I hate making doctor/dentist appointments for Paul. Not only do I hate using the phone and hate trying to figure out appointment times that work (I don’t think quickly, so I’m constantly making appointments that interfere with things that aren’t on the calendar, such as the time I have to meet the school bus or the time I have to do kindergarten drop-off), I also hate the bossy/mothering feeling it gives me when I call. But if I don’t make the appointments, he will not go, and I want him to go, so it’s a matter of working with reality as it is: there’s no sense saying he “should” make his own appointments or that I “shouldn’t” have to, when he won’t and I do.

What I’m wondering is if I’m in the majority or the minority—if most adults make their own appointments, or if most households have one person who makes all the appointments. So I’m wondering if you make appointments for the other adult in your household or if the other adult in your household makes appointments for you or if you each make your own, and also I’m wondering whether the adults involved are male or female.

Let’s also have a poll, just for the one/both question.

[yop_poll id=”3″]

When I like to do something, I like everyone else to like to do it too (as you may already know, if you were my Facebook friend back when I was into the virtual gardens/pets) (sorry about that, but IT WAS FUN, WHY DIDN’T YOU WANT TO PLAY TOOOOOOOOO?). By birth and by nature I’m a bossy older sister, and I TRY not to push TOO MUCH, but sometimes it is HARD to be so RESTRAINED.

Anyway I’m into Webkinz right now and I want you to do it too so why arennnnnnnnnn’t you? No, I do understand. My kids started doing Webkinz when Rob was, like, 7? or 8? or something? And yet I didn’t even have the idea of getting a Webkinz for myself until a few months ago: the games didn’t really appeal, and that seemed like the main point. I don’t remember even WATCHING Rob or William play, or having much interest in what they were doing—though part of that is that I find it physically painful to keep myself from butting in when I’m watching a child play a game.

Zip forward to the present, when I am logging on daily (DAILY) to make sure I “do my dailies” (definition: play the games that can only be played once per day). I am watering virtual gardens. Collecting virtual gems to make a virtual crown. Spinning a virtual wheel to get a virtual prize. Earning virtual money by playing virtual Webkinz versions of Bejeweled and Yahtzee. Purchasing virtual clothing for a virtual animal. Fervently and genuinely hoping to win rare virtual items. Etc.

I can’t really explain it, especially since the site can be pretty annoying and glitchy. All I know is WANT TO PLAY WEBKINZ, LET ME PLAY IT RIGHT NOW. And also: WHY YOU NOT HAVE ONE, IT’S SO FUN.

I think one thing I like about it is that there are so few actual TOYS in adulthood. So few, in fact, that “adult toys” sounds dirty (as in “adult bookstore”) or else tongue-in-cheek (as in “Oh, er, no, this is a special kind of juice kids can’t have—ADULT juice”). Do you remember being a kid and thinking the presents your parents got for Christmas were UNIMAGINABLY SAD? I remember my mom explaining that no, no, these were the things adults wanted to receive! And I thought something like “Mental note: Christmas fun ends at adulthood.” That turned out not to be true, and now I explain the same thing to my incredulous children—but STILL, this Webkinz is a TOY, it’s an actual TOY, and I wanted it, and I found that quite, quite fun. And it is fun, now, to decide to spend some free time Playing With A Toy. I have found it surprisingly spirit-lifting. (Bonus: the children find this hilarious and delightful.)

But I can see how you might be uncertain (it took me about a month to get from “I might even like to have one myself, ha ha!” to “It appears I am seriously going to follow through on this silly idea”), so here is what I thought I’d do. Some of the Webkinz are quite cheap, so it’s an easy thing to try; if you don’t like it, very little has been wasted. What if I bought a couple of Webkinz and gave them away? And then two people who were wavering on the issue could try it without having to leap the hurdle of purchasing one, and plus we’d have the fun of a contest? What if THAT?

