Sandra Tayler

The Shower

By / January 22, 2005 / 4 Comments

Patches had an unpleasant dose of reality this evening. It began when Kiki and Gleek decided to shower together instead of separately. The shrieks and giggles (and splashes and puddles) from the bathroom convinced Patches that “Shower” was the coolest thing going this evening. So when the girls got out and I sent Link in for his shower, Patches was right on his heels to participate in the fun. I helped Patches undress amid giggles and joyful cries of “Show-a”. Then he took one step into the shower and under the stream of water. Water-in-the-face is cause for major Patches sadness these days. He never used to mind and in fact used to shower with me very happily. I don’t know what changed, but somehow Patches remembered “Show-a” as a happy-fun place and completely forgot the water part. Tears ensued. Many tears. I rescued him from his terror-frozen position in the water stream and wrapped him in a towel. He was angry with me for removing him and cried “Show-a!”, but when I offered to let him get back in, he didn’t want anything to do with that watery chamber of fear. For the next 15 minutes while I dried him off and dressed him Patches continued to cry for the lost joys of “Show-a” and the way it betrayed him. Fortunately a snack, a story, and a bedtime made everything better.

Kids in public

By / January 22, 2005 / 5 Comments

Taking Gleek and Patches to public places is an exercise in balancing disturbances. Every minute I have to balace the disturbance caused by a particular behavior with the disturbance caused by attempting to quell a particular behavior. I never have the option to cause no disturbance. No wonder I opt to stay home from things so often.

Educational thoughts

By / January 21, 2005 / 20 Comments

Today my sister wrote a journal entry lamenting the abuse of literature by trying to teach it to high school students who are woefully incapable of comprehending it. I responded to her post and I want to copy/paste my response here because it addresses some thoughts I’ve had on education recently. The response:

I did study literature in college fairly extensively. I remember reading an essay about exactly what you just described. It cataloged how The Lord of the Flies was first analysed at a phd level and then masters, then undergraduate, and then high school. It got stuck at high school because it had reached near incomprehensibility to the students.

The goal of teaching literature to high school students is supposed to stretch their capabilities. I agree that stretching leads to growth, but I frequently wonder if we are stretching too hard too fast. No matter how many times you walk a child around the room holding on to your fingers, he isn’t going to walk by himself until he is developmentally ready to do so. Lots of parents around here lament the fact that the schools aren’t teaching enough. Kids should know MORE by fourth grade. They should know this, they should know that, why isn’t more history taught? Why haven’t they memorized the 50 states yet? My kid knows the original 13 colonies in first grade! I listen to all of this and feel like they’ve made education into some kind of a race.

Education is not a race. Education should be a process. The most important thing my kids learn from school is how to learn. They need basic reading skills, basic math skills, basic history for reference, and then they need to learn how to use a library. If they learn that, then ANYTHING they want to know they can go and find out by themselves. This is why my kids remain in public school rather than private school or a charter school. I do want them to go to college, but I don’t need it to be Harvard, the local community college is just fine with me. (And cheaper!)

When I was little I remember watching the olympic gymnastics competition. We always got totally beaten by the team from the USSR because they would snatch young girls and make them live nothing but gymnastics for 10 years. The Japanese and Chinese teams had the same sort of intense focus. I remember hearing adults lament the loss of childhood that represented. Now as an adult I watch my neighbors running their kids to soccer and piano and dance and gymnastics and karate and then to a special charter school which they deem to be sufficiently academic. I watch all this and I wonder if America is becoming what we once mourned over. Where is the time for kids to play?

That strayed far from a discussion of literature. Sorry, I’ll get off my soap box now.

Gleek again

By / January 19, 2005 / 3 Comments

Today I had lunch with Gleek and Howard. The three of us were having a conversation about why we can’t own a horse. It is the second or third time through this topic with Gleek, but probably not the last. During the discussion Gleek made a discovery. She looked at her daddy, grinned, and said “Horse poop!” She was so gleefully taunting with this semi-forbidden word that Howard busted out laughing. Then I couldn’t help but laugh because both of them were laughing. Anytime the laughing neared a pause Gleek would delightedly start it again. “Bird poop!” “Horse poop!” “Macaroni Poop!” “Poop!” Howard could not stop laughing and he was so funny that I couldn’t either. So rather than being responsible parents and quelling the potty talk at the table we all laughed until we nearly cried. Towards the end I managed to work out the words “Howard, this is your fault! She’s YOUR daughter!”

