My husband likes to blame much of society’s ills on what he calls the “hippie generation”. Every time he does, I giggle a little inside, because the term “hippie generation” makes him sound like he’s an extraordinarily crotchety 75-year-old, and while I did bag myself an older husband, he’s not a senior citizen for goodness’ sake. And yes, I’m aware that by saying “goodness sake” I myself sound like I’m 75.
But back to the hippie generation. Among other things, my husband blames problems with the justice system, paroled sex offenders, laxity in the school system, and children’s behavioural issues on those damn hippies. While I may or may not agree with blaming the general downfall of society on one particular group, I do feel that there is far too much laxity with children and behaviour these days.
The thing is, there are a lot of fun and sweet parts to being a parent, but there are a lot of difficult parts too. Difficult: discipline. It is hard to discipline your children, and by discipline of course I mean correcting behaviours and ensuring that your child is not a spoiled brat destined to become a self-indulgent bratty adult with a sense of entitlement. It’s not a fun part of parenting but it is an important and very necessary part, one that does NOT go hand-in-hand with being your child’s best friend.
What I’m saying is, if you set low expectations for your children, they will always fulfill them. If you don’t apply rules and boundaries, your children will have problems. I’m not talking about some craziness a la the Babywise school of parenting, or not picking up your crying baby, or anything silly like that. I’m talking about boundaries, and lessons, and all that other stuff that is not fun. Without knowing where their boundaries are, children become unsure and act out.
I work really hard at teaching manners, instilling respect, and taming behavioural problems as they arise. It sucks, it is not fun, but I work hard at it. When I see five-year-olds slapping their mothers, screaming “Why didn’t you remember my hat? You’re so dumb!”, and falling to the floor shrieking, completely unchecked, I think, those are their peers, who they will be spending the majority of their time with in a few years, and I feel like I’m swimming upstream.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
The sun'll come out....sometime....
I don’t write much when I’m sad. I don’t mind writing about being sad, but I don’t like to write when I am currently sad. There is a reason for this. I feel, I really do, that I am an extremely fortunate person and that I have more than most. I mean, I have a healthy family and a loving, employed husband and in the grand scheme of things, this feels like the ultimate in blessings. Although I have had many sad periods in my life, now is not one of them, and so when I feel sad it feels a bit…self indulgent. Or spoiled. Either way I feel like if I’m all mopey about something trivial, fate is going to deal me something bad. It’s kind of like the karmic equivalent of “Stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about!”. Or, a phrase commonly used in my household “Suck it up, buttercup”. I know! Repress feelings! I would have made a great Englishwoman.
As it is, I’m a nice, albeit bizarre, combination of Scottish and Norwegian heritage.
But yesterday I was SO SAD and moped around a bit. My usual routines felt oppressive to me, and I kept interrupting said routines to look out the window at the grey sky and brown grass, which was soon to be covered in a fresh blanket of snow, while the children shrieked and fought in the background, probably because their mother is a nut. And although I tend to be quite glib and jovial about Calgary weather – it always snows in the spring! And in the summer sometimes too! Remember the July Stampede when it snowed! – really, the weather was getting me down. The temperatures hovering around freezing, the snow, the wind. Really it’s quite depressing. But, as they say, if you can’t change something, change the way you feel about it. I mean, I’m not Ma Ingalls and it’s not like trains are not going to get through and we are all going to die of starvation. Perspective, people.
And so my husband cheered me up by indulging in one of our favourite semi-annual activities – minds out of the gutter people! – which is looking at houses on-line, talking about buying a different house, and then concluding that our house is just FINE, thank you, and we aren’t moving. We have a nice house for kids – it’s got a good sized kitchen, a fully developed basement for a play area, and a gorgeous yard and garden. Which are currently covered in snow. Snap! Enough of that! Back to thinking about Ma Ingalls.
As it is, I’m a nice, albeit bizarre, combination of Scottish and Norwegian heritage.
But yesterday I was SO SAD and moped around a bit. My usual routines felt oppressive to me, and I kept interrupting said routines to look out the window at the grey sky and brown grass, which was soon to be covered in a fresh blanket of snow, while the children shrieked and fought in the background, probably because their mother is a nut. And although I tend to be quite glib and jovial about Calgary weather – it always snows in the spring! And in the summer sometimes too! Remember the July Stampede when it snowed! – really, the weather was getting me down. The temperatures hovering around freezing, the snow, the wind. Really it’s quite depressing. But, as they say, if you can’t change something, change the way you feel about it. I mean, I’m not Ma Ingalls and it’s not like trains are not going to get through and we are all going to die of starvation. Perspective, people.
