The Great Wolf Lodge. Can't believe I'm saying this, but after two days in Portland, in and out of the car, in and out of the rain, in and out of restaurants... Being somewhere where the kids can run free... In bathing suits. Well, this is the happiest I've been all week.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
You Can Check Out Any Time You Like But You Can Never Leave...
Because it's not enough for me to be at home during winter break, we decided to take the show on the road. We survived the car trip, although in usual fashion, the kids spent the last fifteen minutes in complete meltdown.
Within minutes of being in the hotel room in Portland, the kids has trashed the room, were watching both televisions, and we had unplugged all the phones to prevent Fiona from making any more prank calls.
We're back in the car now. Two days in Portland ... The low point was in a sushi restaurant ... A restaurant at which we can never again show our faces. At the end of the meal, I let out such a scream that I scared the diners half to death. (I did that with one hand clamped over fiona's mouth in a futile attempt to quiet her.) I would not be surprised if a picture of the Geller Seven is now circulating all restaurants in the Portland area.
Of course we have had moments of sibling bliss... A few minutes of quiet, sitting in the hotel room late at night, listening to all five kids in a symphonic snore. And as usual, these moments block out all the hairy awfulness of traveling with kids. And these are the moments we remember when plan our next trip. Which we're doing already.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Resolute
Come the new year, you can always find me making resolutions. I love them. Love the chance to wipe the slate clean, to make a clean break from bad habits. In the past few years, the resolutions have shifted from one type of self improvement (run faster, read more in French, juice more vegetables..) to another: parental self improvement. I'm working on my list right now -- not having to celebrate Christmas, and with a long stretch this year between Hanukkah and New Year's Eve, I've had plenty of time to get my list together. I plan on asking the kids if they have any resolutions, and possibly planting a few in of my own in their little minds (I resolve to flush the toilet, stop hiding apple cores all over the house, stop leaving gum stuck to the kitchen counter, and stop stashing half my uneaten breakfast under the tabletop.)
Some of mine, at least for now:
1. I resolve to yell less. I know, I know.. But I couldn't resist the clean slate. I resolve to banish the Voldemort voice, or at the very least, only use it clear emergencies. I hate the sound of my screaming voice, far more than the children do.. and this year (yet again), I resolve to use it less.
2. I resolve to block out the whining. There are few things that send me into a rage faster than incessant whining. The boys can (and do) pull some of the most repulsive stunts (peeing into their sister's underwear draw, and just about anywhere else), and I manage to stay calmer than I do after 5 minutes of a girly whine. (I know some boys whine, and some girls don't, but in this house, so far, whining falls straight down gender lines.) This year, I resolve to hum right through the whine, to hear it less, or not at all, and therefore, avoid breaking my first resolution five minutes into the new year.
3. I resolve to let you sort out your own problems. I'm actually quite good at this, but I could always use a bit more help. I know how to make you settle your own disputes, but sometimes, out of sheer impatience, I'll take over when you're aren't doing something well. One of you in particular (you know who you are): I resolve to let you pour your own cereal, even if it means having to step on errant Cheerios for the rest of the day. I resolve to let you button your own shirt, even if it means knowing you'll be going out into the world slightly askew. I resolve, in general, to let you look like the mad scientist you'll probably become.
4. I resolve to care less: That's right. Wear your pajamas to school Frances, and while you're at it, skip breakfast for the rest of your life. Hey Bennett, you never have to wear a sweatshirt to school, even in the winter, and if you want to spend the rest of your life eating your own boogers, I'm game. And Efram, you hair - it never has to be brushed. Ever. And you can pee wherever the hell you like, as long as it's not my bed. Fiona, if you want to start using a pacifier at two, only because your new baby sister has one, GO FOR IT. And don't think I haven't noticed you snacking on snot as well. I have. And I don't care.
I care whether or not you're good to each other, respectful to yourselves, your peers, and your elders. I care whether you brush your teeth, and take your vitamins, sometimes, at least. But if you want to go out looking like you grew up in a trailer with an absentee mother, -- it's just fine with me. Really, it is.
Happy New Year. If I make it to January 7th with these resolutions still in tact, somebody award me a medal. Please.
Some of mine, at least for now:
1. I resolve to yell less. I know, I know.. But I couldn't resist the clean slate. I resolve to banish the Voldemort voice, or at the very least, only use it clear emergencies. I hate the sound of my screaming voice, far more than the children do.. and this year (yet again), I resolve to use it less.
2. I resolve to block out the whining. There are few things that send me into a rage faster than incessant whining. The boys can (and do) pull some of the most repulsive stunts (peeing into their sister's underwear draw, and just about anywhere else), and I manage to stay calmer than I do after 5 minutes of a girly whine. (I know some boys whine, and some girls don't, but in this house, so far, whining falls straight down gender lines.) This year, I resolve to hum right through the whine, to hear it less, or not at all, and therefore, avoid breaking my first resolution five minutes into the new year.
