I have a collection of books from my childhood. National Velvet, Secret Garden, Little Women, Heidi and Carol from the Country are favorites of mine from many, many years ago.
Toward the end of the last school year, I started reading from those familiar friends to the girls before bed. We tried to do a chapter at a time -- truthfully, some nights we only made it through a few pages. We started with The Hundred Dresses, went to Heidi and then Carol from the Country. The latest was Little House in the Big Woods. Ah, Laura, Mary, Pa, Ma and don't forget baby Carrie.
My girls could not believe that sugar snow and dolls made out of leaves and branches could keep children entertained all day long. And, how could listening to the fiddle each evening be entertainment. Well, the Adams girls bought in to the Big Woods country life. And, they bought into it hard. Talk of threshers, venison and calico happened throughout the days and weeks it took us to get through the 13 chapters. The black and white line drawings in my copy of the book helped them focus on the story. Not every page had a picture . . . the story required imagination. Imagine, that?
My first, second and third parts of the day all work toward a fourth part for me, yes. But, I'll tell you reading to the girls during that last part of the third part is something to treasure. It's been a pleasure re-visiting these stories I loved and read and read and re-read and re-read while I was growing up. It's been fun talking through the stories with the girls. Plus, some of the books were from the Devine library where my grandmother served as librarian and I spent many a summer shelving and sorting books. While I'm not quite sure how I ended up with Devine library books -- out of circulation -- I know it was a pay-it-forward, future gift from my grandmother to share with the great-granddaughters she didn't get to meet.
It seems when I settle into my fourth part of the day after I've read to the girls, I feel a bit calmer and more grounded. That's the best start to a fourth part, right? Sitting and pausing, relaxing and enjoying the activity set ahead for me.
Tonight, we finished Little House . . . knocked out that last eight pages in Chapter 13. I had stacked up a few 'nexts' -- National Velvet and Heidi Grows Up. After I said, 'the end,' Camille let out the sweetest sigh. I knew that meant she felt it end and had enjoyed the book. When a bit of time soaking up the last few pages set in, she said, 'Can we read Heidi Grows Up next?'
It worked. They want the next part. They want to continue the reading. They are connecting to the stories I loved so much when I was their age.
All this after a late arrival home tonight (leftovers were already in order for dinner) and a dash to the nail salon because I travel the next couple of days and the nails were looking really ragged. Not an ideal third part on a day that is an activity-free, no football game day. A 'you can get your fingernails and toenails painted, too' promise helped get everyone out the door for a 6:30 p.m. walk-in appointment.
The girls picked four colors each -- two for the toes, two for the fingers. All four for each of them were neon shades of orange, pink, green, purple, pink and blue. Full-on, can't let summer go kind of colors.
I picked a dark, slate gray. Summer, over. Fall, here. Since I'm traveling to a new place Friday, spending time with work people who don't know me yet, I went with a more subtle color, rather than my dark-Baylor green or sapphire blue.
Then, Nancy picked me. The nail tech was new to me. And, it was meant to be that she and I were paired up for the hour. She shared her story with me and for a third part that was really a fourth part, I soaked up every moment and didn't want the hour to end. Even my girls patiently sat without electronics, books or crayons while I listened to her story.
She's from Vietnam. She's been here three years. She's a single mom. Her middle-school-aged daughter and high-school-aged son just came to America six months ago. Six months ago. They were separated from each other for two and a half years. Then, her children come here and all she does is work for them.
She shared that her son has adjusted a bit more quickly and has found his niche -- computers and science. He has permission (she said it was a permit) to use his phone in class so he can have the teacher's words translated.
Her daughter has struggled. She has made friends, but the homework drives her to tears most evenings. Nancy said she is in tears along with her because she can't help. At the beginning of the school year, Nancy met with the school counselor who said she should email the teachers. Nancy said she doesn't know English well enough to write and spell. She tried and the teachers could not understand her daughter's needs.
Last night, Nancy had meet the teacher night at the middle school. She said she met the young science teacher and knew that things would be OK. The science teacher said she would help, tutor and be available to her daughter whenever she needed her. Nancy said this teacher is in her second year of teaching.
Nancy wrapped up the story (after the third coat of polish) by telling me she explains to her children that they have so much to be thankful for here in America. Schools, freedoms and opportunity. She also tells them they have to work harder than American children but they can achieve and be successful. She kept touching her chest where her heart is and teared up and she spoke to me. I teared up, too.
Chris had an assignment earlier this week about what it means to be an American in light of politics and the topic of immigration law. He wrote about the refugees and immigrants he went to high school with and that being an American was about opportunity and chances and freedom.
Nancy believes that and is passing that to her children. I don't know if they are going to be citizens, if they have visas or green cards or what. I do know they are productive and working hard to be successful.
The third part today, which was supposed to be an errand became a lesson for my girls and a reflection for me. I know teachers touch lives (my husband, right? My dad, my sisters, my brothers in law!) and I know some students work harder than others. Yet, this story hit me. Nancy's story -- right down the street from me -- is as real as real can be. It made me stop, take a breath and be grateful for all I have.
At the end of Little House in the Big Woods, Pa fiddles and sings 'shall auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind.' Laura asks what days of auld land syne are and Pa replies with 'they are the days of long ago.'
Laura continues to listen and looks around the little house and thought to herself 'this is now.'
"She was glad that the cosy house, and Pa and Ma and the firelight and the music, were now. They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now. It can never be a long time ago.'
Now is now. Nancy's family is here with her now. My family is here with me now. I'm typing with dark gray finger nails and watching the third part of the RHONY reunion. I look around my cozy house, see my husband, hear my son, know my girls are tucked asleep and they won't be forgotten. First part, second part, third part or fourth are all just parts of now. Parts of each day. Each part won't be forgotten.
Now is now.
Wednesday, September 14, 2016
Wednesday, September 7, 2016
Braids and 290
Today was a travel day for work. It was an easy day trip that was a simple drive up the busiest highway on this earth, IH 35. Even leaving home two hours prior to my meeting (a trip that should only take about 45 minutes to one hour) had me arriving only a handful of minutes early. Yeah, I arrived at 9:21 a.m. for a 9:30 a.m. meeting. I left my house at 7:33 a.m. I was in standstill traffic for oh, about half the journey.
(Those of you who live in Houston or Austin are saying to yourself right now -- cry me a river Petri.)
(And, in case you were wondering, I was headed to Austin. I even used my beloved shortcut taking a back road to get to the very unfriendly IH 35 and that cut little time off the trip.)
(I think IH in IH 35 should stand for something such as I'm in Hell.) (Clever, I know.)
Done with parenthetical statements for the moment. It's my way. OK.
To get out of the house by 7:33 a.m. I have to be on my game. I mean along with gas being in the car (praise God, G had filled it up this weekend), and having a Styrofoam for coffee, I had to be dressed in work clothes (no jeans), hair done and bags packed.
Detail that I found out about night before -- an early morning meeting taking place for G Adams which means I needed to take the girls to school. Hold up, wait a minute. I had to be ready and out the door at 7:06 a.m. . . . precision, yes. Avoiding the long line of cars by the patrols, yes.
