We are coming up on G’s third birthday. I think it counts as his first birthday party. I have been thinking a little bit about what it means to host a birthday party. I have heard a lot about renting out play spaces or giving the party goers little bags of crap as favors. I am not quite sure who caters toddlers’ birthday parties, but I have heard that it is done.
I have decided I am not going to play those games of excess, competing with the play group and the neighbors to see who can make the most elaborate event. I don’t even know if it will be just family or we will invite any kids. Most of his kid friends are in NY… and I’m not planning a destination third birthday party.
But I did ask him what he would like for his party. His answer:
Cake, chocolate.
Blueberries.
Ice cream.
Running (racing or chase or tag, I’m not sure.)
Balloons.
And monsters.
That is the birthday he wants. To me, that sounds like a fabulous third birthday. Maybe there won’t be a pony or a carnival, but I don’t think a three year old needs any of that.
Maybe I need to take advantage of his being three and not being influenced by the media (aside from his love of Spider Man and “bad guys!) or school mates and not needing a waterpark party or, goodness gracious, the green 4gb ipod (I don’t even have an ipod). Maybe in a couple of years I won’t have the luxury of that old fashioned birthday party.
I am a big advocate of the old fashioned birthday party. A few friends or maybe just family. Cake and ice cream. Party hats. Balloons and streamers. Silly games like pin the tail on the donkey or musical chairs. I bet if I threw in some waterguns, he would remember it for the rest of his life.
Or at least until he learns about all the hoopdehoo of being a kid in America today.
Oh, and in the spirit of birthdays and America–
Happy Birthday America!
I hope you have all the fireworks and barbecue and holiday fun you can drink up with a straw!
Posted on July 4th, 2008 in
Uncategorized | Tags:
Birthdays,
family,
Fun,
kids,
rowena | Author:
rowena |
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She said the four letter word…iPod, an iPod nano to be exact. It was on top of the birthday list. She’s only 11 and a Guitar Hero wanna be. Now her music player has to be accompanied by a screen. I knew there was going to be sleep lost over this. Would we find the right color in stock at the right price…oh, and would it be the GBs that we wanted? Of course not.
Keeping up domestic glamor appearances involves perusing all the sale papers to see who is offering a green iPod before the birthday. It is never a simple task to be sure. As it is she has a red and black Nintendo DS Lite instead of a plain black Nintendo DS Lite…and don’t you know Guitar Hero for the DS Lite was released three days AFTER her birthday?
So we go to our favorite, I mean most accessible store that is within reach to get the green 4 GB iPod nano but no, they don’t carry that color, or that size, in fact they only have silver iPod nanos with 8 GB, maybe we would like to travel one state over to pick one up. Are you kidding me?
Next trip second most accessible store, let’s give in and go up on the GB and grab the first green iPod nano we can find… in the nick of time.
Is that all? No that is not all. My husband spends all night after she opens the present trying to set it up and oh, even if you are going to add your own music from CDs when you register you need to put in a credit card. Who do they think is buying these things?
I think putting a bike together on Christmas Eve would have been easier than trying to download music from our network hub to a pc to the iPod which didn’t want to read our HipServ.
You know, I can’t even remember what I received on my 11th birthday, can you?
Posted on July 3rd, 2008 in
Birthdays,
DS Lite,
Guitar Hero,
Nintendo,
Special Occasions,
iPod | Tags:
birthday,
DS Lite,
Guitar Hero,
iPod,
iPod nano,
Nintendo DS,
Nintendo DS Lite | Author:
violette |
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I’m recommending another fun series this week. The Maggie Kelly series, by Kasey Michaels are a hoot. First of all, Maggie is an author (you can’t help but love that!) and her main character–a Victorian age heartthrob who solves mysteries while conquering the ladies–has just *popped* from her mind into her living room. Not only do these books make me laugh out loud, but there’s just enough romance to make them delicious reading.
The first book in the series is Maggie Needs An Alibi. From the back cover:
Maggie Kelly is nothing if not resilient. She bounced back after getting fired from her old job as a writer of historical romances, reinventing herself as a mystery author. She bounced back when she discovered her lover – who also happens to be her publisher – cheating on her. And she bounces right back into her smoking habit whenever she tries to quit. But something just happened that’s got tough-talking, quick-thinking Maggie swooning into her super-soft sofa cushions.
