Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Play Hard, Sleep Harder
Maddie's in that awkward period of not really needing two naps a day. She'll take a nice long one in the middle of the day, but by bedtime, she's exhausted. This is how I found her the other night after dinner:
Model Behavior
I came up with the "brilliant" idea of having a chore/behavior chart. The kids get stickers for things like cleaning the table, sharing/helping, having a good attitude, using good manners, etc. At the end of the day, for every two stickers they received, they get a token. They can then use the money for something fun. Right now they are saving up to see the dinosaur exhibit at the zoo. It's not a competition, as the money goes into a joint fund. The idea is for them to encourage good behavior in one another.
Shortly after I posted the chart on the wall, Abby said, "Mama! I'm gonna make a chart for you too, to see how nice you can be."
Shortly after I posted the chart on the wall, Abby said, "Mama! I'm gonna make a chart for you too, to see how nice you can be."
Report Time!
I remember my kindergarten report card. I've still got it. It was simple: there were stick figure drawings, and we were "graded" on things like "Plays well with others" and "Knows the ABC's." The grades were either "S" for satisfactory, "N" for needs improvement, or "U" for unsatisfactory. So imagine my surprise when I got Abby's report card yesterday ...
Holy moly. She's got grades for social studies, science, art, music, PE, math and language arts. The S's, N's and U's were replaced with 1s, 2s or 3s, with 3 being the "best."
Little Miss got ones in these areas:
* "Constructs graphs using real objects or pictures in order to answer questions"
* "Use information from a graph of real objects or pictures in order to answer questions"
* "Shows appreciation for the creative work of others"
Guess I gotta step it up on the homework.
Holy moly. She's got grades for social studies, science, art, music, PE, math and language arts. The S's, N's and U's were replaced with 1s, 2s or 3s, with 3 being the "best."
Little Miss got ones in these areas:
* "Constructs graphs using real objects or pictures in order to answer questions"
* "Use information from a graph of real objects or pictures in order to answer questions"
* "Shows appreciation for the creative work of others"
Guess I gotta step it up on the homework.
Friday, October 26, 2012
For the Love of Chicken
During a phone chat with my mom yesterday, she mentioned she had seen an episode of House Hunters that was filmed in Houston. She asked if the traffic was as bad as they portrayed it. The question took my mind right back to that fateful day ...
I had seen commercials for Raising Cane's, and it looked GOOD. I guess I'm a sucker for boxed meals (surprise!). The description of the chicken fingers, fries, coleslaw, famous sauce, Texas toast and sweet tea was irresistible.
For whatever reason, I decided that Friday would be the day. Not knowing the area very well, I scanned the restaurant's website for a location near me, and I chose the one on the only street I was familiar with: Westheimer.
I knew traffic would get worse the later I went, so I packed the kids in the car at 4:15, hoping to beat rush hour. Yes, the restaurant was 8 miles away, but it didn't seem that far. Besides, I knew the route, AND I didn't have to get on the interstate to get there.
Apparently people leave early on Fridays because cars were already bumper to bumper. We inched our way past the Galleria - arguably the worst part of the trip - and drove and drove and drove. Whining from the backseat was nearing a crescendo, and I was beginning to regret letting my taste buds talk me into this torture.
Forty-five minutes after leaving home, we pulled into the drive-thru. The fact that we weren't going inside to eat made Abby and William even more upset. Can't say I blame them; I wanted to get out, too. I explained that we needed to get it to go so that we could meet daddy at home and eat together. Unfortunately, the rationale fell on deaf ears.
The glorious smell of the food made me dread the long drive home. I couldn't stand the thought of driving back the way we came. I pulled out the GPS and thought I'd give ol' TomTom another shot (the places this thing has taken me deserves its own blog).
The route had me getting on the highway, not before driving down a street where Spanish and Vietnamese stores dotted the landscape. Oh, and the panhandlers added to the ambiance.
I turned left, thinking I was going to be getting on the highway but was dismayed when I was only riding next to it on some sort of three-lane service road. I thought I had made a mistake, somehow missing the entrance ramp. I turned down the radio and told the kids to be quiet.
