Martial Art Stag

Not a day passes when I find myself defending myself or dodging a punch or kick from the little Stag. This sounds worse than what actually happens. Lucas seem to think playtime must involve throwing a roundhouse or a hook at either Mom, Dad, Ian, or an imaginary opponent.

It starts before school begins in the morning. He rolls into bed with me for a few more minutes of snoozing (plus I think the body heat generated by John alone is very comforting and soothing). I will wrap my arms and my blanket around Lucas ready to smell his head and give him a kiss when i find a fist under my chin. What is that? He doesn't throw the fist. He just kind of forms it and places it gently under my chin as if to say "Good Morning! Watch your back!"

At morning assembly at school, while the Principal is talking, Lucas is crouched like a tiger (kung fu style) eyes focused on an invisible enemy while he throws a punch. The kid in front of him and behind him just glance at him and turn back toward the Prinicipal. Ironically, I have never received notes from his teacher for fighting, bullying, or punching actual kids at school.

When I pick up Lucas from school, he is happy to see me and gives me a sweet (and sweaty) hug and kiss as soon as he walks out of his classroom. But immediately after that, we pass by 2 sign posts and a fire hydrant that Lucas must kick on our way to the car. Again, they are not strong enough to cause any kind of damage, they seem to represent practice dummies or something...

During dinner, it's not unusual for Lucas to randomly kick under the table. He will throw a punch at my butt on his way to the fridge to get a popsicle or some juice. At tickle fight between us will usually involve a front kick or axe kick to fend off my artfully placed tickles (right below the armpits where the ribs protrude the most). I do remind him whenever he makes contact with my body or anyone else's that he need to be gentle so that he does not hurt anyone. I believe he understands that because his nature is so gentle and sweet. But when he does land a kick square in the middle of my tibia (shin bone), I wonder...

I can't help but think that we have a martial artist in our midst... John is sooo excited at that idea. Maybe we will find a training facility next to a therapist's office... just in case =)

Cheapskate Stags

With discussion on "the budget" all over the news lately, it made me think about our budget as well. Around the same time, I just finished a great book called "The Cheapskate Next Door" by Jeff Yeager. The book talks about different people's points of view on how to spend and save money. There are extreme cases in the book as well. Jeff Yeager mentioned a guy who would go on his business trips carrying burned out light bulbs and swap them with good light bulbs in his hotel room....REALLY! This same guy stole pool towels and toilet paper rolls too. Other cheapskates mentioned were dumpster divers (aka "Freegans"). Finally, some cheapskates consider underwear a luxury--- I'm not making this up.

As I was reading it I realized that I live with a cheapskate. Some common characteristics among non-extreme cheapskates sound very familiar: They HATE HATE HATE debt. This doesn't necessarily mean they don't have any. They hate the idea of it and try to get rid of it as soon as possible. They are not interested in keeping up with the Joneses, the Smiths, the Leungs, the Papadopulouses, or anyone else for that matter. Their homes are modest (small according to modern standards). They drive their cars until the cars cry out in pain asking to be put down (1992 Saturn)... or they use bikes and public transportation. They wear out their clothes before they buy new ones (from Costco!). And they do incessant research and price comparisons before a big-ticket purchase. ("Amazon vs. Best Buy... Ohhhh but I have coupon from Slick Deals...")

I think the most striking thing I learned about cheapskates is that they are not insulted by being called cheapskates. It's a badge of honor. They live well below their means and speed up their retirements, or they donate their extra cash to charities, or they find that they don't need to work so much to live simply and comfortably that they can spend more time with their friends and families... There might be a lesson here for all of us.

Is a dozen purses to much?

Stubborn Stag

Today I volunteered to hang up art work at Lucas' school. They are setting up an art gallery of sorts in the school lobby to show off the students' work. It seemed simple enough. Put some tape on the back of art pieces and stick them to the wall.

When I got to school, I met the art teacher Teresa who seemed really relieved that SOMEONE had signed up to help. Instead of papers to hang up, she started pulling out large boxes of what looked like recycling... soda bottles, milk jugs, straws, yogurt cups. I thought for a second that there was a miscommunication. I did not sign up for clean up crew.

Then Teresa pulled the pieces out of the boxes and told me that the students had worked on "found object" art. They had made birds of all different shapes, sizes, and species out of objects that would have been recycled anyway. Some of them looked exactly like birds and some looked like robot birds. The students found creative ways to use foil and doilies for wings and feathers. They used the spiral binding from a notebook to form talons... it was pretty cool.



