The constant family togetherness of spring break is finally behind us (at least until Friday, when the kids begin a four-day Easter weekend…sigh). It wasn’t all bad: we visited with friends, hiked through the park, went to the library, saw a movie, etc. I even told my mother how impressed I was that the kids could do their own thing for long periods or play some grown-up board games with me. I didn’t have to pack lunches, check homework or drag anyone out of bed. Ahh.
Things got ugly by the middle of the second week, though. It rained for a few days, Justin was getting up at unholy hours and Brayden seemed to be on a mission to annoy his brother as much as possible. They bugged me when they fought (they were loud) and they bugged me when they were happy (they were still loud). Nerves were frayed. Nasty things were said.
But we survived. And in the ultimate irony, I almost had to wake Justin up for tutoring this morning. Yes. The kid who happily got up at 3:30 am during spring break slept until almost 6:30 the day he needed to be somewhere at 7:15.
For my sports-obsessed first-born son, there seemed to be no better theme for his 10th birthday party than the Olympics. And there was certainly no better venue for that than the school gym, which came with all the sports equipment you could ever want, a full kitchen for preparing food, and a helper to run the games. Plus it kept the craziness out of my house, so that alone was worth the price of the rental.
As the kids arrived, they drew names out of a box to see which country they would represent (Germany, Russia, Sweden or the USA — I deliberately didn’t have a Canada team because Brayden had pointed out that everyone would want to be on it). Then they got a pinnie in their respective team color.
Before we got started, I talked to them about how the Olympics are not about winning, but about competing — and then I had them all raise their right hands and take the Olympic oath: “I solemnly promise to play hard and play fair in the true spirit of sportsmanship.” This was my attempt to head off any tears, whining or excessive celebrating. It seemed more or less effective, so hey.
For the opening ceremony, Justin held the torch and led the procession of athletes around the gym while the Olympic theme song played over the sound system. I thought the kids might find this part kind of lame, but they all held up their team flags and seemed to be really into it. Then it was time to let the games begin!
We had two individual events (long jump and discus throw) and two team events (relay race and floor hockey). For the long jump, we had each kid stand on a line and see how far they could jump. They each got three tries and we took their best score. For the discus throw, we put a bunch of hula hoops on the floor at different distances and had each kid throw four frisbees — the furthest hoops were worth the most points.
The relay race had each team running to the wall, picking up a ball, and running back to dump it in a bucket, then tagging the next team member. This one was the toughest to judge because we had to know not just who finished first, but who also finished second and third. If I had to do it again, I’d probably have each team go individually and time them. That would’ve been easier.
Floor hockey was the main event, of course. We had two games going simultaneously, then the winners played each other for gold and the others played for bronze.
We handed out gold, silver and bronze medals for each event and then added up the team totals for the final standings. Gold medals were worth three points, silver was two and bronze was one. We just happened to end up with a tie for gold, so all four teams got at least one medal, which was probably the best thing that could have happened.
The thing is, I never actually signed up for ukulele lessons. My seven-year-old, who according to his teachers at school shows great musical promise, had been begging to learn an instrument. So Santa brought him a ukulele, and I signed him up for a class on how to play it.
It quickly became clear, however, that this was not going to be the drop-the-kid-off-and-run kind of class I was hoping for. The other kids in the class are a bit older and a lot more musically experienced than Brayden, so the lessons move at a fairly quick pace, and my boy really struggles to keep up. What this means, of course, is that I have to sit beside him and translate everything that’s going on.
So I’m learning to play the ukulele. He’s learning to ignore the instructor and look to me to tell him what he needs to know.
Except he doesn’t particularly enjoy listening to me either. In class, I’ll remind him that he needs to listen, and he’ll indignantly insist that he is listening…meanwhile, he’s swinging his ukulele like a canoe paddle while the rest of the class is playing Ode to Joy. Argh.