Something in the form of an incredibly sexy Englishman by the name of Saint Just. Alexandre Drake, Viscount Saint Just, to be exact. Tall, dark, handsome, with an accent to die for and charm to spare, he’s everything she’s ever dreamed of in a man. There’s just one problem. He is her dream man. He’s every woman’s fantasy. He’s the character who’s made her a bestselling author. He’s not real. No, he’s not real – but he is, for some reason, standing in the middle of Maggie’s apartment. With the adorable, bumbling sidekick she created expressly for him right by his side – and eating that piece of fried chicken she was saving for lunch.
What’s a savvy, New York City writer to do when faced with the figments of her imagination – in the flesh? Well, short of checking herself into Bellevue, she’d better get used to it. Because these guys aren’t going anywhere – at least not until they’ve given Maggie a little unsolicited editorial advice regarding her latest telling of their adventures. Still, it’s not the worst thing in the world to have a roomie as gorgeous as Saint Just – even if he is somewhat arrogant – and prone to leaving the cap off the toothpaste.
But just as Maggie’s getting used to her new houseguests, things start to get quite a bit more complicated – in the “homicide” sense of the world. It seems her ex-lover, Kirk Toland, ever the inconsiderate cad, has had the nerve to die right there in her living room… of poisoning… after eating a dinner Maggie made. Her cooking isn’t that bad – is it? And if that weren’t weird enough, Toland’s death is soon followed by the murder of a colleague whom everyone knows Maggie hated. So, the mystery writer has become the murder suspect. And the only sleuth who’s really on Maggie’s side is the one she invented.
Kasey Michaels mixes the absurd with reality in such a fun way. For example, take a pompous, arrogant Victorian gentleman who is extremely concerned with clothes and appearance, drop him in modern New York, and this handsome man now comes across to others as gay, even though he is very not. Luckily there are six books in the series, so if you like them you can feed your addiction for a while. You can find out more about Kasey Michaels on her website.
I am on line, but with my broken keyboard, am having a very difficult time communicating in any sort of way that requires something more than point and click. This is why I have not posted in a while. I am waiting for my new keyboard to be delivered or some other breakthrough in my technical difficulties.
Some times, I can manage a garbled “hikeyzdead” or something along the lines of “fukfukfukfuk,” since only a few of my keys are working. It doesn’t make for good blogging or commenting, though.
It is so frustrating to have all this stuff in your head that you want to share but that you are unable to get out. There are so many people that I want to talk to. There are so many ideas I am getting from the things I read, but I can’t even google something, at this point. I feel hobbled. I feel silenced.
As I was reflecting on this experience, I began thinking of how many other people feel this way, not just because of technical difficulties, but because of life. They are in one situation, can see the world moving around them, but are unable to share their experience.
Then I realized there is somebody like that in my own life, sitting right next to me. Poor G. He understand everything and has since he was very little, but he has not been able to express his thoughts and ideas the way he wants to. What he says comes out as garbled, often, as my limping keyboard communications. Often he doesn’t even try because of it. All of a sudden, I can see why… it is so hard trying to get around the stumbling of the words and letters. He is figuring it out, it is true, his speech is improving daily. You can tell how happy it makes him when he can get his ideas across.
I also realize where his love of monsters and bad guys might come in to play. I know this short period without communication has made me so frustrated. I get angry so easily as I struggle with whatever cut and paste or stumbling typing I can manage. I could use some bad guy play to let out my frustration, too. And a time out for my temper tantrums.
Posted on July 1st, 2008 in
Uncategorized | Tags:
children,
distraught,
rowena | Author:
rowena |
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Today I’m going to recommend another of my favorite books. This one is quite different from the books/series I’ve talked about so far. It’s not light or fun, but it is very, very good. It has one of those great “A-ha!” endings that take everything you thought you knew about what was going on and flipped it around into a whole new light. Kind of, but not quite, like the Sixth Sense ending. But in this book there aren’t dead people and the main character isn’t a ghost. (So sorry if I spoiled the movie for you, but if you haven’t seen Sixth Sense by this point, then please go rent it.)
If you’re in the mood for an excellent read that involves your heart, mind, and addresses real issues with fantastic characterization, go pick up My Sister’s Keeper, by Jodi Picoult. It is one of my all-time favorites.
Short synopsis (from the author’s website):
Anna is not sick, but she might as well be. By age thirteen, she has undergone countless surgeries, transfusions, and shots so that her older sister, Kate, can somehow fight the leukemia that has plagued her since childhood. The product of preimplantation genetic diagnosis, Anna was conceived as a bone marrow match for Kate - a life and a role that she has never questioned… until now. Like most teenagers, Anna is beginning to question who she truly is. But unlike most teenagers, she has always been defined in terms of her sister - and so Anna makes a decision that for most would be unthinkable… a decision that will tear her family apart and have perhaps fatal consequences for the sister she loves. My Sister’s Keeper examines what it means to be a good parent, a good sister, a good person. Is it morally correct to do whatever it takes to save a child’s life… even if that means infringing upon the rights of another? Is it worth trying to discover who you really are, if that quest makes you like yourself less?
