Drops of Awesome

Personal Blog of Author Kathryn Thompson

Kathryn

Meeting Maria

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I stayed home from church today with a pathetic sickly Wanda. She’s got a snuffly nose, a cough, a rattle and a roll. She can’t sleep without a binky but she can’t breathe WITH a binky so we are at an impasse. There is a lot of crying and snarfling going on.

I’m just getting over something similar to what she has, although I looked a lot less cute when it was my turn so I tried to nap in between rescuing her from the suffocating bink and alternately calming her with it.

When I woke up from my nap, the kids were watching a movie, something we don’t do much of on Sundays and Dan and I decided it wasn’t a great Sabbath day movie choice. I’m not sure that there’s anything religiously wrong with Barbie and the Magic of Pegasus, although the male/female relations are somewhat of an archetypal muddle. I think we decided it wasn’t a great Sunday movie because it sucks.

So we let them watch a movie that does not suck. According to my Grandpa, who saw it around one hundred times in the theatre when it was released, it’s about the un-suckingest movie that has ever and will ever be made. The hills are alive with it. You guessed it. We watched The Sound of Music.

I cried when they sang about the problem with a certain young novitiate named Maria. I cried when she had confidence in sunshine. I bawled my eyes out when she taught the children how to verbalize Solfège and don’t get me started on Maria’s favorite things. It is too much. I love that movie. It’s in my blood.

I love it because it reminds me of how happy my childhood was, even though my sister made me be Rolf when we danced along with “Sixteen Going on Seventeen.” It was a charmed childhood. Tonight I proclaimed that when Dan and I dress up as Rolf and Liesel for Halloween, I get to be the girl, all pretty in pink and he can be the pre-Nazi messenger boy.

Laylee was enthralled, talking about what an amazing governess Maria was. As I child I liked Maria, but I don’t remember thinking she was all that amazing. Weren’t all moms kind of like that? She very much reminded me of my own mom but with shorter hair and a guitar.

The best comment of the night came when the nuns were singing about Maria at the beginning of the movie and Magoo sat with a disgusted look on his face and said, “Why do they just go on and ON and ON and ON about it?”

We stopped for bed just as the Von Trapp family singers were climbing trees, about 5 minutes pre-firing, about 7 minutes pre-Edelweiss, somewhere near 20 minutes pre-most-romantic-dance-scene-ever.

So far my kids think it’s a happy movie with lots of singing and too many nun parts. But wait. It gets better. Tomorrow we get to finish up with icky romantic love and Nazis. Maybe we should just watch the first half again.

P.S. “Favorite Things” is still not a Christmas song.

Socks and Simplicity

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“I found that I spent the first several months of her life carefully matching the socks after each washing, holding them up to the light, analyzing color, weave, texture, cuff, stretchiness, length and width. I was playing laundry Cupid, finding each little socky its one true and perfect sole-mate. The saying is true in our house. There is only one perfect match for everyone. ”

[Read more about socks and simplification at Parenting.com]

St. Patrick’s Day Non-Proliferation Treaty

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Dear Parents and Leprechauns of the World,
Stop the madness! Today I am begging you, BEGGING. YOU. To stop this senseless St. Patty’s escalation and let the rest of us get back to our old traditions of making green pancakes and wearing a button that says, “Kiss Me! I’m Irish!”

Why are you all making it so hard for me to live up to the expectations of Leprechaun Mania? So a couple of years ago they turned the milk green. Now they’re leaving gifts, candy, new green clothes, actual pots of GOLD for the children???? When will it end?

Laylee comes home and tells me about all the insane gifts being enjoyed by her other friends on this day of days and wonders why the Leprechauns hate our family so much. Maybe it’s because I refuse to create one more holiday of needless, money-wasting, gift-giving insanity. Maybe it’s because I’m heartless. (I think it’s the first reason.)

I mean, come on. Pretty soon we’re gonna be doing scavenger hunts on Flag day where you have the chance of finding A NEW CAR – compliments of the flag fairy or kids will be expecting money under their pillows left on President’s Day Eve by the ghosts of their favorite dead presidents. If Benjamin Franklin thinks you’ve been good this year, you get a hundred. (Okay Rebecca! He wasn’t a president but he’s on money and I’m Canadian so what’re you gonna do?)

COME ON! Join me today in a holiday non-proliferation agreement. Do we need a magical gift-bearing mascot for every blinking day of the year? What about the Solstice Gnome or the Green Earth Day Gomer? Make it stop. Only you can help prevent my daughter bawling her brains out because even though she left out a long note and a monetary offering to the leprechauns, they left her nothing but some green milk in the fridge and today sucks – it sucks and it “doesn’t even feel like St. Patrick’s Day.”

“Maybe we need to make our own magic,” I suggested.

She’s not buying it… because all the other kids are going to show up to school with heavy-laden pack mules bearing their bounteous leprechaun harvest and I’m the one who pays the price.

