Mom Vision

We all know that teachers have eyes in the back of their heads. That is how they can be writing on the board and still say, "Mary, stop passing notes" or "Johnny, put that toy back in your desk." Of course, professors all use overheads and projected images, so we face the class all the time. We don't need those extra eyes.

But Moms have "mom vision." Mom vision comes in two versions. The first is the ability of mothers to see items in other locations not within their normal field of vision. Like the ability to be in the kitchen and yell, "Your iPod is downstairs by the computer." (Mom vision is often accompanied by "mom ESP" as well, the ability to know that someone is looking for their iPod before they even ask.) Mom vision is particularly powerful when she is outside of the home. For instance, when she is called at work with the question, "Where is my blue biology folder?" With her mom vision she is able to say, "On the floor under the coffeetable next to the couch."

The second version of "mom vision" involves the ability to see things that kids do without actually looking at them. Although similar to the teachers' "eyes," Mom vision usually manifests itself more in response to the declaration: "Watch this, Mom!" Mom is able to see the child perform said action (cartwheel, difficult Wii maneuver, writing a name, etc.) without actually LOOKING at the child. "That's great, honey!" Mom is able to say without seemingly have looked in the direction of the child. Moms use this type of vision most often while cooking dinner or reading the newspaper.

Of course, there is also Mom hearing, but I'll leave that for another day.

Middle School Romance

Remember middle school, possibly the worst years of your life? This week my younger son performed in the middle school musical. He did a fantastic job, sang wonderfully, looked great, got plenty of applause (of course, I am his mother!) Cast members arrive about 90 minutes before showtime to get into costumes, arrange props, get makeup (a highlight for the girls and a source of embarrassment for the boys), and generally work each other up into an increasing state of nervous frenzy. When we arrived my son's best friend pulled him aside, "I need your help!" he whispered and they ducked into the men's room. A few minutes later my kid comes out with a determined look on his face, "I have to do something for Sam, " he calls as he runs down the hall and into the lobby. There are a variety of concessions--candy, drinks, photos, DVDs, and flowers for family and friends to buy. A while later I see the two of them with a red carnation, headed back to the bathroom. As much as I love my kid, I'm thinking this flower is NOT for me. Soon, another boy is called in for consultation. The three of them conspire for a bit and next time I look around Hannah is holding a red carnation....hmmm, how did that happen? I had heard that Hannah and Sam were "dating" from my son, so I had kind of figured out the reason for the drama, but it was still fun to watch. Later, my kid told me that Sam had wanted him to give the flower to Hannah. My son's response, "I don't think that would look too good. She'll see me coming towards with a flower and think, 'oh no, not him!' " (A romantic in the making, my boy!) In the end, Sam handed over the gift, probably the only contact the two principals had the whole evening.

Young love, can't beat it.

Happy Day at Home

We had a happy day today in the Himes household. Son #1 is a member of the varsity soccer team and they won their regional game, putting them into the state semifinals. Who-hoo! Unfortunately, I wasn't able to see the game because I was with son #2 who was playing in the All-State band. He and I had a great discussion about Bach fugues on the way home. What a nice problem for a mom to have--trying to be with two great kids in two wonderful places at the same time!

Last First Day

Today was my older son's Last First Day of School. Thirteen years ago he got on the big yellow bus for the first time. I cried. Today he and his younger brother hopped in the car and pulled out of the driveway. I didn't cry. He is ready, I am ready, it is time for him to start out on his own life. When you send a kid to kindergarten you worry if the teacher will understand them, see their uniqueness, value their differentness. When you send a kid to his last year of high school you worry if they will understand others, see the unique qualities of their teachers, and value their experience. It really is a shift away from seeing your child as the center of the world to hoping that they realize that they are not.

The Family (torture) Picnic

Every few months I put my foot down and require that we all go on a "family picnic." This usually requires a time committment of about 4-5 hours, that includes the commute. We pack a light lunch, drive to a park, eat, walk for an hour or so, and drive home. You'd think I was taking the boys to Gitmo. They whine, they complain, they sulk, but they go. And somewhere about halfway to the park they start to turn. The whines become more teasing, the sulking becomes more of an act. After the meal they trudge dutifully down a path, then spot a deer or chipmunk, or hear a woodpecker and search the trees. Gradually they let down their guard and seem to enjoy themselves. Of course all the way home I hear again about the torture I've inflicted (and usually they bring up any other recent events to bolster their argument that my goal in life is to make them miserable.) But the evenings after these trips are always a little more friendly and calm. The extra exercise and fresh air has done everyone good, including me.