When Lights Don't Work

Okay, so I haven't posted for a while. I'm not sure what my lack of motivation is. Perhaps is called time and I don't seem to carry enough of it. But then, prioritization is essential and I guess I'm not putting blogging at the top of my list right now.

But I do have an interesting story that occurred on Monday of this week. Evan is in a choir group at school. And they were having a big what they deem a "Pyramid" sing-a-thon...something along those lines. So we had to have Evan to Centreville Highschool by 6:30 PM. We fought the lines of traffic, poorly designed entry into the school and parked on the side of the road. We made our way through chatty parents and up to the nosebleed section so we could see our son on the other side in the bleachers, a spec in the masses. It was HOT and I mean HOT. The speakers scattered around were making a low buzzing noise and Grant was complaining in his T-shirt that he was hot. I was wearing an acrylic turtleneck--I might as well have been in a down coat. HOT! The program started and the music teacher from Centreville Highschool, hosting this singing get together, spoke to us and told us the power had gone out earlier and had blown something related to speakers (blanket apology to my husband who will later make fun of me for not knowing the name of what blew) but this is what caused the buzz from the speakers. We're off on good footing at this point. Singing, singing, more singing. We get to the last group of elementary kids before moving on to a middle school and two highschools. They're in the middle of their somewhat depressing song when the lights pop off. Never have I heard that decibel of screaming. All kids joined together in one harmonious shriek heard across the gym. I think the teachers had pure panic in their hearts at that point. I guess I don't blame them. The thought that a 1000 or more people would stampede out of there and possibly cause the loss of a life was in my thoughts. We stayed on our very comfortable wooden bleacher seats (I couldn't feel my bottom half at that point anyway, what's another 30 minutes of sitting). Okay, I know, TMI. I don't do well on hard seating the depth of a school pencil. The teachers began yelling for us to stay in our seats. The shrieking stopped as I'm sure quiet threats were made from music teachers to their various groups of singers. The gym was all quiet. They told us to stay put, they were working on fixing the electricity. Okay. What to do now. Grant and Aedyn thought immediately there must be a blizzard outside of Little House on the Prairie proportions--what else would make the power go. I explained that there are other reasons why power goes out--old building, faulty wiring. I was doing my best Cliff Claven I know everything explanation. They weren't buying it.

Finally, generator power kicked in and lights came on somewhat. Not before a teacher began yelling at us, the crowd, to put our hands over our mouths and stop talking. She was panicked, it was clear. Some father, oh blessed man, yelled shut up to the teacher. Nice! Real mature. So I was expecting some kind of chaos to ensue. But peace reigned.

They came over with a bull horn and started telling us the county had asked that we evacuate. The kids were to go first to the cafeteria and we would be excused after that to go attempt to find them--darkness and all. Rob and I devised a plan. I would take the three kids to the car and wait there. Rob would go to Cafeteria land and find our poor Evan.

Finally, full power came on. I took the kids, in my high heels, down those bleachers. As we shuffled along in the hallway toward the exit, Grant commented that we were walking like old grandpas. Walking is better than falling I say so better to be moving than not moving at all. We finally got to the van. Rob and Evan were not far behind. Evan hugged me tightly when he got into the van. I think it made him appreciate his parents and siblings more with something, as minor as that was. He was so kind to his brothers and sisters that night. I think we're going to make weekly trauma part of life in order to instill appreciation more often ha ha.

So when next I have a cool story to tell, I shall post again.

Happy Anniversary

Yesterday was my 13th Anniversary with Rob. We celebrated on Saturday night. We went out to dinner at Ruth's Chris Steakhouse which happens to have the best sweet potato casserole known to man. But I'm switching focus here and I should be focusing on my husband :). In any event I just wanted to say that I love you Rob and this has been a roller coaster of 13 years but filled with the joy of 4 children, many fun times and lots of remembrances to cherish. I'm not a sappy gal and don't get into the diatribe Hallmark version of ode to husband but I wanted to say that I hope the next 13 will be as good as the last.

With love,

Your wife

Hot Chocolate Heaven

Our family doesn't have hot chocolate that often. So I can't honestly say that when I filmed this, that Laura and Grant had ever had hot chocolate before. I focused in on Laura for this video because her reactions to running hot chocolate were too hilarious to pass up. This was my first ever attempt to edit a video and I'm really happy with how it turned out. I hope you like it too.

Eva

Soap Box Sally

I didn't mean to use this blog as an observation deck for life and all things happening in it.  But what I realized is that I have a lot of observations that go on in my head every day.  And I really don't have anywhere to express it.  So this becomes my platform.  

