Fish has a full given name (no, I didn’t actually name my child Fish), but she also has a host of nick names. When She was little I used to call her Mrs. Tinkabinka or Tink for short. Her Dad calls her Fisharoo or Rooafish.
Recently my friend tagged Fish with the name Trixie, which I love, but Fish quickly put the kibosh on that. Lately, I’ve taken to calling her Squishy Fish or Squishy for short. I love that she signed her mother’s day card to me that way 🙂
Fish is 10. Oops, she’s 11 and she’s really starting to express her individuality more consistently. She likes shrimp, will eat a sloppy joe if it is put in front of her and her lunches are eclectic selections from the food pyramid. I no longer purchase clothes without her present. Typically if I like it, she does not. She’s been asking for contacts for a while. I’ve been stalling.
Oh, I have my reasons and they are good ones. She looks so cute in her glasses, the glasses were working, she has bifocals with transition lenses, so it is really 3 pairs in one. Distance vision, reading glasses and sun glasses. Still, getting contacts that fit correctly and corrected my vision, changed my life in my mid 20’s. How could I deny her? Why should she have to wait?
My biggest concern was responsibility. Contact lenses require care and attention or there is risk of serious infection even permanent damage to her eyes. Then there is the issue of tearing. She has astigmatism like me, so contacts weren’t going to be cheap. I didn’t want to have to deal with replacing lenses multiple times per year. Still, she has demonstrated responsibility time and time again, so we asked her pediatric ophthalmologist if she thought Fish was ready for contacts. Dr. M. whole-heartedly gave her approval.
With contacts, the correction is closer to the eye, for with someone with nystagmus (an uncontrolled motion of the eyes) the weight of the lens slows the nystagmus, thus making it easier for the brain to process images and lessoning eye fatigue. When you wear contacts, you also regain your peripheral vision and that in itself is reason to wear contacts for a child who is learning to skateboard and INSISTS on hurling herself down the mountain on skis at top speeds. Her dad was on board, so th appointment was made.
20+ years ago when I was fitted for contacts, it was at a teaching hospital in Boston and it seemed to take forever. There was the appointment to measure my eyes, then the lenses had to be ordered and that took 2-3 weeks because they had to be made. Then there was the return visit for the initial fitting. Then the trial period while my eyes got used to them. I had spend two weeks adding a little more time each day until I could wear them for 8 hours.
Yeah, things have changed. The appointment to fit her was 15 minutes max and I didn’t even feel rushed, it just was that easy. She was fitted for 30 day lenses. That means she opens a new pair every 30 days, thus addressing my concerns about ripping. She was advised to wear hers 2 hours longer each successive day and could be wearing them up to 12 hours in as little as six days.
After the fitting, Fish met with a contact lens technician for training on caring for the lenses and she learned how to put them in and take them out of herself.
The contacts solved the distance vision issue, now we had to replace the other two pairs of glasses. Off to Target, for sunglasses and reading glasses.
If I’m being honest, the reason I dragged my feet was that to me, she needed to be able to put the lenses in by herself and that was a giant step forward in responsibility and that meant she was growing up and . . . Oh! I’m not ready for that.
Still, I have to be. Contacts will help her see better and how can I stand in the way of that? The verdict so far? She loves them and she’s doing a wonderful job taking care of them. This morning, she even put both of them in all by herself on the first try.
Mim is going to try karate. He is VERY excited about it. I am excited too as I have heard many a parent of a wiggly little boy say that Karate is an excellent way to get the wiggles out all while teaching other important life skills.
My sister from a different mother has several black belts in karate and at one time ran a dojo with her (now ex) husband. I emailed her a list of the programs in our area and asked her which she’d recommend. There was a very clear winner. Once that was settled, I made an appointment for our initial visit. This program offers two one-on-one sessions and two group classes free so they get a feel for your child and your child gets a feel for the program before you invest in a ghee and make the commitment.
Mim was his normal bouncy self as we waited for a class to end. I completed the necessary paperwork (yep, I know he can get hurt, no, it won’t be your fault). The form also asked what I wanted him to get out of the program. Confidence? Uh no, he’s got that in spades. Physical fitness? Sure, but it is not my primary motivation. Philosophy? Not so much at six and three quarters. Discipline? BINGO!! Self control? Ding Ding Ding! Anything else? FOCUS! Please help me teach this child to focus on the task at hand.
Miss M was his instructor and bless her she was patient. She worked with him for about 25 minutes teaching him horse stance, and a few blocks and kicks. She also discussed the No/No rule (no practicing your Karate moves on your friends at school and no practicing on your sister at home without permission). Lastly, she discussed respect. The last was the hardest for Mim to get his head around. He’s not a mean kid. He’s exuberant and energetic and he tramples through life in an effort to experience everything RIGHT NOW!
The conversation went something like this;
Miss M: “At the dojo, you call me Ma’am and Mr. H Sir, ok?”
