapsing onto the ice in a Gandhian show of nonviolent resistance. Until then, he will entertain the spectator bench with episodes such as this:

Face down. Thank God for his face guard.

He laid there for a really long time. Eventually some coaches came by and poked him with their sticks.

No response.

The game went on around Jack. Although, honestly, Jack wasn't the only kid to lie down on the ice during that game. Apparently Jack and his coach had a whole conversation down there on the ice. It consisted partly of Jack saying, "I wish hockey had never been invented," and the coach telling Jack, "The zombies are coming!"

The zombie thing worked. He sped off down

the rink with a huge smile on his face.

In the coach's defense, Jack spent weeks at the beginning of the season telling him all about Plants vs. Zombies after every practice. Whereas so many adults don't listen when kids go off on stuff like that, this coach really does. He asks questions about the game. He uses it to connect with Jack. It is soul-filling to watch.

(Of course, when Jack abruptly changed obsessions from the zombie game to Kirby's Return to Dreamland, it caused some confusion.)

In all seriousness, Jack is getting so good at skating. Every game, he gets closer and closer to skating in proximity to the puck. Every game, he manages to hit the puck a few more times. Every game, his meltdown comes later in the game. And every game he gets more connected to his team.

I feel like I've been pretty lucky in my life, but whatever course that brought Jack and me to these people and this team? Well, that is extraordinary luck.

Even if my tiny player wishes the game had never been invented. Go, Cheetah Nation!

"I Hated it Googleplex."

noreply@blogger.com (Stimey) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 05:05:00 +0000

You know how sometimes you have a great idea for a place to take your kids that you know they will LOVE and so you drag your whole damn family there and at the end of the trip, your six-year-old busts out with the most creative way he could possibly say, "Why, Mom? Why did you drag us here?"

Yep. Today. Quinn hated it Googleplex.

Although to be fair, he was just trying to outdo Jack, who said, "I hated it 100 percent. I loved it zero percent."

I should back up.

Today Jack had a dentist appointment. You may remember our dental horror from earlier this year. I was pretty sure that this trip for a routine cleaning was going to involve a toothbrush, some shrieking (Jack), and some gentle sobbing (me). Instead, Jack let the most awesome hygienist in the world fully clean his teeth with her tools.

It was kind of a big deal, guys.

It was an amazing and wonderful visit and began with the lady at the front desk asking me if Jack would like a private room because he has autism and ended with Jack reluctantly letting the dentist put her sharp little pokey stick on his teeth. It was more than I could have hoped for. Especially since his teeth still look good.

But, since the dental office is an hour away from my house, I thought we should take advantage of the trip by doing something waaaay out in Virginia. Hence our trip to hell, otherwise known as the National Air and Space Musuem Stephen F. Udvar-Hazy Center.

I'd dragged the whole family out to Virginia to go to the museum, although the trip to the dentist office waiting room with its giant TV and air hockey table probably would have been enough for Sam and Quinn. (Seriously, if you need a dentist recommendation, email me. If you need museum recommendations, maybe ask someone else.)

In defense of the aerospace industry, Udvar-Hazy is cool. My kids were just not ready for most of it.

If you have an airplane kid, they will freak the hell out though.

The real reason I wanted to go to Udvar-Hazy, however, is because they have a real-life space shuttle there. The shuttle that is there now is Enterprise, which never went into space. It will be replaced, I believe, with the space shuttle Discovery, which DID go to space, at which point I will drag my family back and we will have the exact same experience, just with more forewarning this time.

Seriously, people. It's cool, right?

We did have points of fun and interest dotted around the museum, including this model of the Mars Rover. Jack looked at it for a while and was all, "I WANT IT."

We all love that little rover.

Seriously, ever since the days when we watched Roving Mars over and over and over, we have all loved the Mars Rover. If you haven't seen Roving Mars, watch it immediately. The bigger the screen the better. That way you will really get to see the expressions on the NASA nerds' faces when they get their first images from Mars and erupt into cheers. (My nerds and I also erupted into cheers every single day when we watched it happen on our television.)

Anywho, there was some whining and some lying on the floor and some "Mom, I don't want to disappoint you, but I really hate this place." (Jack and Quinn, Jack, Quinn, respectively.)

Then, on the way home, the little gas gauge that says, "238 miles to empty," went all the way down to "0 miles to empty," which fortunately didn't mean "your car will now stop on the beltway," but I was afraid that was what was going to happen.

Suffice it to say, once we got home, I took a really long nap. I have no idea what the rest of my family did.

Now it is 11:30 and my eyes are all, "BING! WE'RE AWAKE!!" This is a problem because Alex is hogging the TV playing Skyrim, which, incidentally, involves no aliens and doesn't take place on the rim of the sky, which is a HUGE disappointment to me. I suppose I'm going to have to go, sigh, read until I fall asleep.

Or I can use my time to think of other ways to torture my kids over winter break. Maybe I'll do that instead.

*****

So, you know how today went. Do you want to know how Team Stimey is planning on surviving the rest of winter "break"? Check today's White Knuckle Parenting at the Wheaton Patch.

Our Holiday

noreply@blogger.com (Stimey) — Tue, 27 Dec 2011 04:59:00 +0000

It seems important that I post some sort of follow-up post to let you all know how Christmas went. I think it is in the blogging contract somewhere. Our Christmas was lovely. Although Quinn was an teensy bit upset that we never lighted a menorah like we did last year.

Otherwise, it was all lovely.

Sam got to be one of Santa's elves this year, which was really cool. I was not completely pleased with his stocking stuffing technique, but he made up for it with enthusiasm. He was just about the cutest elf I could have hoped for. He refused to go to bed until after he helped, which was a problem, because Jack took a loooooong time to fall asleep.

He still managed to wake up early though!

We had a very mellow day. We didn't go anywhere. No one visited. We barely even talked to anyone on the phone. We cozied up, the five of us, and played and ate and napped and had a lovely, chill Christmas.

Our Christmas was all about video games and board games. So many games. So much fun!

Also Legos, in the form of a Millennium Falcon.

Oh, right. And weapons.

I love that photo of my tiny assassin. I'm not going to name names, but Quinn wasn't the person who accidentally shot the dog between the eyes with that dart gun. I'm not going to name names, but his has an "x" in it and it rhymes with Schmalex.

The only disappointment of Christmas is that we weren't able to take down our tree today as I'd hoped, which means I have to suffer one more day of Christmas spirit, which I am officially done with.

I hope you all had a wonderful day as well! Now, onward to other things! Like all the dentist appointments I scheduled for this week! Yay! (Not.)

Merry Christmas 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Stimey) — Sun, 25 Dec 2011 05:47:00 +0000

You should all know how much you mean to me. I am so very grateful for you every day. Thank you for reading. Thank you for commenting and emailing. Thank you for letting me talk at you. Thank you for everything. I am so thankful for my Stimeyland community. May you have the happiest of holidays.

For Anna and Tim and Margaret, But Especially for Jack

noreply@blogger.com (Stimey) — Sat, 24 Dec 2011 04:44:00 +0000

You probably remember Anna, who lost her son, Jack, in September. I think about them every single day. I can't imagine how painful this Christmas will be for them.

Anna has written that she is lifted by seeing blue ribbons around her neighborhood that people have put up for Jack. Others have photographed their blue ribbons for the family. It's not a lot, but this is what I can do.

Anna, Tim, Margaret, this tree is for you. I tied each of those ribbons with love and remembrance. We are not forgetting Jack.

I am sending all my love to your whole family this holiday season.