3. I resolve to let you sort out your own problems. I'm actually quite good at this, but I could always use a bit more help. I know how to make you settle your own disputes, but sometimes, out of sheer impatience, I'll take over when you're aren't doing something well. One of you in particular (you know who you are): I resolve to let you pour your own cereal, even if it means having to step on errant Cheerios for the rest of the day. I resolve to let you button your own shirt, even if it means knowing you'll be going out into the world slightly askew. I resolve, in general, to let you look like the mad scientist you'll probably become.
4. I resolve to care less: That's right. Wear your pajamas to school Frances, and while you're at it, skip breakfast for the rest of your life. Hey Bennett, you never have to wear a sweatshirt to school, even in the winter, and if you want to spend the rest of your life eating your own boogers, I'm game. And Efram, you hair - it never has to be brushed. Ever. And you can pee wherever the hell you like, as long as it's not my bed. Fiona, if you want to start using a pacifier at two, only because your new baby sister has one, GO FOR IT. And don't think I haven't noticed you snacking on snot as well. I have. And I don't care.
I care whether or not you're good to each other, respectful to yourselves, your peers, and your elders. I care whether you brush your teeth, and take your vitamins, sometimes, at least. But if you want to go out looking like you grew up in a trailer with an absentee mother, -- it's just fine with me. Really, it is.
Happy New Year. If I make it to January 7th with these resolutions still in tact, somebody award me a medal. Please.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Sick?
Bennett came home from swim practice with a limp. The next morning, he claimed the pain kept him up all night, so I mercifully let him stay home on Friday. The limp wasn't too bad for a trip to Starbucks, but was bad enough to retrieve anything I needed in the house. The limp disappeared over the weekend, and returned Monday morning. After breakfast. On the way out the door.
There's a fine line between hard-ass and pushover and I seem to be sliding all over it.
There's a fine line between hard-ass and pushover and I seem to be sliding all over it.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Seattle Lights (Hannukah 2010)
M and I had the rare pleasure of sleeping until 8.30 this morning. Bennett had gotten Fi and Francie out of their beds.. dressed them, and started to give them breakfast. On weekend mornings we are often treated to what he likes to call a "Breakfast Buffet" -- which we like b/c he gets food for himself and his sibs; which we dislike b/c it always involves a carved fruit display and a decent amount of mess and wastage. That's right -- carved fruit. This morning he had carved apples with the logos from the Detroit Lions and the Green Bay Packers. I'm not entirely sure why. I think they might be playing, or have just plays. Who knows.
Anyway, while I lay in bed I contemplated the week that was here in the Geller house.. more specifically, Hannukah. I've noticed that a few of my friends do gift-free holidays.. and while it's certainly laudable (and cheaper), we've already gone way beyond the option of a present-less Hannukah. There'd be a bloody mutiny if we tried. Plus, I kind of like presents - giving and getting. Here's what the kids liked best:
Bennett: his faves were a Peyton Manning jersey/ Colt hat combo and an argyle vest. Kid you not. He's an odd bird.
Efram: A robot that he'd been coveting, that he plans to program to do his homework. We'll see how that turns out. He also got an argyle vest.. which he looked at in sheer amazement.
Francie: A polly pockets "Glamper Van" which cost $15, was probably made in China of pure lead, and has led to hours of amusement chez nous -- for everyone. That's right. Efram immediately installed some of his action figures in the Glamper Van... unable to resist the drop-down tv screen and other nifty features.
Fiona: Still young and (somewhat) innocent, she liked the lights, and the idea of presents more than the presents themselves -- which is why I seriously thought about hiding some of her toys a few months ago, waiting for her to forget them, and then giving them to her as gifts. I'm making a mental note to do that with Sidney.
Anyway, while I lay in bed I contemplated the week that was here in the Geller house.. more specifically, Hannukah. I've noticed that a few of my friends do gift-free holidays.. and while it's certainly laudable (and cheaper), we've already gone way beyond the option of a present-less Hannukah. There'd be a bloody mutiny if we tried. Plus, I kind of like presents - giving and getting. Here's what the kids liked best:
Bennett: his faves were a Peyton Manning jersey/ Colt hat combo and an argyle vest. Kid you not. He's an odd bird.
Efram: A robot that he'd been coveting, that he plans to program to do his homework. We'll see how that turns out. He also got an argyle vest.. which he looked at in sheer amazement.
Francie: A polly pockets "Glamper Van" which cost $15, was probably made in China of pure lead, and has led to hours of amusement chez nous -- for everyone. That's right. Efram immediately installed some of his action figures in the Glamper Van... unable to resist the drop-down tv screen and other nifty features.
Fiona: Still young and (somewhat) innocent, she liked the lights, and the idea of presents more than the presents themselves -- which is why I seriously thought about hiding some of her toys a few months ago, waiting for her to forget them, and then giving them to her as gifts. I'm making a mental note to do that with Sidney.
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