Here is what we will do. I will make a list of some of the cheaper Webkinz (there are some that are even cheaper than the ones I’m listing, but those are “add-on” items, which means they’re only at that price if your order is $25 or more). To enter, leave a comment saying which one you’d like to win. (I like to do a Google image search so I can see what they’d look like in the virtual Webkinz world, too.) I’ll choose two winners on…let’s say Monday, June 17th, 2013, and I’ll ship you the little guy you liked best. So, here are the candidates to choose from:

(HEDGEHOG; photo from Amazon.com)

(POM POM KITTY; photo from Amazon.com)

(PUG; photo from Amazon.com)

(CHARCOAL CAT; photo from Amazon.com)

(VELVETY ELEPHANT; photo from Amazon.com)

(POLAR BEAR; photo from Amazon.com)

(SKUNK; photo from Amazon.com)

(GREY ARABIAN; photo from Amazon.com)

(MOOSE; photo from Amazon.com)

(WHITE TERRIER; photo from Amazon.com)

(LEMON-LIME GECKO; photo from Amazon.com)

(WALRUS; photo from Amazon.com)

(APATOSAURUS; photo from Amazon.com)

There! That seems like a nice assortment.

Here is the main issue: one reason I like doing giveaways of things from Amazon is that I have a Prime account, so I can ship Amazon gifts within the U.S. for absolutely free, which is very pleasant considering how expensive it is to ship things now. So that means the giveaway is for U.S. addresses only, which is kind of SAD and UNFAIR (like ADULT CHRISTMAS) but THERE IT IS.

The secondary issue is that sometimes a particular Webkinz animal will sell out at one price and then suddenly they’re another price. All of the above were chosen in the $5/$6/$7 range; if one of them suddenly goes up (or suddenly no longer qualifies for Prime shipping), and it’s the one the winner has chosen, I’ll have the winner pick again.

So if you have a U.S. mailing address in mind, and you’d like to try a Webkinz, leave a comment below saying which you’d like to win:

Hedgehog
Pom-pom kitty
Pug
Charcoal cat
Velvety elephant
Polar bear
Skunk
Grey Arabian
Moose
White terrier
Lemon-lime gecko
Walrus
Apatosaurus

I’ll pick two winners on Monday, June 17th.

1. Back at the beginning of my recent cluster of apocalyptic novels, I wanted to re-read Douglas Coupland’s Girlfriend in a Coma. I knew I’d read it the first time from our library, so I went there confidently—and they didn’t have it. It wasn’t just checked out, it was gone. And furthermore, NONE of the libraries in the whole library system had it. They still had OTHER Douglas Coupland books, just not that one. So what I did was, I ordered a used hardcover in good condition and with a dustjacket. I read it, and then I donated it to the library so they’d have a copy.

Our library has a perpetual-book-sale room. They have good deals ($1 for a hardcover Harry Potter, 3/$1 paperback Magic Treehouse, etc.). I had some extra time today, so I went there to browse. Hey, here’s another hardcover copy of Girlfriend in a Coma! Maybe I’ll buy it and keep it for myself. …Hey, here’s my own little “Donation” post-it note inside.

2. I remembered this out of the blue the other day. I used to work in a plant nursery. There were two girls I worked with sometimes; they were best friends and very opinionated, and very proud of the way they expressed those opinions (i.e., loudly, aggressively, stridently, argumentatively, and repeatedly). They used to badger people about wearing deodorant: “You don’t need it! You only think you need it because you’ve gotten your body dependent on it! If you stopped using it, there’d be a brief adjustment period of smelliness, and then after that you’d never need deodorant again!” They really PUSHED it. “Have you stopped using deodorant yet? Come on, just try it! Seriously, I haven’t used it for YEARS, and you’d never know it!”

It’s a sweet little testament to human courtesy (or perhaps just a mark of how awkward such situations are) that no one ever said, “But…I DO know it. The whole room smells like your armpits. I deliberately work as far away from you as possible.” Because oh my DEAR. A person might find grounds to argue that they liked the natural smell of hard-working human armpit; we all have different preferences in such matters. But there was no grounds for arguing that the smell had disappeared after the discontinuation of deodorant.

********

I’ve mentioned before that my dad was a minister when I was growing up. Do these stories seem to you to be crying out for accompanying sermons, or is that a holdover from my formative years? We could write a good one about the donated book: about how sometimes you notice something missing in someone’s life, and so you try to show them what it is—but they’re not ready to receive it. You can’t know why (maybe they’re not ready, maybe they don’t recognize it for what it is, maybe you’re not the right one to show them); all you can do is offer. And maybe someone ELSE will end up taking what you offered, without you ever knowing they received it. Or, we could write one about the deodorant: about how people go around telling themselves/others that they don’t need something in their lives, when everyone who gets near them can clearly tell they do, and all we can do is hope one day they’ll discover that need. (The sermons, they WRITE THEMSELVES!)

