A Calendar of Mistakes

I like to keep a paper calendar. Several, in fact. I have my work calendar. I have the family calendar.
I have my personal calendar. It starts out every month like this.




Just a few birthdays.










 I will eventually fill in my days off. Then I fill in any doctor or dentist appointments, teacher conferences. I'll fill in Girl Scouts, Cub Scouts, after school activities, sports events. Finally it looks like this. This is just the necessary things that I have to be aware of. If I'm lucky, I can add something like a girl's night out, a date night, or a short trip to somewhere fun.


I'm not unique. I'll bet that every mother or father has a calendar somewhere like this. Maybe it's just in their heads, but it exists, and it's important. It keeps us from forgetting things and making mistakes like dropping the wrong kid off for swim lessons, or forgetting to pick up another one from an after school club.

I started keeping a calendar because of one notoriously "Bad Mommy" mistake from my life. I forgot to take Hannah to preschool. I forgot to take her on her first day. Her first day of preschool. This huge milestone in both of our lives, and I forgot it. I felt like failure. On first days of school, parents take photos, cry a little... I just forgot. It's not like you can take pictures on the second day, even if it's your first day, because that's just admitting that you forgot to be there in the first place. I forgot. I cried. I beat myself up over it. My little girl was growing up (she was four) and I was already tuning her out. She was blissfully unaware of my Mommy Drama. She had no clue what she had missed (in retrospect, not much.) When I recently admitted to her of my failures as a parent, Hannah looked at me blankly. "I went to preschool?" she said.

I've always remembered my mistakes. I remember turning off the timer when my mother was making kolaczkis for my dad on their anniversary when I was five or six. The timer went off. I wanted to help. I turned off the timer. I'd seen Mom do it hundreds of times. I knew what I was doing. I was making her life easier while she was outside in the garden. The kolaczkis burned. Burned to a nasty crisp. She yelled at me because it was a present for Dad. It was the only present she had for him, and I'd ruined it. She might have cried. I know I did.

I recalled this story thirty two years later to Mom, and she looked at me blankly. "I don't even remember that," she told me.
"Seriously?" I asked. "Because I remember it so well."
"No. I don't remember it. Are you sure?"
Was I sure? I had deep seated guilt about this for my entire life. I had royally screwed up my parents' anniversary. I was sure they would get divorced, or at the very least sell me to gypsies. I knew that this was why I wasn't a favored child and was cursed with acne. This is the reason for my deep seated ambivalence towards baking. "Yeah. I'm sure."
"Oh. Well, I'm sorry."

My calendars are an attempt to alleviate the mistakes in my life. They don't always work--especially the family calendar. Other people have to look at it for it to be effective (not that I'd complain, but if you need gym shoes at school one day a week, check the calendar for what day that might be!)
Mistakes are transient. We don't always know what sticks or what will be remembered once an event is over. I just have to remember which kid to drop off at the park and which kid to drop off at the pool. It's not that hard.

To be honest though, I've never let the kids near the timer on the stove. I don't want to scar them with the same mistakes I made.

Love in a Time of ISATs

Hannah is doing the ISATs this week. She's not special this way, all other CPS students in grades 3-8 are doing it too.

Because it is Hannah, however, there are a few extra issues to deal with.

"If I fail, will you still love me?"
You don't fail the ISAT, honey. It's just a test to see how you are doing compared to other fifth graders.
"I don't think I'm ready. I always want to do other things instead of study. Will you help me study?"
Study what?
"Test things. Study for the ISAT."
Did your teacher tell you to study?
"No. She said, don't try to study, but I don't think I can do that. Can you just review math?"
What math?
"All of it. Just random facts. Math facts. Maybe some word problems. I'm sure there will be extended response. Oh--I'm so nervous."
Maybe tomorrow we can start more than a half hour before I have to leave for work?
"Can I just answer with the answers, or do you want explanations? After this, I need help with reading. And language arts."
You'll be fine.
"What if I'm not?"
You will be.
"I'm so nervous. I might die. What happens if I die?
Then you don't have to take the test.
"Mom!"
And I'll miss you terribly? What do you want me to say?
"I just want you to help!"

And I just want to help. When I don't want to strangle her for being unreasonable. But if she was any different, would she even be Hannah?

I don't know. Thankfully, ISATs come but once a year. So does the Science Fair, but we won't worry about that until after the testing is over.

(When I left for work, she was intently reading a Thesaurus. Who does that???)

My daughter. That's who.

Have Glue Gun, Will Travel (AKA Spaghetti bridge, part 2)

After our rather demoralizing defeat at the hands of the kittens, it took us a week or so so get back to bridge building. When we did, we used the same template (hence the same picture above. It's not your imagination.) The bridge had to be totally rebuilt. There was no salvaging the pieces of the prior bridge.