And so my husband cheered me up by indulging in one of our favourite semi-annual activities – minds out of the gutter people! – which is looking at houses on-line, talking about buying a different house, and then concluding that our house is just FINE, thank you, and we aren’t moving. We have a nice house for kids – it’s got a good sized kitchen, a fully developed basement for a play area, and a gorgeous yard and garden. Which are currently covered in snow. Snap! Enough of that! Back to thinking about Ma Ingalls.
Friday, April 24, 2009
All Timmy wanted for Christmas was TIME
Did you see Grey’s Anatomy last night? If you did, and you are a parent, you probably know what I’m going to talk about, and it’s not the explosion of pregnant TV actresses (what is up with the girls on How I Met Your Mother? Don’t drink the water on THAT set.)
Anyway. On Grey’s, there was a little girl who was dying of Tay-Sachs disease, and it was very sadly portrayed. As she was entering her last stages, her father, frantic to find a little more time, was looking into alternative treatments in Mexico, spending the last few hours of her life on the phone. Meanwhile, the little girl was being rocked and held by one of the doctors. Fortunately the father figured out that all he needed to do was just hold his daughter until she passed, spending the last little bit of time she had with her. I sobbed into my (now-empty) wineglass and my (very patient) husband patted my back.
It occurred to me that often, as parents, we are frantically busy doing many things for our children, and while many of those things cannot be avoided, many can be put aside to just give our kids our time. It’s sort of like spending time trolling the internet to get ideas for activities and crafts, and then being annoyed when our children interrupt us to ask if we want to play trains. Not that this has EVER happened to me, I’m just saying. Usually they just want you to spend time with them, and it’s the nature of children not to really care if you have anything else on the go.
I think it’s a sad part of our society these days that kids are often viewed as inconvenient – their need for time and attention, their incessant hunger, their very being. It can really cramp your style, the whole having kids thing. But the thing is, they are little for a very short period of time. That period of time, where they want to spend time with you, where they want you to play with them, or colour a picture, or do a puzzle, or play Hungry Hungry Hippos for the millionth time – this period is short, and fleeting, and needs to be cherished. Even when you feel like another game of farm animals may just suck you dry. I’m just saying.
Anyway. On Grey’s, there was a little girl who was dying of Tay-Sachs disease, and it was very sadly portrayed. As she was entering her last stages, her father, frantic to find a little more time, was looking into alternative treatments in Mexico, spending the last few hours of her life on the phone. Meanwhile, the little girl was being rocked and held by one of the doctors. Fortunately the father figured out that all he needed to do was just hold his daughter until she passed, spending the last little bit of time she had with her. I sobbed into my (now-empty) wineglass and my (very patient) husband patted my back.
It occurred to me that often, as parents, we are frantically busy doing many things for our children, and while many of those things cannot be avoided, many can be put aside to just give our kids our time. It’s sort of like spending time trolling the internet to get ideas for activities and crafts, and then being annoyed when our children interrupt us to ask if we want to play trains. Not that this has EVER happened to me, I’m just saying. Usually they just want you to spend time with them, and it’s the nature of children not to really care if you have anything else on the go.
I think it’s a sad part of our society these days that kids are often viewed as inconvenient – their need for time and attention, their incessant hunger, their very being. It can really cramp your style, the whole having kids thing. But the thing is, they are little for a very short period of time. That period of time, where they want to spend time with you, where they want you to play with them, or colour a picture, or do a puzzle, or play Hungry Hungry Hippos for the millionth time – this period is short, and fleeting, and needs to be cherished. Even when you feel like another game of farm animals may just suck you dry. I’m just saying.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
The Queen and I
Queen Elizabeth II and I have something important in common; we share the same birthday, which is today! By writing this, it is clear I am not the type of person who coyly skirts the birthday issue, or likes to keep birthday celebrations to a minimum as my husband does. No, I’m the type of person who tells random people in the grocery store that it’s my birthday just to receive the many happy returns. If it was socially acceptable for a woman in her mid-thirties to walk around with a birthday crown and a button saying “Birthday Girl”, I would.