OR we could write the opposite, about how sometimes people keep offering you something you genuinely don’t want or need in your life, and it’s because it’s something THEY want/need in THEIR lives. Or we could write about how people might go around proclaiming confidently what they believe to be true and trying to get you to live the same way they do, and how there’s no polite way to inform them that the reason you’re not doing so is that what they’re saying doesn’t seem to be true. (The BEST kind of anecdote is the one you can use to make LOTS of points!)

I am baking tonight for Twin Birthdays (two desserts for their birthday party plus two desserts for classroom treats = a lot of eggs, flour, and sugar), and I must be a little distracted because I put three eggs into the cookies instead of two, so then I had to go back and figure out what half-again of 3/4ths cup sugar was, and anyway do you want to come over for some cookies? Because we have half-again as many of them as I’d thought we would. I’m not entirely sure the proportions of the ingredients are correct, though.

I have the radio on in the kitchen, and the DJ just told me something that a wise man once told her, and it turned out the wise man in question was Jesus. And anyone might quote Jesus, of course, especially anyone in support of only judging other people ONLY IF you yourself are completely perfect, and dealing with all your own issues before worrying about someone else’s issues, and not judging others because God fully intends to use the meticulousness of your own personal judginess as a guideline for how meticulously he should judge you—but she went with the milder line of Jesus always being there for us. She ASSURED us that God (she switched to God halfway through, so she’s comfortable with the trinity concept) was ALWAYS there for us, NO MATTER WHAT. Then, without switching tone of voice or starting a new paragraph, she said she also wanted to tell us about Dove chocolate—rich, smooth, Dove chocolate, made with quality ingredients, for all your special occasions, Dove chocolate. Did I huff too much flour (have you any idea what the STREET VALUE of this flour is??) or did this really happen? It’s not a religious radio station—just your basic “all the hits of the 80’s, 90’s, and today.” Apparently late at night things get a little more Jesus/chocolate. I’m more familiar with the morning show.

I finished The Supremes at Earl’s All-You-Can-Eat, and I continued to like it. I would recommend it. But considering how many times someone else has recommended a book, and I’ve gotten the book and within one page (“DEAR GOD, WHAT IS THIS FRESH HELL?”) have wondered how two people can be so different and still like each other, I will not be at all hurt and confused if you don’t like it. I’d say give it a chapter or two, but not much more: it was by the end of the first chapter that I thought it was wonderful.

********

I emailed the Girl Scouts just to make sure I was right that if a camp session no longer showed up as available, that meant it was full: I was worried that I was going through all this stress and then it would turn out I’d just misunderstood. And I got such a helpful email in return, it nearly brought tears to my eyes. Many of the other emails I’ve sent to summer activities asking for more information have made it WORSE (Me: “Will you be posting the 2013 information soon?” Them: “It’s already on there!” Me: “…”), but this one not only answered my question but volunteered information that was ADDITIONALLY HELPFUL. And the happy thing is that it’s not that the camp session was full, it’s that only two girls had signed up for it so they had to cancel it. So I didn’t mess it up: if I HAD signed up for it months ago, it still would have been canceled, and meanwhile Elizabeth would have had months of thinking she was going to her first choice, followed by finding out she wasn’t. So! That is nice!

AND, the person who emailed said they were combining the camp Elizabeth wanted with two others that she also liked the sound of! It’s for grades 2-5, but I had my mind changed completely on that issue by Amanda‘s comment that a going-into-middle-school Girl Scout is likely to be a different sort than the middle school girls I’m imagining. (A new source of stress has stepped into the gap, because the camp is listed as only grades 4-5, even though the person I’m emailed with is assuring me it will be grades 2-5. But let’s not dwell on it! Let’s assume everything will be fine!)