Here's the latest observation.  We are a lazy society.  I know, please don't link you in with laziness.  So I say, apply this where it might apply in your life.  My spewings come from my experience today.  I volunteered to be on the PTA as the grounds clean up chairperson.  I figured it was twice a school year, a Fall Grounds clean up and again, cleaning up the Spring.  No big deal.  Wrong!  Today was our Fall clean up.  Here's how it went down.  I sent out notification of this 4 weeks in advance, again 3 weeks prior, 2 weeks, and you guess it, about 4 days prior to the event.  Parents were requested in notification to respond to my email address to let me know they were attending.  Every day religiously I checked my email, waiting for those good samaritans to volunteer some of their time to help me take on the school grounds.  Not one email ever came.  I figured that was the American way.  Don't do the formal notifications---just show up.  I'm game for that too.  As the old cliche goes, I can't look a gift-horse in the mouth.  So this morning I arrive 30 minutes prior to the start of clean up in hopes of getting a good head start on the job.  There before me sits a large mound of "mulch".  Only Easterners use mulch apparently.  We continue every year to stack wood chips around our trees with some hope that it looks "pretty" but instead we're creating an activity bed for the tree bark to rot and not get as much water to the roots.  It's ludicrous but okay, stick with the standards.  I soon realize after 30 minutes into the time of clean up that not many will show up.  One parent comes with two boys and one shovel.  It's a help.  But the man stands there directing his boys on what to do while he does little to aid.  I think right then "We are a lazy society".  We are so used to not having to do the hard labor of our forefathers that life has become too easy.  Even my own husband was not much of a kick in the pants for this whole affair. I was taught the value of hard work and felt I was up to the task.  But I have to say it would have been nice to have the help of a team of volunteers.  We began with a flat tired wheelbarrow to load mulch, barrow by barrow to the base of each tree.  It was the only wheelbarrow we could find.  Apparently, the janitorial person was supposed to be there to help us with the mulch but I couldn't see him.  I thought he'd be out waiting with baited breath for our arrival.  I did eventually find Tanner (name changed to protect the innocent) who was the janitor and pulled him into the battle of the mulch.  Other parents showed up but without many tools in hand. I sent them to various parts of the school to pick up trash and large weeds.  Rob continued to shovel mulch, Tanner continued to deliver it to the site and we worked hard for 3 long hours.  Several other parent/child combos showed up to help and then everyone was gone.  And there I was with 4 dirty children, one smelly, mulch covered husband, and me with my Medussa hair, wondering what went wrong.  Why didn't more people show up?  And to add to that I had one mother tell me that I should have provided donuts and juice.  Oh, I see.  No one can bother to let me know they are showing up and yet I'm supposed to go out and try and "guess" how many might show up and provide donuts for them.  Donuts that apparently would have gone to waste or waist as you will because I would have purchased more--I have a glass half full approach and figured many others would show up.  But people can't bother to say Hey, I'm coming to help".  So then it took me to my FINAL conclusion of Grounds clean up, people want to come for 20 minutes and do a little work here or there, get instant gratification by saying "alright kids, we worked hard, let's pack up" and then have a donut and a juice on the way out.  I guess I'm not that sympathetic.  You want the donut and juice, come and put in an hour, 2 hours worth of hard work.  I see the positive in this---my children learned the value of working together and we had fun.  We worked hard and came home.  My house didn't get cleaned today, my grocery shopping will be done late and we won't have this one Saturday to do family fun things because we took the time to help clean up.  I guess I'm on this blog to get my own gratification.  I worked hard today and so did my family.  And we didn't expect anything in return.  But I'm disappointed that parents didn't show up.  And I realize that those who truly understand hard work are the farmers who get up before the sun rises and come home when the sun is setting.  I bet if I was in Iowa cleaning up a school, I'd get some great workers who didn't come expecting self gratification or food.  I know, I'm harsh.  But it's a disappointment to see that we expect too much and give too little.  Eva steps down from the soap box.  

Here's hoping the next entry becomes a happy family adventure.

