Ha, and I thought perimenopause was crummy!

We're "social distancing" here in Oregon. Today was the first day for me of working remotely. My office is encouraging everyone who can to work from home with no/limited in-person meetings, and Cook's office is reorganizing around staggered shifts and partial teleworking so they can all stay six feet away from each other all the time. (All the meeting rooms have been assigned quotas based on their size, so the smaller meeting rooms can now accommodate two people who sit pressed against the opposite walls.) I was supposed to go to a conference in Chicago next week, but it was cancelled. (And I was really looking forward to it.) Skipper's school trip to Japan in June has been cancelled. (Though our family trip to Japan is not cancelled- we're going to hope as long as possible that we can pull that off.) Skipper's baseball season and Duchess's ultimate frisbee season (long story) have been postponed. All my meetings have been cancelled or turned into video chats. THE LIBRARY SYSTEM HAS CLOSED.

All the stores are out of toilet paper, which briefly seemed very problematic when I thought this morning that we had only two rolls left in the house. Turned out we had an unopened box in the basement containing 36 rolls, so we'll make it a bit longer.

The kids are out of school as of today, through next week and the following week (which is spring break) and half the week after that (unless they extend it). All activities are cancelled. I'm not sure how that's going to go. Based on experience so far, Duchess will spend it lying in bed texting, and Skipper will read a bunch of books and periodically appear to ask questions like "What's communism?" or "What's a nuclear family?" or to startle me as she did this week when we were talking about COVID-19 and she said "Well, Mom, one death is a tragedy, and a million deaths is a statistic" and I said "ARE YOU QUOTING JOSEPH STALIN AT ME?!?!?" and she looked at me with a puzzled expression and said "Yeah!" like that's a normal person thing.

None of us know how to prepare or what to do. Skipper had a sore throat and abdominal pain this evening - do we now all stay in the house for 14 days? Are grocery stores going to run out of food as the supply chain falters? Should I have bought more canned beans today? Is it really going to snow tonight? The future, even the immediate future, feels wildly uncertain. And yet, people are still out and about, going to work and to bars like it's normal. I met a colleague at a coffee shop this morning; he was firmly in the this-is-overblown camp, and mentioned that his 75-year-old mother who has compromised lung function is really paranoid right now and makes everybody wash their hands. Sitting there, eating an almond croissant, with people socializing cheerfully all around us, I felt crazy. (And I told him his mom is right and he should wash his damn hands.)

Anyway. I bought a puzzle and the new Hilary Mantel book. We may starve to death, and/or have to wipe our butts with rags and moss, but we're not going down without reading material.

What is this life?

I feel unmoored. Nothing has happened to make me feel this way, particularly. I think it's the cumulative effect of everything. Not only does the entire world appear to be falling (further) into chaos and tribality, and the national situation seems unsalvageable, but Oregon is flooding (better than burning? maybe...), the political left is unable to stop tearing itself apart at any level, The Good Place is over, parenting a teen is the hardest thing, and I'm looking menopause right in the eye. Also, I'm still on the downward slope of the happiness curve.

My job, building on my last job, involves talking and thinking a lot about things that have to change - we have to build more densely in our cities, and we have to get around more without cars - but that are incredibly difficult for people to imagine changing. The way humans normalize things is staggering to me, whether it's normalizing purging and dehumanizing your enemies or normalizing traveling around at speed in a mostly-empty metal box that emits air pollution (that gives us heart attacks and cancer and alzheimers and learning disabilities and HAIR LOSS), messes up the climate, and crushes to death 40,000 Americans a year.  We are capable of accommodating and rationalizing so much. And pushing on it makes me feel exhausted. I'm not naturally inclined to activism; I like being a cog, and I don't like saying things that make people scrutinize me. (I love lecturing to passive, approving audiences, though - let me know if you've got one of those needing a speaker.) However, my personal theory of What We Need to Do (which is well-supported by research - I swear I am not making this up) can come across as wildly radical to normal people. Even the most liberal people mysteriously believe in a whatever-deity-granted right to free parking for eternity. And this makes me feel kind of unhinged all the time. It's totally possible that I SOUND unhinged a lot of the time. The other day I was explaining my theory of transportation systems to a person I had just met in a professional context, and he listened to me explain that a person who takes transit instead of driving to a destination, even if they go there for the most nefarious purpose, such as murder, has made a prosocial choice of transportation, and then he said "Do you say this kind of thing in public?"