********

I’d decided NOT to break the school rule and send a treat in with the twins for their birthday. But after FOUR MORE CHILDREN in their classes brought in cupcakes for their birthdays, the twins were distraught about it rather than calm and accepting, and I was getting distraught as well. I couldn’t think of ANY WAY to contact the teachers about it, though, without sounding accusatory: “Since you’re letting OTHER children break the rule, I PRESUME it’s okay for MY children to break it TOO.” And I definitely didn’t want to give the children the “If everyone else it breaking a rule, it’s okay for you to break it” idea. And I didn’t want to put the teacher in an awkward situation. And I didn’t want to just show up with the treats. I felt stuck. I needed to ask what the situation was, but how to ask it in a way that shows I didn’t LIE when I signed the form saying I’d thoroughly read and understood the handbook, and that shows I would never be asking to have the rule broken for me if I hadn’t had evidence that the rule wasn’t being used—and that shows I wouldn’t be at all upset if the rule WERE enforced?

What I did was, I gave up. There was no way to communicate that I knew the rule AND not sound either accusatory or as if I were asking for special permission to break a rule (which might make the teacher feel forced to say no: she might feel she can let it pass if someone just brings in the cupcakes, but can’t explicitly say “Yes, I give permission for you to break the rule”). So this is what I wrote to each teacher: “Dear Mrs. _____, Child’s Name wanted me to ask if it would be all right for her/him to bring in a birthday treat on Tuesday for the class. –Swistle Thistle.” My hope was that this format allowed the teacher to comfortably say either yes or no, and that by putting the question in the child’s mouth I was avoiding completely the issue of whether I knew about the rule or not. Both teachers replied that of COURSE it was fine for them to bring in a birthday treat. I am trying to be happy (yay, I managed the email! yay, the twins are happy! yay, I found a way to handle the situation!) rather than annoyed (WHY DO WE HAVE THIS UNENFORCED RULE THAT MAKES LIFE DIFFICULT AND UNHAPPY?).

Henry had strong opinions about his birthday cake this year, and those plans changed repeatedly. Sample plan: “A two-layer round lemon cake with green vanilla icing in between the layers, and blue lemon icing on top with ‘You are 6!’ in green vanilla icing and dots of purple lemon icing around the edges!” I’m pretty willing to mess around with stuff like this. I won’t/can’t do much decoration artwork, but I’m willing to spoon a batch of frosting into four bowls and stir in different flavors/colors we already have on hand.

Every time we discussed it, it was a different cake he had in mind. When I told him it was time to make his final decision, he said he wanted a vanilla rectangle cake (yay, rectangle! the easiest!) with chocolate frosting, and then a big green vanilla 6, and then dots of purple lemon frosting surrounding the 6. Easy enough.

When the cake was cooling, though, Henry expressed surprise that it was vanilla, not lemon. I reminded him that he’d made his final decision, and now it was too late for changes. He was okay with it. (If he’d been very upset, I probably would have baked another cake since I’d bought both cake mixes before I knew what he’d decide, but he seemed more like a kindergartner who’d lost track of his most recent decision.)

I noticed at his birthday party that he didn’t eat much cake, but we were having cake before the presents and he was VERY EAGER to get to the presents. Also, I don’t think he particularly likes cake: he’ll eat it, but he doesn’t go nuts for it.

Then, yesterday, and this will seem unconnected at first, I offered him a hard candy from a box of See’s Little Pops, and he chose vanilla, saying it was his favorite flavor. Then as he was eating it, he kept complaining mildly that it didn’t really TASTE like anything. I said that was how vanilla WAS, and please stop complaining about a nice treat.

(Are you starting to form a theory? I was still completely sans-theory at this point.)

Then, today, he was telling me about a cake they’d made at kindergarten. He said it was a lemon cake. Then he whapped his forehead in frustration and said, “I mean VANILLA. URG. I always get those words mixed up!”

Me: *FINALLY GETTING IT.*

Those two words DO have a lot of sounds in common. And OMG, “vanilla” cake is YELLOW, just like lemon cake. And he kept switching his cake choice from lemon to vanilla and back again, sometimes during the same description. And he was surprised when I made him a vanilla cake when he thought he’d been clear about wanting lemon.

