Hot Topics by Email

I got an email this week that gave me pause. It was from someone in our cub scout pack, urging a long list of families to call in to protest SB 572 which would create a "Harvey Milk Day" (not a "Harvey Milk Gay Day" as the email called it).

Now, I don't mean for this to become a post about Gay Rights, though I don't hide the fact that DH and I are solidly in the PRO column on that topic. I have experienced too much discrimination and prejudice in my life to distinguish the reason for it. Race, gender, religion, sexual orientation, age, weight, hair color, height, national origin, physical condition, whatever. Discrimination is never acceptable.

What got me thinking was the mixing of audiences. I myself have sent out email blasts requesting support on political issues to friends, and asked them to forward. Usually, these are really black and white, like "more money for public schools" or some such.

Then again, to some folks, homosexuality is black and white. And in scouting, which has a history of anti-gay policy, perhaps she assumed she was among like-minded folks. Maybe she was, and I am the exception. If Harvey Milk Day were to become an official holiday, with requisite discussion in public schools, I can see why some folks would be uncomfortable with that.

Not that that this potential discussion needs to be graphic. Elementary school kids can be taught that some people "love" people of the same gender. There is a LOT of harassment and outright persecution related to homosexuality that happens in schools. I remember the words that were thrown around when we were growing up. I am sure they are still being used to insult and bully kids who are "different," regardless of actual sexual orientation. Our son has seen friends (boys) singled out and ostracized for the cardinal sin of playing with a girl. So a little education on tolerance (or even *gasp* acceptance) does not seem amiss to me.

In living memory, there was a time when the idea of a Martin Luther King Jr. Day would have seemed equally appalling to some people. Once upon a time, interracial marriage was illegal in parts of this country. There is even a word for this: "miscegenation" and this was preached against in some churches as a sin against God. So, while I get that some of those who are extremely agitated about homosexuality believe they are protecting their children from some heinous lifestyle, I must disagree with their premise.

The email situation has made me uncomfortable. I like the woman who sent the thread. I believe she has good intentions, though I also believe they are misguided in this case. I am sure she would say the same of me if she read this blog. Should I just ignore the email thread? Reply All with my opinion on the matter, and brand myself as one of those "flaming Liberals." If I did that, would I just be engaging in the same act that the originator of the email had--shoving my policy in the inbox of people whom I only know marginally? I was tempted to send a pointed email reply, but I don't even know most of the people on the mail list.

When the email thread grew to 5 responses, I did reply all with a simple request to be removed from the thread. Without an explanation, people are free to assume it is due to political views, or a desire for less spam, or simple apathy.

What about Facebook? I am linked there to people from all walks of life...high school, college, family, past jobs, current social groups. The only group I intentionally exclude is people I work with right now--coworkers or customers.

I have posted, and likely will post in the future, some gay-friendly political comment in my FB status. I wonder what impact this future left wing liberal posting will have on my relationship with this woman. With such a diverse audience pool, I am bound to post something sometime that will offend somebody.

Going back a few years, this would probably have never come up, since there is little room for political discussion in that "Hey Neighbor" type of quick recognition we have on the schoolyard playground as we drop off our kids in the morning.

Then again, go back even further, say our parents' generation, and everyone in the school would probably know what church I attend, what political party I vote with, and where I shop for groceries. Social networks grow and contract, and the medium changes with each generation. The back fence and the front porch have been replaced by FB, Twitter, blogs, and email lists.

What's the old saying...never discuss religion or politics? All this social networking makes it challenging--you have to remember how wide your audience is when posting to things like blogs and FB. So, I guess mundane stuff about camping, kids, and daily life will continue to be the main content of what I post to FB. As for this blog, well, now that you know my left-leaning tendencies, you can choose to come read it (or not), so I may take more of a position on things here. Other views are welcome, but bullying or snarkiness will not be tolerated.

I'm not one to back away from a political discussion...but I will choose the time and place for it. Preferably live, so we could have real civil discourse. Email blasts to FaceBook acquaintances is not the forum I would choose.

