Disasters Averted Yesterday

Disaster #1: No plan for the day, yet we have to get out of the house. (My husband wants to get projects done - and I fully support this.)
Solution:  Hijack the old kindergarten email list and invite everyone from my son's class to the park. Receive four responses, including one yes.

Disaster #2: While waiting at the park, we get a phone call. The above mentioned "yes" becomes a "no." The new friend my son just made leaves. Fifteen minutes into our excursion, he is dangerously close to announcing that this is "the worst day ever."

Solution: Wait out the lull in the kid crowd (It's a beautiful day - why is no one here??) with a short walk through the woods. Pray for kids to arrive while walking back. Spot one kid my son's age. Spend the next 30 minutes helping them bond. Success!

Disaster #3: After a long car ride to run an errand, older son, baby and I stop at a coffee shop to relax and regroup. Trunk will not open. Stroller is inside. I have to pee.

Solution: Kick car, impressing son by demonstrating my ability to make it shake. Swear a few fake swear words ("crud," "freakin'"). Drag stroller out of trunk over back seat, carefully keeping wheels from slamming into baby's face.

Disaster #4: Baby is screaming his head off in the coffee shop. I know the girl who works here is annoyed. We are not finished, but should probably find an outdoor seating area. It will take several trips to move the stroller, two cups of milk, a cup of water, and a plate of food.

Solution: Stay put. I am out of patience and too tired to move. My baby has every right to be here, and that worker girl was super-surly when she waited on us. This is her freakin' punishment.

Disaster #5: Still at the coffee shop, I encourage my son to try another bite of the hummus he claims to have "sort of" liked. He begins gagging as if he may throw up. 

Solution: Consider directing him to turn toward the bin, but realize it is full of recyclables. Marvel inwardly that the very same hummus has transformed screaming baby into cooing cutie-pie. Do nothing and hope the gagging will not escalate and will simply pass.

It does.

Rain, Rain Go Away

No, no, no, no, no! It's raining! And we were going to go to the sprinkler park and now - it's raining!

Yes, there is whining and complaining in my house right now. (It's not only coming from me.)

I've searched all the library websites, the event websites, the free stuff to do with kids websites. Lots going on tomorrow. But today, we're stuck.

OK, I've got to pull it together. The baby will be waking up soon and I've got to have a plan.

This is what happens when you opt for a summer with a lot of free time. You sometimes wind up with a whole big empty day to fill.

And there's the crying. On the baby monitor that is. It's not just me.

How to Have a Successful Garage Sale

Was anybody rich in the 1970s? Of course someone must have been. But to me, the '70s are all about being scrappy, making do. Moms sewing rick-rack on the bottoms of their kids' pants so they'll last another season. Dads instructing kids to roll up the tube of toothpaste so they can squeeze out the last few dollops.

I guess this is why it seemed so '70s to have a garage sale this weekend, even though they've never really gone out of style.

I thought a garage sale would be a festive event to kick off the summer. I also thought we might rake in some decent extra cash, provided we sold a few big-ticket items along with the requisite mugs, used beauty products, old shoes, and holiday decorations.

The truth about garage sales: Mugs and skis never sell. Used beauty products do. You're likely to earn about 10 cents an hour if you figure in all the time it takes to gather your junk from the attic and basement, price everything, set it up outside, post signs around town, post an ad online, man the whole operation, tear everything down, remove the signage, and haul the unsold items to whatever charity will take it off your hands.

Who are these people who make hundreds of dollars at garage sales? What are they selling? The most I've ever made at a garage sale was about $100, and 70 percent of the take came from one large item.

Paltry earnings aside, however, the day was a huge success. It was a morning-to-night bonding adventure with our neighbors. It was kids manning their own lemonade stand - a cardboard box with a hand-written sign. It was a whole hot day outside, laughing, talking, sweating, snacking, and bargaining. 

Every time I have a garage sale, I swear it'll be the last time. We never make any real money. It's just not worth the work and aggravation.

Except it is. I'm definitely doing this again next year.

Sweet Stuff and the Ever-Enjoyable Sticky Hand

I can't say I've been totally relaxed today. But some sweet stuff happened that made me smile:

Walking down the street to post signs for our garage sale, we spotted neighbors outside. My son wound up playing with them and I got to talk. Just a nice, spontaneous moment.

While putting laundry away, my six-year-old (who was helping!) got distracted by a toy in his bedroom. He sat on the floor next to his baby brother (who was paging through a book with a serious look on his face) and the two of them sat quietly and companionably for a few minutes.

Everyone had fruit at lunch, counteracting - in my mind at least - the effects of any Cheetos ingested earlier in the day. Plus the baby fed himself his turkey sandwich, pickle, and grapes (mastering the pincer grasp and such healthy eating!).

After lunch, my son got really into playing with his sticky hand, a toy that just never fails to crack me up.

Rules for Summer

It's the first day of summer, a time of total freedom, and here's me, spewing out rules fast and furious...

No one is up for the day before 5 a.m., and that includes the youngest member of the family who obviously can't tell time.

No Monkey Quest - or video games of any kind - before 8 a.m.

No Cheetos for breakfast.

Cheetos only once a week (later in the day) because they are a total junkfood, unlike Cheez-Its, the former favorite, which are somehow a nutritious dairy product now in comparison.

Ah, the lazy days of summer...

Still Recovering from Monday's Field Trip

My in-laws tell a story about a couple they knew who would commit to only one activity per weekend. They invited this couple to dinner, I think it was, and the man said he was sorry, but on Saturday, they were going to the store to buy gloves. 

When we in the family hear this story, we usually laugh appreciatively. In the manner of slow-paced, simpler living, this couple had it right. With that in mind, I bring you the schedule for my son's field trip at which I was a chaperone.

9 a.m. 
Board buses

10 a.m. 
Arrive at destination and have snack

10:15-10:45 a.m. 
Learn about animals

10:45-11:15 a.m. 
Go on a nature walk

11:15-11:45 
Fish for creatures in a pond

12 p.m. 
Board buses to the park for lunch, playground time, and a party for our retiring school principal

1:30 p.m.
Board buses to school for student's birthday party followed by a movie

2:40 p.m.
Students can wait for the bus or be picked up to go home.

Now, how many separate activities was that in one half of a day?

7 Days till Summer

Yesterday, my son said to me, "Mom, what do we have planned for the summer?"

Our 70s summer of no-plans-no-nothing-nothingness starts in seven days.

"Well, hmmm" I answered nervously. "We don't have a lot going on..." Was he suddenly expecting a highly scheduled summer? Was he hoping I'd signed him up for camp or a fun class without his knowledge?

"Oh, good," he said. "So we're not doing anything?"

"That's right, a whole bunch of nothing," I agreed, relieved.

And our 70s summer is still on.