So there you go. Unhinged, unmoored. However, I just want to say, please consider driving a little less. It was 65 degrees in Antarctica today. Maybe look into how you could get involved in local upzoning efforts, or maybe some advocacy around bike infrastructure. Bumblebees are going extinct. Ask city hall to dedicate right-of-way to buses instead of car storage. I'll let you off the hook about menopause, but you should definitely take the train next time.

Kids these days

I've been reading a book about how screwed millennials are, and what I'm gleaning from it* seems like it will dismally apply to Duchess and Skipper.

Also, Duchess and her phone. Ugh. She's constantly holding it and staring at it. Last night I made her turn it off earlier than usual, and she was such delightful company - she played a stupid card game with Skipper, manically and amusingly did a dance and voice interpretation of my uterus, and worked on a crossword with Cook.** I've missed her.

*Kids are having to work increasingly hard on training themselves and making themselves more valuable resources in order to compete with each other for increasingly unstable and poorly paid jobs. This is bad.
**I have fond memories of doing crossword puzzles with my friend in middle school, in the Eugene Maleska era. That's how I learned the word "ort."

Just a note

I was looking at the coverage of the marches today, and I got curious and went to the Fox News home page:

At first I thought it said nothing about the marches, and then I saw the little item on the bottom lefthand corner.

Here's the NY Times:

No wonder it feels like we're living in different worlds, when your standard media coverage (not EVEN your facebook feed) looks so different.

Anyway, Skipper and I are off to the Portland march. Don't look for us in the Fox news coverage; we won't be there.

updates

1) I had two days at work last week that did not meet my new baseline for a successful day. One of my coworkers offered today to teach me a few exercises she learned "from a local shaman" to help me shield myself from negativity emanating from other people. I enthusiastically took her up on it. At this point, any kind of shielding - magical, physical, psychological, hypnotic, technological, imaginary, placebo, cardboard box, whatever - is something I will try. We scheduled a training session for tomorrow (right before I have to go talk with some people I really need to be shielded from). I'll let you know if it works.
2) I am continuing to Eat Less. I consequently weigh less. (I suspect that my commitment to this campaign is due to the fact that I desperately need a successful project in my life to balance my increasingly awful projects at work.) Turns out that I don't actually need to eat anywhere near as much as I thought I did in order to function perfectly well. I don't know where this knowledge is going to take me, but it's probably a good thing to know.
3) I am bullying everybody in the house into an ongoing pseudo/lite-KonMari tidying process, one small category at a time. Next weekend, stuffed animals!
4) Skipper has a piano recital coming up.
5) Duchess meets every stereotype of adolescence that you could possibly imagine. Surly? Check. Sulky? Check. Sleeps late? Check. Really wants a phone? Check. Et cetera.

6) Skipper lost another tooth.

Why parents drink.

The scene: Skipper has just gotten out of the shower, and flossing and tooth-brushing before bedtime is the next step. She is feeling fairly jaunty and pleased with herself for having (finally) executed this weekly chore. Because the mood is positive, I dare to suggest a minor break in routine.

