Ordering Spring Around

I don't like to wear pants.

Get your mind out of the gutter.

I wear skirts instead. As long as I can remember, I have preferred skirts to pants. It is the rare occasion when I wear pants and then it's mostly for convenience's sake and nearly always a casual circumstance. I have only one pair of pants suitable for work and (I think this was established earlier): I never wear them.

Seriously, I don't know when I wore them last.

In the summer, I wear skirts and an assortment of sandals and flip flops. I'm not above wearing sneakers with skirts and I don't care if that makes me a fashion loser. In the winter, I wear tights with my skirts so as to keep warm. I don't wear stockings. Ever. Because they are clearly the dreadful invention of people who are not women.

Between-season periods can be a bit of a challenge for a girl like me as I'm at risk for excessive warmth or goose bumps, both conditions I don't favor. I employ the following rule of thumb: Under 55 degrees = tights; over 55 degrees = bare legs. It's not a perfect rule, but in my experience life is an imperfect business.

I enjoy my winter tights but at some point in February, I start to blame them for all the troubles in my life, minor or otherwise. And temperatures be damned, as far as I am concerned, the start of Spring Break means the changeover to spring clothes. First and foremost, that means saying good bye to winter tights, to be replaced by my pale mottled legs out for a spring spin.

Yesterday, seized by the spirit of spring cleaning, I cleaned out my tights; washed and folded the keepers and tossed out the old and otherwise rejected tights. They have been stored in the upstairs closet with a bin of winter sweaters. So if you see someone looking foolish in the next few weeks, with cold blue legs, I recommend that you remember that my willpower and I have declared it's spring. Keep your sassy remarks to yourself.

Things I Sometimes Imagine Against My Will

I've seen this meme in a few places and it has a way of lingering in one's mind. There is simply no reason we can't all be tortured together, so here goes..........

Scabs; gobs of them on my arms. For some reason, I'm always wearing short sleeves so strangers can witness the horror.

Driving off a bridge. I usually imagine this when I am on a bridge.

Falling through the grate when I walk down a city block. Pretty sure this will one day happen; just hope to survive it without icky stuff landing in my hair.

Having to teach JT to drive.

My elliptical machine breaking. This actually did happen once. I got a new one. Would probably employ that same method of dealing with disaster if it happened again. But still.

Being unable to read.

Car trouble.

What the ER personnel will think of me when they discover that my panties don't exactly match my bra. Will they stop life support? Tell other patients?

Spring in the Air

Spring is just around the corner here, a fact identifiable by the chirping birds we heard as we awakened this morning. Just a week ago, it was quite frigid, with temperatures in the teens and snow. But later in the week, the sun outside had the promise of actual warmth to go with the light. The days are lasting longer; longer still after this weekend's time change.

Though we haven't had a great deal of snow, this winter has been quite cold. Sometimes it's been so bone-chillingly frigid that I've been tempted to say some very nasty things to old man winter, some things about his mother being a cheap, cold whore.

I usually enjoy winter but something about this year's relentless cold, with its icy winds and more than 8 weeks worth of bloody noses prompted by dry, indoor heat, has worn out my good will toward the season. I'm ready for the warmth, or, at minimum, the ability to wear less than three layers when I venture outside my home to fetch the newspaper.

Clearly I'm not alone. This weekend's warmth has pulled people outside. We headed to one of our favorite parks yesterday and though it was not technically open for the season, that didn't stop anyone. More warmth is forecast for today and though I'm sure winter hasn't quite finished with us, smart money says spring will prevail.
The boy is counting on that.

What He Said

After the snowstorm earlier this week, one of my neighbors made a snow man that nicely sums up my attitude toward winter:

Thank Heavens I've Got a Dental Plan

There was a math carnival at school Wednesday ---- the kids played all sorts of math games and by all reports, lots of fun was had. Yesterday, JT came home with a prize from the carnival. It would seem he is the king of the estimation jar.
He guessed 153; the jar contained 154 lollipops.