Boy, that's an earlier wake-up call, an earlier get up and go, an earlier get moving -- to get out of the door. To take the girls to school. And, to get on the road by 7:30 a.m. (or 7:33 a.m.).
Darn, long hair that is day-two clean and needs to be curled and doesn't require the standard run-out-the-door ponytail. Ugh.
And, rats for the having to wear real work clothes which means I had to wear travel shoes for driving and then bring real shoes for working. That may sound like I have a job that requires a certain type of shoe. I work at a bank. I have to wear pumps -- or something like that. Today, I chose a lovely pair of chunky heel shoes with an open toe. I had to tuck in a blouse into a skirt. My first-world work problems are real people.
All this to say, I hate IH 35 and knew I would not be driving home that way. Fortunately, my afternoon lunch meeting was out a bit and led me to a lovely back road named 290 that took me to a road I mentioned before, 281. The country version of 281. Not the in the middle of SA traffic 281 that I hate, hate, hate.
This 290 was as pleasant as a drive could be. For a moment, I thought I was on a lovely Sunday afternoon drive (remember, people used to do those) and could stop at shops, wineries and distilleries (yeah, I passed a few of those on the way home) along the way. I couldn't because it's Wednesday, not Sunday. It's a school night. I've third part to do and a fourth part to have.
I made mental notes to go back this way one day with friends or family. Nice little stops along the way. I'm thinking a future fourth part in the middle of the day might be a Sunday drive up 281 to 290.
My go-to 'part' planning didn't initially take into consideration the 290 route, but after discussion with co-workers and the realization I could be home by 5 p.m. in a normal, unharried, unfrenetic mood -- 290 won. Bye IH 35. I won't see you for a while. (Wait, I have to visit you Saturday when we drive to Waco to see my Bears! That's a happy drive with a Styrofoam cup filled with something other than coffee. Relax, I know open container laws. I have a driver. Oh, wait it's G. Does that count? He has a commercial license?)
Back on topic.
So my third part today was nice. Eased into it. Had a plan for dinner -- thanks Blue Apron and chicken I remembered to defrost. Girls had finished homework for the most part. No real chores, if you will, for me to take care of this evening.
The bath. The hair washing. Not me, my girls. Two of them, in case you forgot. That means tomorrow morn, they can wear their hair down. No, no curling or anything Pinterest-y fancy like that. But we do try braids. And, when I write try, I mean try. With a straight haired daughter and a curly haired daughter, the braiding techniques are different. Very different. I mean, quite different. Super different. Yes, different.
The straight hair should be easier to pick up the strands and braid away. Yet, the hair is a bit slippery and when the braider doesn't really know the French braid or any other nationality braid, it's tough. I usually go with the 'how about pigtails' approach.
The curly hair usually 'sticks' in place and I can fake the style.
Like 35, I hate the Pinterest videos of braids. The pictures looks so simple, the technique so quick and yet, I only have two hands. I have a friend who can get her daughter's hair done so beautifully. Wait, she has two daughters (first grade and preK - and, a baby boy). And, each Sunday, she and her girls stroll in with the most darling braids. I wish. I need to learn the skill. I've many, many days ahead requiring hair styles and braids.
I have a major amount of envy for good braiders and those chipper early risers who get things done. I don't hate them like I do IH 35, but I struggle with being so happy for their skills and being so frustrated over my lack of skills.
In my devotion this morning, it spoke to not having guilt as a driver of moving toward Jesus. Guilt shouldn't motivate us to follow Him, love others, accept His grace and mercy. We should move toward Him, because guess what, He wants us to -- regardless of our skill and knowledge. He wants our pure simple faith to drive us toward Him.
All the attempts on our own, all the tries we put forth are just that -- human attempts and tries. How about I put my faith in Him, accept my place and what I can do, and then, be a mom who can laugh about her attempts and not compare.
And, take the scenic drive home because there were some pretty amazing, God only created sights along that way -- and no cursing other drivers and 35.
No guilt. Just faith. Maybe a few braids along the scenic route.
(Those of you who live in Houston or Austin are saying to yourself right now -- cry me a river Petri.)
(And, in case you were wondering, I was headed to Austin. I even used my beloved shortcut taking a back road to get to the very unfriendly IH 35 and that cut little time off the trip.)
(I think IH in IH 35 should stand for something such as I'm in Hell.) (Clever, I know.)
Done with parenthetical statements for the moment. It's my way. OK.
To get out of the house by 7:33 a.m. I have to be on my game. I mean along with gas being in the car (praise God, G had filled it up this weekend), and having a Styrofoam for coffee, I had to be dressed in work clothes (no jeans), hair done and bags packed.
Detail that I found out about night before -- an early morning meeting taking place for G Adams which means I needed to take the girls to school. Hold up, wait a minute. I had to be ready and out the door at 7:06 a.m. . . . precision, yes. Avoiding the long line of cars by the patrols, yes.
Boy, that's an earlier wake-up call, an earlier get up and go, an earlier get moving -- to get out of the door. To take the girls to school. And, to get on the road by 7:30 a.m. (or 7:33 a.m.).
Darn, long hair that is day-two clean and needs to be curled and doesn't require the standard run-out-the-door ponytail. Ugh.
And, rats for the having to wear real work clothes which means I had to wear travel shoes for driving and then bring real shoes for working. That may sound like I have a job that requires a certain type of shoe. I work at a bank. I have to wear pumps -- or something like that. Today, I chose a lovely pair of chunky heel shoes with an open toe. I had to tuck in a blouse into a skirt. My first-world work problems are real people.
All this to say, I hate IH 35 and knew I would not be driving home that way. Fortunately, my afternoon lunch meeting was out a bit and led me to a lovely back road named 290 that took me to a road I mentioned before, 281. The country version of 281. Not the in the middle of SA traffic 281 that I hate, hate, hate.
This 290 was as pleasant as a drive could be. For a moment, I thought I was on a lovely Sunday afternoon drive (remember, people used to do those) and could stop at shops, wineries and distilleries (yeah, I passed a few of those on the way home) along the way. I couldn't because it's Wednesday, not Sunday. It's a school night. I've third part to do and a fourth part to have.
I made mental notes to go back this way one day with friends or family. Nice little stops along the way. I'm thinking a future fourth part in the middle of the day might be a Sunday drive up 281 to 290.
My go-to 'part' planning didn't initially take into consideration the 290 route, but after discussion with co-workers and the realization I could be home by 5 p.m. in a normal, unharried, unfrenetic mood -- 290 won. Bye IH 35. I won't see you for a while. (Wait, I have to visit you Saturday when we drive to Waco to see my Bears! That's a happy drive with a Styrofoam cup filled with something other than coffee. Relax, I know open container laws. I have a driver. Oh, wait it's G. Does that count? He has a commercial license?)
Back on topic.
So my third part today was nice. Eased into it. Had a plan for dinner -- thanks Blue Apron and chicken I remembered to defrost. Girls had finished homework for the most part. No real chores, if you will, for me to take care of this evening.
