When I was in fourth grade we studied Idaho history during social studies. Towards the end of the year we had a special day in which we presented projects, watched a John Wayne movie, and walked around the track dressed like pioneers and pulling covered wagons.
My project was really pathetic. I procrastinated until the night before and ended up making a lame hand-drawn activity book. A fellow classmate had been working very hard on making a good coloring book about Idaho history and I just copied his idea.
We were assigned groups for our walk around the track, and since I was the only one in the group who had a wagon at home I was asked to make the covered wagon for our group. I had no clue how to turn the red wagon into a covered wagon, and my parents didn't really know how to do it either. Finally on the night before I ended up putting a round laundry basket on its side and draped a sheet over it. It sort of looked like a covered wagon and I figured it would work.
When it came time to walk around the track, I looked around at the other covered wagons people had made and realized mine looked pretty pathetic in comparison. I mentioned this to my teacher, Mrs. Morrill, and she said, "Marci, that's a Conestoga wagon." It did kind of look like a Conestoga. But it didn't hold up very well. A quarter of the way around the track the sheet blew off and I didn't realize it until we'd walked another quarter mile. Then I had to run back and get it, and when I picked it up there were several middle schoolers who had stopped on their way to lunch, and I was pretty sure they were laughing at my wagon.
By the time I had brought the sheet back to my wagon my group had abandoned me and I couldn't catch up with them. So for a while I forlornly walked around the track by myself. I gave up on putting the sheet back on the wagon because it kept blowing off, so I was pulling around a little red wagon with a broken clothes basket and an old sheet.
Fortunately, I passed a group who didn't have a wagon at all and I ended up joining their group. They had plenty of awesome snacks, which were much easier to pull in the wagon than to carry in their arms, so after that I had a very fun time.
A few days later Mrs. Morrill took me aside and said, "Marci, how did you feel about your project?" I admitted that I was not proud of it. She told me that she knew I could do a better job and gave me two weeks to do a new project. I took the opportunity very seriously this time and put a lot more thought and work into it. I ended up researching the gold rush and I even tried to show how people went panning for gold by putting dirt and rocks wrapped in foil into a basin of water and swirling scoops of it around in a pie plate. I could tell Mrs. Morrill was really pleased with my project this time and it felt really good to have done a quality project.
Showing posts with label for posterity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label for posterity. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 22, 2015
Thursday, October 17, 2013
Memory Lane: How remembering my childhood helps me understand my kids (kind of)
When I was little, maybe three years old, I got a hold of a bottle of Head and Shoulders. I took it out into the living room, sat down under the piano, and proceeded to dump the entire bottle onto my head. It got into my eyes and hurt really bad. My mom called a neighbor to come watch my little sister while I got my first shower. I can only imagine how long it took to rinse it out.
I'm pretty sure I am not exaggerating when I say it was an entire bottle. When we moved out of the house fifteen years later, there was still a very large greasy spot on the carpet that had the unmistakable smell of Head and Shoulders, and I know the carpet had been shampooed several times by the Kirby salesman, so it must have been rooted into the carpet pretty deeply.
Another time, my mom was sick in bed. I wanted to do something to help her, and it occurred to me that I could help by getting the mail. Our house was on a dirt road 1/4 of a mile a way from the highway, and our mailbox was at the start of the dirt road on the highway. My dad was working in the garden and he saw me try to go walking up the road, so he warned me that it wasn't safe and I should not go up there because I could get run over. But I couldn't imagine myself getting hurt, so I didn't think it would be a problem. I just waited until he was somewhere else and then set off up the driveway while he couldn't see. It was all going great and (at least from my perspective) I had gotten pretty far up the driveway (I wasn't even half-way). Then, to my horror, an enormous red combine turned from the highway onto the dirt road. I was going to get RUN OVER by a combine! I knew it would be a close race, but my only hope was to turn around and run as fast as I could back to my house. I didn't look behind me, but I was sure that the combine was practically on my heels. Against all odds, I made it back to the house safely, and I think my dad realized what I had done and said I told you so. For a few years I was certain that I must be an incredibly fast runner because I had outrun a combine. (Now I know I could probably walk at a casual pace and still be going faster than a combine at its fastest speed.)
It's interesting how most of our childhood memories get fuzzy with time. I am glad I have held onto a few, because remembering them helps remind me that to my kids, the strange things they do probably make perfect sense. To me what I had done was completely rational.