Me: Hey, do you want me to braid your hair before you go to bed?
Skipper: (puzzled silence)
Me: It would help keep your hair contained so it won't get tangly while you're sleeping. And it would be kind of curly in the morning!
Skipper: I don't want it to be curly!
Me: Okay. No braid. That's fine.
Skipper: It's not fair! I don't want a braid!
Me: Okay.
Skipper: You can't make me have a braid!
Me: You don't have to have a braid. I was just offering to braid your hair if you wanted to try it.
Skipper: Fine! I'll have a braid! But you can't make me floss and brush if you're making me have a braid!
Me: You don't have to have a braid. I'm not making you have a braid. If you want a braid, I would be happy to braid your hair. But I'm not making you have a braid. (I walk away with an armful of dirty laundry, attempting to avoid escalation, but inevitably enraging her further by making her feel that I am diminishing the significance of her feelings.)
Skipper: YOU ALWAYS DO THIS! YOU MAKE ME DO THINGS AND THEN YOU GIVE ME STUPID LECTURES ABOUT IT!
Me: (unable to resist engaging in petty argument, even though I actually do know better) I'm pretty sure that doesn't count as a lecture.
Skipper: YOU'RE MEAN!!!!!!!
Me: (walking down the basement stairs with the laundry, thinking "And you're a PSYCHOPATH!!!!") I know you're feeling really angry.

Also, memories of three and a half.

catching a breath

We have been busy.

My work life has continued to be very busy. My job has been extended through the end of the calendar year.

Duchess is now fully healed from the Broken Finger Episode, and is cramming in a bunch of makeup gymnastics classes before the end of the season in June. This is hectic. She is also taking a programming class on Saturdays, which is hectic. And she's started extra training sessions on weekends with her kung fu friends, preparing for their Big Test this summer. Hectic!

Last weekend was Skipper's birthday. She had invited six kids to her party on Sunday, and we heard back from three, and she only had one confirmed attendee. She decided she wanted to go ahead with the party, even with just one kid. On Saturday night, after the kids had gone to bed, I asked Cook to inspect my itchy head for lice. I had a louse. Our first lice! On Sunday morning, we started the bedding-washing and kid-delousing project, and it rapidly became clear that we were not going to be able to get ready for the looming week, bake and frost a birthday cake, lay out a scavenger hunt, host guests, delouse* everybody AND still remain sane, so we cancelled the birthday party. I called the parent of the one confirmed attendee, and emailed the parents of the non-RSVP-ers  as I didn't have numbers for them. One of the non-RSVPers subsequently showed up for the party (which was confusing and hilarious and mortifying in equal measures - they knocked on the door, and Skipper, Duchess, and Cook, who were playing Uno in the living room between combings, all scattered in terror and surprise).

It all worked out okay. We seem to be louse-free, and my head no longer itches.***  And ALL six kids are coming to the rescheduled party this weekend, so it probably actually worked out for the best.

Skipper's birthday? I think it was pretty good. She got presents she liked, she ate her weight in sushi for dinner, and then she ate chocolate cake frosted with whipped cream and garnished with raspberries. Her favorite present seems to be Uno, a last-minute inspiration of Cook's. She feels old.

That's all. Hectic! Old!

*Manual delousing, using a spiffy anti-nit comb, a lot of conditioner and the magic of television.
** Skipper appears to have been the vector, which makes sense - I've heard from other parents that her class is particularly lousy. Cook was clean, and Duchess and I both had very small infestations.
*** The internet told me that the itch is the result of an allergic reaction to lice saliva. That made me feel much itchier.

Crasee prsen.

I wanted to share this amazing thing with you, but I apparently couldn't be bothered to take a decent picture of it. This is something Skipper brought home from the 100th day of school. It says "When I am 100 years old ... I will run a round like a crasee prsen!"  and the 100-year-old version of Skipper is depicted saying "I like runing a round like a crasee prsen!"

Skipper explained that she will wear ponytails when she is 100 because she looks good in ponytails. And that is a candy cane she is using as a cane because she will have grown so small that a candy cane will be the right size.

Also, Skipper is now officially reading chapter books. This unfortunately means that the Accursed Fairy Books are back in the house. She isn't yet able to read silently, so she was banished to her room to read.

there wuns wus tow grls

I just ushered Cook and the kids out the door - he's taking them to gymnastics (and running errands while they gymnasticate). Skipper yelled and cried for the preceding 15 minutes, and Duchess yelled and cried for 5 of those minutes. I was very glad to see them go.

