I am always amazed at how quickly time flies and I wasn't doing anything much. I'm spending most days hibernating and trying not to go out into the freezing cold. As the years spin by I realize how cold it gets here. My days of building snow forts all day are over. I'm more of the short bursts of snow play broken up by hot chocolate and the wood stove. #1 LOVES the snow and plays on the back hill with the sled, saucer and toboggan for a few hours at a time. #2 is more of the go in the snow to wait for the bus, eat a bit of snow and get on the bus. He's not a sled kid. Snowmen hold no interest. He doesn't like hot chocolate. It can make playing outside after school a bit hard on me. The constant back and forth from house to yard always brings more snow into the house than I intended but #2 is willing to eat it all.
The kids new bedrooms will be done soon and then comes the mammoth chore of moving all their stuff . We're down to floor molding, varnishing the doors and touching up any trim paint. This is all being done by Dear Hubby so it's done after work and weekends. It's been a long process but will be worth it in a few more weeks. I have no idea how #2 will react to the changes but it should be interesting. They will also have a new playroom for all their stuff. The idea is to corral most of the toys and detritus so that some of the downstairs doesn't look like I run a home daycare.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Today is my birthday. So I'm feeling very reflective right now and have decided to post a retrospective.
I don't feel my age. Mostly I feel quite a bit younger but every so often it creeps up and I feel a million years old. It really depends on the state of aches and pains. I've led a fun life, so far. I have quite a bit more arthritis than I should as a result. When you break some bones and dislocate others you will end up with something approaching arthritis, so we'll call it arthritis for now. I've broken plenty while having fun- fingers, toes, a rib or two, my nose repeatedly and my spine once. Never an arm or leg- nothing normal like that. The nose has one of my favorite stories attached to one of it's breaks. The baseball game I didn't play. All I did was watch a game at McCarthy Park in Buffalo. A warm up session involving a missed catch, a ricochet, my turning my head and bam- one broken nose. I'm still not too fond of seeing baseballs coming at my face. But it was 30 years ago. The spine involved a horse, a jump and far more guts than brains. I believed I was going to clear the jump on the horse, I was wrong. Ben Hur went right and I did not. Sounds like a Buffalo Bills moment- wide right. It was a defining moment- I have excellent posture as a result of all the time in a back brace while I healed. I did get back on the horse- a year later when I could ride again. There are some other funny stories about various breaks and fractures- like how I slammed my thumb in the car door and it was locked, or getting punched in gym class for mentioning the girl next to me was more 'developed' than the rest of us in sixth grade, the getting hit by a car in the March of Dimes Superwalk and having my knee wrecked. Oddly enough most of these memories have become funny- or at least funnier than they were at the time they happened.
I have very fond memories of growing up in University Heights. Our street had a park at one end, an island in the middle and was on a hill. Skate boarding, roller skating and sledding were all fun. Unless you were my Dad who broke his leg skateboarding when he hit the gravel and debris at the edge of the road (we did warn him to stay in the middle of the street.). Times were VERY different then. It was nothing for me to leave the house early and be gone all day without telling my mother much of my plans. she could ring to one friends house who may say we had left for another who would then pass along that we had gone to yet another house. Things were just slower and more relaxed. Childhood was not as structured as it is today. All these enrichment activities and scheduled classes were not as common. Most everyone I knew took piano for awhile with the same teacher- at her house, dance or gymnastics right after school and scouts. Maybe one or two things at a time. Playdates were NOT arranged by parents very often. Sometimes if there were new kids the new parents would approach our parents and set up a playdate at their house to meet the new kid. Mostly playdates consisted of yelling "see ya Saturday." as I ran home to dinner. We played in each others homes yards, garages and trees- sometimes even if the kid who lived there wasn't home. We all went to see the kid with the chicken pox so we'd all be sick together. An entire neighborhood of pox covered kids now would prompt a FEMA response, the CDC to consider a quarantine and child welfare agencies to look askance at the parents. Did I mention that bicycle protective gear consisted of long pants and shirt as opposed to shorts and T shirt? Falling off the bike meant picking road grit out of your wound with a dozen of your closest friends helping- nothing like possible blood borne pathogens there.