Here is the finished bridge. We had some fun with it before we tested its strength. After all, we test to the breaking point. So once the bridge is "tested" it's no longer any good for playing around with. The floor of the bridge is linguine noodles. We removed the linguine for the testing. In the meantime, it took a bit of time for this traffic jam to clear up.

Finally the test. We hung a bag on the bottom of the bridge, supported by an unbent paperclip and a craft stick. We weighed these. They would be part of our final test weight after all. Then we began to fill the bag with quarters. I figured that it would be easy to measure quarters. You can just weigh one and then multiply by the number of quarters in the bag, right? Just for comparison, we broke one strand of spaghetti prior to building the bridge. It took 32 pennies to break one piece of spaghetti. We moved up to quarters because I didn't think I had enough pennies to break the bridge.

 



the wood brace you see is the table brace. It has nothing to do with the bridge. The angle is just weird.

empty bag.

quarters

more quarters...

It turns out, we didn't have enough quarters. We added other change. Nickles. Pennies. Dimes. We had to add a second bag.

We ended up with this bag and a different hook. We unbent the large s-hook I'd created with the paperclip and used an industrial strength hook finally. The bridge broke eventually, but it took a long time, all the change in the house, and finally the matchbox cars.

The test-broken bridge.

This is what it took to break Caleb's spaghetti bridge. The hook on the outisde of the bowl is what we hung everything from. It was just over 8 pounds of stuff.

 

Now, I know that physics classes do this kind of thing all the time, and that there are contests out there for high school classes. I've seen balsa bridges that support 200+lbs of weight. And damn, I'm impressed by those things.

 

But I'm impressed with Caleb's spaghetti bridge and its 8 lb. test weight. The bridge weighed just over an ounce. He designed it. He built it. He tested it. I helped with the weighing and the breaking of the spaghetti and the control of the hot-glue, but I didn't alter his plans. I didn't push my agenda. We talked about architecture. We talked about geometry. We talked about physics. He read some books, and then he designed his bridge. This is Caleb's project. Even when he complained about everything involved, he still took responsibiltiy for it. And now he wants to design more. He wants to build more. He wants to try arches next time. He wants to get over a 10 lb. test on an ounce bridge. 

 

As his teacher, I'm thrilled.

As his mother, I'm proud.

As a driver, I hope that we can find more durable material than spaghetti when he makes his first real bridge.

Spaghetti Bridges (without sauce)

Why a spaghetti bridge? Why not?
Okay, actually it's a real thing. It's like the balsa wood bridges, but since everyone has spaghetti in their cupboard* it's easier to get started.

I've got a bit of a confession to make: I always thought I was bad at math. I always hated not being able to figure out math. I was okay with adding and subtracting. Multiplication and division came after awhile. Fractions sort of made sense. But algebra? Geometry? What was the point. "You'll use it someday," I was told. For what? I never got a decent answer.

 I failed many, many math tests. I never failed a class, but it wasn't for lack of trying. My senior year in high school, I took a class called Transitions to College Math. I took it Pass/No Credit. I got no credit.

But something interesting happened when I got older. I became interested in electricity and electronics. Just for fun (prior to grad school) I took  "Science of Acoustics" and a "Science of Electronics" classes at Columbia College here in Chicago. Algebra made sense when I looked at it as I=V/R or V=IR.

I asked Mom why math wasn't taught this way in high school. She told me it was because I wasn't learning math, I was learning physics.  It turns out I wasn't bad at math, I'm just much better at learning (and now teaching) when I'm not told that I'll use it "someday," but shown how I can use it now.

So that's the kind of teacher I am. Caleb has been asking about why we study geometry? He loves physics. So now, at the intersection of geometry and physics, we build spaghetti bridges and test how much force it takes to break them. We use geometric shapes and a lot of hot glue. We measure and weigh, and we try to be all science-y about it. It's a lot of fun...and I never tell him that we're just studying so that he can use some esoteric skill "someday."

As stage 1, he designed his bridge. You can kind of see his template in the photo below. That is Caleb wielding the hot glue gun. We only incurred minor injuries

Stage 2: begin construction

Trusses for bridge complete!

Stage 3: Bridge top and bottom complete



The proud bridge-builder

When this is all complete, do not--I REPEAT DO NOT LEAVE THE BRIDGE WHERE THE CATS CAN GET IT. YOU WILL REGRET IT. Cats apparently love to destroy spaghetti bridges. We learned this the hard way.

After the cats...

Part II of our bridge saga, coming soon.


**note: this will NOT work with linguine, fettuccini, manicotti, gnocchi, penne, or any kind of pasta other than spaghetti.