Cook and I are both finding it difficult right now to be with our kids a lot of the time. A lot of the time, it is not pleasant or restful or joyful to be with them. Duchess is pretty happy right now, generally, but also very reactive, and her reactions can be very unpleasant. Her default response to any kind of challenge to what she's doing (such as, for example, a mild advance notice that she needs to get off the couch and get ready to leave for school) is to lash out verbally. She can be very nasty and self-righteous.

Skipper is, as I wrote before, often similarly nasty, but for her it's kind of a general approach to everything. She seems to feel most comfortable when she's feeling wronged and aggrieved, so she sets up every situation as a lose-lose scenario every which way. Say it's time to go to swimming, and she freaks out and screams "I don't want to go to swimming!"  - if I then say "Okay, let's not go to swimming," she immediately makes an about-face and screams "I want to go to swimming!" - there's no way any of us can win here. She doesn't feel safe expressing (or, I think, even feeling) enthusiasm or positive expectations for things, because that would make her vulnerable to disappointment or to what she perceives as humiliation, being made to feel a fool. She doesn't really seem to have a natural groove in her temperament for optimism, contentment, or for feeling good about the way things are going, and she has some very deep grooves for anxiety, defensiveness, anger, irritation, and scorn, so it is easiest for her to just file all her life experiences into those grooves. That's a tough, painful way to live, and it's also painful for the people with whom she lives. I think that this acute misery right now is partly a developmental stage, but it's clear that it's also rooted in her temperament. We try to coach her in identifying and naming her feelings, and in any coping techniques that we can muster up, but I don't think it's working. I'm not sure how much can be done, honestly, other than to support her as she works out for herself how to live her own life.

Extracurriculars are hard with her. I have signed her up for extracurricular activities (three separate activities a week, at the moment) because I feel like it's really important for her to get started early on a few things in which she can be a beginner with similarly-aged kids, and gain mastery that will make her feel competent. This seems like really important experience for someone who is afraid of trying things for fear of failure. However, now that she's thrown a tantrum before gymnastics three weeks in a row, I don't really want to keep taking her to gymnastics. With every kid, a big part of parenting seems to be figuring out how hard to push on what, and with Skipper I have no idea even how to see the line at which I need to stop pushing. She says she wants to keep doing all three of her activities (gymnastics, taiko, and swimming), and she clearly enjoys them and feels good during and after the activities, but she's pretty much a turd about going to them.

This week, she was super-stressed about going to taiko. The teacher had (apparently) given them a casual "homework" assignment to come up with a rhythm and make it active. Skipper wasn't sure what she was supposed to do, and I gently suggested a few approaches she could take (based on my personal experience that if you can't figure out what you're supposed to be doing, it's usually better to wing it and do SOMETHING rather than nothing), and she reacted with predictable angry tears. She couldn't wing it, because she was so paralyzed by her fear of doing it wrong, so all she did was worry and worry and worry and worry and worry, and by the time Wednesday rolled around, she really, really didn't want to go to class. I said she absolutely had to go - she could quit after that class, if she wanted, but she had to face the problem. So I more or less dragged her to class, walking half a mile holding her hand while she wailed and sobbed, and then I more or less shoved her into the classroom. (I was not nice about all of this. I can only imagine what a stranger observing us would have thought about my parenting skills.) And, as it turned out, the teacher never even mentioned the "homework" at all (I'm not even sure she ever actually assigned them anything), and Skipper was so relieved and happy after class, and said class was "really fun." I don't know what we take away from that.

I don't mean to imply that it's all rage and beastliness around here. Duchess, as I said, is pretty happy and is on a good trajectory, and Skipper, for all her assholery and misery vortex issues, seems to be feeling relatively comfortable at school and aftercare. She's usually great when you have her one-on-one. I took her by bus to swimming this morning, and she was really good company.
