The bath. The hair washing. Not me, my girls. Two of them, in case you forgot. That means tomorrow morn, they can wear their hair down. No, no curling or anything Pinterest-y fancy like that. But we do try braids. And, when I write try, I mean try. With a straight haired daughter and a curly haired daughter, the braiding techniques are different. Very different. I mean, quite different. Super different. Yes, different.
The straight hair should be easier to pick up the strands and braid away. Yet, the hair is a bit slippery and when the braider doesn't really know the French braid or any other nationality braid, it's tough. I usually go with the 'how about pigtails' approach.
The curly hair usually 'sticks' in place and I can fake the style.
Like 35, I hate the Pinterest videos of braids. The pictures looks so simple, the technique so quick and yet, I only have two hands. I have a friend who can get her daughter's hair done so beautifully. Wait, she has two daughters (first grade and preK - and, a baby boy). And, each Sunday, she and her girls stroll in with the most darling braids. I wish. I need to learn the skill. I've many, many days ahead requiring hair styles and braids.
I have a major amount of envy for good braiders and those chipper early risers who get things done. I don't hate them like I do IH 35, but I struggle with being so happy for their skills and being so frustrated over my lack of skills.
In my devotion this morning, it spoke to not having guilt as a driver of moving toward Jesus. Guilt shouldn't motivate us to follow Him, love others, accept His grace and mercy. We should move toward Him, because guess what, He wants us to -- regardless of our skill and knowledge. He wants our pure simple faith to drive us toward Him.
All the attempts on our own, all the tries we put forth are just that -- human attempts and tries. How about I put my faith in Him, accept my place and what I can do, and then, be a mom who can laugh about her attempts and not compare.
And, take the scenic drive home because there were some pretty amazing, God only created sights along that way -- and no cursing other drivers and 35.
No guilt. Just faith. Maybe a few braids along the scenic route.
Saturday, September 3, 2016
Thursday Night Lights and House Keys
We love high school football. We love college football. My husband loves the Dallas Cowboys but struggles each season to maintain the feeling.
Lots of football games to go to, lots of football games to listen to on the radio and lots of football games to watch on TV.
Scheduling.
This I know how to do. Obviously, each Lee and Baylor game gets entered on to the family calendar by mid-summer. And, we put game times and venues on our mobile calendars. I also put together the 'what Baylor tickets am I selling' schedule. It's a piece of paper slipped inside the season tickets packet. Not so fancy, but it works. (Oh by the way, I still am trying to sell the tickets to the September 24 Oklahoma State game. With a parking pass. Great seats. $100 each. Covered.)
As you know, we've not so many other fall activities in our house, but we do have that thing called life. The thing I have a first, second and third part of the day for -- each day. The list of which you are familiar -- including laundry, homework, meals, cleaning (we put our cleaning lady on hold -- good idea? Not sold yet, but we are saving money.)
Bedtimes, baths, hair washing, outfit planning and bed making. Projects and play time. And, the only scheduled activity is Camille's tumbling. (We cannot convince Caroline to participate in anything -- no acting, no singing, no tennis, no basketball -- yeah, I even went there.)
Friday high school games are a breeze. They begin at 7:30 p.m. which gives us plenty o' time to eat dinner, get dressed, fix hair and pack a big tote bag of goodies -- and, then get to the game in time to see G and sing the school song. (All before kick off thank you.)
Saturday high school games, even easier. We can do nothing all day and get to a 7 p.m. game no problem.
Saturday Baylor games require a bit of planning. Organizing a sitter for the girls, pulling together the tailgate food and beverages and loading up the car with all our needs (STYROFOAM CUPS!). But, in the end, it takes about three hours to get to Waco so we can figure out a Saturday. No other activities -- OK, G has to work most of those days -- but we've nothing else to do (except that cleaning of the house -- what was I thinking!!).
So what happens when there is a Thursday night football game and a Friday night Baylor game. Sell the Baylor tickets. Yeah, figured that out. Find the channel the game is on. Well, that was a challenge. I mean who knew there was a StufTV and that is the channel a sweet Baptist university plays on for their season opener.
Oh, the Thursday high school game. And, it's an away game. Not too far away -- just down the highway, but away enough, that we need to leave a bit earlier than usual to make the hello to G and school song singing. And, even with that earlier leave, you are up against a 7 p.m. kickoff and hitting SA traffic.
No worries. I'm a planner. I write a blog about it. I have calendars and check lists to prove I've got those skills.
Homework finished up earlier in the week. Game clothes planned for and laid out day before. Bath done the day before. Lunches put together early in the day. Dinner plans include a visit to the concession stand to snap up a hot dog and some nachos (with a side of candy).
But what about the late bedtime?
No planning can help you with that. Because that next morning comes really early. And, the 4000 percent humidity should have required a bath, but there is no time for that with Thursday Night Lights. Should have brought the PJs in the car. I used to do that when the girls were little. Missed that step in the planning.
Also, how do you handle the son who wants to stay later than you at the game and he rode with you? Well, you find him a ride -- easy to do because one of his best friends was at the game. Then, you see his house key in your car as you park which means you have to leave a house key under the mat -- at night!! -- until whatever time he decides to come in. And, that's late because he doesn't have class the next day and you really can't sleep until he gets home and because the KEY IS UNDER THE MAT.
I couldn't take any sleep aids and I also have this tendency to kind of stay awake until G gets home from the game -- which is later than my normal bedtime. He also didn't know the garage door had been fixed so he needed a house key, which he had, thankfully. Remember, KEY IS UNDER THE MAT for the son not the spouse.
Yes, we love football and we have the outfits and gear to prove it. And, we also usually have a sore throat or lost voice to show we had some big-time enthusiasm during the game.
I also love sleep. I love easy school mornings (hence the planning). I highly desire fourth parts which slip away from me with Thursday night high school games and Friday night Baylor games. Well, because, football.
With that in mind, it's Labor Day weekend so bonus, I have a stress free Saturday (no Baylor games to make me anxious) and an extra day Monday. I've got a lot of fourth part opportunity.
And, a lot of football watching.
Thank goodness, this upcoming weekend is a Friday night high school game (at a home stadium) and a Saturday mid-day start Baylor game. That's a fall. That's the football I love. That's my fourth part.
Lots of football games to go to, lots of football games to listen to on the radio and lots of football games to watch on TV.
Scheduling.
This I know how to do. Obviously, each Lee and Baylor game gets entered on to the family calendar by mid-summer. And, we put game times and venues on our mobile calendars. I also put together the 'what Baylor tickets am I selling' schedule. It's a piece of paper slipped inside the season tickets packet. Not so fancy, but it works. (Oh by the way, I still am trying to sell the tickets to the September 24 Oklahoma State game. With a parking pass. Great seats. $100 each. Covered.)
As you know, we've not so many other fall activities in our house, but we do have that thing called life. The thing I have a first, second and third part of the day for -- each day. The list of which you are familiar -- including laundry, homework, meals, cleaning (we put our cleaning lady on hold -- good idea? Not sold yet, but we are saving money.)