Social Media Revolution video

This is pretty impressive stuff:

The Tree Forts of Mount Madonna

Our cub scout troop camped at Mt. Madonna again this summer, and I have to say, I love this park! Even though there are not the conveniences of flush toilets, or on-site general store, we still had a great time.

As soon as we step out of the car, we are walking on a carpet of leaf litter. It is soft as cotton--I can imagine how much more comfortable the ground would be for the sleeping bags. (We have air mattresses, so won't notice as much)

Our steps stir up the earthy smell of leaves and growing things from the leaf litter, as we survey the large group space to choose where to pitch our tent. We pick a relatively flat space, with little or no apparent slope to it. This will prove to be incorrect over the next 2 nights.

The campsite is a haven for kids, especially boys seeking "forts" and "hideouts" rather than the Barbie Dreamhouse my sister and I craved growing up.

This giant burned out redwood tree trunk greeted us last year. I swear it looks 2 feet shorter than last summer, but DH tells me it just seems that way because our boys have grown so much!







I am going to estimate that the trunk is 8 feet high? Definitely taller than our tallest parent, who is over 6 feet. No one fell out this year, thank goodness!










This particular tree comes with convenient hand and footholds cut into the tree, and the edges are well worn from years of use.





This is the top of another "fort" in our immediate sleeping area. This one stands only 3 feet high, more easily scaled and defended by the younger scouts.

Another tree fort--one of 4 "secret" ones in our campsite, hidden among many other trees instead of out in the open.

You can see why this place is "adventure" paradise. Capture the flag was played several times over the course of the weekend.

They also played a funny game "Zorch," which is apparently a version of Marco Polo played on land, in the DARK. I don't know how they managed not to trip over tree roots and break any limbs, but they had fun.

Last year we hiked over to the Henry Miller Estate ruins, and did some geocache exploring. This year the parents were less ambitious--we barely even left our campsite to visit the deer pen next door.

Still, DH and I were exhausted when we got home. Much of this I blame on a lack of sleep the whole weekend. Thanks to the mild slope of our campsite, and our shared "queen-size" air mattress, I was rolling into DH all night. I rotated the mattress in the morning 90 degrees, putting our heads above our feet. The next night he kept rolling into me. I wonder if we were to invest in the king-size mattress, which is actually 2 separate mattresses linked together, if that would help?

Other excitement this trip--we got through both nights with dry sleeping bags all around, despite several mad dashes for the port-o-potties nearby. One child came back in, sheepishly admitting he had not quite made it all the way. When I started to get up to get him a change of underwear, he told me not to worry about it, his pants were still dry. Yeah, think about that for a minute, you'll figure it out... I was warned not to walk to the right when I exited the tent later on.

Speaking of unwanted moisture, it rained again this year! I am pretty sure it was what the rangers call "forest condensation." The fog rolls in off the ocean, and all the moisture clings to the redwoods all around us. As the weather cools overnight, it all condenses and drips off the trees onto us--and sure does feel like RAIN, no matter what you call it! It's a lovely sound on the rainfly but not easy to fall asleep to. Since I couldn't sleep, I found myself checking the tables at 4 in the morning to put things underneath to keep dry until morning.

The good news is that having learned from our experience with this "forest condensation" phenomenon last summer, our shoes were all INSIDE the tent this time. Dry feet are happy feet!

Camping Aftermath

We spent weeks planning and preparing for relatives visiting and the party for Barley's baptism. These preparations included:

• Cleaning both cars inside and out (amazing what detritus accumulates in the backseat with kids aboard)
• De-cobwebbing our living room's high ceiling
• Having hottub serviced in the backyard, though we didn't end up using it
• Cleaning patio furniture--and of course it was too hot to sit outside that weekend
• Patching and repainting the holes in the wall in the hallway
• Replacing ALL the burned out lightbulbs in the house--there were 5 different varieties of fluorescent bulbs!
• Drafting underage labor into clearing the toyroom floor for cousins to camp out
• Hanging falsely advertised wire rod for curtains in the TV room for privacy
• Attempting to acquire curtains for above rod (failed)
• Clearing all the horizontal surfaces in the house which were covered with papers and junk
• Scheduling cleaners to do final clean and sanitize makeover on house the day before guests arrive
• Stuffing anything left on the floor of the living room or TV room in a box, to be shoved in the front office or the garage, hoping like heck we'll be able to find stuff later (remote control? what remote control?)
  