Report cards came home yesterday. Both girls continue to be academically successful by report card metrics. Unsurprisingly, most of the things in which Skipper rated "often does" rather than "consistently does" have to do with participating out loud in activities. Skipper tested at a Developmental  Reading Assessment level of 16, which is more or less the baseline they want all the kids to hit by the end of first grade, news which allowed me to relieve her of her apparently-long-held and totally unfounded anxiety that she's not going to be promoted out of kindergarten.

Skipper has been reading up a storm, and seems more willing to actually commit writing to paper. (Where it might be judged! And found to be less than perfect! This is a big step for her.) This is a piece of writing she started before school on a recent morning. I don't know what the two girls were going to be named, and I also don't know what's up with the small character she drew.

Also, here are some bonus photos of Duchess, waiting with me outside Skipper's taiko class two weeks ago.

The things you can control.

Skipper continues to refuse to wear anything but a very small roster of clothing items. Every night and every morning we have been having the same insane discussion* with her, and Cook and I are both extremely over it. Yesterday I took everything out of her dresser and closet that she hasn't worn in the last month (she has a ton of clothes handed down from the twin Blond girls), stuffed it all in a large duffle, and put it in the basement. Her wardrobe is now composed of the following clothes that she will consistently or occasionally wear: four t-shirts, three pairs of shorts, one pair of pants, seven pairs of days-of-the-week socks, three pairs of underpants, one hooded sweatshirt, two raincoats, one pair of sneakers, one pair of too-small crocs, one pair of rainboots she will wear only if the alternative is getting her sneakers muddy, two hankies, three kung fu uniforms, a leotard for gymnastics, and a swimsuit for swim lessons. Period.

While this is plenty of clothing for most purposes, it is problematic because a) it is difficult to launder her clothes quickly enough, given our schedules and lack of a dryer,** b) several of these most-loved clothing items are getting very ratty, having experienced several owners and now getting worn and washed at least twice a week, and c) the wardrobe is really not warm enough for the kind of weather we're getting into. Also d) it's a little embarrassing to send your kid to school every day wearing the same clothes, especially when they're ratty.***

I ran into an acquaintance recently, and in the course of our conversation I discovered that her kid has very similar issues, that also seem to be a blend of control and sensory issues. (Her kid also has very conflicting reasons for disliking different pieces of clothing, and abruptly decides she doesn't like a piece of clothing she has loved for months.)  It was a relief to hear that, but also alarming, as her kid is nine and has been like this for years, which suggests that this is not necessarily a short-term problem, as I had been hoping.

I can't figure out how to solve this. My acquaintance has her kid wear clothes she dislikes in the evening for an hour at a time, so she can get used to them without having to wear them all day, and we may try something like that. It isn't very helpful to take Skipper shopping, as she has no interest in it, and doesn't want to try anything on, but it's also very risky buying her anything without her trying it on, because odds are extremely high that she will dislike it. It also pisses me off to have to buy her anything at all, given that she has an enormous collection of clothing already.

Anyway. Presumably the situation will improve. I expect.


*"I don't have anything to wear! Waaaaahhhh!" 
"You have a dresser stuffed with nice clothes," 
"NO I DON'T!!!! WAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

** Skipper has several times gone to the basement to dress herself in half-dry clothes off the line. Sending your kid to school in DAMP ratty clothes that she's already worn to school twice that week provides bonus mortification. Also, clothes hung to dry in our basement this fall smell slightly unpleasant in a dank way, which suggests that we need a better dehumidifier and makes us all smell like maybe our family lives clandestinely in an elderly person's unfinished basement, which further increases my anxiety about what Skipper's teachers think of us.

***I must acknowledge here that I also very much prefer to wear baggy, comfortable, ratty clothes, and I also have a uniform that I wear when I have a choice - it is notably comprised of two hooded sweatshirts, one ratty cotton cardigan, one pair of jeans, and my four favorite t-shirts. The main difference between my choice wardrobe and Skipper's is that there are fewer pictures of animals in mine. However, unlike Skipper, I am willing to wear other things when I must.