Bedtimes, baths, hair washing, outfit planning and bed making. Projects and play time. And, the only scheduled activity is Camille's tumbling. (We cannot convince Caroline to participate in anything -- no acting, no singing, no tennis, no basketball -- yeah, I even went there.)
Friday high school games are a breeze. They begin at 7:30 p.m. which gives us plenty o' time to eat dinner, get dressed, fix hair and pack a big tote bag of goodies -- and, then get to the game in time to see G and sing the school song. (All before kick off thank you.)
Saturday high school games, even easier. We can do nothing all day and get to a 7 p.m. game no problem.
Saturday Baylor games require a bit of planning. Organizing a sitter for the girls, pulling together the tailgate food and beverages and loading up the car with all our needs (STYROFOAM CUPS!). But, in the end, it takes about three hours to get to Waco so we can figure out a Saturday. No other activities -- OK, G has to work most of those days -- but we've nothing else to do (except that cleaning of the house -- what was I thinking!!).
So what happens when there is a Thursday night football game and a Friday night Baylor game. Sell the Baylor tickets. Yeah, figured that out. Find the channel the game is on. Well, that was a challenge. I mean who knew there was a StufTV and that is the channel a sweet Baptist university plays on for their season opener.
Oh, the Thursday high school game. And, it's an away game. Not too far away -- just down the highway, but away enough, that we need to leave a bit earlier than usual to make the hello to G and school song singing. And, even with that earlier leave, you are up against a 7 p.m. kickoff and hitting SA traffic.
No worries. I'm a planner. I write a blog about it. I have calendars and check lists to prove I've got those skills.
Homework finished up earlier in the week. Game clothes planned for and laid out day before. Bath done the day before. Lunches put together early in the day. Dinner plans include a visit to the concession stand to snap up a hot dog and some nachos (with a side of candy).
But what about the late bedtime?
No planning can help you with that. Because that next morning comes really early. And, the 4000 percent humidity should have required a bath, but there is no time for that with Thursday Night Lights. Should have brought the PJs in the car. I used to do that when the girls were little. Missed that step in the planning.
Also, how do you handle the son who wants to stay later than you at the game and he rode with you? Well, you find him a ride -- easy to do because one of his best friends was at the game. Then, you see his house key in your car as you park which means you have to leave a house key under the mat -- at night!! -- until whatever time he decides to come in. And, that's late because he doesn't have class the next day and you really can't sleep until he gets home and because the KEY IS UNDER THE MAT.
I couldn't take any sleep aids and I also have this tendency to kind of stay awake until G gets home from the game -- which is later than my normal bedtime. He also didn't know the garage door had been fixed so he needed a house key, which he had, thankfully. Remember, KEY IS UNDER THE MAT for the son not the spouse.
Yes, we love football and we have the outfits and gear to prove it. And, we also usually have a sore throat or lost voice to show we had some big-time enthusiasm during the game.
I also love sleep. I love easy school mornings (hence the planning). I highly desire fourth parts which slip away from me with Thursday night high school games and Friday night Baylor games. Well, because, football.
With that in mind, it's Labor Day weekend so bonus, I have a stress free Saturday (no Baylor games to make me anxious) and an extra day Monday. I've got a lot of fourth part opportunity.
And, a lot of football watching.
Thank goodness, this upcoming weekend is a Friday night high school game (at a home stadium) and a Saturday mid-day start Baylor game. That's a fall. That's the football I love. That's my fourth part.
Monday, August 29, 2016
A Movie and A New Laptop
When there's a new movie out and it requires going with girlfriends, you spend a few weeks trying to plan an outing to see it and you have a hard time finding the time and the friends with the time.
Then, at the first football game of the season, you make a plan during the third quarter, text some friends and finalize a date and time. 2 p.m. Sunday. Simple, right? From Friday p.m. to Sunday afternoon, many things can change and oh, details that include school is back and week two starts the day after the planned movie. Uh oh. Packing lunches, pulling out clothes for the week and getting the homework done (that now comes home over the weekend and there is a full week to complete it!) all needs to happen before leaving for the movie.
And, the grocery list which fits in with the weekly meal plan has to be finished. What about the cleaning of the house because I had the idea to save some money and put the housekeeper on hold? Oh, that needs to be done, too. Then, there's the laundry.
All to make sure I can make it to a movie. G being at home on a Sunday is an easy bet to make because, well, he's not at home on Saturdays during season -- so the girls are covered. No need for a sitter.
Then, the time comes.
Oh, wait, a new laptop owned by my son is having a difficult time connecting to the wireless printer and oh, wait, he's needing to order books for the fall semester (which started the prior week) at the very moment I'm readying to walk out the door. Oh, and wait, the e-rental requires a credit card and the payment error that keeps presenting is some wacko thing that is because we aren't on Google Chrome. (Really!?!)
So when the laptop doesn't connect immediately and then when it finally does (a few short moments later) we discover there is no printer paper, all shuts down. I make a comment that we can fix it later. Then, he points out he can print at school. Problem solving 101 -- yeah.
While the laptop connecting to the printer without paper issue goes on, I'm on hold with the e-rental book site and in a few short moments, it is not resolved. I finally say, while my friend is waiting for me to drive to the movies, we can resolve this later. He looks at me with concern but then a shrug because yeah, it will be resolved later.
Off to the movies. At last.
Hilarious. Funny. Perfect for a Sunday afternoon. Rounds out with a dinner at a new place where the family comes, along with my girlfriends' husbands. Good food. Good conversation. Lots of laughs.
I'm thinking all the while that the readying for school the next day is under control.
Details that there is a bad headache waiting to happen and then it happens. And, it happens hard. We can't get home fast enough from the dinner and I cannot get into bed fast enough.
Thankfully, the prep work pays off and G finishes up the evening tasks. And, I sleep.
Fourth part happened at the movies and dinner. Headaches don't really have a part to fit into but the planning to get that fourth part at the movies prevented a total mess in the morning.
I believe planning is a part of life. It's just something that needs to be done. At times, I'm a bit pushy and a little cranky when I'm wanting to get things done according to my timeline. I could allow things to happen when they just happen but I don't work that way. I know Saturdays are the day we get the clothes for the following school week put out and organized. I know Sundays are meal planning days. I have a lot of events by weekend day and it makes sense.
With the planning, Monday mornings aren't rushed and putting together lunches or pulling out random items for dinner. There are no questions about clothes.
Adopting a fourth part approach involves daily planning but also has a weekend plan.
And, I thought I related to Bad Moms. (Well, yeah, I do . . .)
Then, at the first football game of the season, you make a plan during the third quarter, text some friends and finalize a date and time. 2 p.m. Sunday. Simple, right? From Friday p.m. to Sunday afternoon, many things can change and oh, details that include school is back and week two starts the day after the planned movie. Uh oh. Packing lunches, pulling out clothes for the week and getting the homework done (that now comes home over the weekend and there is a full week to complete it!) all needs to happen before leaving for the movie.