On that note, I have cleaned up a small swimming pool in our bathroom twice in the past week, which is partly why I was thinking about these stories. I did send the offending party to time out, but I think I handled the situation a little more patiently than normal. After it happened the second time I opted to remove the plug from the sink so the kids can't plug the sink and then let the water run over the sides and onto the floor (this obsession with playing in the water has been a bit of a problem lately, although normally it was not this bad). The thingy on the faucet says it lets out 2 gallons per minute, so it doesn't take long for the sink to overflow. (We changed that out too for one with a slightly slower flow.) I was really annoyed that I had to sop up an inch of water off of the floor, but at the same time I had to admit that I used to enjoy filling the sink up with water and floating things in it, and when I was little I didn't notice that water was getting all over the floor, and the kids probably aren't doing it with the intent of making a lot of work for me. I figure it's probably better to unscrew the plug than to keep fighting them about it.
I'm pretty sure I am not exaggerating when I say it was an entire bottle. When we moved out of the house fifteen years later, there was still a very large greasy spot on the carpet that had the unmistakable smell of Head and Shoulders, and I know the carpet had been shampooed several times by the Kirby salesman, so it must have been rooted into the carpet pretty deeply.
Another time, my mom was sick in bed. I wanted to do something to help her, and it occurred to me that I could help by getting the mail. Our house was on a dirt road 1/4 of a mile a way from the highway, and our mailbox was at the start of the dirt road on the highway. My dad was working in the garden and he saw me try to go walking up the road, so he warned me that it wasn't safe and I should not go up there because I could get run over. But I couldn't imagine myself getting hurt, so I didn't think it would be a problem. I just waited until he was somewhere else and then set off up the driveway while he couldn't see. It was all going great and (at least from my perspective) I had gotten pretty far up the driveway (I wasn't even half-way). Then, to my horror, an enormous red combine turned from the highway onto the dirt road. I was going to get RUN OVER by a combine! I knew it would be a close race, but my only hope was to turn around and run as fast as I could back to my house. I didn't look behind me, but I was sure that the combine was practically on my heels. Against all odds, I made it back to the house safely, and I think my dad realized what I had done and said I told you so. For a few years I was certain that I must be an incredibly fast runner because I had outrun a combine. (Now I know I could probably walk at a casual pace and still be going faster than a combine at its fastest speed.)
It's interesting how most of our childhood memories get fuzzy with time. I am glad I have held onto a few, because remembering them helps remind me that to my kids, the strange things they do probably make perfect sense. To me what I had done was completely rational.
On that note, I have cleaned up a small swimming pool in our bathroom twice in the past week, which is partly why I was thinking about these stories. I did send the offending party to time out, but I think I handled the situation a little more patiently than normal. After it happened the second time I opted to remove the plug from the sink so the kids can't plug the sink and then let the water run over the sides and onto the floor (this obsession with playing in the water has been a bit of a problem lately, although normally it was not this bad). The thingy on the faucet says it lets out 2 gallons per minute, so it doesn't take long for the sink to overflow. (We changed that out too for one with a slightly slower flow.) I was really annoyed that I had to sop up an inch of water off of the floor, but at the same time I had to admit that I used to enjoy filling the sink up with water and floating things in it, and when I was little I didn't notice that water was getting all over the floor, and the kids probably aren't doing it with the intent of making a lot of work for me. I figure it's probably better to unscrew the plug than to keep fighting them about it.
Monday, August 19, 2013
Memory lane: running in elections
Today Ryan was reelected for his second year as a senator for the GPSF. The only other nominee was a guy who had nominated himself and didn't even show up for the election. It reminded me of some elections I have participated in in the past.
The first one was in my second year in 4-H. I think my younger sister nominated me for secretary of our 4-H club. She and all of her friends and my friends voted for me and I won. I'm guessing the older, more sensible members of the club were split between a couple of more qualified candidates so that they didn't get a majority. In my journal that night I wrote that I thought I was a little young, but I thought I could do it. I think my grandma (who was the leader of the 4-H club) made sure I did everything I was supposed to, but I probably wasn't old enough to understand what the job really meant.
Several years later, when I was one of the oldest members of the club, several little girls became old enough to start 4-H, and when we had the election they all nominated each other. Now roles were reversed and I realized what the older people in the 4-H club were thinking when I was elected secretary at age 9. I was scared to death that there were enough little girls who would vote for their friends that we would end up with a bunch of little girls in the offices. As we voted for each office I kept hoping really hard that everyone in the club would be sensible and vote for the older people who were mature enough to take the job seriously and do a good job. I think it worked out that year. I was elected president (and I took the job seriously and did my best) and I think the other offices were filled with other people who were about my age.