I love being able to laugh over lunch, but I’m going to be living with the consequent potty fascination for weeks.

Gleek

By / January 18, 2005 / 8 Comments

Typical Conversation with Gleek:

Gleek: “Mom! I want fudge!”
Me: (Insert short explaination why there will be no fudge)
Gleek: “But I want fugde!”
M: (Insert slightly longer explaination)
G: “I want fudge!”
M: “I just answered that. What did I say?”
G: “I want fudge!”
M: (frustrated now) No.
G: (turns on the cute) “Please”
M: “No.”
G: “Please!”
M: “No.”
G: “Fudge!”
M: “No!”
G: “FUDGE!”
M: “NO!”
And from there it devolves into tantrums with kicking and screaming because I usually get up and walk away from her. It’s either that or get so mad I’m in danger of hitting.

Sometimes the conversation is about baths, or candy, or painting, or swimming. Whatever it is, I know that head on confrontation never works on Gleek. You have to come around from the side and steer her onto a new track. She’ll happily stampede off in the new direction, but I get so tired of herding and coaxing. I get so tired of arguing.

I know that Gleek gets away with far more things than she should. She just wears me out so that I haven’t the energy to supervise the way that I should. Today at her gym class I realized that another mom was removing her daughter from Gleek who had hit, pinched, and yelled. As I walked to require an appology from Gleek, I realized that I’d actually heard the beginning of the conflict. It had completely failed to register as something I needed to take care of. Complete mommy radar failure. This is seriously bad because I rely on my mommy radar lots and now I have to do a systems check to make sure nothing is broken. I suspect system fatigue that a little down time will solve. Now I just need to find this mythical “down time” that I’ve heard so much about.

Most of the challenges in Gleek’s behavior are because she is three. She’ll grow out of it. Until she does my job is to make sure she doesn’t injure herself or others. I try, but today I failed. I fail more often than I should. I know other parents dread the arrival of my little hooligan because she regularly does things that makes other parents gasp in fear. I don’t gasp because it’s the fortieth time she’s done that particular thing. Today. I can’t survive in red alert mode, but I’m failing to do enough.

Raisins.

By / January 16, 2005 / 3 Comments

Church is an ordeal when toddlers are involved. They don’t understand the meeting and they have a hard time sitting quietly for any length of time. As typical LDS parents, Howard and I try to ease the difficulty with toys and small snacks. In Patches case they are Hot Wheels cars and Cheerios or raisins. Today Patches had a little pile of raisins and a red convertible car. I watched him drive the car up to the pile of raisins. He then carefully put a raisin in the driver’s seat and a second into the passenger seat. The car then drove around in a circle with accompanying “vrrrrooooom” noises. The drive terminated at Patches where he pulled the raisins out of the car and ate them. Then the car returned to the raisin pile for a repeat of the process. It was a wonderfully quiet and time-consuming process. But I couldn’t help but feel sorry for all those little raisin passengers each waiting for their thrill-ride to consumption.

Memories of people

By / January 14, 2005 / 17 Comments

Approximately 20 years ago my two-years-older brother came home from middle school with a new friend in tow. The friend’s name was Andy, and all personalities considered, it was probably Andy towing my brother because in Andy’s wake came a whole crowd of new friends, Casey and Jeff being the most prominent of the crowd. This influx of teenage boys added a whole new dimension to life at our house. It was kind of like having a noisy forest with elephant feet move in. (They were all so TALL).