Mim: “Yeah”
Miss M: “Yes Ma’am?”
Mim (not looking her in the eye and wiggling): “Okay”
Miss M (gently guiding his attention back to her): “Yes Ma’am”
Mim (finally getting it):“Yes Ma’am.”
I chewed on my lips trying not to laugh. This is classic Mim. Completely oblivious to what you are trying to tell him. This exchange was repeated several times throughout the time we were there.
At the end of his time with Miss M, he was still super excited and really looking forward to coming back. I guess the respect conversation sort of got through, because as we were leaving, I wanted him to say thank you, to Miss M, but instead he said “Yes Ma’am”. She and I both laughed.
It will be interesting!
It was spring break and the kids announced they wanted to make chocolate chip cookies. Who am I to stand in the way of the production of sweets????
A quick inventory of ingredients revealed we were out of eggs. Most normal people would just run to the store and grab a dozen. If you know me or you’ve been reading this blog for any length of time, you know, I’m not “normal people”. I’m an egg snob and I blame my neighbor Cammy. Cammy keeps hens and is very generous with her eggs. It is hard to describe to someone the difference between a mass produced egg and locally raised, fresh egg. A fresh egg is just, well, eggyier, but not in a bad way, it just has a deeper, richer flavor. It is a mild infusion of taste, but once you’ve had it, you’ll never go back to regular eggs. It is sort of like the difference between a handmade chocolate and a Hershey bar.
I could have gotten in the car and taken a ride to Cam’s, but it was a beautiful day and I was looking to get some exercise and spend some time with my daughter. So, we decided to perform and eggsperiment. We hopped on our bikes and pedaled away.
Cammy lives about 2 miles away, and I was looking for a bit more exercise, so we took a roundabout route to her house. Upon arrival at Cammy’s we discovered a dozen eggs wasn’t going to fit in Fish’s bike basket. Carefully I ripped the cardboard container in half and we snuggled the two halves in a dishtowel I’d brought along for padding. Then we were off for the quick two mile ride home. Or so we thought.
Eggcept when we went to turn on our road, we encountered this.
For my city slicker readers, dirt roads are riddled with divots and pot holes eggspecailly during mud season and after days of rain (which we’d recently eggsperienced). The town comes through and turns over the dirt with a tractor pulling a eggceptionally large blade on an angle, then they go back over it with another eggceptionally large rake. The result is a surface that is loosely packed dirt and gravel. Great for cars and trucks, but when you are riding a bike a newly graded road is like slogging through taffy. It is bumpy, large rocks appear out of nowhere and the loose surface makes for slow traveling. It is hard enough on a regular ride, nevermind one involving eggceptionally fragile cargo.
Rather than risk further eggasperation, we turned around and rode back the way we came. Well, we modified the route a little to avoid some hills that were fun as down hills, but looked pretty miserable as up hills.
All was well, until we once again reached the dirt. Half of our passengers decided to make their escape. Ooops. Amazingly, they all survived the drop without a scratch.
So, one hour and 10.5 miles later, I got my eggcercise and we had eggs for cookies. Ah, such is the adventure of life in the country.
I love this picture. The lighting is poor and it is blurry because they were moving and I took it with my phone, but still, it captures that joy that is my children.
We’d just finished dinner at a local diner and after a quick stop for new sneakers, for the men of the family, the kids were told we could visit the playground at the other end of the mall. They took off squealing.
They like each other. Yes they get on one another’s nerves, but generally, they like each other and play well together. I am blessed. I know it may not last, but I hope it does. This is the reason I wanted two kids.
Sorry to have been absent and a warm welcome to anyone visiting from Parenting New Hampshire. More to come soon!
By using a pencil to draft I regain the ability to erase. When writing with pen, the only option was a line (or six) through the text. This has never worked well for me especially during the revision process. When I reread, my eye is often tripped up by the mistake. As When I wrote this draft, I encountered one downside to pencil, the mess. The crumbs from the eraser, the shavings from the sharpener and graphite transfer to the heel of my hand. Even before I started this venture I knew I would not be converting to pencil, still, it is not a bad way to write, and it is always good to provide the muse with options for expression. Heck, it got me this blog post right?
I’m fortunate to be part of a group blog on writing Live to Write, Write to Live, by The New Hampshire Writer’s Network. This post was created in conjunction with a post for that blog.
This cup, this, venti, black iced tea with 3 pumps of sugar*, is the beginning of a new era for Starbucks. The barrista who served me referred to it as a move towards “mass production”.
Out with the quaint hand scrawled “Bk 3p CS” and in with the block type,
Blah. The barrista said the new system isn’t as personal as the old one and I agree. Occasionally, I’ll take the kids for a treat. The staff knows us and they would frequently add a 🙂 to my daughter’s KHC (Kid’s hot chocolate, smaller, not as hot). It was easy to do because the sharpie was already in hand, but that little extra touch was always noted and appreciated.