In eighth grade I ran for secretary for my class. With my experience in 4-H and Young Women's I thought I was qualified. As other people gave their speeches I quickly realized that this was a popularity contest, but I gave my speech telling about my experience and that I was responsible. I didn't win. Not even close. But after everyone had voted a girl came up to me and said, "Good job, Marci. I voted for you." It meant a lot to me because one of her close friends was also running for secretary, but she voted for me because she thought I would do the best job.
The first one was in my second year in 4-H. I think my younger sister nominated me for secretary of our 4-H club. She and all of her friends and my friends voted for me and I won. I'm guessing the older, more sensible members of the club were split between a couple of more qualified candidates so that they didn't get a majority. In my journal that night I wrote that I thought I was a little young, but I thought I could do it. I think my grandma (who was the leader of the 4-H club) made sure I did everything I was supposed to, but I probably wasn't old enough to understand what the job really meant.
Several years later, when I was one of the oldest members of the club, several little girls became old enough to start 4-H, and when we had the election they all nominated each other. Now roles were reversed and I realized what the older people in the 4-H club were thinking when I was elected secretary at age 9. I was scared to death that there were enough little girls who would vote for their friends that we would end up with a bunch of little girls in the offices. As we voted for each office I kept hoping really hard that everyone in the club would be sensible and vote for the older people who were mature enough to take the job seriously and do a good job. I think it worked out that year. I was elected president (and I took the job seriously and did my best) and I think the other offices were filled with other people who were about my age.
In eighth grade I ran for secretary for my class. With my experience in 4-H and Young Women's I thought I was qualified. As other people gave their speeches I quickly realized that this was a popularity contest, but I gave my speech telling about my experience and that I was responsible. I didn't win. Not even close. But after everyone had voted a girl came up to me and said, "Good job, Marci. I voted for you." It meant a lot to me because one of her close friends was also running for secretary, but she voted for me because she thought I would do the best job.
Saturday, October 6, 2012
how I do laundry
Laundry is probably my favorite household chore. It's not my favorite thing to do in the world, but I don't mind it as much as other household jobs. Washing dishes and cleaning the kitchen are probably my least favorite. I don't really like touching dirty, soapy water. Ryan actually does a lot of the dish-washing around here.
I was just thinking that as time goes on it would be interesting to look back and remember how I did laundry when I only had two kids and I lived in a small apartment. So I'm going to write some things about how laundry goes right now so that someday I will have a record of it to read.
One of the interesting things about being the mom/wife has been realizing that what works for my mom doesn't always work for me, and that if I prefer to do things differently, it doesn't mean I'm doing it wrong (or that my mom is doing it wrong). This has applied to laundry. My mom washed everyone's clothes together and sorted them into darks, pastels, whites, and sometimes reds and greens if there were enough of those to wash separately. It works for her, and that's great. I tried to do that at first, but after Kevin and Heidi came around I realized I didn't like having so many people's clothes mixed together when I was folding the clothes. I also felt like it was silly to sort out everyone's clothes together by color when I was just going to be sorting them out later by person. So now here's how we sort out clothes: Ryan's clothes and my clothes are washed together, separated into colors and whites. Sometimes towels and jeans go in their own load if there are a lot of clothes. Sheets get their own load. Then Kevin and Heidi's clothes are washed in one big load, regardless of color. If we get some new clothes that I think will probably bleed their colors, I sort out the clothes by color for a few laundry batches. I've never had a problem with colors bleeding. Towels, washcloths, and bibs are usually washed with the kids' clothes, but sometimes they go with our colored clothes if needed, or they get their own load. As our family grows I will probably continue to do laundry by bedroom instead of washing everyone's clothes together. I like that all the clothes in a load go to the same room so that I'm not taking things all over the house with each load of clothes.
The diapers get washed every 2-3 days. We have 36 large prefolds, 24 infant prefolds, and a lot of covers. We also have about 50 cloth wipes that I made out of flannel (two 8 x 8 layers zigzag stitched together). I do a prewash cycle first, and then a regular cycle with detergent. We have metal wall shelving above the washer and dryer, and we hang the wet bags and the covers up there to dry. The diapers and wipes go in the dryer. No fabric softener. Before Heidi was born, we did medium loads, but now that we have two in diapers, we're doing super loads. I should note that for us, cloth diapers really aren't much more work than disposable because our dumpster is quite a ways away from our apartment building. I'm not joking when I say it probably takes an hour to take the garbage out if I bring the kids with me. I'd much rather dump some stuff in the washer every couple of days than be taking the diapers to the garbage all the time.