Now, a scant week after our baptismal guests have departed, our house looks like a camping goods store upchucked all over it. (We went up to Mount Madonna County Park this last weekend with the Cub Scouts)

There are sleeping bags unrolled in the living room (to dry out); mountains of laundry in the garage; tent, rainfly and tarp set up in the backyard (where the sprinklers re-soaked them this morning); and the kitchen and dining room tables are piled high with the necessary tools of cooking and surviving in the wild....

AND we are going camping AGAIN before Labor Day! At least this second place has flush toilets, and it is less likely to rain. Did I mention our new church is also organizing a camping trip in September? We told the boys NO WAY.

Baptismal blessing

So, baptism is a big topic, and I can't address it all in one post. Among the topics purposely delayed for a future posting, whenever I work out the details in my own head:

• Why Baptism at all? (What do I believe would have happened if we had not?)
  
• Do I really believe in God (short answer is YES, but the explanation is much longer)
  
• Why Episcopal and not Catholic?
• Is Christianity the only path to God?
• What took so long?--he's 7 already!
  

To cut to the chase, Barley's baptism was the central reason for the family and friends gathering last weekend. It is also the primary source of stress and worry these last few months.

Ever since we started planning this, we've been panicked by visions of Barley throwing a tantrum in the church, or having to be wrestled to the ground to receive the chrism of oil on his forehead. One of our guests asked us if Barley was looking forward to the baptism, and our response was, "Not at all. He hates having to go to church." This was why we declined the invitation to baptize him during the Sunday service with dozens of other families in attendance.

While we totally understand the community aspect of this celebration, we did not want to have to keep the boys in good behavior for 90 minutes in front of mostly strangers (we just joined the church about 8 months ago). A private ceremony--about 45 minutes, with just our family and friends seemed like a much better recipe for success.

And so it was! Barley, my truculent boy, who hates to get his face wet, voluntarily bent his head down over the fountain to be blessed. When I saw this, I knew that miracles CAN happen! I think I may have heard music too...but maybe that was just in my head.

My brother, Barley's uncle and Godfather, was standing by, ready to put him into a headlock if he didn't go with the program. We had explained to Barley what was going to happen, and shown him the fountain--although there was no water in it at the time. Seems all the preparation did the trick.

All this worrying goes to show it is much smarter to take care of this sacrament when the child is still an infant, and unable to fight back! We had similar issues when Teddy was baptized at age 2. He scampered about the church, and played hide-and-seek under my dress through the service. Sigh. I told myself then that we would baptize the next child younger to avoid these problems, but things just did not work out that way.

There was one funny moment when my brother was asked to light the baptismal candle, since he was the tallest one of us standing there. At 5'9", he doesn't get called that very often! Before any images of the large Asian population in California come to mind, let me point out that everyone standing up there, including the priest, was Caucasian except me and the boys--heh.

Barley's friends were lined up on the other side of the fountain, watching to see it up close. It was adorable--I love seeing that wonder and curiosity in the young. Since this was a private ceremony, none of us stressed about it--they were free to witness all of it. Our priest made sure no one "baptized" Barley before he was ready.

All went well, there are no more pagans in our house. I believe there may be more paths to God and Heaven than just what the Christians offer--but this is the one I know. We all feel better about it, Barley included. The reverence with which he opened his baptismal gifts, and wore his gold cross the next day to church, showed he understood the solemnity of the occasion. I think my mother would have been pleased.

The Best Guests

It has been almost a week since I posted--we have been really busy around here! I'll blog more about the weekend's activities....um...soon, I'm sure.

In the meantime, I just want to point out that I have discovered there are 2 types of guests who come to visit:

The first type are FRIENDS: lovely people who contribute to the meal; bringing salad, pasta, and gifts. Close friends who love us and remind us by their very presence why we love them so much. It was great to see them and share our big event.