Finally, I made it onto the highway. All eight lanes of it, all full of cars in a hurry to get who knows where. I just wanted to get home. Safely. The thought of eating wasn't appealing anymore.
Lacking an appetite, I pulled into our garage only 20 minutes after leaving Cane's. I found I could make tears though. Tears of joy.
Wouldn't you know the food was great. Abby said, "Mama! Look how tender these are! It's wonderful!"
After detailing my trip to Chip, I was told not to go outside a 3-mile radius of our home.
Thanks, dear. That's one rule I don't mind following.
Except when it comes to chicken fingers. I've suddenly got a monster craving ...
I had seen commercials for Raising Cane's, and it looked GOOD. I guess I'm a sucker for boxed meals (surprise!). The description of the chicken fingers, fries, coleslaw, famous sauce, Texas toast and sweet tea was irresistible.
I knew traffic would get worse the later I went, so I packed the kids in the car at 4:15, hoping to beat rush hour. Yes, the restaurant was 8 miles away, but it didn't seem that far. Besides, I knew the route, AND I didn't have to get on the interstate to get there.
Apparently people leave early on Fridays because cars were already bumper to bumper. We inched our way past the Galleria - arguably the worst part of the trip - and drove and drove and drove. Whining from the backseat was nearing a crescendo, and I was beginning to regret letting my taste buds talk me into this torture.
Forty-five minutes after leaving home, we pulled into the drive-thru. The fact that we weren't going inside to eat made Abby and William even more upset. Can't say I blame them; I wanted to get out, too. I explained that we needed to get it to go so that we could meet daddy at home and eat together. Unfortunately, the rationale fell on deaf ears.
The glorious smell of the food made me dread the long drive home. I couldn't stand the thought of driving back the way we came. I pulled out the GPS and thought I'd give ol' TomTom another shot (the places this thing has taken me deserves its own blog).
The route had me getting on the highway, not before driving down a street where Spanish and Vietnamese stores dotted the landscape. Oh, and the panhandlers added to the ambiance.
I turned left, thinking I was going to be getting on the highway but was dismayed when I was only riding next to it on some sort of three-lane service road. I thought I had made a mistake, somehow missing the entrance ramp. I turned down the radio and told the kids to be quiet.
Finally, I made it onto the highway. All eight lanes of it, all full of cars in a hurry to get who knows where. I just wanted to get home. Safely. The thought of eating wasn't appealing anymore.
 |
| While not the road I drove on, this is certainly indicative of the type of road I was on. |
I then managed to get in the correct lane to merge onto the interstate. Again, more speeding cars. More white-knuckled driving.
Lacking an appetite, I pulled into our garage only 20 minutes after leaving Cane's. I found I could make tears though. Tears of joy.
Wouldn't you know the food was great. Abby said, "Mama! Look how tender these are! It's wonderful!"
After detailing my trip to Chip, I was told not to go outside a 3-mile radius of our home.
Thanks, dear. That's one rule I don't mind following.
Except when it comes to chicken fingers. I've suddenly got a monster craving ...
Nearsighted
I was brushing my hair one morning, thinking about having to start over - find a new church, make new friends, get the kids involved in extracurriculars, etc. The thought of it was a bit tiring. I had almost come to the conclusion that since we were only going to be here for nine months, it wasn't that important to be involved in things. Would anyone notice if we didn't make it to church every Sunday? Would people be affected negatively if I didn't join a play group or run the social circuit? I didn't think so. It just seemed so silly to put that much effort into something that was going to be short lived.
Then a voice came to me just as clearly as if someone standing beside me had said it.
"You don't think nine months is enough time for me to do anything?"
Point taken. As I've met people and gotten myself and the kids involved in various things, I can certainly see that there are things in God's master plan that I was meant to be part of - right here in Houston.
I'm seeing more clearly now.
Then a voice came to me just as clearly as if someone standing beside me had said it.
"You don't think nine months is enough time for me to do anything?"
Point taken. As I've met people and gotten myself and the kids involved in various things, I can certainly see that there are things in God's master plan that I was meant to be part of - right here in Houston.
I'm seeing more clearly now.
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