Reasons Like Seasons

Apparently,  I need to cook pasta by the package now. When I picked Ian (10) up from day camp, they said he had eaten Ramen, two corn dogs, and an otter pop. Evan (6) had an otter pop and a quesadilla. This was not sufficient for their sustenance. Immediately upon arrival home, they asked for more food. Both got seaweed and watermelon. More food was requested. Ian got pita chips with hummus. All was well in the world. An hour later, they were hungry. I cooked half a box of pasta. Evan got noodles and sausage; I thought Ian had had enough so I prepared the rest of the pasta with turkey meatballs and tomato sauce. Ian was still hungry. Ian ate my dinner. Now, I can cook more pasta or eat chips for dinner. I'll leave that up to you to decide which option I chose. May you and yours be well or better.

When my alarm went off this morning, I set the timer for ten more minutes. Five minutes is enough time to get ready to work, right? I made it work. Checked some email, had a meeting. Taught my Live Lesson on monetary policy. It was as exciting as it sounds. Boys woke up toward the end of my lesson, but were quiet enough that nobody noticed. After my lesson, I got them all dressed and ready for camp, but Evan (6) was complaining that he hadn't had enough screen time. Ian (10) convinced him to walk with his tablet to school, so I hoped that was good enough. It wasn't. About half way along the four minute walk to school, Evan runs into the ivy and cries that he didn't have enough screen time, so he couldn't go to school. It got worse from there. He yelled a lot; I pulled the tablet from his clutching hands and said that if he wouldn't go to camp, there would be no screen time. He complained. He lost his shoe. He threw his shoe farther into the ivy and I had to retrieve...

7:25 pm Matt walks into the dining room from the boys room. "Ian says he hasn't eaten diner and is hungry," he says. I reply, "Ian has eaten five sandwiches. Two turkey, three ham. How can he possibly still be hungry?" Matt walks back to the boys' room, then returns. "Ian said that wasn't dinner and that he wants dinner." The mind reels. "I made noodles for dinner. They weren't that good. Don't tell him that. He can have them with tomato sauce, butter, or soy sauce." Matt walks back to the boys' room, then returns. "He said he wants butter and tomato sauce." I make a face indicating severe aversion to this course of action. "Maybe only tomato sauce, then?" "I think I can do that," is my answer. Get noodles. Get sauce. Throw both in sauce pan. Heat. Test for warmth. Put contents on plate. "Matt, will you tell Ian that he has to eat at the table because the sauce is too messy to eat on the ...

A couple of days ago, Matt was checking the credit card charges and it came to our attention that Ian had charged a bunch of money on Switch games. It never came to my attention exactly how much was a lot. We took away the Switch for a couple of days. Problem solved.  Today, he wanted to join the fan club of a YouTuber. It is a dollar a month. He gets extra access to promotional videos and some other assorted YouTube stuff that doesn't matter to me because I'm not ten. He wants it; I have a solution. Minimum wage in California is 12 dollars an hour. He wants 12 dollars; I want one hour of work. One hour of typing club will do the trick. To put it lightly, Ian finds this unreasonable. I am unwilling to bend. He wants money; I want work. Work that helps him be a more productive human, all the better. He has no recommendations for alternative plans. In the process of him rejecting my plan, he lets it slip that he spent 700 DOLLARS on video games. 700 dollars. I am floored. I thoug...

Evan, 6, is the cuddle master. He will throw down, any time, to get some Mommy cuddles on the sly. Ian, 10, is subtler, he will take a hand on his shoulder, hold a hand, and be satisfied. Two little people cannot be less the same. Evan will fetch his own food. Hungry for snacks, he will find cookies or yogurt or pita chips. Yes, he will also leave the remains all over the bedroom, but at least he takes the initiative to feed himself. 10 is a different monster. 10 is the type to spend all day in bed in his underwear. He rather call my name 10,000 times then fetch his own glass of water. YouTube cannot be abandoned long enough to fetch one's own snacks. Complaints will continue until Mom collects some calories. Now, tiny man wants chips and chili and bigger man wants a litany of foods I don't have. Someone may emerge from this happy. It is unlikely to be me. May you and yours be well or better.

Mr. Six and I are at odds. We both love bubbles, but for contrasting reasons. I see beautiful, transient beings, floating innocently on the wind. He sees enemy fighters, waiting to be destroyed. There is clearly no middle ground. I have the bubble wand, and dip in gently in the bubble solution. With the wind just right, I can blow giant bubbles, twisting here, then there, to publish giant bubbles the size of basket balls into the blue air. Evan, Intent on domination, slices through them with his wand. I cry inside, a little, at the beauty destroyed. He laughs and asks for more.