While it sounds like there was no supervision at all, there was actually no end of supervision. Every adult in the area watched us- and yelled at us for being bad, stupid, dangerous and whatever else they decided to yell over. If you got hurt there was no shortage of adults to help. Someone would come rushing outside at the first sound of crying. They would either take you into their bathroom, wash you up and slather iodine on your cut followed by a band aid (read that as red badge of courage) and call your mom or send another kid to get your mom. I don't recall any lawsuits over who bandaged my numerous skinned knees. Fights were usually settled by flailing fists until whatever the problem had been was deemed solved by the rest of us or by yelling and name calling. None of it did any irreparable damage and some taught me faster lessons than getting yelled at by my parents. Water balloon wars were fought by boys against girls- always. Snowball fights were against whoever you could hit. Driveways were to be shovelled first- then play. The rules of childhood were simple but written in stone. When Mom rang the cast iron bell I had to go home and if I was inside some one's house and anyone else heard it, they would get me. We didn't 'leave a man behind' to get punished for being late to dinner. Bigger kids crossed little kids into the park. They refereed fights and settled lesser arguments. Sometimes they even put on magic shows for us. They didn't bully us for our shoes, jacket, electronics (not that we had electronics) or anything else.
In our neighborhood we were the odd family. The hippie family. There was another hippie family for awhile but they moved. We didn't have TV and we grew our own vegetables. My dad drove a corvette (right- not very hippie but he liked 'vettes.). Ours was the place everyone went to tinker on cars- and help Dad build corvettes. My mother brought the teeter totter into the house one day when it started to rain. It was a large hand carved wooden (think Brio and Haba, now) thing that I wish I had today. The other parents thought we were nuts and the kids loved it. Boy do I wish things were that simple for my kids. But lets be honest- times changed.
I walked to school until fourth grade. I went to a school which is now an art gallery. I can still remember my classrooms and the utility room where I would clean erasers after school. That school closed and I went to a larger school for one year. It was awful. I loved my teacher but I hated the bus, the size, staying there for lunch ( I had walked home for lunch before)and pretty much everything about it outside my classroom. That seems to be the beginning of the changes. Fifth grade I went to yet another school where I stayed until eleventh grade. But things were changing and we were all going to different schools in my neighborhood. I went to a public school (remember- hippie parents) and almost everyone else went to the local catholic school. New friends, new hobbies and new schools kept us apart.
Fast forward to today and I rarely drive through my old neighborhood anymore although my mother lives just minutes away from that house. The park is still there but it looks like it's rarely played in, the houses are the same but they feel different. Some of the families are still there, some are not. I guess I miss what it was more than I wonder what it is now. Some memories are sacred and don't need to be tarnished by the reality of today colliding with the wild abandon of then. So I usually take a main road by the old neighborhood and visit my mother. As for my kids- they have woods in the yard and a small town to grow up in. That will have to fuel their future reminiscences of their childhoods.
#1 looked at me recently after I told her about my childhood (edited so she wouldn't do half the stupid dangerous stuff I did) and she said, with total sincerity, "I wish I was around back in the good old days." I wasn't sure if I wanted to wring her little neck for making my childhood into the 'good old days' or hug her. We compromised for laughing that I wasn't THAT old- yet- and that she can make her own set of 'good old days' memories to tell her kids. So I have a birthday to attend to. I wonder how old I'll be when I can plan my own party and it will still be a surprise party???? Maybe next year at the rate my memory is going.
I don't feel my age. Mostly I feel quite a bit younger but every so often it creeps up and I feel a million years old. It really depends on the state of aches and pains. I've led a fun life, so far. I have quite a bit more arthritis than I should as a result. When you break some bones and dislocate others you will end up with something approaching arthritis, so we'll call it arthritis for now. I've broken plenty while having fun- fingers, toes, a rib or two, my nose repeatedly and my spine once. Never an arm or leg- nothing normal like that. The nose has one of my favorite stories attached to one of it's breaks. The baseball game I didn't play. All I did was watch a game at McCarthy Park in Buffalo. A warm up session involving a missed catch, a ricochet, my turning my head and bam- one broken nose. I'm still not too fond of seeing baseballs coming at my face. But it was 30 years ago. The spine involved a horse, a jump and far more guts than brains. I believed I was going to clear the jump on the horse, I was wrong. Ben Hur went right and I did not. Sounds like a Buffalo Bills moment- wide right. It was a defining moment- I have excellent posture as a result of all the time in a back brace while I healed. I did get back on the horse- a year later when I could ride again. There are some other funny stories about various breaks and fractures- like how I slammed my thumb in the car door and it was locked, or getting punched in gym class for mentioning the girl next to me was more 'developed' than the rest of us in sixth grade, the getting hit by a car in the March of Dimes Superwalk and having my knee wrecked. Oddly enough most of these memories have become funny- or at least funnier than they were at the time they happened.
