Everybody is just so darn busy. There are so many options in this life. Fun things. Things that we feel obligated to do. Things that we feel like our kids must do to best prepare them for their futures.
The plan at the beginning of the year was to coordinate a "party" (playdate... flashmob) every month with favorite friends from school. Well... we're seven months into it and today was our third party. It hasn't been from lack of desire, just lack of time. Not even actual time, but advance time. So much of our existence is just living through the day, so it's too overwhelming to project ahead two weeks to plan something that requires a dozen other families to also project ahead. Anyway, we couldn't let the ever-festive St. Patrick's Day pass without a celebration.
Every feasible pre-St. Paddy's day was already packed with plans, so we had to decide to piggy-back activities, and just hustle to get all the fun cleaned up in time to decorate for Part II (an annual program I chaired for the teenage girls at our church). Our invitees also had a million things going on (it was endearing to consider the efforts that were made -- by both those that made it, and those that were with us in spirit), and yet, for all the squished-in-ness that the party was for us and others, it was still very sweet.
Since the gym at the church was being used for a different function, we knew that the party had to have some kind of low-key element that could be contained in a Sunday school room. We came up with Bingo -- the perfect opportunity to test one's luck! Placing round pieces of plastic on numbers is not nearly as fun as galloping and yelping, but it was at least an opportunity to socialize (which is by far and away the number one thing random people always ask me about when they hear that we're homeschooling. I want to say: Newsflash -- one kid will be quirky no matter how much school happens, and one kid will be able to navigate easily no matter how much school happens. If school was the great social-equalizer we wouldn't have so many wackos still in existence. If going to school made us all sane and stable and fulfilled there wouldn't be so many hours billed by therapists... but then I would appear sans social-filter myself... though, that would prove my point since I went to public school for my thirteen years...).
We taped brown kraft paper to the tables and scattered some "gold," and let the kids who arrived early draw on the tables and munch on the chocolate. Then the game began. The Boy was the caller and took his job seriously. When kids won they got to pick an item from the prize basket (items that have been left over from playdates, valentines, craft projects, etc.).
For snacks we had Rice Krispies treats... but with Lucky Charms, vegetables made into pathetic rainbows, chips, and Shamrock Shakes (The Sister whipped up vanilla milkshakes, added mint extract and green food coloring and squirting some whipped cream on top).
While Friend A and The Sister monitored the kid-antics, prepared the food, and in the end got down on hands and knees and picked up crumbs, I chatted with friends. I heard about the stress in the 4th grade with the big state test looming... the families that are investing heavily in tutors... the things that the kids are telling each other (i.e. "You HAVE to have a tutor to do well."). Yipes. It's a hard world out there for these nine-year olds. And for the parents who love the nine-year olds, and are trying so hard to provide for them, and help them, and buoy them.
There is only so much time in a day. It's hard to know how to spend it. I feel very lucky that we got to visit with friends today. I'm not idealistic (or wise?) enough to write that in the end that will be all that matters, but I will posit that as we sift through, and try to determine what it is that matters, it's awfully nice to be with people that you like.
The ever-dapper fireside poet, John Greenleaf Whittier, wrote:
Give fools their gold, and knaves their power;
Let fortune's bubbles rise and fall;
Who sows a field, or trains a flower,
Or plants a tree, is more than all.
We are hedging our bets against fortune's indigestion, and learning how to grow plants.
Our little greenhouse is assembled (The Boy looked at the "instructions" -- a sketch clearly drawn by a palsied, drunk, handless individual -- and put that puppy together in a snap). This weekend we are going to get some soil and seeds and begin.
The Boy opened his coat to access his many-zippered Jr. Ranger utility vest. Having located his compass, he put his camera and identification book back into their respective pockets, and closed his coat.
"Well, that's something..." Our friend mused when she caught sight of the vest.
"Sure is," I conceded.
"Somebody buys him these things..." She teased.
