Looking for something fun to do with the fam this weekend? Rock out to Secret Agent 23 Skidoo at The Grey Eagle!
The Asheville local and hip-hop for kids king performs Saturday at 2 p.m.
We’ve been listening hard to his album, Easy, at home. Check out Skidoo’s website for video goodness, including the most adorable hip-hop song ever sung–Family Tree–by Skidoo and daughter, Saki.
Over dinner last night, we brainstormed possible team names for the girls’ softball team.
Any idea how to explain that the Asheville Beavers is not an appropriate name for a team of 8 to 10-year-old girls?
Turns out the boy came up with the most creative monikers, including my favorite, The Fearless Chihuahuas.
My girl likes the name the Asheville Rodents, though she wisely realizes that her teammates might not like it. She’s one of the only 9-year-old girls I know who has a soft spot for rodents. Luckily, our two cats and one dog are reason enough to prevent us from adopting one.
Other team name possibilities are the Cubbies, the Tsunamis, and the Snakes. Like most pre-adolescent girls, they seem torn between being cute and being tough.
I’ll let you know the final name decision after tonight’s scrimmage.
This weekend is all about photography and softball for me–and photos of softball (yes, Day in the Life of Asheville has arrived–or this time, 36 hours in the LOA).
Oh, and tomorrow’s Earth Day. See you at MLK, Jr. park. I’ll be the tired one with the camera and the grumpy kids.
UPDATE: The team went with the North Asheville Cubbies.
Both my kids had chronic ear infections as babies. My girl had her tonsils removed when she was four and only had one ear infection after that. We had the boy’s tonsils removed at 16 months because he’d had non-stop ear infections from the age of 6 months. Also, since he was still nursing, he didn’t have to be hospitalized after the surgery. In fact, he had an amazingly easy recovery–he was nursing in recovery. Unfortunately, the tonsillectomy didn’t cure him of ear infections. He’s had three sets of tubes, the last of which fell out over a year ago. However, one of the tiny holes in his eardrum won’t heal. He keeps getting yeast infections in that ear canal. This being a kid who eats yogurt every day, often twice a day. Of course probiotics in your bloodstream don’t necessarily mean probiotics in your ear canal.
I’ve been in our ENT’s office every 1 to 4 months for the past eight years. I send the man a Christmas card. We talk about our gardens. And we talk about ears–ear anatomy, Eustachian tubes, hearing loss, inflammation, antibiotics, and various kinds of prescription ear drops.
I reckon I’ve spent about 36 hours in his waiting room, and another 24 in his examining room. I know, in the scheme of problems, that ear infections are minor, but I must say I’m tired of talking about, thinking about, and dealing with ears.
And on my gallery page.
I need to figure out how to embed a Flickr slideshow in Wordpress. Anyone?
The highlight of this past week was probably going to my boy’s “author celebration.” The kindergarteners got to sit, one by one, in the “big” rocking chair. Then each “read” his or her “small moment” story while showing off the accompanying illustrations. My boy wrote about going to a birthday part at Chuck E. Cheese. He drew a rocking picture of the huge animatronic mouse that looks suspiciously like our current President. Poor kid never gets to go to places like Chuck E. Cheese because his parents are haters, so this was one of the highlights of his year.
All the kids were so pleased with themselves and their stories. Adorable!
The lowlight of the past week was probably my bi-annual mammogram. Actually, it was better than in the past, because the technician used this foam pad under my boobs, which definitely eased the discomfort. Still, there’s nothing like getting your breasts flattened between two moving metal plates. The technician told me it used to be much worse for women, because it was difficult to control the plates and they would just keep smushing and smushing, and the tech would have to run over and release the poor woman’s boob. Ouch!
In other news, I had my hair cut and colored this week. I got some wispy bangs cut, which I think I like–I kind of look like a teenager with crow’s feet. The stylist layered my hair a bit too much, which means that, unless I dry it straight, I get that 80s big hair look. Even more like an old teenager. Scary.
Oh, and both the boy and I woke up with drainage and a low-level cough today. Please let it not be the flu. I’m in the middle of writing a huge (cover) story for Mountain X. And we have family from Boston coming in town this week. Pray for us.
So how was your week? Any exciting reports?
P.S. I rarely link to my business profiles for the AC-T because the newspaper breaks the links after a couple of weeks, but here’s today’s profile on the French Broad Chocolate Lounge, which I think some of you chocophiles will enjoy.
I’m a bit given to hyperbolic hyperchondria, although it’s not often me I’m fearful for, but the kids. When my boy came home from school on Monday looking like he was suffering from adolescent acne (at 6 years old) I guessed it was impetigo from a bloody nostril wound he’s been picking at for days. It is impetigo (common childhood bacterial infection) but I’m convinced that, despite oral antibiotics and the liberal application of antibiotic ointments, it will soon morph into either flesh-eating bacteria or a blood infection. Mainly because I didn’t follow the Mommy rules and harangue him constantly about not picking at the scab on his nose. There’s a reason Moms tell kids not to pick at themselves. That reason is flesh-eating bacteria.
