Author Archives: Crystal

Holiday in Honolulu

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Tropical vacations have never been my thing. I’ve always preferred to explore cities with historical sites, palaces and museums, generally in Europe, and generally without kids. But I’m older now, and I’ve seen most of what I want to see, and I felt like it was time to show the boys a bit of the world beyond our borders. So we brought them to Hawaii. Aloha!

Day one has been a smashing success, except for the fact that we didn’t get to bed until 11:45 last night and Justin was up at 4:45 am this morning (cursed time change!) We played in the waves at Waikiki Beach, went for a nice lunch, and then took a submarine tour of the waters around Oahu. We even got to see three humpback whales on our way out to the submarine, so Brayden was pretty stoked. His day was almost ruined when we failed to get a picture of the first sea turtle we saw from the sub (the horror) but thankfully a second one turned up and we quickly snapped a photo.

Justin has been picking up random Hawaiian words and adding them to his mental database. On the walk back to the hotel, he said (with no prompting), “Mahalo to Mom for planning this vacation!”

Yup — this one rocks.

Murder at the Deadwood Saloon

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We had us a rootin’ tootin’ good time at my annual murder mystery birthday party last night. This time it was a night of mystery and mayhem in the Old West — at last, a theme that even the guys could get excited about!

Turning the house into a 1870s saloon was a ton of fun. I got checkered tablecloths, red plastic plates, mason jar glasses, and even bandanas and ropes for napkin settings. I also tracked down some old tin pails to hold peanuts and pretzels. There was just enough space in the living room to place two folding tables parallel to each other — last year we had one long banquet table for Once Upon a Murder, but this time I thought two separate tables would give more of a saloon look. The two-table setup also made it easy to move around and chat with everybody, so that was a huge bonus.

I even managed to get my brother and my husband (neither of whom are big on costume parties) to craft real saloon doors to place at the entrance to the kitchen. This was no easy feat, but they pulled it off, and the effect was amazing. People were wandering into the kitchen for no real reason just so they could go through those doors.

The guys were more than happy to undertake one other project, too: drinking enough booze that I could fill my china cabinet with old bottles. The murder mystery came with vintage liquor labels that were totally awesome.

I used a Michaels coupon to get a cheap woodburning kit just so I could burn the “Saloon” sign, but it turned out so well that I decided to use the kit for the “Saloon Rules” sign too. It was a really slow process to burn all those letters (good thing I started early!) but it really added to the Old West ambience.

The premise of the mystery was that we were all gathered at the saloon to celebrate the end of a poker tournament, so I tried to carry the Wild West-poker theme through the names of the food: Full House Nachos, Chuckwagon Chili, Ace-High Apple Pie and so on. (I briefly considered using the woodburner for the menu sign too, but had to pass when I realized I had neither the patience nor the fine motor skills to burn letters that small.) I made pulled pork for the first time ever — thankfully it turned out all right.

Kudos to everyone for really getting into character! The costumes were outstanding and there was some seriously funny ad libbing going on (something about Jesse Wales’ unnatural relationship with her horse…I never did get the full story on that one.) We voted on best actor (Montgomery Money) and best costume (Gambling Jack), plus there were prizes for who ended up with the most money (Holly Hickok) and who correctly guessed the murderer (I was the only one who got it right and no, I didn’t know beforehand…really.)

It was a blast!

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Formula for a Perfect Christmas

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Two weeks of holidays + three different gift openings + a ton of family fun…yup, it was a good one.

‘Tis the Season…For Report Cards

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I have a whole new appreciation for good grades now that my kids are being judged on their progress. When I was in school, I had great success with little effort – the A’s came so easily that I came to expect them as my due. I never had to sweat out an exam or worry that I might not pass. I wanted to do well in everything, and I did.

I wish I could go back to that smug teenager and smack her upside the head. How dare she take all that success for granted? How dare she complain because she got slightly below 90% on an assignment? She had no idea of the kind of effort some kids had to put in just to squeak by. Because everything came easily, there was no challenge – and no thrill in the results. It was just expected. Ho hum.

I’m singing a different tune now. On the whole, both of my kids are doing great in school, but it’s not like they haven’t had to work at it. Brayden shines in reading, math, science, social studies…but it has taken months of work with an occupational therapist to get his printing up to grade level. I’ve never been so thrilled to see “meets expectations” on a report card. Go dude!

