Last night, as we were winding down from the Halloween events, Tate told us that he never wanted 2010 to end.
He likes being 12, October is great, December is coming, it's his favortite time of the year.
Then he throws out that he likes numbers divisible by 3.
"Um, Tate," I say, "2010 is NOT divisible by 3." I'm so sure I'm right because in my trick-or-treated out head, 201 is not divisible by 3 and so neither is 2010. He starts to argue with me. But he's tired too, so he just goes to bed.
Cyndie was thinking, we probably shouldn't argue with Tate on this issue... it's proven to be frutiless--and embarrasing--in the past.
So today after church, Tate grabs the calculator and types in 2010, shows it to me, hits divide by and then 3... equals 670! He's right. OK, so maybe I'll be smarter next time. But probably not.
Showing posts with label gratitude. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gratitude. Show all posts
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Saturday, August 21, 2010
OmaHeck: How Did You Find Me?
Tate is officially in Jr High. For all the frantic worrying (by his mom, not so much by me, and especially not by Tate), day 1 went off without a hitch... mostly.
Day 1 is for 7th graders only. Get 'em in the school and herd 'em from class to class without the 8th and 9th graders owning the halls. Makes sense. We did a dry run at back to school night on Wednesday. Did you know that Jr High has a distinctive smell? It is a smell that says,"I haven't showered recently, but I used deodorant 2 days ago and it since I haven't showered, it should still be on." But I digress.
Tate spent 5th grade brooding about moving and spent 6th grade being done with elementary school. This summer he told me that he was looking forward to "a whole new life at Jr High." Music. Music to my ears!
We met with the teachers and the special ed coordinators. Everything was lined up. Schedule, locker (which did get changed once we realized where his classes were relative to his original locker), paper filing system, plan for the alphasmart, etc. etc. After lunch, the plan was for him to hit the media center and read. Grrreat! He doesn't really like sports or playground, so that's a fantastic solution. Until we execute...
After lunch, Tate headed straight to the media center for some reading time. He camped out behind the book fair display and got down to business. Shortly after opening Eyewitness books on snakes, skeletons, and sharks, the Librarian came by and said sweetly, "Well hello! What are you doing here?" Technically the media center wasn't open at lunch. Trouble brewing? Nope, Tate took it in stride and responded,, "How did you find me?"
Librarian called Special Ed instructor and said, "I think you have a lost soul down here." He offered Tate lunch access to his room and bookshelves and Tate was cool with the swap. Disaster averted. Thank goodness for small miracles.
While getting ready for bed, Tate offered up that he was thankful for a great 1st day of school. We're on our way!
Day 1 is for 7th graders only. Get 'em in the school and herd 'em from class to class without the 8th and 9th graders owning the halls. Makes sense. We did a dry run at back to school night on Wednesday. Did you know that Jr High has a distinctive smell? It is a smell that says,"I haven't showered recently, but I used deodorant 2 days ago and it since I haven't showered, it should still be on." But I digress.
Tate spent 5th grade brooding about moving and spent 6th grade being done with elementary school. This summer he told me that he was looking forward to "a whole new life at Jr High." Music. Music to my ears!
We met with the teachers and the special ed coordinators. Everything was lined up. Schedule, locker (which did get changed once we realized where his classes were relative to his original locker), paper filing system, plan for the alphasmart, etc. etc. After lunch, the plan was for him to hit the media center and read. Grrreat! He doesn't really like sports or playground, so that's a fantastic solution. Until we execute...
After lunch, Tate headed straight to the media center for some reading time. He camped out behind the book fair display and got down to business. Shortly after opening Eyewitness books on snakes, skeletons, and sharks, the Librarian came by and said sweetly, "Well hello! What are you doing here?" Technically the media center wasn't open at lunch. Trouble brewing? Nope, Tate took it in stride and responded,, "How did you find me?"
Librarian called Special Ed instructor and said, "I think you have a lost soul down here." He offered Tate lunch access to his room and bookshelves and Tate was cool with the swap. Disaster averted. Thank goodness for small miracles.