Reduced to Numbers

Curses be to health and wellness I say. Today was another health focused day at work. They were kind enough to bring in a group that does cardiac assessments among other things (I'm reducing the medical terms down to kitche Mom terms). One of the assessments done was an entire body composition. So let's analyze this for a minute. Are they going to tell me what my body is composed of? I can do that myself thanks. But no....this doesn't tell you what you're made of exactly. It tells you numbers. Everyone can relate to numbers until you realize what the numbers of one's body composition stand for. Let me break that down for you. First, there's the fat percentage. Yep. I could have gone a lifetime without knowing what my fat ratio is. And in case you think I'm going to reveal that on my blog, uhhh....no. But let's just say the odds were not favorable. I'm as bouyant as a beach ball with current listed fat ratio. Then let's move on to actual pounds of fat. Apparently, I'm storing a small child in my body somewhere and she's made of 100% fat. If I was a cow, I'd be prized meat right now with just enough gristle to make everything tastey. That's how I give myself comfort in this time of trial. I know, weird analogy but in times of distress, you find solace in odd things. I've never been told how much of my actual body was just plain old unadulterated FAT. It's really enlightening to see. I might not have used the word enlighten when I first read the number. And as I was going over these numbers with my body composition giver--Charlene--I did not feel enlightened. And incidentally, how is it that these people who give you body composition tests do not feel compelled to do the same. I politely asked Charlene (once I heard her lunch request to a fellow coworker) if she had the opportunity to have the same tests. Oh yes, she said. Apparently, her fat pounds must not be equal to mine or she would not have ordered a fried chicken platter with an extra heaping of french fries. Apparently, she's not as affected by the fact that she could have been storing a small child made of 100% fat in her body either. She was about to feed the child.
So then I got to thinking about this whole numbers game and body composition. To my children, I'm a soft pillowy form of perfection. My body absorbs hugs and hangs on to them. I'm a soft shoulder, stomach, back, and thigh to cry on. And I can finish up wasted dinners with the best of em. But to this small electron charge going through my body, I was a mission, a project. The charge wound its way through my body, finding what it was told to find. Fat percentage...check. Fat in pounds.....check. Lack of appropriate hydration (aka, drink more water fool)....check. And when it found the numbers, it came back to report. Overlook the fact that I have feelings, that I have concerns, that I have needs for chocolate on certain (cough daily) occassions. This computer just spewed these numbers out and reduced me to a ratio. And so now my focus has changed. Once I was just slightly plumped up. Now, I know what is living inside me. I know what my body is doing with that extra slice of bread in the morning or those 5 extra candy corns I took from the office treat jar. It's feeding my FAT child. And I have to try and fit myself into these numbers now. I am told my fat percentage should be between 21-27%. That's final the computer says. You must comply or your fat child will grow larger. And I must lean the fat child within me and make it a fat toddler and then hopefully just a fat baby. But I guess that's the lesson today that I learned. That computers don't get hugs. Computers don't need chocolate. And computers don't know what it's like to have to accept yourself, even with the percentage of fat being out of whack. So I appreciate the feedback oh body composition calculator. But your kind isn't welcome around these parts any longer. And I think I can go at least another 5 years without knowing what exists inside my body. It's better that way. Then I can love myself for everything I'm composed of, even if it's not within the range of numbers I'm supposed to be in. It just goes to show you Bill Gates that computers still don't have common sense because they aren't living, breathing human beings. To err is human. Thank goodness because if I was in line to be a computer, my numbers are WAY out of whack. I'd have been stamped reject on the assembly line. So to all of you who haven't had your body composition checked, just say NO. And incidentally, if you're one of those women who works really hard at being healthy and you have numbers of perfection--don't share them. We already know you're perfect, we already secretly spit on the ground you walk on and wish we could be like you. We don't need your body composition numbers screaming in our faces (I'll just cite that based on a fellow coworker who fit said description and HAD to share her numbers with me). There, I feel better now. I think my fat child within is crying and there's a chocolate bar with my name on it.

The Simple Things

Last night, I was sitting at my computer, letting my kids frolic around the house while I did my usual mommy time of getting into emails, Ebaying, etc. Dinner was done, homework completed and the kids were biding their time until bed. Then it occurred to me "Eva, you're too structured. Let loose". So I did. I decided to play a game of hide and seek with my children. What a novel idea, a game. I get so focused on structure that I don't take the time to be a kid with the kids. And every adult needs to be footloose and fancy free sometimes. We get too serious. So I suggested the idea and the first question out of all 4 children's mouths was "You're going to play with us?" "Yep" I said matter of factly. They were giddy with excitement. I volunteered to count first. Children scattered and I heard the scuffs of little bare feet across the wood floor, a stomp stomp up the stairs as one headed up to No Mans Land. One of the requirements was that all the lights except where the counter sat had to be turned off. I was hopeful this would cure the two youngest of their imaginary fear of the dark as they navigated their way through it. As I began counting, Laura snuck into her hiding spot in the same room. I could hear her laughing quietly to herself, pretty certain she had found the best hiding place ever. As I neared the half point mark in counting, Laura piped in "Don't forget to say 'Ready or Not' when you're done counting". Thanks Laura. Obviously, she has yet to learn the art of stealthy silence in a good game of hide and seek. As I neared the end, I heard a few house sounds from the basement and knew someone else was tucking themselves into another great spot. I saw Laura right off, but played that I couldn't see her. "Now where is Laura Frances" I said, repeating myself a few times. I could hear her giggle in pure delight. Finally, not able to stand the idea of being hidden from Mom any longer, she popped up from her spot and laughed so heartily that I couldn't help but laugh. Next, I saw little Grantie huddled under a piece of furniture, again pretty plain for the human eye to detect. But in his little mind, he was concealed like camouflage to the forest. I touched his back and he giggled, loving every minute of his secret time. We went together to find the other two boys. Grant has eyes like a panther. He spotted Evan and I walked right past him. Evan was hiding in the dirty clothes hamper---ewwww. But hey, it's hide and seek. Hygiene has to be compromised for the sake of the best hiding spot. Aedyn was last on the list. He has been known to Gumby his way into the smallest of spaces. So we again went together to find him. The mirror in our main floor bathroom showed his reflection and Grant spotted him first. They were laughing and asking me if I thought that they had each found the best hiding spot ever. "Of course" was my reply. Evan didn't delay. Before I could say a word, he was into counting motion, huddled on the futon, waiting for us to disperse immediately. I went upstairs, where the dark was the greatest. Nothing like hiding in the dark. Laura's bedroom seemed an apropos place since it was nearing the end of the timed countdown. I wanted to see if this 36 year old body could fit under her bed. The legs went, the hips---barely but the rest of me, especially my melon of a head would have none of it. So there I lay, pulling the bedspread upon me, half in and half out, hoping I wouldn't be the first found. Well, that's not difficult to pull off considering Laura gives herself up willingly and Grant is soon to follow. Again, found second to last--wishew. And one more game, I went into a closet this time. I was quiet and slowed my breathing. As I stood there in the dark, it took me back to being a kid when I had oodles of energy and I could squeeze myself into Gumby type situations for the sake of finding a good hiding spot. Those times were gone. But what a rush it was to play a simple game of hide and seek with my kids. If you haven't done it lately, I suggest it as perfect family therapy.

