On Being a TV Watching Elitist Snob

I came home from open gym with the kids last week to find Brent in rare form. He was all fired up about Comcast raising their rates and wanting to stick it to the man and suddenly there was a dishsomethingorother truck in front of the house and somebody drilling a hole through our living room wall and some other dude up on the roof and then instantly we have CABLE!

Cable? That doesn't sound much like us, does it?

But I guess it's some freebee deal that we have to cancel in a month but we'll still get the low rate and blah blah blah... for now we have cable! Woohoo! TV! And why am I so excited about tv? Because tv time is knitting time! Here's Sawyer's hat:

Pretty cute, eh? Except that it totally doesn't fit because I started deceasing WAAAY too early for that kid's big old head. Oh well, live and learn. I still have three weeks of cable left.

It's January and for some strange reason it's not raining. This is weird, but cool. Kind of like how Sawyer rides his bike.










Lately I've been trying unsuccessfully not to freak out about sending Jack to kindergarten next year. Eugene does a really awesome/terrible thing by allowing school choice and the application deadline is coming right up. Believe me, I have always been a supporter of neighborhood schools and I continue to have faith in public education, HOWEVER my kid is my kid. And if I had a different kid than Jack, the school choice issue might be nonexistent. He begs us to make worksheets for him. He's obsessed with spelling and the difference between uppercase and lowercase letter. He thinks reading is the most magical and amazing thing ever. And here he is spending his free time studying for the SAT.

I am pretty sure our neighborhood school would eat him alive. And so we prepare to step into rank with the elitist, educated Eugene parents who schlep their kids across town to the "good" schools. The whole thing leaves kind of a bad taste in my mouth, who the hell am I to think my kid is too good for the school down the street? But then again, he is my kid. And maybe it's okay to be an elitist when it comes to the education of your own kids. (??)

And then there's this one to consider. Whatever will we do with him?

Jack was invited to his BFF's birthday party and the invitation specifically said homemade or recycled gifts only. Oh boy, do I love to see that! After much discussion Jack and I determined that a homemade Snoopy pillow would fit the bill and so we brought out the little Singer and away he went.




Jack had such a good time at the birthday party and I had a few quiet moments to watch him interacting with other kids and playing his little heart out. He is sweet and gentle and kind. He loves to run with the pack and to be a part of the action. But he's also the kid who takes a few minutes to sit with his mom and talk about the logistics of the game. His little wheels are always spinning.

Three was pretty rough on us all, but four has been good. I am really excited for five.

But then as I sat chatting with another mom, there was a catastrophic collision and suddenly Jack was crumpled on the floor and sobbing inconsolably. He's not usually much of a crier when it comes to injuries and the adults who had seen the crash reported that he was hit pretty hard. The gym wanted to fill out an accident report and I tried really hard to keep my cool but I kind of started to panic when they started talking about head injuries. And Jack was limp and sweaty and crying on my shoulder about wanting to go home, which is really not like him at all. And so I hightailed it out of there with Jack on my hip and worry in my step. By the time we got out to the car I was convinced that something was wrong. A head injury? This is scary stuff. I put him into his seat and drove straight to Urgent Care. As soon as I pulled into the parking lot, Jack perked up and demanded to know where we were and promptly informed me that NO WAY IN HELL was he getting out of that car. At that moment I entertained the possibility that he was just fine.

But it's so hard to know with these kids. I question myself all the time. It seems like some of this stuff would come more naturally, you know? Two weeks ago I took the kids to see a 20 minute movie about winter constellations at the planetarium and when Sawyer became hysterical during the preview (it was kind of scary!) it became clear that we would have to leave. But Jack didn't want to go. He wasn't scared, why should he have to miss the movie? I followed my first instinct which, oddly enough, was to leave him in the theater with the seemingly benign dad and kid sitting next to us. And then Sawyer and I spent 20 minutes in the lobby while I freaked out about the fact that I had just left my kid in a dark movie theater with a PERFECT STRANGER. Who cares if his kid had glow in the dark socks? He could have been a serial killer!

Deep down, though, I knew he'd be fine. Because he's my kid and you know your kid. He walked out of that theater with a proud smile twenty minutes later and told me all about the winter sky. And so in the parking lot of Urgent Care, I decided to just go home. To cuddle with Jack on the couch, to offer an ice pack, to tell him again how sorry I was that he got hurt, and to watch some Scooby Doo. Because we've got to enjoy this cable while we can.

And knowing my kid also means that I'm going to sit through a bunch of elementary school open houses in the next month so I can at least try to find the best fit for him, because following that instinct has been working out pretty well so far. Also, cable will be gone by then and I'm sure I'll be able to get some knitting done.

Wish us luck.

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