There isn’t much in the way of celebration today, as it’s a Tuesday and soccer season begins today, and so does my sojourn into soccer-mom-world. But what a lovely weekend I had. My husband took me out to Lake Louise, where we walked by the frozen lake and remembered how we got engaged there – nearly nine years ago – and also how we used to hike around there a lot when we were younger and childless and footloose and fancy free. My husband and the boys later surprised me with a cake and some yoga gear, and it felt like the best birthday celebration ever.
Today is warm and sunny and I’m ignoring the fact that the snow is coming later this week. Oh Calgary! If you love unpredictability in the weather and unseasonable temperatures any time of the year, it is the place to be. Today I’m going to enjoy the sunshine, and I just feel so grateful and blessed.
There isn’t much in the way of celebration today, as it’s a Tuesday and soccer season begins today, and so does my sojourn into soccer-mom-world. But what a lovely weekend I had. My husband took me out to Lake Louise, where we walked by the frozen lake and remembered how we got engaged there – nearly nine years ago – and also how we used to hike around there a lot when we were younger and childless and footloose and fancy free. My husband and the boys later surprised me with a cake and some yoga gear, and it felt like the best birthday celebration ever.
Today is warm and sunny and I’m ignoring the fact that the snow is coming later this week. Oh Calgary! If you love unpredictability in the weather and unseasonable temperatures any time of the year, it is the place to be. Today I’m going to enjoy the sunshine, and I just feel so grateful and blessed.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
What I Did Today
A little while ago, an article was circulating entitled “Why do friends with kids never have time?”, all about stay at home moms and what they do all day. I agreed with the article’s general sentiment but thought it was a bit mean spirited and maybe even a little self-righteous. I mean, really, unless you are actually at home with kids, you probably don’t know what that entails. And that’s okay. So here is my day, today. Now get ready, it’s pretty glamourous.
5:30 – Yoga: my favourite part of the day.
7:00 – Prepare, eat, and clean up after breakfast. Shower, do laundry, “encourage” boys to get dressed, etc., while I wonder what to do with all the new layers my hair seems to be in. Read “Magic School Bus Takes a Moonwalk” and wonder if Neil Armstrong actually did walk on the moon, or are the conspiracy theorists correct?
9:15 – Take the boys grocery shopping to Superstore. Good Lord. Stand in line behind the least efficient shopper ever, and try to think nice thoughts.
10:45 – Unload massive amounts of groceries.
11:00 – Check email and think, not for the first time, that my idea of getting involved by volunteering to be soccer coordinator was very, very ill thought out.
11:30 – Prepare, eat, and clean up after lunch.
12:00 – Make two giant batches of muffins for snack at the preschool tomorrow, as well as mini-muffins for today. While they are baking, I accomplish the following tasks: folding laundry, being the “crew chief” for the game “race cars” in which the boys run laps around the house making loud engine noises, wash dishes (again), supervise and help out with five different craft projects, one of which is a disastrous effort with glitter glue, and mediate the debate “Resolved: Scooby Doo’s real name is Scooby Dooby Doo”.
1:30 – Cut back some perennials in the yard and remove a bit of leaf mulch, with helpers. Helpers scatter debris all over yard, attempt to rake it up independently, and as a result the dog is covered in leaf mulch, dead grass, and twigs.
2:30 – Snack time! Prepare and clean up snack. I think I see a pattern emerging. Slice up two pounds of strawberries while listening to two very long, very detailed stories that are overlapping but not really making sense. Brush the dog and vacuum up immense amounts of leaf mulch, dead grass, and twigs.
3:00 – Help Jake build a fort under the coffee table. He and Mark start a strange and disturbing game in which one of their stuffed dogs is being held prisoner. A whole lot of pipe cleaners are involved. I play the piano for a bit to regroup a little.
4:00 – Start dinner preparations. Life would be so much easier if I had a personal chef. If ever I become extraordinarily rich, that is what I would get.
5:00 – Dinner. I’m all ready for retirement. Dinner at five. Guess what? Dishes!
6:15 – Rob arrives home and I make a break for it, taking the dog for a walk. Ah, my little canine friend. I love him so. Come home in time for bedtime snacks (sheesh, kids eat a lot), stories, bath and bed.