My Sister’s Keeper has won many awards and great reviews. Jodi Piccoult is a great writer with the talent of getting you inside characters so that you live their life dilemmas and challenges with them. I have read other books of hers, but this one is still by far my favorite. Her most recent book, Change of Heart, is in stores now. (I haven’t read it yet.) You can find out more about Jodi Picoult and her books on her website.
Now that summer is officially here, we’re all looking for ways to keep boredom at bay and our sanity at the same time. A enjoyable way to do that is to establish a daily reading routine. Just recently I had the chance to review a remarkable new children’s book called The Tiniest Tiger and here are my thoughts on it.
Perfect for children ages 4-8, my eleven year old also read and liked all the information about the big cat’s but felt that the story overall was a little too young for his age bracket.
The Tiniest Tiger by Joanne L. McGonagle is a wonderful and charming tale of a small kitten who becomes lost while chasing a butterfly. And in the process of looking for a new home ends up at the zoo and eventually finds the perfect home. The story is beautifully illustrated and filled with interesting facts about endangered cats and I would very much recommend it as a great way to teach small children about nature and conservation…
Another thing that I really liked about the book is that a portion of the proceeds from the sales will benefit conservation projects for endangered wild cats in Africa,Asia,North America, and South America, through the Conservation Fund of the Columbus Zoo and Aquarium.
photo credit: raybdbomb
So yesterday I wrote about my monster.
I should have known that if I just waited, things would change. He was not a monster today. There was no growling. There was no roaring. There were no claws coming out to get on mama’s nerves.
I put PBS on and G got caught up in Reading Rainbow, which he doesn’t usually like that much. Today, he was fascinated by Geordi LaForge–er, ’scuse me, my Sci Fi geekdom is escaping– LeVar Burton because the episode was about mummies.
That’s right. Egyptian mummies. The real ones, not the monster ones. He wasn’t running around with his arms outstretched groaning like a B Movie actor (not this morning, anyway.) No, he sat silently in the big chair watching the archaeologists do their sciency stuff with the ancient mummies. And he saw the old pictographs and wall murals of how mummies were made. Yes, removal of eviscera and everything. And he was enthralled.
After the show was over, he came up with gentle fingers and ran them over my arms and legs, saying “Mama, mama, mama.” I was puzzled by this new, non monsterish activity. He had never done it before.
It took me a minute or two to figure out he meant “mummy, mummy, mummy.” And he was mimicking the motions of the archaeologists. Then he took his plastic shark, and used that to write or cut or something the mummy/mommy. And we went upstairs to nap time and he lay down with a knit doll we dug up (like an archaeologist!) and he continued his scientific activities on the doll.
I silently backed out of the little scientist’s room and closed the door on his mummy explorations.
From monster to scientist in the blink of an eye. It reminds me to pay attention to what he is doing and thinking. It reminds me to remember that the whole world is new for him, and adventure and inspiration are everywhere. It makes me wonder what kind of person he is going to be, and what I can do, as Mummy, to get him there.
Anybody know any good mummy/archaeologist activities for three year olds?
The most glamorous part of my week…last week my daughter graduated from the fifth grade. Well they called it a recognition assembly which basically was many awards presented to the fifth grade class. While I do not live vicariously through my daughter and her achievements I was beaming and near tears. Her love of music is apparent and when she accepted the Award for Excellence in Instrumental Music from her concert band instructor for exceptional dedication, commitment and performance on her band instrument, the baritone, I was so happy for her. And this, only two weeks after her baritone solo at the musical gala.
And not because I’m an unaccomplished musician…how my parents hated the clarinet. I love to listen to others play the clarinet now and wish I could have perfected the “ta” sound that my teacher kept insisting on. My father would be the first to attest that my squeaky clarinet playing was not glamorous at all. I wish I had made them suffer longer until I had become a great concert clarinetist, well maybe not.
I was more a strings girl and guitar was my thing. Before she was born actually I was taking lessons on the classical guitar…until playing the guitar was impossible. While I was pregnant perhaps she learned to count music as I played in the bell choir. Today though I have the pleasure of hearing her play music…the baritone any time of day or night…literally since quite often she remembers to practice right before bed and requests time to play then or early in the morning.
