Jen on the Edge

Pete’s father is a dear sweet man. He’s just so nice and so very kind and I adore him. Like most people, my FIL has some endearing quirks that are just part of his personality. For example, he cannot go anywhere, at almost any time of the year, without taking a sweater with him. Sometimes, he takes a sweater and a lightweight jacket. You just can’t be too careful about getting chilly. And, if we are with him, he invariably asks if we need a sweater too.

The personality similarities between my father-in-law and my older daughter are quite pronounced. So much so, that others have commented on it.

On a related note, the temperatures here in Virginia are registering FALL. Highs in the 70s and lows in the 40s. Cooler than summer weather, but definitely not winter weather.

Graceful has already started wearing sweaters and fleeces most mornings. It was cool this morning as she was dressing and she asked if she should wear a turtleneck and maybe even some thick fleece pants. I advised against it, so she went with long pants and a long sleeved shirt. For some reason, she didn’t put on a sweater, as is her usual habit.

The girls and I got in the car to go on our orchard outing and waited for Pete, who was still in the house, getting his shit together.

Thirty seconds later, I was walking through the kitchen door and headed for the bedrooms. Pete asked what I was doing.

“I’m getting a sweater for your father’s granddaughter.”

Wanna laugh your ass off?

[Why yes Jen, we all want a little less in the ass department.]

Good, watch the “Because I’m the Mom” song on You Tube.

I’ve watched it twice so far.

My ass definitely feels smaller.

[Thanks to Suzanne for sending this to me from her sick bed.]

We have had a marvelous weekend. All play, no work and that sort of thing. The best way to tell you about it is to show you.

Graceful rode in the morning:

And had soccer in the afternoon:

Elegant went to a gymnastics birthday party, then came home and blew bubbles:

My nephew Micah came for a visit while his parents went out:

There was much spoiling.

We went to an orchard in the morning with friends.

First, we fortified ourselves with apple donuts:

Then, we checked out the pumpkins (and then forgot to buy one):

We bought loads of apples and came home.

Pete went to the grocery store — my hero! — and stocked up on all the basics, plus picked up short ribs for dinner tonight.

I baked bread for dinner. I also chopped apples and have applesauce simmering on the stove. Our house smells like bread and cinnamon and maple syrup. And we are having apple pie with vanilla ice cream for dessert tonight.

I took a nap.

There was much playing and relaxing this afternoon, as well as more bubbles:

It has been a great weekend.

Hee hee hee.

My six-month-old nephew Micah is with us this evening. His older cousins have just introduced him to the saccharine sweetness that is Hannah Montana.

It’s just as well that Micah isn’t old enough to sing the theme song. My brother would probably have to exorcise the demons with an immersion into Nine Inch Nails.

“You get the beeeessssssst of both worlds….”

Important to remember:

Teach your children NOT to pick up coins that they find on the floor of public bathrooms. Otherwise, you’ll find yourself watching your seven-year-old crawling on her hands and knees on said public bathroom floor to collect said coins. And you’ll be so stunned and horrified that you will be incapable of speech and therefore not able to tell her to get up.

But, you will have the presence of mind to scrub her hands and the money thoroughly AND give her a hot, sudsy shower later on.

T-G-I-fucking-F!

I don’t know if you’ve noticed it or not, but I’ve been a bit quiet this week. Well okay, quieter than is normal for me. The fact is, we’ve had a very frustrating week here in Jenworld. In fact, I’m almost speechless with frustration.

(Except for when I called Melissa on Wednesday, got her husband on the phone instead, and VENTED to Rich. Poor bastard. He probably curled up in the fetal position after we ended the call. I wasn’t so speechless then.)

What’s bringing gloom into our sunny world?

In a word, homework.

Yes, people, third grade homework is raining on my parade. As in, there’s too fucking much of it. Like, 1-2 hours each night. As in, two emails to the teacher this week alone. I think we’ve reached a compromise, but I’m not completely satisfied.

Studies — many of them, in fact — have shown that homework is of no benefit to elementary school students. It’s a waste of their time, especially when kids should instead be using their down time to ride their bikes, climb the monkey bars, and just be kids.

On a related subject, let me lay out some Jenworld trivia that I don’t believe I’ve ever mentioned before:

• I have a master’s degree in EDUCATION
• My mother is a TEACHER
• My sister and her husband are TEACHERS
• My brother is on sabbatical from TEACHING while he’s in grad school and his wife is a TEACHER
• My other brother TAUGHT last year, is now in a Ph.D. program, and could very well TEACH again when he’s done.

Anyone noticing a trend here?

So, if I bitch about homework and how the quantity and quality suck, I do so with the complete confidence that I know of which I speak and that there’s an intelligent team of educators who have my back. Furthermore, other teachers at our school have told me that they think the homework situation in our third grade is ridiculous.

So, the homework thing? It’s getting me down. Such as the three days this week that Graceful had almost no down time at all from the time she got home until she went to bed. Especially on Tuesday night when Graceful was still working at 9 p.m. and wasn’t done. Yesterday, however, was much better. We went nowhere after school and instead relaxed and had a good time. It was so nice.