7:30 – Drink wine and write down this list. Now, it’s off to watch Hell’s Kitchen and fall asleep before 9:30! The glamour! The intrigue! And I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
5:30 – Yoga: my favourite part of the day.
7:00 – Prepare, eat, and clean up after breakfast. Shower, do laundry, “encourage” boys to get dressed, etc., while I wonder what to do with all the new layers my hair seems to be in. Read “Magic School Bus Takes a Moonwalk” and wonder if Neil Armstrong actually did walk on the moon, or are the conspiracy theorists correct?
9:15 – Take the boys grocery shopping to Superstore. Good Lord. Stand in line behind the least efficient shopper ever, and try to think nice thoughts.
10:45 – Unload massive amounts of groceries.
11:00 – Check email and think, not for the first time, that my idea of getting involved by volunteering to be soccer coordinator was very, very ill thought out.
11:30 – Prepare, eat, and clean up after lunch.
12:00 – Make two giant batches of muffins for snack at the preschool tomorrow, as well as mini-muffins for today. While they are baking, I accomplish the following tasks: folding laundry, being the “crew chief” for the game “race cars” in which the boys run laps around the house making loud engine noises, wash dishes (again), supervise and help out with five different craft projects, one of which is a disastrous effort with glitter glue, and mediate the debate “Resolved: Scooby Doo’s real name is Scooby Dooby Doo”.
1:30 – Cut back some perennials in the yard and remove a bit of leaf mulch, with helpers. Helpers scatter debris all over yard, attempt to rake it up independently, and as a result the dog is covered in leaf mulch, dead grass, and twigs.
2:30 – Snack time! Prepare and clean up snack. I think I see a pattern emerging. Slice up two pounds of strawberries while listening to two very long, very detailed stories that are overlapping but not really making sense. Brush the dog and vacuum up immense amounts of leaf mulch, dead grass, and twigs.
3:00 – Help Jake build a fort under the coffee table. He and Mark start a strange and disturbing game in which one of their stuffed dogs is being held prisoner. A whole lot of pipe cleaners are involved. I play the piano for a bit to regroup a little.
4:00 – Start dinner preparations. Life would be so much easier if I had a personal chef. If ever I become extraordinarily rich, that is what I would get.
5:00 – Dinner. I’m all ready for retirement. Dinner at five. Guess what? Dishes!
6:15 – Rob arrives home and I make a break for it, taking the dog for a walk. Ah, my little canine friend. I love him so. Come home in time for bedtime snacks (sheesh, kids eat a lot), stories, bath and bed.
7:30 – Drink wine and write down this list. Now, it’s off to watch Hell’s Kitchen and fall asleep before 9:30! The glamour! The intrigue! And I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Stars - They're Just Like Us!
So yesterday I was in the hair salon, getting my inch or so of pure grey roots coloured, when I reached for salon-type reading material: People and US Weekly. Let me preface this by saying that tabloid magazines are a bit lost on me, as I rarely know who any of the celebrities are and also I rarely know the shows or movies that they are in. My twelve year old niece excitedly showed me her Camp Rock themed Easter treat, at which I initially stared blankly, and then conjured up some interested-sounding questions. “You see, Aunty, it’s the Jonas brothers!” she said, to which I answered with a bewildered look that I surely inherited from my own constantly-bewildered father, along with his pure grey hair. Thanks Dad!
Anyway, for those of you who read or have read US Weekly, there is a “feature” called “Stars – They’re Just Like Us!” which shows various celebrities doing things like grocery shopping or picking up their dry-cleaning or some other mundane task which shows that really, we are all people and there is only the smallest degree of separation between me, and say, Jennifer Aniston.
One of the photographs showed a celebrity couple taking a picture of their baby on a swing, and the caption was “They take pictures of their kids!”. On the same page was another celebrity at a playground (or maybe it was the same one, I don’t know) watching his child go down a slide. The caption? “Their kids go down slides!”. Really? Is this news-worthy? I don’t know. I stared at that page for a long time, feeling some kind of apocalyptic sinking and also feeling puzzled. “Their kids go down slides!”