It’s even less fun trying to get him to practise at home. He’ll play the two chords he knows about three times each and call the practice session over (total elapsed time: 65 seconds). Then we show up at class for another hour of humiliation because he hasn’t learned any of the songs the rest of the class is playing. Good times.
Tonight is the final lesson. I’m desperately trying to come up with a reason why we can’t go that lets me escape without teaching my child that it’s OK to be a quitter.
I started this blog as a way to stay connected with the world when I went on my first maternity leave. Ten years and 427 posts later, I’m proud to say that while its purpose hasn’t always been well defined, its audience is growing: it had 4800 views in 2012 (the first year I started tracking stats), 5200 in 2013 and 8500 in 2014. I’m pretty sure my mother was my only fan in the early going, but more and more people seem to enjoy getting a vicarious look into my life. Thanks to you all for making me feel like what I’m doing is worthwhile.
In honor of the blog’s 10th anniversary this week, I’ve collected some of my most popular posts — and a few of my personal favorites:
I saw this inspirational quote in a CBC story related to Valentine’s Day:
“When it comes to concrete, specific things that your partner does for you, the fewer things you expect on a day-to-day basis, the happier you are,” says Samantha Joel. She’s a PhD candidate at the University of Toronto whose psychology research delves deeply into romantic relationships.
In other words: set the bar low.
I get it. Expectations can be tricky.
For our first Christmas, by which point we’d been living together for three months, my husband bought me a beautiful hand-crafted jewellery box with my name engraved on a gold plate on top. He followed it up the next year with a gorgeous set of diamond earrings. These are traditional, expensive gifts. Exactly what the media says all women want.
Except I don’t wear jewellery. Ever. I used to force myself to wear earrings for formal occasions, but eventually I stopped that too. I wear my wedding ring and my MedicAlert bracelet, and that’s about it. You’d think he might have noticed.
Sadly, he’s not the only one to get suckered into media-induced stereotypes. One year I bought him a snazzy pull cart for his golf clubs. It was lightweight and compact and could easily fold into the trunk of his car. Perfect.
Except he never goes golfing. He took lessons with me shortly after we were married, and he played a few rounds, but then he just stopped. Somehow I never noticed. After all, I like to golf.
So we’ve given up on grand gestures. Especially when it comes to Valentine’s Day. In that sense, I think Samantha Joel is right. If you’re expecting to be wowed, you’re just going to be disappointed.
This year, I hid a Hershey’s kiss in his car with a note wishing him a happy Valentine’s Day. He loves chocolate and I never let him have any. He loved it.
To be clear: I hate boats. I discovered that 15 years ago when I went sailing off the coast of Australia and nearly lost it over the railing. I had similar issues on a sightseeing boat in Alaska, and on a semi-sub in Aruba, and on a snorkelling ship in Hawaii 12 years ago…ugh.
So yeah, I hate boats. But I love my children, and my children wanted to see whales, so I sucked it up and booked us on a whale watching cruise. It was crazy windy, and even Brayden wanted to hide in the cabin for most of the trip instead of standing out on deck, but persevering in the wind paid off: a baby humpback breached multiple times right in front of us! I’ve been on other whale watching trips, and I’ve seen whales’ tails come out of the water, but I’d never seen a full breach before. Very cool.
None of us really wants to go home tomorrow (especially when we see the weather forecast…groan). The kids may have missed a few days of school, but they’ve definitely gotten an education here. Justin seems fascinated by the Hawaiian language and is much better than any of us at figuring out how to pronounce street names and remembering to say “aloha” and “mahalo” rather than “goodbye” and “thank you.” And Brayden absorbs facts like a sponge — he still wants to learn more about the Mighty Mo and all the animals we saw at the zoo. He even claims this vacation is better than the one to Disneyland, which is really saying something.