And, the grocery list which fits in with the weekly meal plan has to be finished. What about the cleaning of the house because I had the idea to save some money and put the housekeeper on hold? Oh, that needs to be done, too. Then, there's the laundry.
All to make sure I can make it to a movie. G being at home on a Sunday is an easy bet to make because, well, he's not at home on Saturdays during season -- so the girls are covered. No need for a sitter.
Then, the time comes.
Oh, wait, a new laptop owned by my son is having a difficult time connecting to the wireless printer and oh, wait, he's needing to order books for the fall semester (which started the prior week) at the very moment I'm readying to walk out the door. Oh, and wait, the e-rental requires a credit card and the payment error that keeps presenting is some wacko thing that is because we aren't on Google Chrome. (Really!?!)
So when the laptop doesn't connect immediately and then when it finally does (a few short moments later) we discover there is no printer paper, all shuts down. I make a comment that we can fix it later. Then, he points out he can print at school. Problem solving 101 -- yeah.
While the laptop connecting to the printer without paper issue goes on, I'm on hold with the e-rental book site and in a few short moments, it is not resolved. I finally say, while my friend is waiting for me to drive to the movies, we can resolve this later. He looks at me with concern but then a shrug because yeah, it will be resolved later.
Off to the movies. At last.
Hilarious. Funny. Perfect for a Sunday afternoon. Rounds out with a dinner at a new place where the family comes, along with my girlfriends' husbands. Good food. Good conversation. Lots of laughs.
I'm thinking all the while that the readying for school the next day is under control.
Details that there is a bad headache waiting to happen and then it happens. And, it happens hard. We can't get home fast enough from the dinner and I cannot get into bed fast enough.
Thankfully, the prep work pays off and G finishes up the evening tasks. And, I sleep.
Fourth part happened at the movies and dinner. Headaches don't really have a part to fit into but the planning to get that fourth part at the movies prevented a total mess in the morning.
I believe planning is a part of life. It's just something that needs to be done. At times, I'm a bit pushy and a little cranky when I'm wanting to get things done according to my timeline. I could allow things to happen when they just happen but I don't work that way. I know Saturdays are the day we get the clothes for the following school week put out and organized. I know Sundays are meal planning days. I have a lot of events by weekend day and it makes sense.
With the planning, Monday mornings aren't rushed and putting together lunches or pulling out random items for dinner. There are no questions about clothes.
Adopting a fourth part approach involves daily planning but also has a weekend plan.
And, I thought I related to Bad Moms. (Well, yeah, I do . . .)
Monday, August 22, 2016
Wet Backpacks and Drug Tests
The first day of school is always a breeze. Never in a school year am I more organized and on point with outfits, lunches, backpacks, supplies, breakfast, dinner and errands than the first day. (I take a half day each year for first-day pick up -- until the middle school and high school days where there are athletics and after-school activities -- oh, and drivers! -- but until then, I do first-day pick up.)
Back packs lined up and ready with first day of school paperwork (Nope, still not in the military and nope, still not a migrant farmer and nope, still not interested in buying a brick to mark my family's life in this school district).
Lunches packed with sweet first day of school notes and clever 'mom-ables' (Not lunchables, gasp, never. Oh, and yeah, it's the first day of lunch so we use the clever containers and cut up the fruit and sandwiches. Tomorrow, it's back to cheese puffs and pre-packaged fruit bars.)
Outfits set out with monkey bar shorts, socks and shoes lined up by the closet. (We'll do this for the first week and then we do it day by day, morning by morning. Or as Caroline asked today, 'when can I pick out my clothes for school.')
I mean, this first day, I'm together. I'm so on top of things I could even be on PTA. (Ha, just kidding. Not taking that away from any of the moms who are really on top of things and can make copies and laminate and cut and staple and organize packets and decorate gyms for events and handle ticket sales at carnivals. I saw a mom walking in this morning with copy paper for the front office. Oh. My. She earned the badge today.)
First day of school, I win at fourth part. Yes, so organized yesterday, on a Sunday, I sat and watched DVR'ed episodes of Housewives. Yeah, I'm caught up on my shows.
Then, there's the first day of school evening and prep for day number two. Dinner made, outfits planned, lunches prepped (But it's cheese puffs and Nutella sandwiches for tomorrow. Nothing too clever. Got that out of the system today. OK, maybe I'll work in a mom-able or two over the next year.)
But, what happens if one of your daughters tells you her backpack is wet. Wet? Not from the rain because we made it into school before the storms came this morning. Not from a water bottle because we aren't doing that this year -- I mean, there's a water fountain, right? Not from the juice box because it was wet after lunch. How in the world is a backpack soaking wet, yeah, almost dripping? She blames a boy in her class. Really?! In an attempt to get a fourth part this evening, I whip out the hair dryer and play the trade-off game (from an earlier post) and dry that baby. I risked melting the plastic interior of the backpack, but I got that baby steaming hot dry.
Popped take-home folders back in with another piece of paperwork (yes, publish my girls' names and pictures everywhere!).
And, then, as I worked on putting together the lunches, starting on dinner . . . the other child is flustered. I mean flustered. Using phrases such as 'why is everything so difficult. Why can't things just be easy.'
Pause, mom, pause.
He needs to get a drug test done today for his new job which has orientation on Friday. He went by, he's called and he can't figure it out. I think of the millions of articles about not helping your kid and letting them get it on their own. But then, I sit in this moment. He's home for the fall semester. He's said good-bye to friends as they head back to school. He's not playing sports this fall for the first time since he was four years old. He's living at home with me, the fun sponges. He's starting at a new campus. He's already thinking about the school he will attend in the spring. He's starting a new job.
It's time for some help.
We jump in the car -- all four of us because I let the sitter have the afternoon since I'm home -- and head to the lab for the drug test. It's just minutes away and it closes at 5 p.m. Joke is on us -- sign on the door reads 'no drug tests after 4 p.m.' It's 4:13 p.m. I demonstrate how to ask for mercy and an exception. The lab tech responds with mercy and takes him back for the test.
Done.
Home.
It's 6:18 p.m. and backpacks are ready for tomorrow. Lunches are started. Dinner is heating up. (I even made some blueberry muffins for tomorrow's breakfast.) Outfits for the two second graders are picked out. The college sophomore is taking a quiz for his art appreciation class and is setting up his online classes.
I've a fourth part of the day. I chose to clean up this pile of stuff in my bedroom. And, I went through old art work and pictures as a part of that effort. A bit of memory lane was journeyed down and I thought, yeah, I'm a mom. I help. I'm no PTA superstar but I can dry a back pack and beg for mercy amongst the best of them.
The girls' devotion this morning focused on Psalm 4:7 where we learn we are filled with joy from God. That's what keeps us ticking, right? In the devotion, the story was about a little girl who told her sad friend a knock knock joke. Easy peezy problem solving appropriate for seven-year-olds but kind of a reminder to us that sharing our joy might knock someone out of a sad spot.