The other type are...FAMILY. And apparently these also come in two types:

The GOOD Type: They bake soda bread, and scones, and share BBQ recipes involving foil, diced potatoes, and onions. They sneak into the kitchen when I am not looking and make it look clean and inviting, so the next meal is that much easier. They help with whatever task is needed, when the 8-arms I was issued as a mother are still not enough to feed the 18 people celebrating the day with us. As my brother always quipped to me growing up, "You're not a guest--you're family!" (Usually followed by, "Get it yourself, Sis!" I'm pretty sure he was just teasing...)

The OTHER Type of Family, we won't speak of, other than to pity them and the poor decisions they have made for their lives.

Fortunately, we were very blessed to have the Good Type of Family come and stay with us. It was like having my very own secret dish-washing fairies! Who knew they lived in Oregon and New York too? That blows the whole Left Coast theory my nephew keeps talking about!

Lullabyes long gone

I loved this post on Notes to Self so much, I just had to steal Kyran's idea. We took the boys to Music Together classes when they were toddlers--I guess to build up that music awareness portion of the brain. I don't think anyone took me to such things when I was very small, since I definitely lack a musical brain center.

Both our boys are musical, but I can't say for certain that it was the toddler classes that did it. I suspect their musicality is innate. Teddy always enjoyed the classes, mostly sitting happily on my lap as we sang, clapped, and played together.

Barley? Well, he really enjoyed running around the outside edge of the classroom, playing with the venetian blinds, chalk, or any other loose object in the room, while I gamely sat with the other Moms. I felt kind of dopey sitting there, my lap empty, clapping and singing songs that Barley had no interest in. I could almost hear Barley thinking to himself, "Gee, I have to entertain myself while Mommy is at her music class--I hope it is done soon!".

We did enjoy the tapes from the class, playing them in the car. DH said the melodies were good, and he could hear the boys matching pitch and tone from the back seat. One of the songs became the lullaby he sang the boys when they werebabies--"my love and I" having been replaced with "my child and I".

Inspired by Kyran's blog posting, I went in search of a YouTube version to hold us over, until I can pin DH into recording one for posterity. (Given his history of public singing at emotional family events, I suspect he may resist...)

The Water is Wide, I cannot cross o'er it
Neither have I wings to fly
Give me a boat that can carry two
And we shall row, my child and I...

The List

I have been reading the Happiness Project Blog, and I am excited that it might be possible to learn to be happy. I am at a point in my life where this may well be as good as it gets, and if I am not able to be happy now, there are not going to be any major life changes that will make it any easier.

My striving personality will always get in the way somewhat, as I wrote about previously. But I have accomplished so much of what I wanted in my life, I had better start enjoying it--RIGHT NOW! (Another aspect of my personality--impatience!)

I have a list I wrote when I was sitting alone in a hotel room years ago. I was frustrated with my job, not sure I was in the right career, and not certain what to do with my life. I had been out of college about 5 years, and I was trying to decide what I really wanted.

I have saved this list for the last 15 years, reviewing it occasionally. There are remarkably few edits in all that time, so I've been pretty consistent about what elements I believe make a "good life". Here is the list:

GOOD LIFE:

• Husband
• Children
• Family near (crossed out 3 years ago, when we lost the last of our boys' grandparents)
• Friends near
• Time to quilt
• Time to write friends (changed to email, would now add FB)
• $ to travel
• Work that challenges me without stress (stress replaced with "going against my values" after a bad stretch at a start-up)
• Work that ends after 40 hours
• Good people to work with

Additions made 4 years later:

• Time for violin, exercise, poetry
• Time to write (yay, this blog counts!)

This tattered list is what I contemplated when I quit my job 2 years ago. I used it to explain to my boss, my VP, and the HR director the reason why I was leaving even though I didn't have another job lined up. The requirements on it were part of the negotiation with my VP when he asked me to consider staying in another role.

I am truly blessed to say that I have most of the things on this list. Not enough time for every single one of them, but to even mention which ones at this point would be nit-picking. And I am not saying that my life is perfect--not at all. I have my frustrations and our family has some major challenges to overcome. We live in the same economy as everyone else right now, and of course, there is never enough money or time or energy to do or have everything I would like.

Nonetheless, my glass is really 9/10 full--and I am going to learn to celebrate that.

