Month: June 2009

Howard’s office is nearly done.

By / June 6, 2009

It looks like Howard’s office will be done within then next hour or so. This will be a great relief. As home improvement projects go this one has been relatively painless. True we’ve been tripping over extra furniture, and tracking plaster dust constantly, and the job took four full days rather than just three, but compared with the many construction horror stories I’ve heard, this one was simple. It was certainly better than attempting to do the job ourselves. We simply don’t have access to the array of power tools that the contractor hauled in and out of our house. Nor do we have the years of experience that make the job routine rather than a learning adventure. Some day we may venture into the realms of do-it-yourself home renovation, but for now I’m glad to just contribute to the economy by paying someone more capable to do the work. I’ll be even gladder when we can get Howard moved in and our family schedule can return tonormal.

At the end of Chaos Week

By / June 5, 2009

I am by nature an organizer of things. I am not so good at maintaining the things that I have organized, but the organization itself is very satisfying. I have reached the end of the first week of summer and while my intended schedule has not fallen apart completely, it is definitely not quite the same as it was on Monday. I am choosing to blame this fact on the general air of chaos which always attends a home remodeling project. Furniture is out of place and there is a fine layer of plaster dust all over everything. At least the scent of fresh paint from the office tells me that the project is drawing to a close. It should be complete tomorrow. Then I can organize things again. All of Howard’s stuff can be removed from the playing spaces. All of the dust and detritus can be cleaned up. Even better, today Janci and I organized all of the postage and boxes and merchandise for Monday’s shipping event. Soon all of that stuff will leave my house forever. I hope that the creation of order in my house will help with the creation of order in my mind, because this counting down the days until the kids go back to school is not a healthy mental place to be. I need to find ways for all of us to enjoy this time we are in. I need to find enjoyment in each day as it passes. I need to not let the stresses obscure the happinesses.

Swimming with the Taylers

By / June 4, 2009

“Time for swim lessons!”
The call produces instant action from Link, Gleek, and Patch. They all run for their swimsuits. Four days in, swimming is still exciting and new. Will they be laggard and whining by week six, or will they still scramble into their swimsuits at the mere mention of lessons? Only hindsight will tell me if six weeks of daily lessons were a good idea or a bad mistake. The climb into the car is peaceful. We’ve already weathered seating negotiations. The result is a complex schedule of who gets to sit where for which part of the trip and on which days. Fortunately I only had to help negotiate. The kids track the schedule themselves.

Link has the front seat today. This means the trip is mostly quiet. When Gleek has the front seat, I am called upon to acknowledge her observations about the world and answer her questions about how things work. She does not ask simple questions and I frequently find myself mired trying to explain the intricacies of such things as credit cards and payday loans. I am glad that Gleek is so interested in everything, but it is far more relaxing to ride in silence with Link next to me.

The kids always dash ahead of me to the pool building. They run along the top of the low wall next to the sidewalk. My repeated injunctions to walk only slow their feet for moments. The pool beckons and they can’t go slow. Excpet for Patch. He likes to walk next to me. Sometimes he even holds my hand. Gleek is handed off to her teacher and the boys accompany me to the observation deck. I could have registered them all to attend during the same half hour, but I staggered the lessons deliberately. Link and Gleek are in the same swim level and I did not think it would promote familial harmony to have 11-year-old Link out performed by his physically precocious 8-year-old sister. With them in separate classes the comparisons are obscured and they can simply try their best.

During the half hour that Gleek is swimming, the boys and I read. Link has his own book. He’s read it before, but he likes it. If he doesn’t want to read, he’ll simply put it down and watch quietly. Patch sits next to me and we do a lesson out of the big yellow reading book. Each lesson has him practicing letter sounds, blending words, and reading a little story. We’re about halfway through the 100 lessons even though we started it last summer. I was not as diligent with helping Patch practice as I intended to be. But here we are at swim lessons with nothing else to do for 30 minutes. We might get through the rest of the book before the end of the six weeks. Sometimes Patch is eager and willing to do the reading. Today he slumps. He’d rather walk along the benches. We muddle through anyway and reading practice is done.

It is time to go retrieve Gleek and drop off the boys. The boys like this moment. Gleek does not. She does not want to get out of the water. I beckon her with my finger and start counting down from five on one hand. She swishes and dips one more time, but makes sure that she is out of the pool by the time my last finger disappears into a fist. We had a very thorough discussion about the consequences of not getting out of the water when swim time is over and Gleek does not want to lose tomorrow’s swim lesson. Each day she pushes on the rules a new way and we have further discussions about what is acceptable and what is not. It is not that she wants to disobey, it is just that her love for water is almost stronger. Fortunately she is headed for the water of the showers so that eases the pain of leaving the pool.