I have very fond memories of growing up in University Heights. Our street had a park at one end, an island in the middle and was on a hill. Skate boarding, roller skating and sledding were all fun. Unless you were my Dad who broke his leg skateboarding when he hit the gravel and debris at the edge of the road (we did warn him to stay in the middle of the street.). Times were VERY different then. It was nothing for me to leave the house early and be gone all day without telling my mother much of my plans. she could ring to one friends house who may say we had left for another who would then pass along that we had gone to yet another house. Things were just slower and more relaxed. Childhood was not as structured as it is today. All these enrichment activities and scheduled classes were not as common. Most everyone I knew took piano for awhile with the same teacher- at her house, dance or gymnastics right after school and scouts. Maybe one or two things at a time. Playdates were NOT arranged by parents very often. Sometimes if there were new kids the new parents would approach our parents and set up a playdate at their house to meet the new kid. Mostly playdates consisted of yelling "see ya Saturday." as I ran home to dinner. We played in each others homes yards, garages and trees- sometimes even if the kid who lived there wasn't home. We all went to see the kid with the chicken pox so we'd all be sick together. An entire neighborhood of pox covered kids now would prompt a FEMA response, the CDC to consider a quarantine and child welfare agencies to look askance at the parents. Did I mention that bicycle protective gear consisted of long pants and shirt as opposed to shorts and T shirt? Falling off the bike meant picking road grit out of your wound with a dozen of your closest friends helping- nothing like possible blood borne pathogens there.
While it sounds like there was no supervision at all, there was actually no end of supervision. Every adult in the area watched us- and yelled at us for being bad, stupid, dangerous and whatever else they decided to yell over. If you got hurt there was no shortage of adults to help. Someone would come rushing outside at the first sound of crying. They would either take you into their bathroom, wash you up and slather iodine on your cut followed by a band aid (read that as red badge of courage) and call your mom or send another kid to get your mom. I don't recall any lawsuits over who bandaged my numerous skinned knees. Fights were usually settled by flailing fists until whatever the problem had been was deemed solved by the rest of us or by yelling and name calling. None of it did any irreparable damage and some taught me faster lessons than getting yelled at by my parents. Water balloon wars were fought by boys against girls- always. Snowball fights were against whoever you could hit. Driveways were to be shovelled first- then play. The rules of childhood were simple but written in stone. When Mom rang the cast iron bell I had to go home and if I was inside some one's house and anyone else heard it, they would get me. We didn't 'leave a man behind' to get punished for being late to dinner. Bigger kids crossed little kids into the park. They refereed fights and settled lesser arguments. Sometimes they even put on magic shows for us. They didn't bully us for our shoes, jacket, electronics (not that we had electronics) or anything else.
In our neighborhood we were the odd family. The hippie family. There was another hippie family for awhile but they moved. We didn't have TV and we grew our own vegetables. My dad drove a corvette (right- not very hippie but he liked 'vettes.). Ours was the place everyone went to tinker on cars- and help Dad build corvettes. My mother brought the teeter totter into the house one day when it started to rain. It was a large hand carved wooden (think Brio and Haba, now) thing that I wish I had today. The other parents thought we were nuts and the kids loved it. Boy do I wish things were that simple for my kids. But lets be honest- times changed.
I walked to school until fourth grade. I went to a school which is now an art gallery. I can still remember my classrooms and the utility room where I would clean erasers after school. That school closed and I went to a larger school for one year. It was awful. I loved my teacher but I hated the bus, the size, staying there for lunch ( I had walked home for lunch before)and pretty much everything about it outside my classroom. That seems to be the beginning of the changes. Fifth grade I went to yet another school where I stayed until eleventh grade. But things were changing and we were all going to different schools in my neighborhood. I went to a public school (remember- hippie parents) and almost everyone else went to the local catholic school. New friends, new hobbies and new schools kept us apart.
Fast forward to today and I rarely drive through my old neighborhood anymore although my mother lives just minutes away from that house. The park is still there but it looks like it's rarely played in, the houses are the same but they feel different. Some of the families are still there, some are not. I guess I miss what it was more than I wonder what it is now. Some memories are sacred and don't need to be tarnished by the reality of today colliding with the wild abandon of then. So I usually take a main road by the old neighborhood and visit my mother. As for my kids- they have woods in the yard and a small town to grow up in. That will have to fuel their future reminiscences of their childhoods.
#1 looked at me recently after I told her about my childhood (edited so she wouldn't do half the stupid dangerous stuff I did) and she said, with total sincerity, "I wish I was around back in the good old days." I wasn't sure if I wanted to wring her little neck for making my childhood into the 'good old days' or hug her. We compromised for laughing that I wasn't THAT old- yet- and that she can make her own set of 'good old days' memories to tell her kids. So I have a birthday to attend to. I wonder how old I'll be when I can plan my own party and it will still be a surprise party???? Maybe next year at the rate my memory is going.
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