I’m sorry to see the scribbles go. I suspect, it all has to do with efficiency but, given a choice, I’ll take the personal touch over efficiency any day.
*FWIW, 3 pumps is HALF the standard amount of sugar.
I’ve been using the Lose-It app on my phone to track calories in and calories out. It has been very enlightening.
I knew that olive oil is the “better” fat, but I didn’t know that two tablespoons of EVOO is 252 calories! Yeowch! Especially since I really could have gotten away with much less on my tortellini and broccoli.
I knew that exercise is good for you, but I didn’t know that an hour of rollerskating will burn 533 calories! Whoo Hoo, Laconia Skate Escape, here I come!
I knew that I had a sweet tooth that wasn’t going to magically disappear, but I didn’t know that most of the time I can fulfill my need for chocolate with a tablespoon of chocolate chips to the tune of 50 calories.
Given my history of PCOS, and insulin resistance, I think it is time to see a nutritionist. I’m eating better than I have been, but I think with some tweaking, I could shed the pounds more efficiently. I have a call into a highly recommended nutritionist to set up an initial consultation. I’m looking forward to the next step.
Speaking of steps, I’ve been exercising relatively regularly, anywhere from three to five times per week. I was hindered slightly by a heel injury, but I transferred my workouts to a local pool and was able to burn without further aggravating things. I’ve also dusted off my bike now that spring has sprung, here in New England. I’ve been out for a few rides (the longest of which was eight-and-a-half miles in an hour). I’m also excited because a friend recently purchased a bike and we’re hoping to hit the trails with the kids.
So that’s the update for now. Basically, I’m feeling good, and making progress.
You are 11. I ask how did this happen and yet, I know. The minutes turned to days and the days turned to months and BOOM! 11. I joke about keeping you my little girl forever, but the truth is enjoy you more and more as you grow.
You are so many things, responsible, loving, caring, kind, curious, adventurous and shy, (don’t ask me how those last two pair off, but somehow you make it work). You have a wonderful sense of humor and seem to have picked up just a touch of sarcasm. I don’t know where THAT came from.
I swell with pride when you take a chance and succeed and I ache with all my heart when someone hurts your feelings. As we stare down your teenage years, I’m excited and fearful. I’m excited to see what you will do, I am fearful because I know that challenge lies ahead for both of us and there is no way to avoid it. By necessity, we will separate, but it is my hope that ultimately that separation will make our relationship stronger.
In some ways, you posses a self confidence that I envy other times, I wish you’d put yourself out there more. I worry that your need for perfection and utter abhorrence for failure sometimes holds you back from trying new things. Yet, when you try something you work hard to be the best you can be and that is admirable.
We are similar in some ways, but ultimately, we are different people and I work daily to respect that. You may look like me, but you are not me. You are you own wonderful, intelligent, stubborn, emotional, fantastic person.
You’ve made it so easy to be your mom, sometimes I am startled when things get off track. Bear with me as we make our way. I love you Fish and I am so proud of the girl that you are and the young woman you are becoming.
Keep on being you!
Happy 11th Birthday,
Love,
Mom
About two weeks ago, I had a REALLY bad Monday. My dear friend C was there throughout the day to lend an ear and provide support and wisdom. Well, what goes around comes around and all that, her Friday was worse than my Monday AND, her Friday went on for 4 days. Truthfully, the matter still isn’t really resolved, she’s just at a lull in the chaos. but I digress.
I had items I’d borrowed from C and her family that needed to be returned and I was picking up a few things for her at Trader Joe’s. I thought I’d throw together a chicken pot pie and drop that off too. I made the pie in between homework and dinner prep and then cooked it after dinner. When it was done, I pulled it out of the oven and left it sitting on a cookie tray on top of my stove to cool. As you can see, it never made it to C’s house. With apologies to Clement Moore, here is the tale.
‘Twas the night before delivery when all thought the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The borrowed items were stacked by the door with care in hopes I’d remember them and not leave them there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of play with grandparents danced in their heads.
With husband at the bar enjoying a beer, I collapsed in my chair in search of some cheer.
When out in the kitchen there arose such a clatter, alas, I was too tired to rise to see what was the matter.
Eventually I dragged my sorry self up and puttered to the kitchen to see what had gone amok
The light o’er the sink cast a dim illumination giving me very little information.
What did wondering eyes find on the floor? Why a chicken pot pie that now was no more.
With the pie upside down and gone kersplat, I knew in a moment, it must be the cat!
More rapid than eagles, the curses they came, and I screamed and I shouted and I called her by name.
!@$%! Winnie, !#$% cat!, and trust me there were more! Oh Phooey, I’m pissed and just look at the floor!
To the cleaning closet, I stormed, to grab this and that. Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away Cat!
Live Fearless Lee 