Trust me the baritone is not exactly like waking up to “Taps” but it is close. How talented is she, well she can play our favorite movie and TV shows by ear on the baritone. Elmo’s World and Jaws are definitely my personal favorites. Yes, there’s nothing too delicate about my girl.
As we watched part of the school’s concert in the park a few weeks back, actually the high school gymnasium decorated like a park concert…the definition of domestic glamor, I enjoyed some time with her before she went on with the elementary concert band. We both thoroughly were getting jazzed by the jazz band and their hip music when she leaned over to me and pointed at the cello and said that is the next instrument she is considering taking on. I pictured her trying to get on the bus with a baritone in one hand and a cello in another.
I think she can.
Posted on June 18th, 2008 in
Domestic Glamor,
Special Occasions,
instruments,
music | Tags:
band instructor,
band instrument,
concert band,
instrumental music,
marching band,
music programs,
musician,
play music | Author:
violette |
1 Comment
From the moment G woke up this morning, he has been a monster. And I don’t mean that euphemistically. I mean, he has been pretending to be a monster. Sometimes, he is an orc. Sometimes he is just a bad guy. Sometimes he is swinging a sword (a paper towel tube sword, a crayon sword, a finger sword, a sponge plane sword, it doesn’t matter.) Sometimes he has magic powers. Sometimes he throws things as his power (things which immediately get taken away.)
Right now, his most powerful power is getting on mommy’s nerves.
I know there must be a way I can deal with this without getting angry. He isn’t hurting anyone or being aggressive, although the baby is running from his noise and screaming, too. I don’t really want to limit his imagination and his fun, but we’re getting perilously close to an early naptime just because I am losing it with all the growling and roaring.
Now, both he and the baby are shooting Fart Guns at each other. One is the sponge plane, the other is a dolphin water squirter. Fart. Fart. Fart. Fart. I guess the monsters have become Poo Poo Man and Fart Girl.
What do you do to maintain your mom balance in those moments when Calgon just won’t do?
Posted on June 18th, 2008 in
Uncategorized | Tags:
balance,
mom,
monsters,
playing | Author:
rowena |
2 Comments
I had someone ask me if I had some ideas for some light reading with engaging characters and good writing. So I’ll be trying to help out with that request the next little while.
Some people feel that “light” reading is a waste of time. Perhaps they feel a book (or movie, or play, or piece of artwork, for that matter) should convey a deep message that makes you think or re-evaluate your life or beliefs. Don’t get me wrong, I have read some books that change me, and I have loved them. They have great value and I admire writers who can create a story that will do that. However, reading for simple entertainment also has its own value. I read a lot of non-fiction, and when my brain needs a break I love escaping into the pages of a good book. It helps rejuvenate me so I can tackle the weightier matters of life: kids, bills, yard work, writing, and the unbelievable cost of filling the tank of my minivan.
So, in keeping with my thoughts on the value of reading just to escape and unwind, this week I’m going to recommend another of my favorite series. I have plenty of standalone favorites, but a series is nice because, if you like it, there are more books with the same characters that you can read immediately. And if you’re an addict (like me) you start getting twitchy before that next fix.
I really enjoy the Amelia Peabody Series from author Elizabeth Peters (who also writes under the pseudonym Barbara Michaels). Starting in 1884, the first book of the series is Crocodile on the Sandbank.
At thirty-two, strong-willed Amelia Peabody, a self-proclaimed spinster, decides to use her ample inheritance to indulge her passion, Egyptology. On her way to Egypt, Amelia encounters a young woman named Evelyn Barton-Forbes. The two become fast friends and travel on together, encountering mysteries, missing mummies, and Radcliffe Emerson, a dashing and opinionated archaeologist who doesn’t need a woman’s help — or so he thinks.
The series is an amazing family saga, encompassing three generations, a world war, and thirty-five years of turbulent history. Amelia and Evelyn married brothers — Amelia accepting the hand of the distinguished archaeologist Radcliffe Emerson, and Evelyn that of his younger brother Walter. Amelia’s love of Egypt almost equaled her love for her hot-tempered (but extremely handsome) husband. She joined him in his annual excavations, which, except for a few brief hiatuses, continued for the entire thirty-five years.
This series really gets fun once you involve the second generation and run-ins with the Master Criminal, who most definitely has a crush on Amelia. I re-read these books often, and chuckle at the wonderful personality of Amelia. I also like running to the dictionary every once in a while to look up words I don’t know, but somehow the characters would actually say those words.
Crocodile in the Sandbank was published in 1975, and the latest installment, Tomb of the Golden Bird, was published in 2006. For more information on the series, visit AmeliaPeabody.com.