On socks. My mom likes socks pinned together. She learned the trick from my Grandma, who had ten children. I used to like it too. But then one day I realized that I would rather sort out socks than hunt down safety pins. (My mom would rather hunt down safety pins than sort socks.) Now I use mesh bags for socks. There is one mesh bag for Kevin and Heidi's socks, and one for my socks. This keeps everyone's socks separate from each other and they're less likely to get eaten by the sock monster at some point in the laundry cycle. Ryan's socks are all the same, except for two pairs of Sunday socks, and he doesn't care about mixing old ones with new ones, so I've never bothered with telling him to sort his socks in any way. He just gets his pile of socks, which he keeps in a pile in his drawer. The one problem with my method is that sometimes the mesh bags tend to disappear or be buried in a pile of clean laundry if I've gotten behind, and then everyone's socks just get tossed in the hamper and get all mixed up. If I can't find a match to a sock I always return it to its drawer anyway, figuring that eventually (usually the next time I do laundry) its one true love will find its way home. We'll see how well I like this method if I have six kids (right now two is plenty). But so far it's working well for me.
I don't think this is as much of a problem in the West, but here in the East it is a lot more humid, which means washcloths don't just dry on the counter if you lay them flat. The result is mildew, and the grey stains never, ever come out. I've found that the best way to avoid mildew is to hang wet things so that air flows on both sides of them. I have a metal basket in the laundry closet where I put washcloths and towels, and whenever I put washcloths in there I always hang them on the side first until they are dry. If they all just sit in a pile, they never dry and they grow mildew really quickly.
I like Shout stain remover. I used to use Resolve Spray n Wash because it was a little cheaper, but then I did laundry at my grandma's house and realized that Shout doesn't stink like Spray n Wash does, and then I was converted. We go through a lot of Shout in our house.
I always cut my dryer sheets in half all at once when I open a box. Half of a dryer sheet is enough. When we got married Ryan said that his mom always did that, and I figured it couldn't hurt and started doing it too. Not that dryer sheets are an especially significant draw on our bank account, because I think we've gone through maybe four boxes since we got married. So I guess maybe we've saved $4 on dryer sheets by cutting them in half. Yippee.
We have a very basic washer and dryer, but I've been very happy with them. I don't know if I'll ever go for anything fancier. The washer is a top loader. I know there are advantages to having a front loader, but I think the main disadvantage is that front loaders grow mold more easily, and that is a deal-breaker for me.
Ryan and I probably do about the same amount of laundry. If it piles up (which happens a lot) we sometimes have clothes-folding parties and watch a movie after the kids are in bed. I think the fact that I can watch a movie while folding clothes might be one of the reasons laundry is my favorite chore. Laundry also isn't a huge deal for us because it doesn't take that long to stick a load in the washer or transfer it to the dryer. Main floor laundry is one of my top five priorities in any place we live because having it on the main floor makes it so you can just do a step in the laundry process as you're passing by. I don't fancy the idea of hauling baskets up and down stairs. I also would love to have more of a laundry room. Right now we have a closet in a hallway, which makes things kind of a tight fit--but I'm not complaining. My great-grandparents were washing things on washboards with their hands.
I was just thinking that as time goes on it would be interesting to look back and remember how I did laundry when I only had two kids and I lived in a small apartment. So I'm going to write some things about how laundry goes right now so that someday I will have a record of it to read.
One of the interesting things about being the mom/wife has been realizing that what works for my mom doesn't always work for me, and that if I prefer to do things differently, it doesn't mean I'm doing it wrong (or that my mom is doing it wrong). This has applied to laundry. My mom washed everyone's clothes together and sorted them into darks, pastels, whites, and sometimes reds and greens if there were enough of those to wash separately. It works for her, and that's great. I tried to do that at first, but after Kevin and Heidi came around I realized I didn't like having so many people's clothes mixed together when I was folding the clothes. I also felt like it was silly to sort out everyone's clothes together by color when I was just going to be sorting them out later by person. So now here's how we sort out clothes: Ryan's clothes and my clothes are washed together, separated into colors and whites. Sometimes towels and jeans go in their own load if there are a lot of clothes. Sheets get their own load. Then Kevin and Heidi's clothes are washed in one big load, regardless of color. If we get some new clothes that I think will probably bleed their colors, I sort out the clothes by color for a few laundry batches. I've never had a problem with colors bleeding. Towels, washcloths, and bibs are usually washed with the kids' clothes, but sometimes they go with our colored clothes if needed, or they get their own load. As our family grows I will probably continue to do laundry by bedroom instead of washing everyone's clothes together. I like that all the clothes in a load go to the same room so that I'm not taking things all over the house with each load of clothes.