You just know *that* is going in the blog....

So, Barley had to change into soccer clothes today, and when he stripped to put on his soccer shorts, we noticed he was wearing his older brother's underwear. Mischievous Barley just grinned when we pointed this out to him.

DH teased Barley, asking, "Are you going to start wearing MY underwear next, young man?!"

Barley gleefully proclaimed, "Nope! I'm going to start wearing MOM's underwear next--THEN yours!"

After we stopped guffawing, DH just looked at me and grinned, "Blog, right?" You betcha! I couldn't BUY material this funny!

Poor Barley, he's going to need therapy after he grows up and reads that I posted about this. Or when his brother reads it and teases him about it!

Matchmaking by Height

So, this post has a minor spoiler from the Julie and Julia movie, so if you hate Spoilers, please check out this funny blog instead, and check back here next week, when this posting will have rolled off the page...

There is a cute scene in the movie where the 6'2" Julia Child and her husband try to set up her even taller sister with a very tall friend at a dinner party. The tall man arrives, only to find Julia's sister hunched over and talking quite intimately with a very short man...whom she ends up marrying.

This reminded me of a hilarious incident of matchmaking by height that happened to me when I lived in America's heartland. I haven't thought of this story in years, so I can't have bored anyone with this recently.

A male coworker came into the little conference room where I, my supervisor, and a temp had set up for a months-long project we were all working on. My coworker--let's call him George, started quizzing me on my personal life...

George: So, Jo, I'd really like to introduce you to my cousin sometime. He's a really nice guy, I think you'd like him...and he has trouble finding dates because he's really short. But so are you...you'd be great together! You don't have a boyfriend or anything, do you?

Me: Well, actually, I do have a boyfriend.

George: (surprised!) Really??! But you only just moved here a couple of months ago, right? How did you find a boyfriend so fast? It can't be very serious...

Me: Um, well, actually, he moved here to be with me when I got this job...

George: Well (dismissively), what kind of a guy follows his girlfriend to another town...what is he, some kind of loser?

At this point, I am getting really uncomfortable--you and George will both learn why in a second. I am trying to stammer out some kind of reply to get George to back off without offending him, when my supervisor, Anna interrupts. She has been sitting in the room for all of this--as has the Temp, and she bursts out laughing. When she catches her breath, she introduces George to our Temp:

Anna: George--you should really meet our Temp--this is DH. DH, say Hi to George! George, DH is Jo's boyfriend--I thought you might like to know!

DH turned and waved at George, wearing a sheepish smile on his face.

George turned BRIGHT red, closed his mouth, and turned and left the room without saying a single word. For the next year, he would turn and walk in the other direction when he saw me coming. Poor man--how embarrassed he must have been!

We had gone through several temps on this project, and since DH was looking for a job after having moved to be with me, we decided to bring him in to help out. Either he would also find a job within weeks, or we would have a temp who stayed longer--a win for me in either case.

One coworker commented that it was nice that we had hired a temp that I could carpool with. DH and I were careful not to let on at the office that we were dating. After we got married and I brought him to the office Christmas party, people assumed we had met AT the job, and seemed to think it was cute. Only my supervisor, Anna knew the facts...oh, and George too, of course, but I am pretty sure he didn't tell anyone.

Frustrated Foodie

Work has been attempting to eat my life, so I decided to claim some time back for myself with a couple of girlfriends. We saw Julie and Julia, and we all really enjoyed it. The basic premise comes from a blog written by Julie Powell, who spent a year cooking her way through ALL the recipes in Julia Child's famous book.

I am a total foodie, eternally frustrated by my lack of cooking skills. Like Julia, I love to eat, but I do not have her ambition in the kitchen. I would happily work harder at the office, where I am competent, to afford to eat in good restaurants and have other people do the cooking.

I did spend about 4 months seriously trying to learn to cook better. I wasn't working my way through Julia, they were just your basic Betty Crocker recipes, or Rachel Ray, or things that looked promising from the food section of the newspaper or magazines. If I started early on a weekend, I could put something new and tasty on the table by dinnertime...only to have Barley turn his nose up at it and refuse to eat. Or he would charm us all with lovely retching noises, or his gagging reflex would kick in as soon as he smelled the new food. And sometimes, even intrepid Teddy, who would try anything, would admit he didn't like it either.