The increased expectations of fourth grade are throwing Justin for a bit of a loop, though. He still rocks the fact-based subjects (math, science, social studies) but language arts does not come naturally, and this year for the first time he has had to buckle down and do some serious homework to keep up. After many hours of sitting with him doing book reports and novel studies…he did get full marks for effort. You can’t ask for more than that.

Happy holidays everybody!

The Glass-Half-Full Perspective

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We had a run of bad luck recently that had me wallowing in negativity — until I finally decided to appreciate what I actually have. Here’s a look-on-the-bright-side rundown of what’s been happening in our house:

The furnace died. I’m grateful that we never lost our electricity. And that we have friends with space heaters.

I keep having to buy more gifts for Christmas and an endless string of birthday parties. I’m grateful that my kids have friends who include them in special celebrations. And that we’ll be spending the holidays with family members we don’t often get to see.

Both vehicles needed repairs. I’m grateful that my kids can walk to school and that my husband can work from home. And that we’re fortunate enough to own two vehicles.

The kids have had a ton of homework I have to help with. I’m grateful that the schools are open and that my kids are getting an education. And that I’m not so crazy busy that I can’t help.

Justin insists on getting up well before dawn. I’m grateful that he seems to get all the sleep he needs and that he’s old enough that I don’t have to get up with him. And that my loved ones are all healthy and happy.

Seriously…my life ROCKS.

Cooking Lessons With Mr. Literal

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I have no culinary skills whatsoever, but I want my boys to be able to make more than just toast, so I’ve been getting them to help out a bit in the kitchen. This hasn’t been too difficult with Brayden, whose main goal in life is figuring out how things work (he theorized that the clumps of cornstarch disappeared into the water because the starch absorbed the water and thus became heavy and sank – I have no idea if he’s right).

Justin, however, hates taking on new tasks he’s not sure he can master. My first mistake was asking if he wanted to help me make brunch. (I really should have known better.) He politely refused, whereupon I politely informed him he would have to help if he wanted to eat said brunch. Even once I got him in the kitchen, he kept trying to sneak away – I had to promise he could have juice instead of the usual water to get him to stay put. Sigh.

I pride myself on my ability to give clear instructions. One of the tenets of my technical writing program was that you must write so that you cannot possibly be misunderstood. The ultimate test, however, is trying to give instructions to someone who does exactly what you said to do.

We were making hash browns. I got Justin to pre-heat the oven, get the cookie sheet, count out the hash brown patties, and put the patties on the cookie sheet. So far so good. Then I said, “Put them in the oven.”

Granted, I used the wrong pronoun. I should have said, “Put it in the oven,” since I was really talking about the cookie sheet. But his literal Asperger mind took me at my word, and the next thing I knew he was taking the individual hash brown patties off the cookie sheet so he could put them in the oven. Oops.

The devil is in the details…

Wanted: Personal Assistant For Absent-Minded Aspie

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At our annual IEP meeting a couple weeks ago, Justin’s teacher began the conversation with, “He’s going to be very successful.”

She was nice enough not to add, “which is good, because then he can hire a personal assistant to collect his coat, pack his bag, update his day planner and tell him where he’s supposed to be.”

Justin has always been an organizational train wreck. One of the pitfalls of Asperger’s is the impairment in executive functioning skills – all those mental processes that let us plan our actions, remember instructions and juggle multiple tasks.His desk is such a disaster that his teacher got him a whole separate bin to store his duotangs so they wouldn’t disappear into the abyss. He has 200 pencils in his room because they get buried under his mountain of papers and so he gets a new one every time he wants to make a new list. He left his gloves in his classroom on Friday, and when we went to retrieve them he also found the water bottle, gym clothes and math homework he’d neglected to put in his backpack. ARGH.

When he was younger, we had a written list posted in the kitchen of all the steps he was supposed to follow when he finished breakfast (get dressed, brush teeth, make bed, etc.) We had another (laminated) one for how to take a shower, one for how to tie his shoes, and so on. Eventually we could take the lists away and he would remember the routines. The terminology stuck, though – even now, when I want him to get dressed, I tell him to do his steps.

But he’s in fourth grade now, and his teacher puts a big emphasis on personal responsibility. The kids even get marked on their use of their personal agendas – they’re supposed to use the agendas to record their reading minutes, keep track of due dates and generally stay organized. You can guess how well that’s going.