Because guess what, it's joy He provides that pushes us forward. I would curl up in a corner (along with the stack of first grade artwork and t-shirts for a one-day quilt) and never get up if not for His joy that fills me.
Tomorrow morning, day two of this school year, will require mustering up some joy from within as we will be a bit more tired and not as shiny and new as we were today. But, we'll have that joy.
I ask for that mercy everyday along with praising that gift of joy.
Back packs lined up and ready with first day of school paperwork (Nope, still not in the military and nope, still not a migrant farmer and nope, still not interested in buying a brick to mark my family's life in this school district).
Lunches packed with sweet first day of school notes and clever 'mom-ables' (Not lunchables, gasp, never. Oh, and yeah, it's the first day of lunch so we use the clever containers and cut up the fruit and sandwiches. Tomorrow, it's back to cheese puffs and pre-packaged fruit bars.)
Outfits set out with monkey bar shorts, socks and shoes lined up by the closet. (We'll do this for the first week and then we do it day by day, morning by morning. Or as Caroline asked today, 'when can I pick out my clothes for school.')
I mean, this first day, I'm together. I'm so on top of things I could even be on PTA. (Ha, just kidding. Not taking that away from any of the moms who are really on top of things and can make copies and laminate and cut and staple and organize packets and decorate gyms for events and handle ticket sales at carnivals. I saw a mom walking in this morning with copy paper for the front office. Oh. My. She earned the badge today.)
First day of school, I win at fourth part. Yes, so organized yesterday, on a Sunday, I sat and watched DVR'ed episodes of Housewives. Yeah, I'm caught up on my shows.
Then, there's the first day of school evening and prep for day number two. Dinner made, outfits planned, lunches prepped (But it's cheese puffs and Nutella sandwiches for tomorrow. Nothing too clever. Got that out of the system today. OK, maybe I'll work in a mom-able or two over the next year.)
But, what happens if one of your daughters tells you her backpack is wet. Wet? Not from the rain because we made it into school before the storms came this morning. Not from a water bottle because we aren't doing that this year -- I mean, there's a water fountain, right? Not from the juice box because it was wet after lunch. How in the world is a backpack soaking wet, yeah, almost dripping? She blames a boy in her class. Really?! In an attempt to get a fourth part this evening, I whip out the hair dryer and play the trade-off game (from an earlier post) and dry that baby. I risked melting the plastic interior of the backpack, but I got that baby steaming hot dry.
Popped take-home folders back in with another piece of paperwork (yes, publish my girls' names and pictures everywhere!).
And, then, as I worked on putting together the lunches, starting on dinner . . . the other child is flustered. I mean flustered. Using phrases such as 'why is everything so difficult. Why can't things just be easy.'
Pause, mom, pause.
He needs to get a drug test done today for his new job which has orientation on Friday. He went by, he's called and he can't figure it out. I think of the millions of articles about not helping your kid and letting them get it on their own. But then, I sit in this moment. He's home for the fall semester. He's said good-bye to friends as they head back to school. He's not playing sports this fall for the first time since he was four years old. He's living at home with me, the fun sponges. He's starting at a new campus. He's already thinking about the school he will attend in the spring. He's starting a new job.
It's time for some help.
We jump in the car -- all four of us because I let the sitter have the afternoon since I'm home -- and head to the lab for the drug test. It's just minutes away and it closes at 5 p.m. Joke is on us -- sign on the door reads 'no drug tests after 4 p.m.' It's 4:13 p.m. I demonstrate how to ask for mercy and an exception. The lab tech responds with mercy and takes him back for the test.
Done.
Home.
It's 6:18 p.m. and backpacks are ready for tomorrow. Lunches are started. Dinner is heating up. (I even made some blueberry muffins for tomorrow's breakfast.) Outfits for the two second graders are picked out. The college sophomore is taking a quiz for his art appreciation class and is setting up his online classes.
I've a fourth part of the day. I chose to clean up this pile of stuff in my bedroom. And, I went through old art work and pictures as a part of that effort. A bit of memory lane was journeyed down and I thought, yeah, I'm a mom. I help. I'm no PTA superstar but I can dry a back pack and beg for mercy amongst the best of them.
The girls' devotion this morning focused on Psalm 4:7 where we learn we are filled with joy from God. That's what keeps us ticking, right? In the devotion, the story was about a little girl who told her sad friend a knock knock joke. Easy peezy problem solving appropriate for seven-year-olds but kind of a reminder to us that sharing our joy might knock someone out of a sad spot.
Because guess what, it's joy He provides that pushes us forward. I would curl up in a corner (along with the stack of first grade artwork and t-shirts for a one-day quilt) and never get up if not for His joy that fills me.
Tomorrow morning, day two of this school year, will require mustering up some joy from within as we will be a bit more tired and not as shiny and new as we were today. But, we'll have that joy.
I ask for that mercy everyday along with praising that gift of joy.
Wednesday, August 17, 2016
The Olympics and Babysitters
I am tired. I am on TV-watching overload.
First, the Republican National Convention. Second, the Democratic National Convention. And, now, the Olympics.
Oh, by the way, each of the evenings I watch what is listed above means I'm going to bed around 11 p.m. Each and every night. 11 p.m. My morning wake-up call is still around 6 a.m. so that hasn't changed. It's the going to sleep part that has changed.
I am tired.
My TV watching can be considered a fourth part and most days a healthy fourth part involves Bravo or something from the DVR. Or Netflix. Or Amazon Prime Video. Yeah, TV. I love it. It's a worthwhile fourth part.
But these last few weeks of TV watching have worn me out. I've been off because I've not really had a fourth part. Now, I've been planning and figuring out how to get the TV viewing in but really, every single night?
Knowing I start off my first part a bit sluggish means breakfast is a minimum and lunch packing is nothing to write home about. The second part is easy because it is work and well, you know, work. The third part these last few weeks has been scrambling around picking up back to school clothes, paying bills, running to the library and making dinner. All the usual third part -- but it has been at a frenzied pace because the Olympics officially start on NBC at 7 p.m. and the conventions started as soon as I turned on the TV in the evenings. (And, boy, those politicians talked and talked and talked).
So, I guess, I did have a fourth part because I watched TV. It just doesn't feel like I had a fourth part. Yes, I chose to watch those shows, but it wasn't a re-fueling fourth part. Let's be clear a fourth part fuels you, it re-energizes you, it rejuvenates.
And, the conventions and Olympics wear me out. I'm cheering and clapping and talking back to the TV. I consider my television interaction a sport. Let me be clear, I would medal in interacting with a TV show. G reminds me people on TV cannot hear me. It's soooo gratifying to talk back and contribute to the conversation taking place on screen.
In the midst of these evenings fueled by TV that goes late into the night, I've been readying for back to school. The calendar is being filled in with football dates and school activities. Schedules are feeling a bit tighter and busier.
With my girls, son and G headed back to school, that means our babysitter heads off to college. She has a last day with us -- it's been on the calendar since May. Now, it's here. We said our good-byes and I even managed to get a gift. Planning people, planning. We are going to miss her as this was her second summer with us (after being our after-school sitter the girls' kinder year). The girls love being with her and she has such imagination and energy. The crafts! The popsicles! The activities!