Love, Sincerely,
-Kathryn
The Grinch Who Stole St. Patrick’s Day and is Proud of It

When I Grow Up

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Magoo told me the other day that he wants to be a paleontologist when he grows up. Then he self-corrected and told me that no, he just wants to be a “regular dad” who stays home. He wants to be a “regular dad” the same way I’m a “regular mom.”

He also said he doesn’t want to be a grandpa either because grandpas have to move REALLY far away from home, so far that they have to drive all day and all night to get home. And also they die sometimes and he doesn’t want to die ever.

I guess Laylee’s not the only one thinking about grandparental death. I’m not afraid of it. My parents and Dan’s parents are not allowed to die. I am also swearing off death. I still need plenty of time to decide what I want to be when I grow up.

I’m thinking about becoming a professional student. Maybe I’ll be a high school or college teacher. I’ll definitely be writing for a living. Perhaps I’ll get a black belt in karate. What do you want to be when you grow up?

A Letter

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Laylee’s been learning about letter writing at school. Here’s a transcription of a letter she recently wrote to her teacher:

Dear Miss Snop/Rachel,
I woke up early. It was 7:00. First I got dressed. Next, I looked at the clock. Then, I did my homework. Last, I played. Did you wake up early? What time did you wake up at? Do you know that I know that yar name is Rachel? Are yar perents dead yet? Can you come to my birthday party next year?

From,
Laylee

Dan thinks it’s funny that she’s come to think of her teacher as being so old and authoritative that it’s highly unlikely her parents are still living. I find it more amusing that she finds nothing insensitive about asking her about it straight out, followed by a birthday party invitation.

The juxtaposition suggests that she’s either trying to be sensitive – perhaps the party invite is a gesture of consolation in the event that the parents have passed away – or she is seven years old and the death of a parent and the event of a birthday party carry roughly the same level of importance in her eyes.

The Good

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“Yes, I think there’s a lot to do to make quality education available and relevant to all children. Yes, I’m still trying to figure out what I can do to help. Today I’d like to focus on what’s going right. Have you or one of your children brushed shoulders with an inspiring educator?”

[Read more and comment at Parenting.com]

Yogurt Chronicles

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Magoo’s had a few problems with yogurt in his life. I didn’t realize quite how many until a couple of days ago when he asked for some and then started telling me the Rules of Yogurt, one at a time. He listed 7 rules, each specifically related to times he’d gotten in trouble because of his use or misuse of yogurt.

1. You can’t leave the yogurt out.
2. You can’t lick the spoon and put it back in.
3. You do it CAREFULLY.
4. You can’t break the bottom of it.
5. You can’t get a handful of yogurt.
6. You can’t get it until you ask a grownup… or your dad.
7. You have to put it back.

I like the fact that rules one and 7 are essentially the same but bear repeating because they have been emphasized on so many mornings when we’ve found the giant tub of yogurt sitting out luke-warm on the kitchen table.

I also like that Dan is not classified as an adult.

I also like that we need 7 rules about yogurt… so far.

Education and You

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Laylee has had 2 classroom teachers and several subject specialists since beginning school 2 years ago. We have enjoyed them all. They are energetic, kind, talented educators and I think she’d move in with several of them if given the choice of staying at our house or going home with them. The quality of these teachers however does not keep us from wanting more for her education.

I had breakfast yesterday morning at the Pacific Science Center listening to Jeff Raikes, the CEO of the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation talking about the importance of quality STEM education (Science Technology Engineering and Math). Wheels are turning. People with passion, knowledge and resources are working to improve things for the kids of the future. But what can we do right now?

[Read more at Parenting.com]

Rules of Engagement

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My kids were going to town fighting on the way to church this morning. Way to bring in the spirit of peace, love and joy! Go team! I’ve often heard cheerleaders yell, “Go! Fight! Win!” Maybe the kids were following that advice and thought they were on the road to some sort of championship, rather than cruisin’ for a you-know-what and a big fat dose of religion. Whatever they were thinking, I was learning a few things about how to hold your own in a fight with a sibling. This brings me to my first post on Sibling Rules of Engagement.

Rule #1 – If your sibling doesn’t agree with something you’ve said, just respond with, ” I wasn’t TALKING to you!” even if no one else is within earshot.

Rule #2 – If you don’t agree with something your sibling is saying, simply grab a stuffed animal, clutch it fiercely to your bosom and say, “Be QUIET! My baby is SLEEPING!”

We were late for church but not because of the fighting, more becuase of my lack of ability to ever estimate how long it will take me to get ready for anything ever. Did I say “ever”?

As we were walking into church, I reminded the kids to be really quiet becuase we were late, to which Magoo responded, “I LOVE it when we’re late because church is sooo long and bo-ring.” Yep. It was a great start to the day.

What Do Your Kids’ Friends Call You?

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It seems that more and more everyone just calls everyone by first names, like we’re all chums, BFFs, equals. As much as I choke on the “Mrs. Thompson” moniker, I like what it stands for. It means I’m an adult with life experience and authority. It means I’m responsible to protect and care for the little ones in my life because I’m not a peer, I’m a mother. [read more at Parenting.com]