The kids got to walk through a real-life battleship when we toured the USS Missouri today. Launched in 1944 and in and out of service until 1992, the Mighty Mo has been a museum ship at Pearl Harbor since 1998. It was the last battleship ever commissioned by the U.S. Navy and was the site of the surrender of Japan at the end of WWII, a fact that Brayden found particularly cool.
We opted for a guided tour, hoping to get an insider’s view of the history and workings of the ship. Unfortunately, our guide had such a thick Phillippino accent that we could hardly understand a word he said. Justin was so bored that I had to warn him not to yawn while the guy was still talking. When the tour ended, though, we were free to explore on our own. Both boys enjoyed seeing the massive guns, and the various missiles, and the Combat Engagement Center, where they could sit in the chairs and pretend to control the ship.
There were some neat exhibits around the visitor’s center, too. Brayden loved the torpedoes and machine guns on display, and both kids seemed fascinated by the submarine con tower where they could push buttons, spin wheels, and even look through periscopes. Cool stuff.
Brayden was so interested in everything that he spent most of an hour researching the Missouri on Wikipedia when we got back to the hotel. Huh.
At the Dole Plantation in central Oahu, you can tour the gardens, see how pineapples are grown, and take a mini train ride through the site to learn about the role that pineapples have played in Hawaii’s history. We didn’t bother with any of that, though. The kids were only interested in one thing: completing the world’s largest maze.
The maze consists of 2.5 miles of paths through three acres of pineapple plants. The staff tell you not to worry about getting lost, since they give you a postcard-sized map of the route, but we were too busy chasing the kids to notice if we were anywhere close to where we were supposed to be. We finished the maze in 45 minutes, which didn’t set any speed records, but which felt like a huge victory. We celebrated with lunch in the cafe and of course a special treat of pineapple-flavored ice cream. Good times.
When we got back to Waikiki, Brayden and Chris went off to the U.S. Army Museum. We walked past it every time we went to the beach and Brayden had been wanting to check it out. They got up close and personal with tanks, missiles, and even a Cobra attack helicopter — all for free. Awesome.
I'd like to note for the record that I left today basically unplanned (gasp). I've never been good at sitting around, but my only plan for today was to relax on the beach. Which was fine for the first three hours, but then we had to get some lunch, which meant we had to get out of our swim gear. (The waitress asked how our day was going, and we said great, we'd been at the beach, and she looked astounded: “Already?” Clearly no one in her household gets up at 5:30 am.)
We needed something to do after lunch, so we walked down to the zoo. I was expecting to spend maybe an hour looking at animals, but there was so much to do and see that we ended up spending most of the afternoon there. Justin started off sour because he wanted to play iPad and was annoyed that we dragged him away…but he quickly got over that once we started finding animals that you don't normally see in Canadian zoos, like alligators and Galapagos tortoises. Brayden was so excited to see everything that he insisted I take pictures of every single animal, along with some of the vegetation. It was a crazy good outing.
The day ended, as usual, at the pool (with free drinks and snacks — this hotel rocks!)
One of the main reasons we chose to come to Hawaii was because we wanted to experience South Pacific culture without having to fly for 16 hours. So when I discovered we could learn about six different cultures at the Polynesian Cultural Center on Oahu’s north shore, I was sold.
The center showcases native cultures of Samoa, Aotearoa (New Zealand), Fiji, Hawaii, Tahiti and Tonga. The place is basically a theme park with different villages. There are shows in each village, but our boys wouldn’t sit for those. They were much happier doing the hands-on activities such as long poi twirling in Aotearoa (which was pretty hilarious), ancient bowling in Hawaii, and weaving in Tonga. Brayden and I even learned how to dance the hula, though thankfully no one got photos of that.
We also took a canoe ride through the villages, saw an IMAX show about Hawaiian scenery, and watched a canoe pageant in which people from each culture wore traditional garb and performed various rituals and dances. I really enjoyed it, but the kids were slightly less impressed — Brayden thought the best part was when one of the Tonga guys accidentally fell into the water.
Crystal's Commentary 