In spite of my ranting, I’m still very pleased with the teacher Graceful got this year. She’s excellent and Graceful adores her. Our girls go to one of the best elementary schools in town and Graceful is thriving at this school. We have never before encountered this sort of difficulty.

Moving on from my rather lengthy diatribe, it’s also been a busy week at work and included a financial crisis that I believe has been resolved, but it was a tense couple of days there.

And, Pete and I had to have a conference with Elegant’s teacher on Wednesday to discuss our younger daughter’s attention span and lack thereof. It was a positive meeting and we came up with some good strategies, but I’m wondering how long these new ideas will work and how long until we’re back in the classroom at the little table, with our knees up to our chins, brainstorming new ideas.

Which leads to another stress in my life. We are very seriously considering sending Elegant to a Montessori school next year and I’m visiting it next month. Our school is wonderful, but it doesn’t seem to be the right fit for her. Sending El to a private school that is more suited to her personality is great in theory, but paying for it is going to be another matter altogether. We can do it, but it’s going to take most of my net pay and therefore means that we are suddenly dependent on the money I earn. Remember that financial crisis I mentioned earlier? What’s to say it won’t happen again and they won’t be able to pay me?

(And, yes, I realize that I’m fortunate to even have such choices as private vs. public school.)

But it’s Friday and I’m in a better mood. We have nothing but fun things planned for this weekend. No errands. No cleaning. No house projects. Nothing but good times ahead.

Have a good weekend everyone.

Remember this?

I went to Goodwill today to look for inexpensive wool sweaters that I can felt and make my own damn quilt.

All I have to say is that there is TOO MUCH acrylic out there masquerading as wool.

I’ve mentioned before how much Graceful and Elegant love their dollhouse, which was mine and my sister’s when we were kids. Unfortunately, most of the furnishings and all of the people have been lost over the years. We’ve been filling in the missing pieces for a couple of years, but we neglected to actually get a doll family and the girls were using other toys instead.

This summer, Graceful decided she really wanted an old-fashioned porcelain dollhouse family. Father, mother, sister, brother, baby. Simple enough, right? Wrong. I can now tell you, after searching countless websites, that porcelain dollhouse people are expensive. As in, anywhere from $30 to $70 or more per person. I don’t know about you, but the last thing I want to do is spend several hundred dollars on BREAKABLE dolls.

I finally found a vendor on eBay who sells all sorts of dollhouse things. Dolls, furniture, and the most amazing assortment of accessories. All for reasonable prices. I started checking this vendor’s listings regularly and eventually found the dolls. As with Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt, I had to acquire each family member individually.

Graceful was THRILLED when she opened the dolls on her birthday last Saturday. There was a loud gasp and then much glee. She immediately named the dolls and spent some time looking at each one intently, trying to come up with the very best name possible. Because once my girls name something, it’s named for life.

Let me introduce The Doll Family to you and I hope you enjoy their names as much as I do.

Sir Elliott Percival Doll:

Lady Ada Cleo Doll:
(Cleo is short for Cleopatra)

Sarah Beth Doll

William Bobby Doll

And little LuLu Rosie Doll:

Dear Mother Nature,

Why oh why must you torment me so?

I am 38 years old. I have given birth twice and have the related stretch marks. I also have cellulite, gray hairs, dry skin, and frequent sleepless nights. I am only a few years away from bifocals. I’m sure that wrinkles and crow’s feet are not far off either. I can’t eat spicy food the way I used to and my weight is a daily concern. My boobs and butt are no longer as perky as they used to be. Really, I think I have enough going on with my body these days.

So I ask you, is it really necessary to also curse me with acne? I mean, I’m not exactly a teenager anymore. I had thought my Stridex days were past, but now I find myself standing in the skin care aisle at Target next to pizza-faced teenage boys.

And it’s not like those angry red bumps are the domain of my face only. Oh no, Mother Nature, you’ve seen fit to sprinkle those fuckers in other places including my scalp, hairline, chest, and even occasionally my ass. Is this bad karma? Am I being punished for something?

[Side note: I believe it is a sign of True Love if one's husband is willing to doctor the aforementioned zits on one's ass.]

[I know...ewww.]

[Hey, you can't ever say that you don't get full and complete honesty here at Jen on the Edge. If you want lies and fairy tales, see here.]

Really Mother Nature, I think that by the time one has reached my age, a woman deserves a little dignity and respect. I don’t think that clear creamy skin is too much to ask for.

But apparently, you do.

Thanks a lot beeyotch. You better hope we don’t meet in a dark alley because I will cut you.

XO,
Jen

A friend of mine from college had a mastectomy on Monday afternoon. The hospital sent her home yesterday morning — about 18 hours after her surgery. Is it me, or is that far too soon? I feel confident that when men have body parts — such as testicles — removed, they’re given more time to recover.

Thoughts?

(My friend should be fine, by the way. Some lymph nodes were removed on that side, which isn’t great, but her prognosis is generally good. Chemo starts later this fall, followed by radiation. Reconstructive surgery will be next spring.)