Me: “Henry! Were you disappointed in the taste of your birthday cake?” Henry: “Yes”—but in a matter-of-fact way, not whiny or self-pityingly or resentfully or “FINALLY YOU GET IT” or anything. Just like, “I am not startled by that complete non sequitur of a question, and the answer is affirmative. Now ask me my favorite color.”

Anyway, I have a lemon cake in the oven.

You may have noticed I have been a bit of a Tangle of Stress recently. OMG allowances!! OMG music lessons!! OMG pianos!! OMG guinea pigs!! I’ll bet if I kept track on a calendar, I’d find I was ALWAYS a mess this time of year—and by “this time of year” I mean “right before school lets out.” The children’s summer looms before me, MENACINGLY.

I try to sign them up for stuff, and it sends me nearly over the edge to try to plan it. It’s like, if I sign Edward up for this one-week day camp he wants to do, and I sign Elizabeth up for this other one-week day camp she wants to do, and then Henry is in day-camp all summer because otherwise life is intolerable, and then swimming lessons are offered in four 2-week sessions and they can’t take a session if they’ll miss a week so it makes the most sense to do two weeks of day camp in a row but it would be more fun to spread the camps out a bit, and then archery lessons are only offered the first and third weeks of July, and then Elizabeth wants to do a Girl Scouts sleep-away camp and I don’t know if I can’t stand that but on the other hand I don’t want to squash her independence/bravery just because I’M scared, and both older boys are doing swim team, and I need to make sure I’m not signing myself up to drive three children three different directions at the same time, then SOLVE FOR X.

And summer activities have almost universally poor information. I read through it again and again, thinking “I am an adult with a reasonable level of education, and I am the exact target audience of this pamphlet. I should be able to understand where this gymnastics camp is located, what time of day it takes place, how to sign up, how much it costs, whether children have to already be taking lessons there in order to participate in the summer program, and what level of previous gymnastics experience is required.” BUT NO. Perhaps when the children are older, I will start a new career of Writing Camp Pamphlets. I know very little about Selling A Camp (which seems to be the current emphasis of such pamphlets), but I DO know WHO WHAT WHEN WHERE WHY HOW.

My MAIN-main fret right now is Girl Scout camp. It’s Elizabeth’s first year, but does she want to do day camp? No. How about the 4-day sleep-away camp? No. She wants to do SEVEN-DAY SLEEP-AWAY CAMP. And partly because of fretting and partly because of oblivious newbieness, I didn’t seriously look into signing her up until now, when it turns out we are past the sign-up date and will have to pay a $20 late-registration fee, AND all the camps she most wanted are full. So now I am also trying to solve for Y: “Well, there’s one 7-day one for her age group, but it’s the last one in August, and she was hoping for June or July, and so was I because I wanted to get the camp counselors before they were burned out. Or here’s another option, but it’s for grades 2-5 so she’d be in with girls about to go into 6th grade? That doesn’t seem right. Well, what about this one? Right time, 2nd and 3rd graders, 7-days! Oh, it’s horse camp. Here’s another one, but that’s at the place that’s four hours away. This one seems PERFECT!!–oh, it’s full.” What my lying-awake brain wants me to do is go back in time and sign up for it when she could have had her first choice.

I am thinking of getting a guinea pig. Henry’s preschool classroom had a guinea pig, and it was a DOLL. My friend who had a son in Henry’s class got a guinea pig because of that experience, and her guinea pig is ALSO a doll. When my friend watches TV, she’ll get the guinea pig and snuggle it. (She puts a towel under it. Evidently guinea pigs are of the “peeing any old time without seeming to notice it” category of animal.)

I have two main concerns:

1. Another of my friends had guinea pigs, and it was a disaster. Something like the first one dying quickly, and being replaced with one that turned out to be pregnant, and then tumors and mites and multiple expensive trips to the vet, ending in the guinea pigs being expensively put to sleep, etc. I don’t remember all the details; I mostly remember her saying “NEVER AGAIN.”

2. We have cats.

Elizabeth happened to be working on a Brownies badge that had to do with pet care, so as part of that we researched guinea pigs. According to what we found, guinea pigs can theoretically co-exist with cats; there were even photos of a cat cuddling with a guinea pig. But it looks like actual experience varies (duh), and I’m worried we’d end up with the cats, like, sitting on top of the guinea pig’s cage and the guinea pig stressed/terrorized/squealing.