He plans to give one to his teacher Mrs. W. I've been invited to help myself to one.

Using my impressive math skills, I have concluded that leaves 152 opportunities to get a cavity.

A Cagey Veteran of Modern Parenting Techniques Plans His Next Move

Several of JT's pre-school years featured various systems of positive reinforcement. If he had a good day at school, he'd earn a sticker. Bad days meant no sticker. When he accumulated a set number of stickers he'd earn an additional prize.

With lightening quick speed, my boy quickly figured out how to game the system. Any time positive reinforcement was on the table, JT responded like the true competitive champion he was bred to be, behaving himself in order to win the prize. His behavior always improved when a reward option presented itself.

At the ripe old age of 9, there aren't many sticker rewards on the table these days. 9 year olds are expected to behave themselves because that's the right thing to do. It is perhaps the appropriate system for 3rd graders, but it means less prizes, which JT finds disappointing. His report card came home on Tuesday and his teacher noted that he sometimes has a difficult time listening (no surprise there: given the opportunity, the boy goes for the easy joke lay-up). He's funny and he knows that he's funny; sometimes he feels the need to share.

On Tuesday evening, we talked about the good parts of his report card and then I pointed out the need to improve his listening skills (e.g., shut your mouth). And then my boy, canny to the opportunity to get a little reward system going, proposed a plan:

"Every time I keep a smarty-pants remark to myself, I'll make a mark in my notebook, and when I get 30 marks, you can give me a treat," he proposed.

"And what would that treat be?" I asked, probing for the meat of this 9 year old plan.

"Well, you could take me out to supper," he said, generously adding, "you can pick the restaurant."

Having learned the old Ronald Reagan adage, "trust but verify," I suggested we look to his teacher Mrs. W for confirmation of his improved behavior. JT dodged and weaved, trying to get me to accept self-reporting, but finally agreed that Mrs. W could serve as our version of the IAEA. I accepted the proposal.

And I expect that the next few weeks of school will bring a focused and quieter JT; one carefully considering just how many good reports he'll need to win the prize. And he will win the prize, of that there is no doubt.

Outside, Mama, Outside?

Until JT was two and a half years old, we lived in a house with a screened in front porch located just across the street from a park. The boy loved that park and spent a lot of time on the porch, looking out the windows and calling to me, "outside, mama, outside?"

We were often to be found at the park. And when we moved to New Jersey, the first thing JT and I explored were neighborhood parks. Within a few weeks of arriving in New Jersey, I had identified a half dozen parks for our enjoyment. In New Jersey, we've found parks with trails, parks with climbing equipment, parks with swings, and parks with sandboxes. We love them all. Because I am the sort of mama who will stay at a park for hours at a time, over the years we've explored them completely. That's good, because my boy loves to play outside. At school, JT is most happy when he gets "outside recess." And if outside recess is combined with outdoor gym class, that's the JT money-shot.

For hours at a time, he also plays outside in our yard, running back and forth engaged in imaginary games. He keeps a cache of stick weaponry to facilitate these games. Bad guys are always vanquished at Sassafras House.

In the winter, JT continues to play outside whenever possible. Gym and recess are more often held indoors (because most children—not to mention their teachers --- don't find freezing temperatures enjoyable). And the weeks of early sunset make it difficult for him to get enough outdoor daylight playtime. And so it is that by this time of year JT is absolutely yearning to be outdoors. On a sunny day, he experiences the triumph of hope over good sense and heads outside, convinced that appearances are not deceiving.

These pictures were taken last Saturday morning, which looked lovely, though the bright sky was deceptive as it was only 30 degrees outside and there was a bit of a breeze. He lasted an hour, my outdoor boy, and then he came inside with cold cheeks and a bright smile. He was triumphantly optimistic as he explained to me, "Spring is coming, Mama, I can just tell."

Opposition to What?

As the Obama Administration shepherded a stimulus package through the Congress and then followed up with a budget plan identifying priorities for the next few years, I have to confess that I've been shocked at the degree to which Republicans seem to actively wish for him to fail.