Mostly DH and Teddy were appreciative, but doing all that work for the risk of 25 to 50% of my audience refusing to eat was just too discouraging an experience. Even DH is not the most adventuresome diner. He is famous in his family for refusing to eat anything but white rice during a family trip to San Francisco's Chinatown--and asking the waiter for some butter to put on it.

He's come a long way since then--Thank Goodness!--but when you consider he married a Korean woman who loves kimchee and dried seaweed...you can see the inherent food conflicts at our dinner table.

I love to blame DH for Barley's pickiness, but I do recall a few times as a child myself, aggravating my mother by refusing to eat the dinner she had prepared that night. Then again, Mom was not cooking any of Julia Child's recipes--that's for sure! Whatever was for dinner, it was the job of us kids to "pick a vegetable" from the pantry--whatever CAN we wanted! Cooking fresh broccoli in our house meant boiling it until it started dissolving in the pot...NO SURPRISE I refused to eat it!

Both my brothers had the wisdom to marry GREAT cooks. I always ate very well when we went over to their houses--despite my mother complaining what a picky eater I was.

My brother has actually learned a few tricks in the kitchen himself. So, my own reputation is on the line this coming weekend--as I must prove to my brother that his little sister really can put edible food on the table--despite my upbringing! Wish me luck, folks!

Blessed be the peacemakers...

The week started out pretty rough around here. After weeks of math, karate, science and art camps--all separately--the boys had their first day at summer camp together on Monday. It's not as though they have not seen each other all summer--there was no sleep away time, so they had afternoons, evenings, and weekends.

But these boys mix like oil and water sometimes. Repeatedly, in different childcare settings, we have had to take pains to arrange separation for them. They are both high-energy kids, and while Barley is the more stubborn and more aggressive of the two--Teddy gets his licks in and digs in his heels also.

Apparently on Monday, they both forgot how to be nice to each other. From the report DH got, they were fighting like cats and dogs from the minute they were dropped off, to the end of the day when they got picked up. The camp is not a large one--maybe a dozen children? So everyone tends to stay together as a group. And since both boys gravitate toward the same games and same playmates, there was plenty of opportunity for escalation and high emotion. Of course, both children could recite acts of aggression and escalation by the other. We heard that Barley did try to use his words, but when he still didn't get what he wanted, he resorted to physicality, as is his habit.

The end of the day found Teddy indoors, hiding and crying, and Barley outside, angry and also upset at the breakdown in their relationship. They were best enemies, not best friends.

I have a crazy busy work week, so I didn't hear any of this until I opened the office door and exited my cave of concentration to an eerily quiet house. The boys had each retreated to separate floors, and DH was making dinner. TV and video games had been temporarily banned, and we were waiting for the tides of emotion to ebb enough to have a calm discussion.

The boys had already been notified that their video game privileges would be suspended the next day. Barley pointed out that the only time they weren't fighting that day was when they had the video games, so that was only going to make it harder for them to get along! We would have to see.

Barley surprised us all by being the first to approach his brother, and apologize--UNPROMPTED . Although he had been angry at their last conflict, he did also feel terrible about the fact that they had not gotten along all day. This act of contrition on his part made me VERY hopeful that all the hard work we are doing with anger management may just be having some tiny effect after all.

This scene on the stairway banister made me even more hopeful. After Barley's apology, he suggested this as an activity for them both to work on. Teddy agreed, and this tableau was lined up before dinner was even on the table. It is still there 2 days later.

After dinner that night, we had a quiet evening--still no TV or video games. Barley was waiting impatiently for a comic book he had been reading, but which Teddy had picked up when Barley put it down. We sensed another volcanic eruption on the way, and encouraged Barley to go find another book to read while he was waiting.

Once in the other room, he got distracted by the piano instead. He started experimenting, and calling to us to listen to the songs he made up. I sent DH in with music paper to memorialize the music Barley was creating. This distracted him from being ticked off at his brother, and the rest of the night went peacefully.