Words for living

My bike commute to work involves a long downhill stretch that is turning out to be a kind of barometer on how confident or optimistic I'm feeling each day. On Monday I barreled down the hill at (relatively) high speed, heedless of pavement imperfections and the possibility of getting t-boned by a driver making bad decisions. This delirious positivity was the result of a weekend that made things feel pretty good.

Here's what happened this weekend:
1) I recovered from the flu! The flu is terrible, and just the pleasure even of being able to lie in bed and NOT feel like a damp bag of scrap metal was pretty tremendous.
2) The girls and I went with friends to a Renaissance Festival. It was very hot, and I was still maybe slightly delirious from fever, but I can't even describe how weird that was. We saw a magic show, a rat circus, a falconry show, a joust, and, weirdly, an air show going on above the whole time, and it was all really fun and strange and disorienting. The girls loved it. Duchess wants to buy a corset. Skipper said later that she married one of the jousting knights.
3) I read three parenting books while lying in bed feeling like a damp bag of scrap metal, and found a strategy in one of them that seemed very silly, but, when I dutifully deployed it on Skipper, WORKED.  It worked, you guys. We finally have a way to help Skipper correct her own behavior, and it works at least a little bit some of the time. Yay!
4) On Monday morning, when Skipper came out in the kitchen seeking breakfast, I said, in greeting, "Hey, Skipper, what's the word?" (this sounds ludicrous but is a greeting I fairly frequently use because I am ludicrous), and Skipper said "Awake! Happy!" and I was so happy to hear that those were her Monday morning words. (Duchess, following in her wake, said "Sleepy! Zombie!" to balance it out.)

That's the words. Happy Tuesday!

Skipper does this weird thing where she withholds information and/or pretends ignorance - I can't tell if she's doing it as a power play, or if she feels less vulnerable when she reveals as little as possible. Today she came into the bathroom while I was making one of my occasional half-hearted gestures toward personal grooming.

Skipper: What are you doing?
Me: Plucking hairs out of my eyebrows.
S: Why are you doing that to your eyelashes?
M: Not my eyelashes, my eyebrows. I'm doing it so they don't take over my entire face.
S: What are eyebrows?
M: (touching her eyebrows) These are eyebrows.
S: The fuzzy things on my face?
M: Yes.
S: I didn't even know I had them!
M: Okay, now you're totally pulling my leg.
S: (runs out of room)

Conversations

 Homework is due on Fridays. It usually includes a few reading comprehension questions of the kind Duchess loathes, involving vague questions like "What is the big idea in this story?"

Five days ago.
Duchess: Mooooooom. I don't get these questions.
Me: I'm washing dishes. I can't help you right now.
Duchess: Okay. (wanders off and picks up a book)

Two days ago. 
Me: Duchess, where are you at with your homework?
Duchess: I'm done! I even finished my reading summary!
Me: Great!

Yesterday.
Cook: Duchess, are you done with your homework?
Duchess: Yup.
Cook: Good.

This morning. Duchess is sitting in her room working on her homework.
Me: Duchess, are you still working on your homework?
Duchess: I CAN'T DO THIS IT'S IMPOSSIBLE!
Me: I thought you said you were done.
Duchess: I TOLD YOU I CAN'T ANSWER THESE QUESTIONS AND I ASKED YOU TO HELP ME AND YOU DIDN'T THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!
Me: You're blaming your failure to finish your homework on... me?
Duchess: IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!!!!!! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

Then there was yelling. I refused to help with her homework questions given that she was being a total asshole. I told her she was being an asshole. I was pissed off. Duchess threw a pencil at me. I kind of hated her. She definitely hated me. (She said so.)

I'm assuming that at some point she will be able to at least not blame other people OUT LOUD for her failures. Right? I also assume that at some point, I will be able to not be furious at her for blaming other people for her failures. Right?