5n other news, the flu, she is a-raging. My boy’s best friend is suffering mightily from the virus, and now I’m petrified that not only will both my kids be downed by it, but it will be the new flu pandemic, resistant to anti-virals and genetically mutated so the shot can’t touch it (despite my not giving them shots this year, for the first time in years). See, if you break the Mommy rules, you pay.
So today I’m home with the boy, who feels fine incidentally. I’m carefully watching the healing sores on his face and awaiting the first sniffle. I’m not writing. Except here.
Mostly, I’m hoping someone, somewhere, is having a less paranoid, more productive day than I.
Yes, my kids went to the dentist this morning, although it just happened that way, as the appointment was set six months ago. Going to the dentist is no big deal for my girl and high drama for my son. Which I plan to mine for a column I’m writing.
I’m looking for particularly dramatic kid-at-the-dentist stories, so if you’ve got one, spill it!
The fam went skiing yesterday at Cataloochee over in Maggie Valley. It was the girl’s second time and the boy’s first. Both kids participated in the pricy, yet somewhat loose ski school in the morning, then took a couple green runs with us, then circled the bunny slope 600 times. Those carpet lifts rock. Remember the rope tows of yore that used to rip the palms off your gloves while they jerked you off your skis? Sometimes, technology rocks.
Anyway, after skiing quite a bit in my late 20s and early 30s, I’ve only been on skis a few times in the past 10 years. I was a little shaky at first, but the body memory returned quickly. The sad part is that I had the oldest and longest skis on the mountain. Typically, there’s always some 60-something-year-old guy with ancient skis, looking all grizzled and old-fashioned. Yesterday that person was me. When I was a regular skiier, it was cool to have long skis. Long skis equated to skiing experience. Now, everyone has these short, flexible, swishy skis–even the really good skiers. It may be time to retire my 20-year-old K2s. Particularly since I noticed that the ski resort uses its old skis to make fences–and a pair just like mine were nailed up to the boards, keeping folks out of the woods. Damn.
Oh yeah, and I’m sore as hell today. I also got sunburned. I’m always so cautious about sun (melanoma survivor), but I totally forgot about the snow reflection quotient. I slather on sunscreen most mornings, but forgot yesterday in our rush to get out of the house.
Overall, the ski adventure was great fun. And there was decent snow for North Carolina after our “storm” this week. I’m off to swallow some ibuprofen!
Sledding rocks! My kids started at 7:30 a.m. and I closed them down at 6:00 p.m. They took breaks, mainly because it was 18 degress, so I made them. We all have red, chapped cheeks tonight.
Ready, set, go!
My girl, on the right, earned the nickname of “The Bomber” today. She went full-speed down the hill in front of our house about 800 times.
Fly, Biscy, fly! The Bisc ran up and down the hill about 500 times.
Cute, throwing a snowball at Mom when she’s holding an expensive camera!
So, tomorrow was supposed to be back to school after the hols. But they’ve already cancelled. Luckily, our hill is still snow-covered.
My plan for engaging in extra reading time over this holiday break has been thwarted by two things: my inability to meet all of my work deadlines before the break, and my volunteering to care for my youngest sister’s youngest child for three days.
Robert, aged 21 months, is an adorable kid–flexible, laid back, sweet, a bit of a ham. He also didn’t sleep a whole lot last night because of both a cough and because he’s 21 months and we made him sleep in a pack & play in a strange place. Poor guy. So, of course, he ended up in our bed for most of the night. I’d forgotten what toddler-induced sleep deprivation feels like. It feels like I’ve got sand rubbing against the back of my corneas, and I’m not sure if I should be operating any large machinery for a couple of days.
Also, Robert is in that curious toddler stage where everything must be explored–including the toilet, my printer, the kitchen drawers, and all other potentially dangerous non-baby proofed areas of my home. So far, the damage has been minimal, although he’s discovered that anything he throws will be retrieved by the dog, which he finds hilarious. So things like my kids’ toys, his bottle, and the sofa pillows have been frequently flying through the air. Even the dog is sleep-deprived.
But Robert is the sweetest, funniest, most relaxed little kid ever. He loves to snuggle, lets anyone comfort him, including my 6-year-old son, and sings tuneful babbling songs all day. He’s a bit scared of Rocky, but Rocky weighs as much as he does, so that’s understandable. When Robert first saw the sumo cat, he started crying, pointing, and yelling, “No, no, no.” I realized that he thought I’d allowed a bobcat in the house.
For the first time in three years, I have a baby gate on the stairs, a high chair in the dining room, and a pile of diapers in the bedroom. But guess what? I get to give him back in two days. I think this may be the best gift my sister’s ever given me.
