Age of Aquarius

A partial eclipse of the Moon took place on Saturday, August 16. I wouldn't have known if I didn’t get some very informative junk e-mail from astrology.com Monday. According this site, the eclipse was in Aquarius. Confusing leadership situations, power struggles and sharp words were to be expected. These are all details Deeda might have liked to have known before I went all psycho over the weekend. No reason. All’s well now (always was)—just temporary insanity.

I was already blaming it on the full moon when I got the eclipse memo. But I was most happy to have the fact that the sun, earth and moon literally aligned to blame for my behavior. Intrigued, I dug a little deeper and expect I will now get MANY more junk emails from astrology.com because I made a few clicks.

According to the astrology experts, the lasting effects of the eclipse depend on what house the sign Aquarius falls in on your personal birth chart. Turns out Aquarius is barely on the cusp of my 10th house. Which means nothing for this eclipse based on what I can find. Still, I told Deeda I was CERTAIN birthing one Aquarius boy who lives in my house counts for something… And there you have it. I am not crazy. I am a mom. A working mom. And I just want some time for myself every now and again- Damn it!

Ironically (or maybe not) Aquarius in the 10th house is all about “focus on the goal of many.” This sign in this house is connected to far-seeing visions and group work. To that I say hmmmmmm and announce the first meeting of 10 or so mom’s who really want to see their kids ride their bikes to the neighborhood public school is scheduled to be at our house tomorrow night. I do believe I have “a cause” I will be working on in the coming years. The global hope is quality education and community. The underlying benefit is saving 10s of thousands of dollars on private school so our kid can go to college someday instead.

And while we’re on the topic of planets, let’s talk about Krypton—as in the planet Superman is from—for a moment. You didn’t think I would post without a G-man story did you?

So, I have glasses. I never wear them. But I’ve been so tired lately and my eyes are bothering me. I decided to give them a try for the second shift in the evenings. So, I am wearing them last night and G says to me,

“Mommy, you’re like Superman. You have glasses. Take them off. Fly me.”

So, I took off the glasses, closed the computer, put on my cape and knee high red boots and flew G to the bathroom for his bath. My kid thinks I am like Superman. I can live with that.

p.s. I am also most impressed he knows the Clark Kent look and relates it to the man in tights. Where did he learn that!?

swim class part deux

I think G and I may be thinking the same thing, "please don't make me go to swim class again."

Really, tonight's class was no worse than last week. But it wasn't better and that's the problem. Fingers crossed tomorrow (we really have to go two days in a row) will be better. He does all "the moves" like a champ. He floats by himself. He jumps off the step to the teacher. He dives for his rings. He doesn't seem scared of the tasks. It's the fact that Deeda isn't in the pool with him that seems to be the catch.

Tonight we could see him tightening his jaw trying not to cry...and then other times he called out or did one of his infamous screams. Still, a lot of hiccup-ish, crying, hyperventilating. There are two other boys in the class. One of them would talk to G while the teacher was on the OTHER SIDE OF THE POOL! We could read his lips and see he was saying, "Why are you crying?" He would touch him on the shoulder trying to comfort him. Something about seeing two toddlers in this interaction is so super cute.

On a lighter note we're all fired up for the Olympics and have replaced the nightly Lightening McQueen routine with an option of five minutes of swimming, diving, beach volleyball or gymnastics.

The sayings of the week are:

"A little bit." As in,"I want to play with my Thomas for a little bit before I brush my teeth."

Then there's, "Come closer mommy. Come closer Deeda." This is a routine that tends to happen toward the end of dinner. We both scoot closer and then we get a kiss on the cheek. We hate it!

And who could forget Deeda's favorite, "Step up your game?" There is no real appropriate context for this one. It's just the phrase the boys exchange and then they giggle at each other about it. Tards.

Little Big Swimmer

We've been watching olympic qualifying swim races on TV. Grant calls the racers "big swimmers." He mymics them doing his version of the backstroke on the living room floor and "loosening up" before he dives off the sofa. He's watched the whole dance they do on the starting blocks and he's got it down. He loves his goggles and practices his stroke in the bathtub nightly.

This evening marked his first goldfish swim class. We've been talking it up since he graduated from guppidom. We arrived just in time to get G in his swim diaper, required plastic diaper over that and Lightening McQueen trunks over that. It's a process.