Boston Mass

I just got back from a business trip to Boston, Massachusetts. It was a wonderful but quick trip. I went to attend a Lab Design Conference. As I'm new to the lab industry and especially trying to design it, I wanted to get exposure to people and products of the industry. I succeeded. But there was a particular segment of my trip that I'd like to dwell on unmercifully today. It has to do with what I thought was a talented architect. Yesterday afternoon the conference bussed us to various labs throughout the area. I was bussed to MIT (very cool college--I'm already asking for applications for my children ha ha). After that I went to Novartis, which is a Swedish Laboratory company. They bought a Necco candy warehouse and converted it to a beautiful laboratory. And it just so happens that the architect who spearheaded the project came in yesterday morning to do a glorious presentation on how he accomplished this project. I was so impressed with the presentation that I was very excited to go see the warehouse/lab that afternoon. The architect, in his early 50's was there to do the tour. Then along came 20 something Jennifer in her tight fitting dress and high heels. The great architect that had such potential only a moment ago was now in the undeniable control of Jennifer. I don't know if she knew he was a perv in action or not. But everything that I thought about this architect went right out the window. I could almost see saliva collecting on the corners of his mouth, with his hands flittering in a little greedy motion of "bring me the bait". What could have been a potentially educational and visually stunning tour (I know, I sound like Lilleth from Cheers) turned into predator seeks prey and I had to watch it unfold. He was asking her if she was married, all the while our little group is straggling along behind them, waiting for the glory of the tour. I checked to see if he had a wedding ring and didn't see one. I at least wiped my brow on that. I pity the woman who ever did marry this man. Here we are, a group of professionals, around 7 of us and Hormonal Hal the architect is busy with eyes just for Jennifer, who incidentally just got married in May as she CLEARLY stated to kind of put a halt to his oogle eyes. But it didn't stop the intense attention. And we were left to salvage what was left. You see, the architect was supposed to give us the tour. But instead he just walked us down a hall, probably so he could promenade with his potential victim a little longer. We heard no factual information, no points of interest, nothing. I guess he figured our ride in the elevator was jovial enough and that was that. So why do I write this in my blog? For one, it gives all those of you who wonder what I do insite into my work life just a little minus the pervy architects of course. And second, it was the school of hard knocks for me. I guess I wouldn't expect something like that to happen with a group of professionals but it's a fact--these sex crazed animals of the world exist in every walk of life and in every profession. I knew that all along but to see it unfold is something of a different animal, and an animal he was. As we came back down to the lobby, 10 short minutes later, miss Jennifer exclaimed in all her naive innocence that it was the shortest and easiest tour she had given. And I'm thinking...oh so you give tours...let's get back in there and get the real deal this time. But alas, I'll have to live off the embers of the presentation and pictures that I took. My children and my husband picked me up from the airport last night. Evan gave me a big hug, Aedyn had made me a sweet card, Grant told me never to go away again and Laura said Daddy did a bad job on her hair. She looked like David Lee Roth on a bad day. It was nice to be away and do a little self retreating. But it was great to be back and be told I was missed. Rob told me never to go away again because it's hard to take over everything when I'm gone.