While getting ready for bed, Tate offered up that he was thankful for a great 1st day of school. We're on our way!
Friday, December 25, 2009
OmaHeck: Of Giving and Gifts and Orange Juice
I took a bunch of pictures, but I'll post them later. Right now I want to share some thoughts.
After the Christmas Eve celebration at Cyndie's parents' home, Dane was so very excited. I think it may have been the most excited he's been for Christmas. Ever.
Pulling in to the garage, he told us, "I am so excited! I don't think I can wait any longer... my stomach has that crazy feeling and I think it might just burst!"
Fortunately, there was no projectile excitement at any point in the last 24 hours.
As we got the boys in bed, it was evident we were prepping for an early morning today. We told the boys that they couldn't get up before 6 am. Believing that to be reasonable, both agreed. Tate had unplugged his clock a few days ago to use the outlet for a charger of some kind... so I asked him if he wanted me to reset his clock, or just wait for Dane to come wake him up. He thought a brotherly wake up call was sufficient.
Dane told us that he knew he needed to stay in bed until 6:00 (a substantial challenge since he's been known to come in to our room, or pay his brother a visit at any and all times of darkness) and then go nudge Tate gently.
As some point I heard him hop out of bed and open his door. I called to him, and reminded him that he needed to stay in bed until 6:00. He replied, "It is 6:00. I watched the clock and it said five-five-eight, then five-five-nine, and now six-zero-zero!" Who knows how long he'd been awake, but now it is five-three-six and he's still going strong.
Both boys were sweet and thoughtful as we opened presents. They were humble and grateful and offered sincere thanks for the gifts they received.
About 10:30 Cyndie's parent's arrived with more presents. Me-Mah wanted a bigger box than the Wii game game in, so she packaged it in a shoe box. As Tate unwrapped it, he saw the shoe logo and a look of disbelief enveloped his face. With disdain dripping from every vowel and consonant, he looked a Me-Mah and said matter of factly, "I didn't want shoes!" It was such a change from where he'd been just an hour before, it caught us off guard. Fortunately, we got him to keep peeling, and excitement returned as he saw that the shoebox housed Scooby Doo First Frights. (Straight from his wish list) Whew!
It was rewarding for me (as a Dad trying to teach these boys) to see them be grateful and thoughtful as they opened gifts.
Shortly thereafter, Cyndie's sister Lori arrived with husband Rod and we prepped brunch.
Apparently, there was some discussion about the brunch ingredients prior to my involvement. Lori and Rod were in charge of juice (in some corners of the universe, newlyweds are given very limited, simple, and straightforward assignments as they are often otherwise focused). As I understand it, the only guidance they were given initially was "orange juice", and "for everyone." Well, in these course of subsequent conversation (again, I was not involved), it came up that I am somewhat of a diva/snob/persnikety Pete/virtuoso when it comes to OJ.
In my defense, I was raised in a house that valued prime OJ. Both my parents cut their teeth in California, and we didn't drink bad OJ. Often, there were fresh oranges (really good ones) hand squeezed into the best concentrate on the market. It was sweet. It was pulpy. It made all breakfast food that much better.
Further, I have travelled and been to enough "free breakfasts" in hotels to tell you definitively that there are drastic differences between really good orange juice and what often comes out of a dispencer labeled "Orange Juice" (and as a result, I am developing a really good pallet for the subtleties of apple juice).
So Rod had grabbed some OJ at Costco, and when he got back to the cart, Lori told him that wouldn't do. It had no pulp, and was the bargain brand. Lori filled him in.
As I heard this story today while making eggs, I was a little embarrased. I don't want to be a diva. When others are required to adjust their plans for me, I often feel a little uncomfortable. I had barely begun to share these feelings when all involved said it was their pleasure to make my day by ensuring the best OJ possible (Odwalla, lots of pulp). It was really humbling to see how my family was looking to take care of me. Makes me want to find ways to serve them. Always.