Au contraire. For the record: he bought the field vest entirely with his own money. Though, I might have bought him the kerchief that he had tied around his neck ascot-style.
But I was splitting hairs, or rather feathers. Once you're an out and proud birder the vest and neck accoutrement are really just so many details.
We have a friend from church who is really fun -- when her kids were growing up she was undoubtedly the cool mom on the block. Last Spring the kids took a day off of school and we went with her to Flatbush (Brooklyn) to check out the monk parrots that unexpectedly flourish there. She came equipped with some serious birdseed poundage that she lugged there (and -- the remaining -- back). Knowing that the kids like to watch for birds in Central Park, she suggested that we meet up and get rid of that extra birdseed that she's been storing. Today was the day.
We entered at West 72nd and headed to The Ramble. Judd the Red Chicken was sure that he could find the way to the bird feeders. In retrospect, he wasn't far off, but it's easy to overshoot the little hollow where they are and we ended up by Belvedere Castle. We looked out over the turtle pond and went inside to access the windy stone stairs that empty out at battlements. While there we asked a volunteer where the bird feeders are found. As a point of reference: they are in The Ramble by the Azalea Pond (a tiny pond that connects via a skinny waterway/creek to The Lake).
We overshot it again, but after asking a birder we eventually found it. It is a sweet little pond. Determined to rid herself of the birdseed, our friend encouraged Thing 1 and Thing 2 to start chucking it about. And they did. And the squirrels came and looked very satisfied with us. As we walked along to the little area where the bird feeders are I looked back at the mob of squirrels and wondered if they would follow us -- effectively making our group a collective Pied Piper of Central Park.
The bird feeders had the attention of some nice specimens -- a field scientist was leading a group of tourists who could not get their shutters to open and close fast enough. When I asked if they had spotted anything great one sang out enthusiastically: "We're from Europe! We think it's all great!" And she took her hundredth picture of a sparrow. Overall, we saw a nice sampling of birds today:
Red-tailed Hawk
Juncos
Mourning Doves
Goldfinch
Cardinals
Red-bellied Woodpecker
Red-winged Blackbird
Grackles
Blue Jays
Black-capped Chickadees
Tufted Titmouse
All of those links from the Cornell Lab of Ornithology (which is a great resource -- we emailed them one time with a question about a duck we saw -- and they emailed right back) kind of make me snicker -- how many more ways can they write: "ehhh... common..." Oh, well. For our first time back out and looking since Autumn, it felt like a nice haul. And it was lovely to spend a couple of hours with a friend. We spoke about being a mother-in-law and she mentioned that she had great relationships with her daughters' husbands. One likes to test-drive cars that he will probably never buy, but she's game to ride shotgun. One likes to look at land for sale, so she goes along, listening to his dreams. I thought: Of course she does those things -- she just hauled around a toddler's weight in birdseed. She is the quintessential pal who supports the small adventures that can be found in day-to-day life. She is an example to me. I'm glad that our family benefits from her willingness to say, "Let's do it."
As we were heading home, we crossed the bridge and found some CP workers in the process of changing out the flowers.
Here's to validating daily adventures like bird spotting and flower potting. Here's to bird-nerds and pals and a girl who kept giggling: "Those are really happy squirrels."
The spawn have been taking a weekly science class up on 181st at a place called Storefront Science. There are live animals to watch and sometimes hold (when certain chronic-homeschoolers aren't hogging), and specimens, and a brilliant teacher (Dr. Ardizzone). They've learned the five kingdom classifications of organisms (Monera, Protista, Fungi, Plantae, and Animalia). They have met "Mrs. Gren" -- a device to remember the seven activities of living things (movement, respiration, sensitivity, growth, reproduction, excretion (my kids were stoked to tell me about that one), and nutrition). Today they watched the dissection of a sponge (apparently it eats, breaths, and excretes from the same hole -- also stoked to share this with me), and learned about a microscope before using it to view slices of the sponge. Next week the focus is worms, as they move along through more complex animals. Dr. A is such an efficient teacher, and the class so small, that I feel like the male specimen and the female specimen have learned more science in the past couple of weeks then they did during a few years in public school.