The dentist, and my strange kid

I took Skipper to the dentist yesterday. As with the doctor, once she realized that the situation was not as terrifying as she had thought, she went straight from mute cowering into a kind of manic show-off mode. Lying in the chair, while the dentist and hygienist were looking at her records, she pointed her finger straight up in the air and said loudly "I want to POKE SOMEBODY IN THE EYE!"

The dentist turned and looked at me questioningly, and I really had no idea what to say.

On the plus side, she has no cavities.

Clothing Rules, according to Skipper

1) Once a top-half clothing article (a shirt, usually) is matched with a bottom-half clothing article (pants, usually), they are An Outfit, and can never be separated or have a fling with another partner.

2) Pants should be tight at the ankles (because of flopping!) and loose at the butt (because of underpants bunching!).

3) Underpants are terrible. TERRIBLE.

4) Socks are worse than underpants, if that's even possible.

stage names

The girls and I watched part of an episode of The Voice the other day, and they were curious about why Usher and Shakira don't use their last names. I explained the concept of a stage name to Skipper, and she said "What's MY stage name?"

I told her it could be whatever she wanted, and she said "I will be 'Tyrannus.'"

It's better than calling me "assive," I think.

Tonight Skipper came up to me as I was folding laundry and said firmly "You. You're a pieface, and I love you."

Summer update

We're wrapping up the first week of summer, with mixed reviews so far. The kids have been relating to each other in three ways (in more or less equal amounts):

1) fighting like demented ferrets

2) playing together (mostly with small animal/people/houses-type toys) in a peaceful, persistent way

3) happily and manically screeching, laughing, running around, and yelling

States 1 and 3 make me insane, which means I'm insane 2/3rds of the day. I'm getting better about just ignoring both of them, but when I'm tired or in a hurry, I'm pretty incapable of handling it with grace. Something to work on, I guess.

Duchess is participating in the very low-key parks and rec swim team, which means an hour swimming every weekday. She's still warming up to it, but I think she'll soon make some friends and feel more confident. Skipper, after watching the swim team practice for three days, is getting excited for her swim lessons in a few weeks, and has decided that she WILL put her face in the water.

Duchess left school in tears, because she found out on the last day that the Nerd King is, after all, headed off to The School for Smart Kids. Stupid smart kids. Also, in case you're interested, this year's round of budget cuts hit only the disadvantaged kids at Duchess's school. The school will maintain a .5 FTE PE teacher and .5 FTE librarian, and add a .5 FTE music teacher, but will lose a total of 1.0 FTE in reading and ESL assistance. 

What else? There's a lot of stuff going on around here. In the first four days of summer vacation, we had several firsts - Duchess was stung by a bee,* the girls met one of their cousins (and loved him so much they have requested that he become their brother), and the girls drank their first lime rickey. Skipper now substantially overestimates her ability to drive both her bike and her scooter, and keeps her knees scraped up and bruised at all times. We found a candy store that sells a wide variety of gummy candies, which is thrilling. Duchess has read a tall pile of books already. We have THREE exciting trips coming up in the next few weeks, and in general this summer already feels packed with excitement. If I can just come to better terms with states 1 and 2, I think it's shaping up to be an excellent summer.

*She handled this as might be expected, with much sobbing and wailing and general freaking out. Skipper, of course, immediately pitched a fit because I was paying too much attention to Duchess, threw her scooter on the ground, and refused to move. As we were half a mile from home, at the tail end of a long errand-running trip that had involved quite a bit of shitty behavior, this was a pretty maddening episode. Luckily, Duchess pulled herself together admirably (to be fair, this also might have been expected - Duchess is a ridiculous over-reactor, but she usually rises to the occasion when necessary), and Skipper recognized that she was not acting in her own best interest, so after about fifteen minutes of deep unpleasantness, we finally managed to start limping home.

I have discovered how to make a child smile for the camera. I will make a million dollars!

Skipper, in the photos below, is entertaining herself by saying "We are going to outer space! Outer peanut butter! Outer cheese! Outer FART! Outer butt cheeks! OUTER POOP!"