Together, Deeda and I delivered G to the big garage door opening where the big kids enter and over to Mr. Charlie his new (and wonderful) instructor. It didn't take but a nanosecond for G-man to recall what we'd been telling him, "Deeda was going to watch this time." The tears began to flow. We smiled and gave him the thumbs up as we turned our backs on the poor child and left him for the waiting room. I was feeling lost somewhere between it's good to teach your child to swim and we're horrible parents.

The next 3 hours, I mean 30 minutes, were torture.

Standing on the step at the side of the pool, he inhaled deep sobbing breaths and puffed his lower lip in and out. The child nodded his head when Mr. Charlie gave him instruction, then went back to his silent tears. I thought his little goggles might fill up with all the tears... But through the deep sobbing breaths, he slapped an occasional high five. He floated by himself in the middle of the pool. And he waited his turn standing ALONE on the side of the step while the teacher went to the opposite side of the pool with another child.

We were behind the glass on the edge of the bleachers in the front row, noses to the glass. I thought I was going to cry I was so proud. I thought I was going to pass out I was so nervous. I thought I was going to jump up and push the red emergency button every five seconds.

When class was over, we waited with the other parents for the pruned children to file out dripping wet with lollipops in their mouths. Grant exited the pool in tears and cried harder once we scooped him up and hugged him. Then, after just a few more sobs, his smile emerged. We praised him and gave high fives all around. By the time he was dried off he was all big talk, "I dived. I floated. I swim Mr.Charlie."

He was as proud of himself as we were of him. We celebrated with a ritual "hambuabuabua" on the way home. Then he practiced his "stroke" in the bathtub before we once again read Thomas and the Big Big Bridge "a little bit." He hit the hay under his purple bee-c with his little bee-c in hand and Tyrone the orange moose from Backyardagins under one arm. Lights out.

baking day my ***

Desperate for new things to cook that can be plated within the 20 minutes I have between the time I kick my shoes off and put my bag down until the time Grant's ready to eat, I signed up for a email newsletter called "Menus for Moms." The menus promise fast, kid friendly and healthy menus. A lot of cook chicken on Monday and use it in Wednesday's recipe too type things. "Efficient," I thought to myself.

I remember the Saturday nap time I spent checking it out and signing us up. It was probably two months ago. Of course, I haven't had time to review the handy dandy Menus for Mom's emails I've received every week since. What else is new?

Bumping around procrastinating my "homework" tonight and I clicked on the link in my inbox. This is the tip that came up on the home page.

"Pick a day each week and designate it as your baking day. On baking day, spend a couple hours making snacks (gummies, granola, popsicles, etc.), hot dog/hamburger buns, and bread. Then you can avoid the snack stuff and the bread aisle at the store."

When I stopped laughing I scrolled to the bottom and cancelled that subscription. Then I immediately logged on to post this message (still procrastinating quite well).

Here's my tip: Uncle Ben's 90 second rice, Birdseye steam "fresh" frozen broccoli and left over grilled chicken. Grill as much as you can fit on the fire Sunday night and you've got good eats for the week.

This meal is especially good if your plumbing is for crap and you'll be doing dishes in the bathroom sink until you further notice and/or the winning lottery ticket arrives. Such is the case at our house.

P.S. Our new hand me down grill is Christian's current pride and joy. Thanks to casa de Nana and Papa for the donation!

P.S.S. Fresh frozen broccoli is right up there with fresh frozen catfish, but it will do.

P.S.S. Christian is a great cook and often cooks for Grant and I giving us those 20 minutes to play. He is a good deeda and deebabe.

Here We Go

House of Dionne. It's a play on the fashion house names. Get it? A house of style. As in, House of Chanel. As you can see in this photo (one of my all time favs) we're a fashionable little family.

Oooooor, you might feel it's less of stretch to say Casa de Dionne is an homage to Deeda's heritage. Depends on which one of us you ask. Also depends on what you consider a stretch- Deeda's so called Mexicanism or his fashion sense as seen in the left corner of this photo. It's a toss up.

At any rate, I suspect the postings here will be largely about the happenings "here in this house." It's "where it all happens." If you know the rest of that lyric, you know me well, I am glad you're reading.

So, here goes. Welcome to the 90s Mr. Baaanks. The Dionne's are bloggers. One more attempt to prove we're NOT OLD yet.