The diapers get washed every 2-3 days. We have 36 large prefolds, 24 infant prefolds, and a lot of covers. We also have about 50 cloth wipes that I made out of flannel (two 8 x 8 layers zigzag stitched together). I do a prewash cycle first, and then a regular cycle with detergent. We have metal wall shelving above the washer and dryer, and we hang the wet bags and the covers up there to dry. The diapers and wipes go in the dryer. No fabric softener. Before Heidi was born, we did medium loads, but now that we have two in diapers, we're doing super loads. I should note that for us, cloth diapers really aren't much more work than disposable because our dumpster is quite a ways away from our apartment building. I'm not joking when I say it probably takes an hour to take the garbage out if I bring the kids with me. I'd much rather dump some stuff in the washer every couple of days than be taking the diapers to the garbage all the time.
On socks. My mom likes socks pinned together. She learned the trick from my Grandma, who had ten children. I used to like it too. But then one day I realized that I would rather sort out socks than hunt down safety pins. (My mom would rather hunt down safety pins than sort socks.) Now I use mesh bags for socks. There is one mesh bag for Kevin and Heidi's socks, and one for my socks. This keeps everyone's socks separate from each other and they're less likely to get eaten by the sock monster at some point in the laundry cycle. Ryan's socks are all the same, except for two pairs of Sunday socks, and he doesn't care about mixing old ones with new ones, so I've never bothered with telling him to sort his socks in any way. He just gets his pile of socks, which he keeps in a pile in his drawer. The one problem with my method is that sometimes the mesh bags tend to disappear or be buried in a pile of clean laundry if I've gotten behind, and then everyone's socks just get tossed in the hamper and get all mixed up. If I can't find a match to a sock I always return it to its drawer anyway, figuring that eventually (usually the next time I do laundry) its one true love will find its way home. We'll see how well I like this method if I have six kids (right now two is plenty). But so far it's working well for me.
I don't think this is as much of a problem in the West, but here in the East it is a lot more humid, which means washcloths don't just dry on the counter if you lay them flat. The result is mildew, and the grey stains never, ever come out. I've found that the best way to avoid mildew is to hang wet things so that air flows on both sides of them. I have a metal basket in the laundry closet where I put washcloths and towels, and whenever I put washcloths in there I always hang them on the side first until they are dry. If they all just sit in a pile, they never dry and they grow mildew really quickly.
I like Shout stain remover. I used to use Resolve Spray n Wash because it was a little cheaper, but then I did laundry at my grandma's house and realized that Shout doesn't stink like Spray n Wash does, and then I was converted. We go through a lot of Shout in our house.
I always cut my dryer sheets in half all at once when I open a box. Half of a dryer sheet is enough. When we got married Ryan said that his mom always did that, and I figured it couldn't hurt and started doing it too. Not that dryer sheets are an especially significant draw on our bank account, because I think we've gone through maybe four boxes since we got married. So I guess maybe we've saved $4 on dryer sheets by cutting them in half. Yippee.
We have a very basic washer and dryer, but I've been very happy with them. I don't know if I'll ever go for anything fancier. The washer is a top loader. I know there are advantages to having a front loader, but I think the main disadvantage is that front loaders grow mold more easily, and that is a deal-breaker for me.
Ryan and I probably do about the same amount of laundry. If it piles up (which happens a lot) we sometimes have clothes-folding parties and watch a movie after the kids are in bed. I think the fact that I can watch a movie while folding clothes might be one of the reasons laundry is my favorite chore. Laundry also isn't a huge deal for us because it doesn't take that long to stick a load in the washer or transfer it to the dryer. Main floor laundry is one of my top five priorities in any place we live because having it on the main floor makes it so you can just do a step in the laundry process as you're passing by. I don't fancy the idea of hauling baskets up and down stairs. I also would love to have more of a laundry room. Right now we have a closet in a hallway, which makes things kind of a tight fit--but I'm not complaining. My great-grandparents were washing things on washboards with their hands.
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