He has learned something new, though. At swimming lessons the other day, Brayden complained that Justin walked out of the change room and left his stuff all over the floor instead of putting it in the locker. So Justin offered to pay Brayden in leftover Halloween candy if Brayden would clean up his stuff for him.

Delegating is an important skill, right? (Sigh…)

Breaking the Helicopter Habit

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So my kids are now walking to school all by themselves. It’s a 20-minute trip that requires crossing one semi-busy street at a four-way stop. I used to drive them every day, at first because they were so young; later because it was a convenient stop on my way to work; most recently because that’s just what we’ve always done. But I’ve been trying to give them more freedom and responsibility (see The Independence Project), and this seemed like a natural step. They’re nine and seven; they can do this.

Those of us who grew up in the ’70s and ’80s walked to school every day, of course. My older brother once got turned around on his way home from kindergarten and was wandering aimlessly around a park when a woman spotted him from her window and went over to ask if he was lost. He told her his phone number, she called Mom, and Mom went and picked him up. But Mom didn’t drive him from then on; she just made sure he knew which landmarks to follow to get home.

And NO ONE GOT ARRESTED. Imagine.

It’s easy to fall into the helicopter parenting habit. I used to wonder how it was legal to send a kid down the street alone when it wasn’t legal to leave him unsupervised once he got wherever he was going. But our job as parents is to prepare our kids to go out in the world without us — and they’ll never know how if we don’t let them practise.

Not that I’m completely letting go. I still pick them up from school every day, mainly because I like to check if they have all their stuff (see Bringing Order to Chaos), but also because I enjoy chatting with the other moms while waiting for the bell. I know I’ll have to let them get home on their own someday (Justin is already clamoring to be allowed to do it), but one thing at a time.

We’ve all got a lot to learn here.

 

5 Signs That It’s Time to Go Home

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Today we took a side trip to Slovakia and toured the Hapsburg imperial treasury in Vienna. We saw lots of old stuff. We learned lots of new facts. And we didn’t especially care about any of it. We are soooo ready to go home tomorrow.

Here are five tell-tale signs that you’re ready for your vacation to be over:

All you want to do is sleep. You don’t want to climb another 200 steps to see another thousand-year-old monument with great historical significance. You want to pass out in the back of the bus and drool on your spouse’s shoulder. Nothing is more precious than a nap at the end of a vacation.

“New adventures” become “irritating inconveniences.” Public washrooms that require coins, TVs that don’t speak English, and drinks that aren’t chilled almost have you in tears. You’d rather buy a stale sandwich at the hotel gift shop than figure out how to get downtown on the subway. You’re done.

Restaurant food makes you gag. No menu anywhere will satisfy you. You want a simple home-cooked meal piled high with vegetables accompanied by the biggest glass of ice water you can imagine. You’re tired of deliberately dehydrating yourself in order to avoid having to find a bathroom.

There’s a powerful stench coming from your suitcase. You pity the airport security official that chooses to pull your bag aside for a random check. You still have to figure out how to explain to your friend that you packed three pairs of your dirty socks inside the souvenir mug you bought her in London.

You can’t imagine ever wanting to get on another airplane. You wish you could just beam yourself home. You dread dealing with three flights, 19 hours of travelling and a nine-hour time change. You’re convinced that once you finally make it home, you will never want to leave again.

(You are wrong.)

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Waltzing Around Vienna

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Some of Vienna's greatest attractions are just outside the city proper. Chief among them, especially for royal history geeks like me, is Schonbrunn Palace, the former summer home of the Hapsburgs. The poor man's version of Versailles (it's only one-sixth the size of its French rival, but it still has 1,441 rooms), Schonbrunn was used by generations of Austrian emperors between the 17th and 20th centuries. We walked through 40 of the state rooms where Maria Teresa held court, one of which was where Kennedy and Kruschev met in 1961. Awesome.

We also took a tour of the Heilingenkreuz monastery that lies 30 minutes out of Vienna. Dating from the 12th century, Heilingenkreuz is the oldest continuously occupied Cistercian monastery in the world — 40 monks still live there today. We saw the cloisters, the cathedral, and the chapter house containing the tomb of the last Babenberg emperor. I'm not usually big on church tours, but this one was actually quite fascinating.

Other highlights of the day included a photo stop at Liechtenstein Castle (which is not actually in Liechtenstein, but is owned by the ruling family of Liechtenstein) and a drive-by view of the hunting lodge at Mayerling where Crown Prince Rudolf and his very young mistress were found dead in 1889. Good stuff.

One day left…