When not giggling about excretion, we've been kickin' it old school around here. While I know that cursive is OUT ("That instruction time is used now for learning keyboarding," I heard when helping with a school tour last year), I think it's a valuable thing to learn, or at least quaint and novel... I picked up these workbooks when we were at Bank Street.
And they've been rollerskating.
Inquiry: if rollerskates are being left behind for rollerblades, and cursive for keyboarding, what's the "upgrade" for authentic curiosity driven by Science? Test prep?
Flowers, and succulents, and a British-theme? Had all my cellulite turned to caramel-drizzled brownie, ready to be broken off and consumed, I could not have been more satisfied.
This past week Philadelphia had its big ol' flower show and it was brilliant. We waited for traffic to subside, and then drove to the city of brotherly love on Friday night so we could get up early Saturday to begin our floral wonderland wanderings.
The lighting is bad because it was in the caverns of the convention center, but that enormousness enabled a lot to happen. One of my favorite displays was one that took advantage of the dark and made an eerie alley that twisted the viewer through the bowels of Whitechapel, circa 1888... the place and time of Jack the Ripper. It whispered the question: what grows in the dark? And creepily, a lot of the flowers that were used were not growing at all... but cut and hanging.
Everything else was much more cheerful. Perhaps the cheer being enhanced because of that dark little corner.
There was a county fair-esque area where projects were displayed that had been entered in various themed categories (incorporate a teacup, Lord of the Rings, the Mad Hatter, "painting" using dried flowers, etc.).
Quite a bit of Beatles references, like the Yellow Submarine.
A wall with hanging silver and white plantings called "Fog on the Moors."
The tea party like the one that Alice attended, complete with the guy that was painting some roses red.
Areas where, as my friend said, "If you look close enough you should be able to find a fairy."
A folly-centered garden that would change from day to night and then back again.
Displays that made me wish that I had more indoor space, a bit of outdoor space... and millions of dollars...
The display that won Best in Show for Landscaping was rather ho-hum in my opinion... UNTIL The Sister gave me a quizzical look and pointed out this random painted baby tucked in between the fencing. I don't know why it was there, as it had no connection whatsoever that I could discover, but after spotting it I heartily supported the blue ribbon, just for sheer wtf(reak)?-ness.
I planted these same bulbs the fall I was pregnant with The Girl, when we were living out West (that was a lie; while I was puking my guts out The Dad planted them for me after I ordered them). They came up -- defiant in the still-harsh Nevada Spring -- right before she was born.
She thought, and I agreed, that these flowers looked like they were wearing dresses.
We decided that if we ever had a dog (with his own house), we would definitely plant succulents on the roof. Why doesn't everybody do that???
I could have stayed for a very long time. The moppets were mostly good, but were wholly convinced that we were trying to kill them by starvation. We stopped by the kids room and they did a quick craft, I had my picture taken with the Queen (she looks really happy about it -- we're like that, she and I... just us girls... hanging out...), and then we (my family and I... not the queen... she had to stay) headed across the street to Reading Terminal. The last time we were there I was not well (to say the least), so while I was grateful that I could eat lunch, I was pissed that I was still being messed with. My favorite thing there is Bassetts ice cream, and I could not partake because of these dratted teeth that were fine UNTIL I started going to the dentist. I felt like an old lady begging off because it was too cold for me bloomin' teeth. I really do need to move to England. They are my people.
We went home via Bucks County so the kids could stop and play at one of their favorite parks (actually called Central Park) outside of Doylestown.
Though they had been making snow angels less than 24 hours before, it was a bouncy Spring day... thus the castle was under siege by a million other kids also enjoying the warm weather.