Or maybe it would be great. We have cats and fish, after all, and they co-exist better than peacefully: the cats LOVE to “watch Fish TV,” and I think it significantly improves their indoor-cat existence, and the fish don’t seem to care at all. Not that I think I could necessarily pick up on a fish’s mood. But fish seem to communicate stress by swimming weird and/or floating dead in the tank, and they’re not doing either of those things. And, AND, we found some fish information that SUGGESTED riling up the fish to keep them from being bored, and it seems like having a cat periodically thud against the side of the tank fits that bill excellently.

I have my eye on a guinea pig at the animal shelter. One thing I like about her is that I’d read that guinea pigs are generally happier with guinea-pig company, but she’s at the shelter because she doesn’t get along with other guinea pigs, and I’d prefer to start with just one guinea pig.

I am wondering if you have any experience with guinea pigs, especially if it’s guinea pig + cat experience.

I just changed my BlogHer profile because I no longer have kids in the 3-5 age group: Henry turned 6 this past Friday. I find I’m most riveted by the ages of my eldest and my youngest: I can’t believe he’s 14! I can’t believe he’s 6! Henry will start FIRST GRADE in three months, and Rob will start HIGH SCHOOL.

The caboose child is particularly poignant/weird because there are so many things to say goodbye to. Getting rid of the baby clothes, and then the exersaucer and baby swing, and then the crib, and then most of the toys—ack. It’s part painful, part awesome: I do enjoy getting rid of Henry’s too-small clothes instead of storing them in boxes, but it can be a little challenging to get rid of a particular t-shirt or whatever. Some of it I hand down to my niece and nephew, which is pleasing. And I have one box labeled “Baby Clothes I Can’t Bear to Part With” to handle a few things: the pink/blue hats with ears the twins wore when they were newborns, the Baby Dior side-snap onesie I found in a mixed-lot of side-snap onesies at a consignment shop when I was expecting Rob, etc.

I feel a little bit like I’m only as young as my youngest child, and that as Henry gets older I’m finally Really Aging. When I had a newborn and/or a toddler, I felt like I must still be pretty young; I feel the same when I see other women with newborns and toddlers. But if my youngest is 6, well. And that’s going to get weirder every year.

I find I’m getting some of the same half-delusional nostalgia that I disliked hearing about when I was deep in the Very Little Kid stage. I see a woman out with a cute-talking toddler and a tiny squeezy baby, and I know to only THINK the “This is the BEST TIME” thought instead of saying it; I say it only with LOVE-EYES. I hope I can continue to remember to silently channel that feeling into giving affectionate/tolerant looks to the parents struggling with the tantruming toddler and the screaming baby. Because it’s only sort of the Best Time, and also it’s the Worst Time.

There are a bunch of things I haven’t had to do for a long time, and I don’t miss any of them:

• I haven’t had to deal with a diaper blowout, or pull a onesie down over someone’s torso to avoid getting something unspeakable in someone’s hair.
• I haven’t had to deal with ANY diapers, in fact.
• I haven’t had to clean barf off the many surfaces of a crib.
• I haven’t had to give anyone a bath.
• I haven’t had to give anyone a bath and then immediately afterward deal with a diaper blow-out and spit-up in the hair.
• I haven’t woken up in an exhausted stupor to the sound of a baby starting to cry in the middle of the night, or at 4:30 a.m.
• I haven’t been awake in the night with a baby who won’t go to sleep, feeling like I’m losing my mind.
• I haven’t had to do much more at bedtimes than three sets of teeth and one set of stories; everyone does their own pajamas and pottying and climbing into bed and turning off the lights.
• I haven’t had to worry about whether the coffee/wine I’m drinking or the food I’m eating or the medicine I’m taking will affect a child.
• I haven’t felt Ruined Naptime Despair.
• I haven’t had to worry about electrical sockets or wires or tiny things on the floor.
• I haven’t had to wonder if it’s an ear infection or is it teeth or is it crabbiness or is it indigestion or is it a virus or is it a diaper pin or WHAT.
• I haven’t had to feel like if I looked away for ONE SECOND there would be a disaster.
• And I hardly EVER have that “NO ONE TOUCH ME EVER AGAIN” feeling.