Bedtime was pretty subdued. Since Teddy is getting over being sick, I think maybe that contributed to his inability to get along with his brother at summer camp that day.

After they went to bed, I pulled out some presents I had bought the boys for back to school. It is a few weeks early, but I wanted to give them something to help create some space away from each other the next day. Without their video games to escape into, I worried they would just have another day of conflict and upset.

Teddy loves to write stories, so I had gotten him this cool dragon-covered journal. He's been writing in composition notebooks, but he keeps losing them around the house. I am hoping he will keep better track of this one.

Barley loves to draw dragons and other pictures, so his larger book is full of high quality art paper. The pages are perforated, so he can take them out to share, or keep them organized in the book.

I was not there when they were presented in the morning. DH reported that Teddy's eyes lit up, and he was on board instantly! Barley was disappointed that it wasn't a video game, but allowed himself to be sold on the quality of the paper and the larger pages to draw on. They were encouraged to "escape" into writing or drawing if they started arguing again at camp.

I worried about them all day yesterday, and asked for a report when I got home Tuesday night. I was shown this by the boys in response to my question about how the day had gone.
The boys decided to collaborate on a story. Teddy wrote chapter 1, and Barley illustrated it. Instead of using these new books as a way to escape each other, they used them to spend constructive, creative time together.

I L*O*V*E THESE BOYS! They are TOTALLY AWESOME.

Especially when they remember how much they love each other.

Boy, is DH going to love this!

So, I am totally slammed at work, and too tired to think straight...so it must be time to write a new post! Heh, I can procrastinate with the best of 'em--just ask my boss, or any of my college professors!

I am obsessing about a blog I discovered last week while contemplating the Constantly Seeking post I wrote. Seeking happiness is one of my life goals, and I pride myself on being intelligent and well-read. I have read a lot of tips, ideas, and methods for being happier, and on a night when I don't feel such grinding weight from work deadlines, I will expound further on what I have learned, and not learned yet.

So, this new blog: The Happiness Project, is being written by a woman on a mission to discover the true secret of happiness. And I am totally hooked. If it is true that at times we can choose to be happy, then learning to be happy is a skill well worth investing my time in. This blog has a lot of useful information on it.

I am reading the old postings in a random, haphazard fashion right now. Eventually, I will read them all, I imagine, being OCD at times (I hear you snickering out there!). One posting that caught my eye today was this one on counter intuitive strategies. These are things we may think would actually lead to us being less happy, when in fact, they increase our happiness. Huh.

The one that jumped out at me was #9. Stop nagging. Now, I've been doing this for the last month, and I have to admit, I am a bit happier. Mostly, I stopped because I was just too busy/tired, and it took more energy to remind DH yet again to clear the lint from the dryer when switching laundry, than to do it myself. So when I pull what looks like a blue rabbit pelt from the lint trap, I've just been throwing it out, and thanking him for DOING the laundry in the first place.

I don't nag because it's fun, or it makes me happy. When I do it, I think I am educating, or reinforcing previous discussions. It seems from what Gretchen is saying, that nagging really only serves to make ME unhappier. Oh, yeah, I guess it's not helping DH's happiness meter either.

So, I think I'll try to continue with #9, and pick up some of the other tips in her blog. What have I got to lose, other than some dryer lint?

Race to the urinal...

I am still mulling over this whole happiness thread. Will post on this topic this coming week. In the meantime, here is a lighter post to bring a chuckle...

One of the benefits of having boys--once done with potty training, I am now forever excused from bathroom duty. Phew!

So, what really goes on in there... I don't think I want to know.

Except DH told me that Barley, our 7-year old, loves to RACE his father to the bathroom when we go to the movies. By beating him there, he gets to pick which urinal he uses. Who knew these things came at different heights? (This was a stock photo found online--I did not follow them in to take this picture!)

Barley makes a bee-line (or would that be a p....oh never mind!) for the adult height one. He can just barely clear it with his, umm, "equipment" shall we say? Leaving DH to use the child-height urinal. Not only does DH have to aim at a target that is further away than normal, he also must endure the unearthly CACKLING of the boy next to him who made his Dad use the kid version.

You fathers of daughters out there are missing out on some prime bonding time here!