I understand the idea of being a loyal opposition; of supporting an alternative solution to our national problems and advocating for that view. I can certainly respect Republicans who cast a vote against the stimulus package because it does not represent their preferred solution to the recession. But that is not what the GOP is doing. They are opposed to the Obama plan primarily because it's not their plan. But they have offered little in the form of an alternative solution, instead trotting out tired and failed policies.

On top of that, more than one Republican in Congress and the chattering classes has actively expressed the desire to see Obama's plan fail. As if that failure would have no costs. As if that failure doesn't represent the failure of our nation. It's one thing to believe that Obama's plan is not a solution; to believe that there are better options to explore. But to actively wish for his plan to fail? That's just perverse.

And it's not just perverse. It's wrong. As President Obama is reminding Americans of their strength and their durability, as he is busy reminding us that we can succeed; that we can overcome this challenge, the GOP is hoping that we don't.

They aren't offering any actual solutions to the recession; they are just saying no to the ideas on the table. Memo to the GOP: more of the same failed policies (I'm talking to you, tax cuts for the rich, off-budget wars, and stimulus checks) is NOT a solution. It's just recycling of failed ideas. The kind of recycling we must reject.

I am loath to invoke 9/11 because I am tired of the many ways that George W. Bush and his Republican allies in Congress beat us down with that idea anytime we dared to question them. But in the aftermath of September 11, we came together as a nation and we sought to support one another through the darkness. Democrats didn't actively wish for George Bush to fail as our commander in chief because they knew that if he failed, we failed as a nation.

And I wish that Republicans would understand that lesson today. If President Obama's solutions to our problems fail, our nation will suffer. And that suffering isn't abstract: its effects will be seen in real people's lives. The same real people who voted for Obama because they found something profoundly meaningful in the idea of hope.

Failure will not bring redemption to the Republican party. It will bring disaster to the nation. And I hope that's something that none of us wants.

Real Life Conversations with JT: Snow Day

The backstory: We are getting a substantial snowstorm in the Northeast today. The snow started last night, though we only had a trace when JT crawled into his flannel nest last night. The boy was worried: would Mother Nature deliver? The snow day phone call came at 11:30 pm last night. JT was well asleep but I turned off the alarm clock and took the opportunity to read my book a little while longer. At 7:45 this morning, as we lay in our respective beds, the boy and I had the following conversation:

JT: Mama?

Mama: Yes?

JT (tentatively): Do we have a snow day?

Mama: Oh yeah.

JT: Yee Haw!

As of this writing, he's getting on his snow gear. Large flakes are falling and he's eager to get out there and have some fun.
While I shoveled the front steps, it would seem that marauders came to the yard and attacked the boy. So sad.
Then my friend P came over and we went sledding. JT and I took some screaming trips down the hill together. Memo to self: don't let the kid steer the sled.
JT went down the hill dozens of times, trying every possible position so as to achieve maximum speed while (mostly) avoiding the dreaded snow face plant.
In the final analysis, speed rules.

March 1st: Hostas

Earlier this week, as I was contemplating this entry to my blog, I looked out the window and thought I saw a spot of green in the corner of the hosta bed. I got all excited: my first sight of Spring! Though I wanted to rush right out and admire that bloom, I decided to wait until the morning of the 1st for my monthly picture of the hosta bed.

It would be a little weekend treat.

So this morning, despite the cold and the scattered snowflakes (not to mention the forecast calling for 6-8 inches of snow tonight), I grabbed my camera and rushed right outside when I woke up. I didn't even wait for my first cup of coffee.

As I approached the hosta bed I realized that I had been deceived: that's not the first sign of spring, that's a green tennis ball.
Sigh. Though I am impatient for some spring warmth, Mother Nature will not be rushed.

My spring break starts in a week and one of my vacation projects is to finish up the winter garden chores. I will throw out some grass seed and put some fertilizer into the garden patch; do some trimming and imagine the surge of growth that will soon take over the garden. All of this will move me that much closer to April 1st and some green.
I hope.