We spend the entire 30 minutes of the boy’s lessons in the locker room. Gleek showers and splashes endlessly. Other than interrupting to make her use shampoo and conditioner, I just let her play. At first the room is busy, full of other mothers showering their children and leaving. After they are gone it is just Gleek and me. Letting her play in the shower is far better than taking her up to the observation deck where she would fight boredom by making friends with other kids and encouraging them all to run with her along the benches like hoodlums. It is also better than endless circular discussions about how she wants to get back into the pool and why we can’t let her. So she splashes and I sit down. Today I write, but some days I just let my brain wander. It is a peaceful few minutes and I know what will come next.

The kids are always cranky after swim lessons. They’ve had fun, but they wanted more. They’re a little cold and definitely hungry. It is lunch time. Today Link is a little shaken because his teacher tried to get him to dive off the side of the pool. The thought is scary to him. I know that he’ll get used to it, but he won’t believe that today, so I don’t bother to say it. I just give him a hug around his shoulders and let him hold my arm as we walk to the car. Gleek has the front seat on the way home. She is holding a little yellow and green squeaky ball that she found in the parking lot. In Gleek’s hands this little balls has acquired an entire personailty and a gender. The ball is female. Gleek keeps squeezing. To her ears the various squeaks convey meanings and express moods. “See she’s sad. She didn’t like the chlorine.” The sounds just pierce my ear drums in the confined space of the car. It takes three increasingly grouchy orders to get Gleek to put the ball away.

We pull into the driveway and I say the standard entreaty that they change and hang up their swimsuits before coming to lunch. “We know!” they answer back grouchily. But on the days I don’t say the words, they forget. So I say them and get grouched at. It is a long term mystery to me why my kids will linger in the car upon our arrival home. I stop the car, get out, open the sliding door and they just sit. It is an irremovable safety drill in my brain that I must usher all the kids out of the car, lock the car, and get them all into the house. So I stand there and wait impatiently. I don’t want to stand in the rain, or the sun, or the cold while they decide that maybe they’d like to go inside. So I coax, or harangue, until they move. We then are treated to door slamming and arguments while three kids, of two genders, try to change and hang up swimsuits in one bathroom. Peace is only restored once they begin eating.

We’ve survived another day of swim lessons. Tomorrow we get to do it again.

Assembling Schlock boxed sets

By / July 8, 2011

Today was our day to finish assembling boxed sets in preparation for Monday’s shipping. It was also the day that the contractor arrived to deconstruct Howard’s office, but that is a tale for a different post. It did make for a chaotic day with boxes of books being shuffled around at the same time that large rolls of carpet and broken sheet rock were being hauled out. As with last time, the book assembly line began with Howard signing books.


This time all of the kids were home and they all wanted to help. They were particularly excited about helping once they realized that mom was willing to pay by the hour. I carried boxes in from the garage. Kiki helped un-box books and shuffle piles around. Gleek helped Janci slide books into boxes. Patch and Link pulled slipcases out of boxes and gathered up the garbage that Kiki and I were throwing around.


The quantity of garbage was pretty impressive before we were done.

Then Gleek, Patch, Link and I had to head out for swimming lessons. We left Howard, Kiki, and Janci working. They finished off all the book signing. We returned with lunch and the work shifted over into shrink wrapping. Both the shrink wrapping and set assembly were complicated by the fact that we were working on the sketched box sets. This means that each boxed set included a sketched Scrapyard of Insufferable Arrogance. We had to make sure that the outside of the box sets indicated which sketch was included inside. Post-it notes were very useful in helping us keep track. We used a wrapper to surround the boxes with plastic an seal the plastic. Then a heat gun is used to shrink the plastic to fit.


The heat gun was unquestionably the coolest part of the process. The kids all wanted a turn, except Link who was more interested in the game he was creating on the floor of his bedroom. Kiki and Gleek traded off for awhile. Then Patch took a turn. We supervised pretty carefully, but Patch still burned his finger. Kiki took over the wrapping while Howard and I helped Patch. Gleek was then queen of the heat gun and got really good and making the plastic beautiful and smooth.


Howard took a turn with the heat gun too. Here he takes aim at Schlock, who is taking aim at something else.

It was 4 pm before the work was done, a solid 7 hour day. At one point Kiki looked around and said “This really puts meaning into the term Family Business.” And it does. Having the kids working was sometimes helpful and often chaotic. I spent as much time hovering as I did working, but I think it was really good for the kids to be a part of this process. Now they can look at box sets and know that they had a part in making that shiny shrink wrapped package.

Building a summer schedule

By / June 2, 2009

Strike a pose. Then hold that pose for 5 minutes. It is likely that some part of your body will become fatigued or uncomfortable before the five minutes are over. Not only that, but you will likely have shifted your position. The hand that was at shoulder height somehow drifted downward and the bent knee is straighter than when you began. This is something like the experience of creating a family schedule out of nothing. I decide exactly when meals will be, when friends are allowed in the house, when work will be done, when kids must go to bed, etc. I lay it all out in a list and it looks great. But as I start to implement it, I find that getting out of bed on time is hard when I know that no one will notice if I let everyone sleep just a few minutes more. In fact they’ll complain if I make them get up, but not if I let them sleep. So breakfast slides later into the day, and sometimes lunch gets missed entirely, and I decide not to interrupt the quiet play to make the kids do work. Bit by bit the schedule falls apart.