The day is drawing to an end... my guess is the boys don't have an hour left in them. I want to reinforce some of the gratitude they've expressed today. Think we'll bust out the Thanksgiving crossword we didn't get to last month.
OmaHeck out!
After the Christmas Eve celebration at Cyndie's parents' home, Dane was so very excited. I think it may have been the most excited he's been for Christmas. Ever.
Pulling in to the garage, he told us, "I am so excited! I don't think I can wait any longer... my stomach has that crazy feeling and I think it might just burst!"
Fortunately, there was no projectile excitement at any point in the last 24 hours.
As we got the boys in bed, it was evident we were prepping for an early morning today. We told the boys that they couldn't get up before 6 am. Believing that to be reasonable, both agreed. Tate had unplugged his clock a few days ago to use the outlet for a charger of some kind... so I asked him if he wanted me to reset his clock, or just wait for Dane to come wake him up. He thought a brotherly wake up call was sufficient.
Dane told us that he knew he needed to stay in bed until 6:00 (a substantial challenge since he's been known to come in to our room, or pay his brother a visit at any and all times of darkness) and then go nudge Tate gently.
As some point I heard him hop out of bed and open his door. I called to him, and reminded him that he needed to stay in bed until 6:00. He replied, "It is 6:00. I watched the clock and it said five-five-eight, then five-five-nine, and now six-zero-zero!" Who knows how long he'd been awake, but now it is five-three-six and he's still going strong.
Both boys were sweet and thoughtful as we opened presents. They were humble and grateful and offered sincere thanks for the gifts they received.
About 10:30 Cyndie's parent's arrived with more presents. Me-Mah wanted a bigger box than the Wii game game in, so she packaged it in a shoe box. As Tate unwrapped it, he saw the shoe logo and a look of disbelief enveloped his face. With disdain dripping from every vowel and consonant, he looked a Me-Mah and said matter of factly, "I didn't want shoes!" It was such a change from where he'd been just an hour before, it caught us off guard. Fortunately, we got him to keep peeling, and excitement returned as he saw that the shoebox housed Scooby Doo First Frights. (Straight from his wish list) Whew!
It was rewarding for me (as a Dad trying to teach these boys) to see them be grateful and thoughtful as they opened gifts.
Shortly thereafter, Cyndie's sister Lori arrived with husband Rod and we prepped brunch.
Apparently, there was some discussion about the brunch ingredients prior to my involvement. Lori and Rod were in charge of juice (in some corners of the universe, newlyweds are given very limited, simple, and straightforward assignments as they are often otherwise focused). As I understand it, the only guidance they were given initially was "orange juice", and "for everyone." Well, in these course of subsequent conversation (again, I was not involved), it came up that I am somewhat of a diva/snob/persnikety Pete/virtuoso when it comes to OJ.
In my defense, I was raised in a house that valued prime OJ. Both my parents cut their teeth in California, and we didn't drink bad OJ. Often, there were fresh oranges (really good ones) hand squeezed into the best concentrate on the market. It was sweet. It was pulpy. It made all breakfast food that much better.
Further, I have travelled and been to enough "free breakfasts" in hotels to tell you definitively that there are drastic differences between really good orange juice and what often comes out of a dispencer labeled "Orange Juice" (and as a result, I am developing a really good pallet for the subtleties of apple juice).
So Rod had grabbed some OJ at Costco, and when he got back to the cart, Lori told him that wouldn't do. It had no pulp, and was the bargain brand. Lori filled him in.
As I heard this story today while making eggs, I was a little embarrased. I don't want to be a diva. When others are required to adjust their plans for me, I often feel a little uncomfortable. I had barely begun to share these feelings when all involved said it was their pleasure to make my day by ensuring the best OJ possible (Odwalla, lots of pulp). It was really humbling to see how my family was looking to take care of me. Makes me want to find ways to serve them. Always.
The day is drawing to an end... my guess is the boys don't have an hour left in them. I want to reinforce some of the gratitude they've expressed today. Think we'll bust out the Thanksgiving crossword we didn't get to last month.
OmaHeck out!
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