Off she goes to college. Enter a new babysitter. A sweet girl who we connected with over our July 4 beach vacation. (God provides, right?)
Typically, when a new sitter starts, I've lined out a calendar, have an 'intro to the Adams' guide and walk through the household electronics and rules for the girls.
Today, I opened the door, handed her a key, pointed her to the stack of coupons for after-school snacks and provided a quick tutorial on turning on the television. (Get the drift, television is important in the Adams' house.)
I let her know Nutella sandwiches are a favorite and cutting up some kind of fruit is a necessity at lunch. I asked her to continue to help the girls 'learn' how to make their beds and handed off the booster seats.
Babysitting the Adams' girls 101.
Tomorrow, I'll share many more things about caring for my precious daughters. I'll provide a calendar to outline the days and our comings and goings . I'll suggest she and the girls make one dinner each week for the family -- training up these littlest.
But for now, I've got the Olympics to watch. Until 11 p.m.
6 a.m. comes early and so does the babysitter. At least until next week, when she picks up the girls from school and is at our house for three hours a day.
First, the Republican National Convention. Second, the Democratic National Convention. And, now, the Olympics.
Oh, by the way, each of the evenings I watch what is listed above means I'm going to bed around 11 p.m. Each and every night. 11 p.m. My morning wake-up call is still around 6 a.m. so that hasn't changed. It's the going to sleep part that has changed.
I am tired.
My TV watching can be considered a fourth part and most days a healthy fourth part involves Bravo or something from the DVR. Or Netflix. Or Amazon Prime Video. Yeah, TV. I love it. It's a worthwhile fourth part.
But these last few weeks of TV watching have worn me out. I've been off because I've not really had a fourth part. Now, I've been planning and figuring out how to get the TV viewing in but really, every single night?
Knowing I start off my first part a bit sluggish means breakfast is a minimum and lunch packing is nothing to write home about. The second part is easy because it is work and well, you know, work. The third part these last few weeks has been scrambling around picking up back to school clothes, paying bills, running to the library and making dinner. All the usual third part -- but it has been at a frenzied pace because the Olympics officially start on NBC at 7 p.m. and the conventions started as soon as I turned on the TV in the evenings. (And, boy, those politicians talked and talked and talked).
So, I guess, I did have a fourth part because I watched TV. It just doesn't feel like I had a fourth part. Yes, I chose to watch those shows, but it wasn't a re-fueling fourth part. Let's be clear a fourth part fuels you, it re-energizes you, it rejuvenates.
And, the conventions and Olympics wear me out. I'm cheering and clapping and talking back to the TV. I consider my television interaction a sport. Let me be clear, I would medal in interacting with a TV show. G reminds me people on TV cannot hear me. It's soooo gratifying to talk back and contribute to the conversation taking place on screen.
In the midst of these evenings fueled by TV that goes late into the night, I've been readying for back to school. The calendar is being filled in with football dates and school activities. Schedules are feeling a bit tighter and busier.
With my girls, son and G headed back to school, that means our babysitter heads off to college. She has a last day with us -- it's been on the calendar since May. Now, it's here. We said our good-byes and I even managed to get a gift. Planning people, planning. We are going to miss her as this was her second summer with us (after being our after-school sitter the girls' kinder year). The girls love being with her and she has such imagination and energy. The crafts! The popsicles! The activities!
Off she goes to college. Enter a new babysitter. A sweet girl who we connected with over our July 4 beach vacation. (God provides, right?)
Typically, when a new sitter starts, I've lined out a calendar, have an 'intro to the Adams' guide and walk through the household electronics and rules for the girls.
Today, I opened the door, handed her a key, pointed her to the stack of coupons for after-school snacks and provided a quick tutorial on turning on the television. (Get the drift, television is important in the Adams' house.)
I let her know Nutella sandwiches are a favorite and cutting up some kind of fruit is a necessity at lunch. I asked her to continue to help the girls 'learn' how to make their beds and handed off the booster seats.
Babysitting the Adams' girls 101.
Tomorrow, I'll share many more things about caring for my precious daughters. I'll provide a calendar to outline the days and our comings and goings . I'll suggest she and the girls make one dinner each week for the family -- training up these littlest.
But for now, I've got the Olympics to watch. Until 11 p.m.
6 a.m. comes early and so does the babysitter. At least until next week, when she picks up the girls from school and is at our house for three hours a day.
Monday, August 8, 2016
TSI Holds and Tumbling Camp
Summer months are marked by planning that revolves around camps, vacations and pool time. Running errands, cooking meals and doing laundry are also summer to dos but not as structured as during school months.
(See how I did that? Separated summer from school? It could have been football season, basketball season and summer. But I went with school and summer. That's how our days are divided.)
Off topic.
Back to point at hand.
Fourth parts magically appear because there isn't much to the other parts. Yes, we wake up -- first part. Yes, we get going -- second part. Yes, we end up at home in the evenings readying for the pool or the ice cream man visit -- third part. And, then there is the fourth part where we get to do our own thing. (For example, my girls are trying to roller skate in the house at this moment while I watch TV and write.)
Rarely, is there true planning for the next day. I don't have to worry about 'what are we wearing tomorrow' or 'are backpacks packed' or 'are forms completed' or 'are there any checks to write for something that we bought or ordered'.
But, when there is camp to be had, there is planning. Especially when the camp begins at 8:30 a.m. And, camp requires a nourished camper (breakfast at home) dressed in clean gymnastic leotards and shorts -- oh, and a lunch. Yeah, a packed lunch for a week during the summer. Wait, why?!
When we signed up for camp, that last week in July seemed ages away and well, camp sounded so fun. The early start time each morning didn't register when we signed up during the school year because yeah, school mornings get going a bit earlier.
Then, camp arrived. So each evening, as part of the third part, there was a load of laundry run (we only have three true leotards) and a lunch packed. There was also an early for summer bedtime. No fun. And, first parts involved getting myself ready, finishing the packed lunch and getting the camper up and ready and fed and in the car out the door.
Tired before the second part starts -- in the summer. When we sleep in. When we don't have to worry about juice boxes and bread for sandwiches. When we can wear PJs all day. When the only person leaving the house early in the morning is me.
So, camp was a hit. My camper flipped and tumbled and walked-over and cartwheeled all week and loved it. She was such a hit at the camp that she was asked to take a free two-hour acro class -- consider it pre-Cirque de Soleil stuff.
While I watched the acro class, I knew I had to take care of something else during this particular third part. Not only finish packing for camp, but go to my son's new college campus and help him finish the application process. It was a finishing kind of night.
I left acro with paper work in hand (the cost! $850 for the coach! $500 for uniforms! $500 for competition fees!) and transitioned to another kind of paper work -- official transcripts and shot records.
My camper had flawless back walk overs and all sorts of bends. The enrollment application registration process at this community college not so flawless. Rather, I would use the word flawed.
