How to Get Your Seven-year-old to Straighten Up Your House

"Do you want to play a game with me?" I asked him.

"What game?"

"Whoever picks up the most things wins.  Every crayon, sock, book, toy, or whatever, counts as one thing.  You have to put everything where it belongs.  You can't take anything away from someone else.  We'll set the timer for 15 minutes.  Whoever wins gets to choose the treat that we'll eat together.  Ready, set, here goes the timer."

We raced around the house putting away crayons, toys, papers, and shoes.  We cleared off counters, couches, and table tops.  It's amazing how much you can get done in a very short time when people are working together.  He picked up 453 things-- even things that weren't his.  His sister picked up 452 things.  ( I thanked her for letting him win. ;) ) I picked up 169 things.  I think.  But I lost count.  :)  Our house was very cluttered.  He won; he chose popcorn balls for our treat.

We'll definitely try this again.  We had no whining and no complaining about not being responsible for any of the mess.  Everybody wanted to play.  I've learned sometimes it helps to change the strategy and make work fun.

Driveway Snow Art

Conditions were good for driveway art again.  This time, we put the spray bottles in the freezer for half an hour.  The nozzles froze, so we washed them in warm water before they would work. 

Missing Grandpa

This is a cropped version of my computer screen's background right now (minus three little siblings).  It makes me happy.  I was probably fourteen or fifteen at the time.  I miss Grandpa.  I miss having him around to believe in me even when I don't believe in myself, to tell me to not give up, to help me see it's not too late. 

I've been struggling since I got my grade back from my cycling essay a week ago.  The grade was good (most people would be perfectly content with a low A-) but I reacted negatively to my teacher's comments-- especially the part where he called me "Denise."  Surely he could have scrolled up a page or two and seen my name.  I wrote a very emotive, negative blog post about it using his full name, picture, and everything, but deleted it.  Just after posting, I read about how putting negative stuff on the Internet is living "small."  I want to live BIG.  I want to invite the positive into my life.  I don't want to seem vindictive or victimized.  I'm sure the teacher must have felt rushed... or something.  I didn't have to take the things he said so personally. 

It's difficult when you put your everything into something and parts are misinterpreted.  I'm nothing but a name on paper to him and he even got that wrong.  I can take constructive criticism, but some of what he said just seemed mean.  It makes it difficult to want to keep writing.  Ah, the victim resurfaces. 

I feel better today.  I watched a TV interview with one of my favorite authors, Laini Taylor, and she gave me hope again.  I've blogged about her before on my private blog.  She described her writing process in the interview as being like swimming to buoys.  She's a perfectionist like me, so each time she finishes writing part of something, it's hard for her to let go of a buoy and swim to the next one.  But she does let go.  She keeps swimming.  She doesn't give up.  In her twenties, she went to art school and learned how to finish things.  I'm so glad people like her show up in the world.

And I still miss Grandpa.

Sun and Icicles

This morning, the sunlight shining through the air bubbles in the icicles caught my attention.  Without the sun, this shot looks like a dreadlocked beard.

I love the sky-colored snow early before the sun comes up.  The whole world looks blue and gradually lightens to white.  Beautiful.

Snow Painting

We tried food coloring and water in spray bottles.  When my sister did this with her family, they used packages of Kool-aid and added half the water.  Theirs turned out better, brighter.  We'll try more food coloring next time.  It was fun-- like making giant, pretty snow cones.

The Icicles are Back

My eleven-year-old daughter made this snowflake months ago.  I like the icicles behind it.  Winter is growing on me.

Reflecting and Writing

I rocked and sang all five of them to sleep when they were babies.  I held them when they cried.  I played with them and helped them learn to walk.  Four are my own children.  One is my brother, youngest of nine, soon to be married.  All of them have grown, are growing and changing.  Two of them are too far away.  Here they are last summer on the edge of Little Sahara Sand Dunes-- a place of jumping, flying, space, stars, and powerful memories. 

I'm working on four mini-essays, descriptive scenes for my class.  One scene is about the color blue and my experience diving from the side of a boat into the ocean off the coast of Acapulco.  One is about how my parents met, their first date seeing a Shakespeare play on Valentine's Day.  One is about my favorite season-- fall-- focusing on the Golden Harvest Festival with its bearded dulcimer player, apple cider, hot donuts, and free canoeing on Beaver Lake.  One is about desert spaces like the sand dunes at night-- wild, vast, open, and not at all empty.