I’ve learned a lot about building schedules out of nothing. I’ve learned not to build the equivalent of a pose where you hold a hammer out at arms length. Instead I build a schedule that keeps both feet flat on the floor and if possible involves sturdy props that I can use to support weight and promote balance. This summer my external prop is swim lessons. I’ve scheduled six weeks of them. They run from 11 to noon and provide an immovable break in the middle of the day. The morning is given over to work and the afternoon is much more free-form. To provide additional structure in the mornings, I’ve created a chart and sets of lists so that the kids know exactly what is required of them before they are allowed video games or friends. This schedule is also planned around the fact that Howard generally works at home in the mornings and at Dragon’s Keep in the afternoons. The mornings will be quieter to facilitate him working. The afternoons can be noisier when it will not bother him.

After two days I can already see where the strains of the new schedule will be. Or at least I think I can. It is hard to tell because this week is far from routine. We’ve got the garage full of books and the entire contents of Howard’s office crammed into the family room. Right now the biggest problem with the schedule is a significant lack of uninterrupted time for me. Also, I don’t have much alone space either. This is particularly true with Howard evicted from his office. He wanders about the house at loose ends. I like that he is available to talk more, except when I’m trying to hide from people and recuperate. I think these issues will be much less significant once we get Howard moved back into his space and the books shipped off to customers. Then I’ll have time to figure out how to get me out of the house often enough to keep me from going completely stir crazy.

It helps that our summer is pre-sprinkled with events to keep kids busy. Girls’ camp, scout camp, pioneer trek, space camp, cousin visits, a family reunion, and the trip to Worldcon will provide sufficient interest. Even better, most of these activities are already paid for by fund raising activities that the kids participated in over the last few months. Add in a few day trips and we’ve got the family schedule taken care of. Fortunately most of these activities leave a big empty space in the middle of July, which is right when we expect XDM to arrive. Every thing is lined up to work out fine. I just need to get through this next week of disorganization. Fortunately for me, I’m allowed to shift things around if the pose schedule is getting too tiring.

How I spent my summer vacation: Day One

By / June 1, 2009

I’m too tired to form today into a story, so I’m throwing the thoughts from my head into this entry in the hopes that then my head will have more space in it.

One day of summer schedule down, 79 days to go. I never wanted to be the mom who moans and groans about summer. I wanted to be the mom who is delighted to have her kids at home so that she can plan bajillions of cool outings and activities. But the truth is, while outings and activities are fun, they are also exhausting. If I plan too many, I quickly wear out and turn very cranky. The kids get cranky too. And we’re all introverts who function best if we have time alone. Time alone is in very short supply when we’re all in the house all day long. I’ve grown accustomed to having several hours each week day when I remove the mom hat completely so that I can focus on other things. Today felt like an unending stream of interruptions.

The schedule went well. I know that it did. But the first day of a new schedule is always exhausting. We started our day at 8 am with a breakfast that half the kids didn’t want to eat. Then I posted the individualized chore lists and announced that breakfast to lunch was a no-video-game zone. But if they finished their chores in the morning they could video game and play with friends in the afternoon. Gleek plowed her way through the chores as something to do while she waited for swim lessons. Link and Patch spent the entire day playing quietly in their room. Neither of them did their chores. They’ll be surprised tomorrow to discover that the chores are cumulative. Eventually they’ll want video games and friends enough to do the work. Swim lessons worked as planned.

I guess the hardest bit of the day was getting to the afternoon and realizing that I had to find the energy to begin emptying Howard’s office. The contractor will be showing up first thing Wednesday to remove closet walls, plaster, paint and refloor. It will take more than one day. Emptying Howard’s office is tiring because of all the thinking. I’m trying to sort as I go so that the only things that go back into his office are the ones that really belong there. I’ve already hauled away much garbage. Some things have been handed over to kids. Some things are to be given away/donated. And some things are for keeping. Tomorrow is the big move-out day.

On Sunday I attended the pre-funeral viewing for a step-uncle. I did not know him well, so I did not have my own grieving to do, but I knew that he made my aunt very happy for the five years they were married. His death was sudden and unexpected. I was there for her because I love her and wanted her to know that I cared enough to come. The event was strangely like a family reunion. It was full of Utah relatives that I’ve not seen in years. People would come up to me, hug me, and know exactly who I was, but I had not a clue about them or how they were related to me. Even people I did know well when I was younger had been altered by the decade that has passed since I last saw them. And there was this pervasive sense of guilt, not from anyone else only inside my own head. I don’t live far away from any of these relatives, and yet I don’t make time to visit with them. Of course I’m not too good about getting together with local siblings either, so perhaps I shouldn’t feel bad about neglecting uncles, aunts, and cousins. The big family reunion is at the end of the month, we’ll swing by then and catch up I guess.