For a while it has seemed like children are the latest celebrity accessory, a baby bump being the ultimate in trendiness. The fact that magazines show photos of these children, who in all likelihood are primarily cared for by nannies and night nurses, is the ultimate in revolting to me. The fact that a child is fodder for the media because he plays at a playground, and is supposedly leading a perfectly ordinary life, despite immense wealth and fame, is pathetic. And the fact that I actually read that magazine makes me feel ill. In this celebrity-obsessed world of ours, children have become just one more thing, something to buy expensive items for and something to dress up in expensive clothes, and something to farm out when they become tiresome.
Anyway, for those of you who read or have read US Weekly, there is a “feature” called “Stars – They’re Just Like Us!” which shows various celebrities doing things like grocery shopping or picking up their dry-cleaning or some other mundane task which shows that really, we are all people and there is only the smallest degree of separation between me, and say, Jennifer Aniston.
One of the photographs showed a celebrity couple taking a picture of their baby on a swing, and the caption was “They take pictures of their kids!”. On the same page was another celebrity at a playground (or maybe it was the same one, I don’t know) watching his child go down a slide. The caption? “Their kids go down slides!”. Really? Is this news-worthy? I don’t know. I stared at that page for a long time, feeling some kind of apocalyptic sinking and also feeling puzzled. “Their kids go down slides!”
For a while it has seemed like children are the latest celebrity accessory, a baby bump being the ultimate in trendiness. The fact that magazines show photos of these children, who in all likelihood are primarily cared for by nannies and night nurses, is the ultimate in revolting to me. The fact that a child is fodder for the media because he plays at a playground, and is supposedly leading a perfectly ordinary life, despite immense wealth and fame, is pathetic. And the fact that I actually read that magazine makes me feel ill. In this celebrity-obsessed world of ours, children have become just one more thing, something to buy expensive items for and something to dress up in expensive clothes, and something to farm out when they become tiresome.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Three Confessions That Make Me Feel Weird in the World of Mothers
1) I can’t stand being called “Mommy”. It’s “Mama” or “Mom”. No “Mommy”.
2) I can happily hold someone else’s baby without actually wanting a baby of my own. Yesterday I held my cute little nephew at Easter dinner, and later whispered to my husband “I’m really glad we don’t have babies anymore”. And believe me, this is nothing personal to my adorable nephew, who is sweet and cute and didn’t cry once – not once! - during the three hours we were with him. I just….don’t want any more babies.
3) I don’t want a girl. This is good, given 2). For a long time after having Jake, people (often strangers) would ask me if I was going to try for a girl. Well, a) I find “trying” for a particular gender somewhat offensive – be happy with what you have, people!, and b) I don’t want three kids. I’m good with two. Thanks. I know there are a great many happy families with more than two kids – I myself have two brothers – but for me, two is a good number.
2) I can happily hold someone else’s baby without actually wanting a baby of my own. Yesterday I held my cute little nephew at Easter dinner, and later whispered to my husband “I’m really glad we don’t have babies anymore”. And believe me, this is nothing personal to my adorable nephew, who is sweet and cute and didn’t cry once – not once! - during the three hours we were with him. I just….don’t want any more babies.
3) I don’t want a girl. This is good, given 2). For a long time after having Jake, people (often strangers) would ask me if I was going to try for a girl. Well, a) I find “trying” for a particular gender somewhat offensive – be happy with what you have, people!, and b) I don’t want three kids. I’m good with two. Thanks. I know there are a great many happy families with more than two kids – I myself have two brothers – but for me, two is a good number.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Signs Spring has Sprung at Nicole’s House
1) Green sprouts of perennial flowers emerging through the leaf mulch, surely to suffer frost damage and be snowed on, yet still poking their tenacious selves up. Oh hardy perennials, how I love you.
2) Two pairs of rubber boots outside the back door, caked heavily in mud.
3) The existence of mud, dirt, and leaf mulch in many unexpected places in the house.
4) Muddy dog footprints in the house.
5) Grimy hand towels in the bathroom. (“But I actually DID use soap” Jake says, puzzled.)
6) Piles and piles of muddy laundry. Do you sense a theme emerging?
7) Spring fever. Ahem. I will decorously leave it at that.
8) I AM ONLY WEARING ONE SHIRT. Yes, like a chrysalis shedding its cocoon, I have put aside my thick sweaters to reveal a mere long sleeved t-shirt. How’s that for an Easter metaphor?