New Toys and More Hobbies!

I purchased a new toy for myself. This is my 10"Cricket Loom. It's a rigid heddle loom (I move the heddle by hand to create the upper and lower sheds--weaving lingo!) I thought that it would be a good way to get rid of some of my extra stash of yarn. Make scarves! Make placemats! Make belts! Make 10" widths of fabric that I can later sew together for...wider fabric!


My first piece was this lovely scarf. I like this picture because you can't see all the mistakes.

Then I made one for Hannah. She helped.

Then I found this interesting yarn hidden in my stash. It's not the sort of thing that I could knit with, and there wasn't enough to make a big project, but Hannah loves this scarf too.

I just can't seem to stop. Once I learned how to warp the loom (See? More weaving lingo!!) things began going to go sooooooo smoothly that I've gotten a little crazy. I want to get more creative, and I think I've found yet another outlet.

George says he knows it's only a matter of time until I buy a spinning wheel. How far from spinning to raising my own flock of sheep? Or goats? Or alpaca?

I told him not to worry. It's not a true obsession until I know how to do at least five different things with fiber. Right now, I just have a lot of hobbies. After all I only crochet, knit, felt, weave, sew...

Ah, crap. Too late.

In 2013

Just a few notes as we begin the new year. I've made a few resolutions...

...to appreciate my family...





...even when they're goofy...





...especially when they're goofy...

...to keep on crafting...

...to find beauty in places I go...



...and in people around me...



...to take an adventure...

...wtih friends...

...and to not lose touch with friends and their families...

...to be thrifty...

...to appreciate what I have...

...to appreciate who I am...



...to encourage the talents of those around me...



...even if they still need to clean their rooms.

Happy New Year everyone. Thanks for reading this blog. I'm also resolving to write more in 2013 in addition to all of the resolutions above. Cross your fingers that I'll keep that one!

 

(By the way, I've also resolved to lose 20 pounds, but who hasn't?)

I'm Dreaming of a Muddy Christmas

For the past several years the kids and I have made paper snowflakes and posted them in the windows. We made some stringers of hanging stars out of pretty paper, and the snowflakes used really fancy oragami paper that I was supposed to actually use for oragami, but I never had the patience.

These snowflakes are starting to show their age though, and they will have to be remade or replaced soon.

We have never really decorated the outside of our house. I'm not anti-Christmas spirit. I've just always concentrated on the inside of my house. To be specific, I've decorated the living room. That's about it. Sometimes we put things up in the dining room, or the kitchen. Inevitably, I recognize that I've forgotten to put these decorations away some time around my birthday (March.)

So this year, I've gone the extra mile. I got gel clingy snowflakes in bright blue and white colors for the windows. We got lights for the outside of the house. Not many. There's a stringer around the eaves and some dangly stars by the front door, and some snow flakes on stakes in front. Why now? Well, I've found solar powered lights. I don't have to plug in, and my never-ending quest to lower our electricity bill is still on track.

Unfortunately, the world is fighting against me every step of the way.

The kittens discovered the gel cling snowflakes. We are finding pieces of clingy gel all over the house. I put the clings into the high upper panes of the windows--the ones you can't even see if you're looking at the outside of the house--and stretchy cats are reaching up and pulling them down. They are playing with the sticky snowflakes. They have discovered that these cute little floppy toys will stick to anything, and everything will stick to them. The kittens have lost many under the furniture, and as a consequence I have discovered that I really need to dust under my furniture  I will probably find gel cling in their literbox for many weeks to come.

We're expecting the sod any minute now...

We have part of our front lawn dug up by the gas company. They're supposed to re-sod soon (December? Seriously?) but until they do, I'm not putting out anything on stakes. So much for the standie snowflakes.

Nature is doing her part by making sure we never see the sun. Did I mention that all of my lights are solar lights?  To be completely fair, we get a pretty good charge on the solar panels for the hanging stars, they'll stay lit all night. Those came with a special note saying that the solar cell is so advanced, the lights will even charge on cloudy days (gotta love UV.)  However, the same note wasn't included int the stringer that I bought for our eaves. Apparently, it uses older technology and a less advanced solar cell. We get about three to five hours of light out of the stringer. Seeing as we're averaging sixteen hours of darkness these days, it's not much.


See the stringer? See the grey skies? We'll get about three hours of light today.

I can't wait until Christmas next year. I might be able to see my lights. In the meantime, the kids and I are going to cut out some paper snowflakes and watch the new sod turn rotten and brown in the cold weather.

Dear People's Gas- WHO THE HELL PUTS DOWN SOD IN DECEMBER??????



Thank Heavens for neighbors who don't mind big electric bills.