When is the solstice again?

It's dark.  It's dark when I get up.  It is so dark that I am a little afraid to take a shower.  Our shower has a window in it.  Of course, the glass is that odd blurred stuff appropriate for showers.  And also of course, the window faces the brick wall of my neighbor's house across the 5 foot strip of weeds and air conditioners.  Yet still I feel on display, showering in front of the pitch black window.  I freak myself out with vague ideas of Watchers skulking around outside. 

 

It is dark the rest of the day too.  Not the pitch black of night, but the gloomy gray dark of yet another rainy day after what feels like a month of rainy days.  I know we've had sunshine recently, but for some reason that is harder to remember than the gray days.  I huddle in my cubicle and avoid looking out the window.  It is just too depressing.  So instead, I daydream about new projects in bright colors.  I'll embroider kitchen towels!  I'll make crazy fluorescent paper snowflakes!  I'll craft gigantic felt flowers in obscenely bright colors to wear in my hair!  I'll make a Christmas tree skirt out of the glitteriest gaudiest red liquid lame that will sparkle and gleam!

 

Then, when I leave work, it's dark again.  All my cheerful projects flit right out of my head.  I trudge home in the dark, moping all the way.  It's odd for me.  I usually love winter despite the short days.  I like the tingling ache that comes from breathing cold air - although it hasn't been that cold yet.  I like sitting under a cozy blanket while the darkness presses on the window.  I like the holidays lined up like dominoes - my Birthday!  Thanksgiving!  Claire's Birthday!  Christmas!  New Years!  Super Bowl!  - followed by the long slow yawn of early spring.  But this year?  Not so much.

 

Tonight?  I'm going to finish some Christmas sewing come hell or high water.  I am trusting that some cheerful snowmen will shake me out of of these doldrums.  And if not, then at least I can feel virtuous about having accomplished something, right?

On the Cusp of Readerhood

A month or so ago, Claire's preschool teacher told me that they'll be working on sight words this year.  My eyebrows shot right up over my head as I struggled to make a coherent response.  "But...four!  Early!  Really?  Four!"

 

"I know," she said.  "But the new kindergarten entry standards..." yada yada yada, "but don't worry.  If they get it they get it.  If not, no stress."  I was unsure about the standards and also unsure about speaking up with curriculum concerns before I knew there was a problem.  So I satisfied myself with a vaguely negative countenance, gathered my children, and went home to stew.

 

Several weeks later, Claire was recognizing words all over the place.  "Look, Mom!  It says 'the' right there."  I looked at the box and saw the word "mother."  I blinked, looked again, and saw the word "moTHEr."  During bedtime stories, she pointed out first one word, then two, then three or four on a page.  I wondered if maybe she was a little more ready for reading than I originally thought.

 

Then, a few days ago, Claire proved that she is not only ready to read, she is already on the cusp of readerhood.  I was in the bathroom attending to, erm, business.  Claire piped up from the hallway, "P! O! P!  Does that spell poop?" 

 

"Very close, baby!  P-O-O-P is poop.  Oooooo has two ohs."

 

She thought about it briefly, and replied, "Oh, like boo.  B-O-O."  She might just be reading by her birthday next month.  She'll definitely be reading before kindergarten.

Sweating the Small Stuff

Due to a complicated series of events, I became a co-chair for the PTO social committee.  Well, really, it wasn't all that complicated.  I opened my mouth to complain and was promptly invited to participate by an adroit PTO president.  Good for her!  So, the upshot is that I am to work with another parent to provide refreshments at various events throughout the school year.  I thought this would be a low key way to support the school.  Instead, I have managed to turn it into a veritable wasps' nest of stressballs merely by being myself.  If I don't hear from the other chair I panic - never mind that she has three children and two jobs.  I wake up at 2am to worry about the budget.   I fret over cake orders even after confirming the pick up date.

 

So, my latest little stressball is really no surprise.  Next week, there is a Girl Talk meeting.  I have only the vaguest idea of what the meeting is about.  I think there are some girls and they will be talking.  It's some anti-bullying initiative or character-building initiative or some other sort of initiative for either preteen girls or mothers of preteen girls.  The one thing that I know is that it is girly.  Between my (almost entirely) self-imposed budgetary stress and my knowledge of the girlyness of said event, I hit upon the perfect refreshments for the event.  The menu would include coffee, cocoa, biscotti, and fruit.  What preteen girl would not thrill to a mocha and an oh-so-adult biscotti?  What mother would not appreciate a variation from the standard meeting fare?  The PTO puts out a great spread, but it can get a little monotonous after 6 or 7 years of school meetings.

 

So, one would think that all is fantastic!  It's an easy, enjoyable, inexpensive menu.  All was well until around 3:30 am this morning, when I realized that I have no idea how to operate the school's coffee urn.  So,should I take a risk and try to figure it out on the fly?  Or should I retreat to the tried and true?