Honestly, I was starting to believe that this winter was actually going to last forever, what with the constant record snowfalls and below-average temperatures. It sort of felt like being at home with a small infant, the constant feeding and no sleep, and the to-do list that looked like this: shower, eat something, wander around in a semi-comatose state. To me, it always felt like the young-baby stage was going to last forever, that I would be exhausted forever, that I would be feeding an infant for the better part of an hour every two to three hours. Intellectually, I knew it wouldn’t last forever, but my emotional self didn’t really believe it. But what do you know, I now have two preschoolers on my hands, who can actually be relied upon to do a few things for themselves and don’t depend on me for every single thing. And just like that, the winter is over and spring is here.
2) Two pairs of rubber boots outside the back door, caked heavily in mud.
3) The existence of mud, dirt, and leaf mulch in many unexpected places in the house.
4) Muddy dog footprints in the house.
5) Grimy hand towels in the bathroom. (“But I actually DID use soap” Jake says, puzzled.)
6) Piles and piles of muddy laundry. Do you sense a theme emerging?
7) Spring fever. Ahem. I will decorously leave it at that.
8) I AM ONLY WEARING ONE SHIRT. Yes, like a chrysalis shedding its cocoon, I have put aside my thick sweaters to reveal a mere long sleeved t-shirt. How’s that for an Easter metaphor?
Honestly, I was starting to believe that this winter was actually going to last forever, what with the constant record snowfalls and below-average temperatures. It sort of felt like being at home with a small infant, the constant feeding and no sleep, and the to-do list that looked like this: shower, eat something, wander around in a semi-comatose state. To me, it always felt like the young-baby stage was going to last forever, that I would be exhausted forever, that I would be feeding an infant for the better part of an hour every two to three hours. Intellectually, I knew it wouldn’t last forever, but my emotional self didn’t really believe it. But what do you know, I now have two preschoolers on my hands, who can actually be relied upon to do a few things for themselves and don’t depend on me for every single thing. And just like that, the winter is over and spring is here.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Puddle Jumping
I was speaking with a childless woman in her forties. “Oh, you’re so lucky,” she said, “I would love to stay at home and play all day.” That kind of comment just automatically clenches my teeth. My initial, knee-jerk reaction is to list all the tedious chores involved in my day-to-day life: myriad hours spent planning, preparing, and cleaning up after meals and snacks, cleaning, laundry, grocery shopping with kids in tow. My next reaction is to list all the things I do and the things I do not allow: I don’t watch daytime TV, I spend a lot of time figuring out appropriate craft projects, I read the same books about skyscrapers, vehicles, dinosaurs, and superheroes over and over, they are allowed only a limited amount of TV, I take them on outings, and I supervise (sometimes awful) playdates. Apparently I need to justify my decisions by making my life sound as terrible as possible, as if it is all work and I get no enjoyment out of it.
But the truth is I AM lucky. It is fun to be around the kids all day, even if the above paragraph is true. Yes, it is work, yes, it can be boring, and tedious, and actually kind of irritating to be with small children all day, but it can be so wonderful too. Today we went “puddle jumping”. We walked down the block to ogle the neighbour’s eclectic collection of old cars that were probably bought at an auction and are ostensibly being restored, and that the boys are fascinated with. (“Look, Jake, it’s that Caprice that I love!” “I know, Mark! I really love this Oldsmobile!” ) We looked at the cars for a while and then the boys jumped in every single puddle on the way home. They followed a stream of muddy gutter water, watching it flow into the sewage drain, which is another odd fascination of theirs. They threw rocks into some of the larger puddles and jumped and splashed until, freezing, we had to go home to warm up. And I thought, yes, I really am lucky.
But the truth is I AM lucky. It is fun to be around the kids all day, even if the above paragraph is true. Yes, it is work, yes, it can be boring, and tedious, and actually kind of irritating to be with small children all day, but it can be so wonderful too. Today we went “puddle jumping”. We walked down the block to ogle the neighbour’s eclectic collection of old cars that were probably bought at an auction and are ostensibly being restored, and that the boys are fascinated with. (“Look, Jake, it’s that Caprice that I love!” “I know, Mark! I really love this Oldsmobile!” ) We looked at the cars for a while and then the boys jumped in every single puddle on the way home. They followed a stream of muddy gutter water, watching it flow into the sewage drain, which is another odd fascination of theirs. They threw rocks into some of the larger puddles and jumped and splashed until, freezing, we had to go home to warm up. And I thought, yes, I really am lucky.
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