It was all fun and games for the first year or so. I got to be the tag-along sister and join the fun. Then puberty hit. I’m not sure whether it hit me or them, but it hit pretty hard and the relationships got a little more . . . complicated. I couldn’t easily be the tag-along sister anymore because we all became very aware that they were a crowd of boys and I . . . wasn’t. My mature and reasoned response to the new complexity in relationships was along the lines of “AIEEEEE RUN AWAY!” So I started hiding in my room a lot. This meant I missed out on night time laser tag in the backyard, making a movie about a remote controlled robot, creating a role playing game called Exploration, and a host of other fun geekish activities. I would have loved playing the games, but to my loss, I simply wasn’t mature enough to handle the relationships.

When the herd of boys two-years-ahead graduated they pretty much disappeared from my life. I’ve thought of them occasionally, but never with the intent to look them up because in my mind they were complicated people to know. Somehow I never took into account that we’ve all grown up somewhat in the last 20 years. Then a couple of days ago Casey popped up in my Live Journal as Deyo and pointed me at Andy’s webcomic Casey & Andy. http://www.galactanet.com/comic/index.htm It’s a surprisingly addictive strip. I read one and thought “eh” then another and another and then I found myself smiling, then laughing out loud.

Suddenly I was forced to re-evaluate because I realized that “That herd of boys” would all fit in wonderfully with the online crowd I now hang out with. In fact they’ve already been fitting in wonderfully for quite awhile without me even knowing it. Apparently they’ve been Schlock fans for years and just figured out who Howard Tayler’s wife is.

I guess the point of this whole meander through memory lane is to say Hi Casey! Hi Andy! I’m glad to know you again!

Many Thanks

By / January 13, 2005 / 7 Comments

Two days ago I filled up my amazon wish list. Today it is nigh empty. I’ve got somewhere in the range of 20 packages coming. My mailman is going to hate me.

It seems unbelievable that so many people I’ve never met would send me stuff. . . . and yet it isn’t. The schlockers that I have met both online and in person have been wonderful, kind people. In less than 24 hours they changed my upcoming birthday from the smallest birthday ever, into the biggest birthday ever. I was prepared to be happy with a homemade birthday cake and my kids singing to me. (out of tune) Instead I get gifts, and more important that the gifts themselves is the evidence that there are lots of people out there who are rooting for the success of our “living on cartooning” endeavor.

“Thank You” doesn’t seem to say enough, but they’re the only words I have.

Open lettering of the list

By / January 12, 2005 / 9 Comments

Howard Open Lettered my upcoming birthday and amazon wish list. I have mixed feelings.

Yay! Maybe someone will send me something! I need to go add stuff to the list!

But I don’t really NEED anything.

Awww. Howard LOVES me!

Why should Howard’s fans send stuff to me? They should save their money for HIS birthday next month.

Should we really be begging for birthday presents?

All these thoughts and others roll around in my brain changing places and vying for supremacy. Howard tells me that already some people have ordered stuff. So instead of being a really small birthday it may be largish. I’m already feeling touched and grateful. I think the best gift of all is the tangible evidence that there are people out there who care enough about Howard and I to spend their time/effort/money on us.

The best “Thank You” I can think of is to continue to do all I can to make Schlock keep happening.

Being Sandra

By / January 11, 2005 / 9 Comments

This morning Howard was browsing my wish list at Amazon, apparently pondering what to get for my birthday at the end of the month. He turned to me and said “Honey, none of the stuff on this list is for you!” My first response was “Of course it is!” Then I went and looked, and it wasn’t. The list was full of things that I’d be happy to have for the kids, but not an item on it was just for me. I’ve fixed that now. I left on all the kid stuff because it’s a convenient place to point relatives when kid’s birthdays are drawing near, but I added a bunch of stuff that is just for me. Or at least primarily for me. With money so tight I don’t expect to actually be able to get any of the items on that list anytime soon, but maintaining it is a small exercise in being Sandra without also being Mommy.

In the spirit of “Sandra Time” on Friday I plan to ditch Gleek and Patches at their Aunt’s house (Kiki & Link will be at school) while I go and see the movie Phantom of the Opera. I got to see the play a dozen years ago in LA and I’ve listened to the CD set many times, so I knew it was a movie that I wanted to see. I really want to see it on big screen with big sound so I’m splurging $4 on an earlybird matinee and calling it an early birthday present to myself.