I’m taking mental inventory of all things squeaky in my possession and it’s turning in to quite a list. Both cars, the dryer, the chairs in my dining room, the boys’ bunk bed. There was even one potential buyer of our home who was sure to let us know there was one squeaky board on our deck. I’m thinking of purchasing WD-40 by the case. Sam’s Club surely sells that.
All school year, Richard has had the privilege of driving my car. Yes, it’s my car because I picked it out and paid for it. Well, he helped with that last part. But still…my car! The reason he drives my car is because it’s big enough to haul six youngsters for carpool to and from school. And, since he’s the teacher already going to school, he drives the carpool. Great. So, what do I get to drive? His car. Huhh…..yeah. His car is fine and all, but it squeaks. Every time the car stops it gives off this nails-on-a-chalkboard screech that evidently even the best minds in Southwest Missouri brake care cannot figure out. I’ve calculated that it happens right as I hit the 3 MPH mark and does not relent until I’ve reached a complete halt. This is especially noticeable at places like….the drive-thru window, the bank, pulling up to a friend’s house. Totally cool.
That’s bad enough, but now MY car also squeaks. But, it only happens when I’m making a slow, sharp turn. Richard declares it’s the tire rubber on the road. Why would it be the rubber on the road? No other cars have this problem. And, I’m only going a snail’s pace when it happens. It’s not like I’m pulling a Mario Andretti in the McDonald’s drive thru. The only response I get from him on this rebuttal is that only a person of my advancing age would conjure Mario Andretti—a man who has probably not driven a race car in at least a couple of decades.
It reminds me of my first car…the 1988 Honda Accord that Dad bought for $500 from some guy up the street. I loved it. I hated it. I loved everything but the first 15 seconds after I started it up. I’d park as far away from everything as I could in the high school parking lot. Then, when it was time to fire her up, I’d suddenly HAVE to tie my shoe or clean something up off the floorboard. I’d hide there, ducked down in my shameful pose until the squealing stopped. Again, totally cool.
One of these days I’ll have saved up to buy Richard a new car that I can drive. Requirement number one? It must be completely silent. Perhaps a battery-operated hover-car. Or maybe one of those human transport backpacks coming from New Zealand. Now, THAT would be totally cool.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Monday, April 12, 2010
Science fair...
Do I have to? Do I REALLY HAVE TO….help my children with their science projects? Seriously. We just finished up History Day for which each child had to choose a historical character, write and memorize a one-page speech, come up with a period costume and present all the facts they’ve learned about said character on a cheerfully decorated poster board. Avery chose Hannah of the Bible and Carson was King Richard the Lionhearted. I survived History Day. Barely.
Just when I started to come down from that frenzy, I was whiplashed into the next big TO DO.
Science Fair.
For Avery, science fair requires her to choose and animal, create some sort of visual display and present her findings regarding the animal to her classroom. Then, she must be prepared to be drilled by the judges. She chose the whale. Did you know that the whale blows mostly air and snot out of its blowhole? Now you do.
Carson wanted to answer the question “Where is lightning before it strikes?” I was hoping we could just send a letter to God on that one and be done with it. But, no. He did an experiment involving rubbing a balloon on his hair and then touching it to a fluorescent light bulb. Voila!…lightning. He had to write a paper to accompany his demonstration, present it to the class and create yet another poster board revealing his findings.
Can I just say that when a child is 6 or 8 years old, they require an enormous amount of help when it comes to these projects? They have no concept of the scientific method, hypotheses, theories, cause and effect, natural laws, etc. They can barely tie their shoes. Add to that the fact that the Science Fair is a JUDGED event and you have the makings of one nasty mama-child cocktail – one part competition, one part perfection, one part impatience and one part deadlines. AGH! I’ve literally awoken in the middle of the night worried over these projects like they were some sort of college entrance exam.
Do the kids care? Not a bit. I’m the only one stressed – torn between “do everything for them so it actually gets done” and “let them do the work themselves and present a ridiculous looking effort that pales in comparison to every other fair entry which was obviously done by a parent and not a six year old!”
Remember that day when you graduated college and you thought to yourself, “YES! Thank God! No more exams, projects, assignments, speeches, group projects! It’s over!!” …..???
Yeah….me neither.
Just when I started to come down from that frenzy, I was whiplashed into the next big TO DO.
Science Fair.
For Avery, science fair requires her to choose and animal, create some sort of visual display and present her findings regarding the animal to her classroom. Then, she must be prepared to be drilled by the judges. She chose the whale. Did you know that the whale blows mostly air and snot out of its blowhole? Now you do.
Carson wanted to answer the question “Where is lightning before it strikes?” I was hoping we could just send a letter to God on that one and be done with it. But, no. He did an experiment involving rubbing a balloon on his hair and then touching it to a fluorescent light bulb. Voila!…lightning. He had to write a paper to accompany his demonstration, present it to the class and create yet another poster board revealing his findings.
Can I just say that when a child is 6 or 8 years old, they require an enormous amount of help when it comes to these projects? They have no concept of the scientific method, hypotheses, theories, cause and effect, natural laws, etc. They can barely tie their shoes. Add to that the fact that the Science Fair is a JUDGED event and you have the makings of one nasty mama-child cocktail – one part competition, one part perfection, one part impatience and one part deadlines. AGH! I’ve literally awoken in the middle of the night worried over these projects like they were some sort of college entrance exam.
Do the kids care? Not a bit. I’m the only one stressed – torn between “do everything for them so it actually gets done” and “let them do the work themselves and present a ridiculous looking effort that pales in comparison to every other fair entry which was obviously done by a parent and not a six year old!”
Remember that day when you graduated college and you thought to yourself, “YES! Thank God! No more exams, projects, assignments, speeches, group projects! It’s over!!” …..???
Yeah….me neither.
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