I’m at the stage where every school day involves a chunk of time where I am alone in the house or alone to run errands. And I can leave the house by myself sometimes even when the children are home. I can make appointments without also needing to figure out a babysitter. And do you know, my big kids get themselves up in the morning, put themselves through the shower, get themselves dressed, make their own lunches, gather up their own stuff, and present themselves to the school bus? Imagine that!

It’s not, though, that THIS is the Best Time. I DO sometimes miss the littler-kid stage and the littler-kid issues. Some days I feel like I am really happy that one of my biggest fears is College Costs rather than SIDS. On the other hand, my biggest fear isn’t College Costs: it’s that the child will do something that results in his whole life being destroyed/over. So. I’m not sure that’s an improvement, per se. And there’s this dawning realization that for all my “I’ll be so relieved when we’re past the SIDS window” and “I’ll be so relieved when everyone in the house can have the age 3+ toys,” there is ALWAYS more to worry about.

Plus, you know how as soon as a baby/child outgrows something difficult, there’s a fresh difficult thing right after it? So that ANY time you’re thinking, “Things will be better as soon as he/she is past this stage,” it ALWAYS turns out to be a complete trade-off, with new bad parts taking the place of the old bad parts, and, luckily, new good parts taking the place of the old good parts? THAT keeps going, TOO. Yay, we’re done with the tantruming; crud, now it’s whining. Yay, we’re done with the whining; crud, now it’s backtalk. Oh, sad, I just realized he doesn’t smell like a baby anymore; yay, he can be trusted to stand next to the car for a minute while I load groceries! Oh, sad, I can’t really carry him anymore; yay, he’s going to school and I have less of that cyclical “This isn’t a year, it’s just one long 8,760-hour DAY THAT NEVER ENDS” feeling.

I am looking for that excellent blend of reassurance and information that I think of as one of the best parts of the blogging world. Sure, I suppose I could ask all my local friends and acquaintances one by one what they know about X, but that would take ages—and, statistically speaking, few of them would have any information. OR, I can ask HERE and have instant access to THE GREATEST MINDS OF OUR GENERATION (please resist madness/starving/hysteria kthanx).

Okay! So do you remember when I wrote about children and instruments? After that, with my mind tidied and bolstered from the aforementioned reassurance/information, I signed both Rob and William up for piano lessons. Ahhh, the relief of TAKING ACTION after months of fretting! Why didn’t I do this MUCH SOONER?

…And that’s right about the time the panic set in. Wait: WE HAVE NO PIANO. How will they PRACTICE?

You may be looking at me right now with an expression of incomprehension and disbelief, wondering how did this HAPPEN? Who would arrange for piano lessons without having a piano? Who DOES that? But wait! You should hear my side before you wonder if it’s time to up my fish oil or what. Follow my pattern here: I signed Rob up for clarinet lessons, and then after that we acquired a clarinet. I signed William up for trumpet lessons, and then after that we acquired a trumpet. I signed Rob and William up for piano lessons, and then…OH CRAP.

It’s been NORMAL to first consider the lessons, and then acquire the necessary instrument. BUT PIANO IS DIFFERENT. Piano is not in the “Oh, let’s contact Uncle Music [my musical brother, who has made it his personal mission to acquire instruments for my children] and thus acquire this instrument!” category. Even if pianos were FREE, I would not WANT one at this stage of things. *panicked panting*

Okay. So this is where I turn to you. Because for all I know, this is UTTERLY TYPICAL. Maybe almost NO children who take piano lessons have pianos at home! Maybe the piano teacher would be surprised if we DID have a piano! Maybe it is absolutely typical for schools and piano teachers to have…some other solution to this. I’d been thinking, “Oh, they can practice on our keyboard,” but do you know how many keys our keyboard has? THIRTY-SIX. Do you know how many keys a piano has? EIGHTY-EIGHT. This solution is NOT GOING TO WORK.

I am trying to calm myself with thoughts such as: “Okay, okay, everything will be fine. AT WORST, we cancel the piano lessons, cancel the class Rob is taking next school year and find something else for him to take among the remaining scraps of unsigned-up-for classes, and I’ll feel completely embarrassed and foolish in several directions.” (It is not a very helpful thought.)