Again, this is the third part. I'm still in work clothes. I'm lugging my big ol' work purse and my phone battery is at about 3 percent. That flawed process included discovering my son had a TSI hold. What is this TSI and why is there a hold? Something about his math equivalent from his previous college didn't qualify him -- so he would either have to take a test or take a class for zero credit and some dollars. Como se what?! As I repeated over and over again we didn't need to take a math -- notice I transitioned from my son and his requirements to 'we' -- we already had the college credit for that, and I repeated over and over again we didn't need to have to take a test because we have already been in college and somehow miraculously got accepted into that college so all we have to do is take 14 or 15 hours of credits that will transfer to another school in the spring because we were only going to this school for a semester so technically he was a transient student even though it wasn't in the summer and yes, I can have access to his records because here is the FERPA so enter that in even though we have this TSI hold and we can get this taken care of tonight because we leave for vacation tomorrow and we can get registered for the advising session where we can register for class even though there is this TSI hold that only the woman in assessments upstairs can release so we can head up there and hopefully we can get everything done by 7 p.m. because this spot closes and we need a drink!
Oh, I can do a dramatic re-enactment of my interaction with the staff at this school including this pulling of the long bangs over the eyes by the TSI hold informant.
Relief did come and the hold was released when we went and found the mystery assessment woman upstairs. Get this, we had to log into my son's ACT and SAT scores from one year ago to confirm his math scores were qualified to have him qualify to attend a school that, hold your breath, is open enrollment.
I still don't know what TSI stands for and I don't really understand the hold. I do know that the evening of the acro class and TSI hold releasing presented as the biggest third part one could encounter during the summer months.
The fourth part on the eve of the last tumbling camp class and the eve of the day we left for vacation and the eve where I almost needed someone to hold me back from jumping over a counter and grab some scissors to cut off long bangs was something we call around here as well deserved.
I guess that's the beauty of fourth parts. They are what is needed each and every single day. No matter the events of the day, no matter the complexities and intricacies of the first through third parts, no matter the amount of time allocated to a fourth part -- they are needed.
God promises and grants rest. He provides the grace we need for each and every day. He asks we focus on Him realizing the days for now are leading up to something bigger and better and eternally good.
All without having to flip and cartwheel are way through it and all without a TSI hold. No test required. No class to take without credit. No dollars to spend on a coach or uniforms. Just the statement we need Him. Just the recognition we need Him.
(See how I did that? Separated summer from school? It could have been football season, basketball season and summer. But I went with school and summer. That's how our days are divided.)
Off topic.
Back to point at hand.
Fourth parts magically appear because there isn't much to the other parts. Yes, we wake up -- first part. Yes, we get going -- second part. Yes, we end up at home in the evenings readying for the pool or the ice cream man visit -- third part. And, then there is the fourth part where we get to do our own thing. (For example, my girls are trying to roller skate in the house at this moment while I watch TV and write.)
Rarely, is there true planning for the next day. I don't have to worry about 'what are we wearing tomorrow' or 'are backpacks packed' or 'are forms completed' or 'are there any checks to write for something that we bought or ordered'.
But, when there is camp to be had, there is planning. Especially when the camp begins at 8:30 a.m. And, camp requires a nourished camper (breakfast at home) dressed in clean gymnastic leotards and shorts -- oh, and a lunch. Yeah, a packed lunch for a week during the summer. Wait, why?!
When we signed up for camp, that last week in July seemed ages away and well, camp sounded so fun. The early start time each morning didn't register when we signed up during the school year because yeah, school mornings get going a bit earlier.
Then, camp arrived. So each evening, as part of the third part, there was a load of laundry run (we only have three true leotards) and a lunch packed. There was also an early for summer bedtime. No fun. And, first parts involved getting myself ready, finishing the packed lunch and getting the camper up and ready and fed and in the car out the door.
Tired before the second part starts -- in the summer. When we sleep in. When we don't have to worry about juice boxes and bread for sandwiches. When we can wear PJs all day. When the only person leaving the house early in the morning is me.
So, camp was a hit. My camper flipped and tumbled and walked-over and cartwheeled all week and loved it. She was such a hit at the camp that she was asked to take a free two-hour acro class -- consider it pre-Cirque de Soleil stuff.
While I watched the acro class, I knew I had to take care of something else during this particular third part. Not only finish packing for camp, but go to my son's new college campus and help him finish the application process. It was a finishing kind of night.
I left acro with paper work in hand (the cost! $850 for the coach! $500 for uniforms! $500 for competition fees!) and transitioned to another kind of paper work -- official transcripts and shot records.
My camper had flawless back walk overs and all sorts of bends. The enrollment application registration process at this community college not so flawless. Rather, I would use the word flawed.
Again, this is the third part. I'm still in work clothes. I'm lugging my big ol' work purse and my phone battery is at about 3 percent. That flawed process included discovering my son had a TSI hold. What is this TSI and why is there a hold? Something about his math equivalent from his previous college didn't qualify him -- so he would either have to take a test or take a class for zero credit and some dollars. Como se what?! As I repeated over and over again we didn't need to take a math -- notice I transitioned from my son and his requirements to 'we' -- we already had the college credit for that, and I repeated over and over again we didn't need to have to take a test because we have already been in college and somehow miraculously got accepted into that college so all we have to do is take 14 or 15 hours of credits that will transfer to another school in the spring because we were only going to this school for a semester so technically he was a transient student even though it wasn't in the summer and yes, I can have access to his records because here is the FERPA so enter that in even though we have this TSI hold and we can get this taken care of tonight because we leave for vacation tomorrow and we can get registered for the advising session where we can register for class even though there is this TSI hold that only the woman in assessments upstairs can release so we can head up there and hopefully we can get everything done by 7 p.m. because this spot closes and we need a drink!
Oh, I can do a dramatic re-enactment of my interaction with the staff at this school including this pulling of the long bangs over the eyes by the TSI hold informant.
Relief did come and the hold was released when we went and found the mystery assessment woman upstairs. Get this, we had to log into my son's ACT and SAT scores from one year ago to confirm his math scores were qualified to have him qualify to attend a school that, hold your breath, is open enrollment.
I still don't know what TSI stands for and I don't really understand the hold. I do know that the evening of the acro class and TSI hold releasing presented as the biggest third part one could encounter during the summer months.
The fourth part on the eve of the last tumbling camp class and the eve of the day we left for vacation and the eve where I almost needed someone to hold me back from jumping over a counter and grab some scissors to cut off long bangs was something we call around here as well deserved.
I guess that's the beauty of fourth parts. They are what is needed each and every single day. No matter the events of the day, no matter the complexities and intricacies of the first through third parts, no matter the amount of time allocated to a fourth part -- they are needed.
God promises and grants rest. He provides the grace we need for each and every day. He asks we focus on Him realizing the days for now are leading up to something bigger and better and eternally good.
All without having to flip and cartwheel are way through it and all without a TSI hold. No test required. No class to take without credit. No dollars to spend on a coach or uniforms. Just the statement we need Him. Just the recognition we need Him.
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