The assignment was to hang the bird sculptures from the large wooden beams above the school lobby. Just when I was wondering which one of us was going to be climbing the ladder about 45 times to get the birds way, way up there, the school Principal appeared and introduced us to Steve. Because of a mix-up at the school district office, Steve showed up at our school as a substitute even though no had called for one. The Principal was nice enough to lend Steve to us to help. And he was really tall! Eureka!

While Teresa and I tried to get string around these intricate birds to get ready for hanging, Steve volunteered to do the climbing and the hanging. Teresa suggested that Steve secure the pins into the wood FIRST and then hang the birds after. I thought that was a good idea since it would make spacing the pins a lot easier. Steve said he could handle climbing the ladder, push pin in hand, with a bird sculpture hanging from the push pin, and securing the push pin into the dense wooden beam...all at the same time. Teresa and I trusted that he knew what he was doing.

CRASH! A bird fell down hard on the lobby floor. It came apart in 3 pieces.
"That one was way too heavy," commented Steve, calmly. I saw Teresa's eyes were wide with disbelief. I said nothing. But she replied just as calmly, "They are quite delicate too. It's okay. I can fix it." Accidents happen, I thought.

We continued with our roles: Teresa and I stringing the birds while Steve climbed and hung the birds. CRASH... a second bird fell down. This one miraculously survived the fall except one eye came off and had to be glued back. "That wooden beam is really hard. It's got several knots!" That was all Steve could explain. Teresa just muttered, "MmmHmmm." She is sooo nice. I would be pissed. After the third and fourth bird came down, Teresa once again suggested nicely that securing the push pins before hanging the birds might prevent more mishaps. Steve's response: "Ahhh, I'm alright!"

More crashes occured. So during the course of 3 hours, Teresa and I mended birds as well as strung them. 45 sculptures were finally hung up... some of them were hung up 3 or 4 times by Steve before they finally stayed. Where did they find this guy?

Too many Stags

I sometimes forget how outnumbered I am by the stags here at home. If you look around my home you will find Lego pieces, computers, plastic guns and bows and arrows, a dart board, science fiction paperbacks, the Total Gym, paper airplanes, and such. I don't get bothered by this "boy stuff" too much. It's just a matter of finding storage for the stuff. But sometimes I will be putting shoes away and I feel outnumbered:
No wonder I crave "girls day out" sometimes. Even shopping with my stags ends up being about boys ski jackets, lug boots, and Hanes briefs. When it's my turn to get something for myself, I usually wait until I can go out alone because the stags get impatient while I browse through the aisles.

The number of Stags in my life : My brother Leif has a son. I have two sons. My step-sister Ro has 3 sons. John's brother Andre has a son... see what I mean?

The energy in this home changes a little bit when a female comes over. My mom's visits are always nice because just the sound of her voice adds a girly-ness to the background noise of this man cave. My sister-in-law Tina adds her own feminine energy to this space with her delicious home made desserts and her sweet laughter.

The latest estrogen boost was from our son's friend. Her sweetness and style was refreshing and reminded me that there should be more of a balance between the Yin and the Yang in our household. It's easy to just let things keep going in the Stag direction... mud-colored couch, beige carpet, brown wood furniture, grey-toned electronic gadgets. Once in a while I will have to inject our household with some feminine details.

But I can tell this will not be easy. As I type this, Lucas and I are also making a "knight's castle" (his words not mine) out of a large cardboard box. The colors: red, grey, brown, black, green. I asked Lucas, "If you are a knight, then what am I?"

"You're the King," he said without hesitation. Great.

Grateful

John and I were discussing upcoming expenses he will have to take care of as the executor of his father's will and estate in Washington, DC. This topic always gets us both agitated. I think it's because our family is here in the West Coast and he has some very important and very costly business to settle in the East Coast. He cannot personally oversee the work being done by repairmen. He has a stack of papers that need his signature being faxed back and forth to the realtor. He cannot supervise the clean up and removal of items in the property. In the last year and three months, John has devoted so much time, effort, and most importantly, LOTS of money to this endeavor, and he is shouldering the burden alone. In addition, the drain on our finances will not end anytime soon. So I think discussing the matter, even casually, brings up a lot of stress for both of us.

All this is piled on top of the daily responsibilities of parenting, working, housework, etc. It has been a great weight on both of our shoulders. It is easy to look around and wish things could be better, wish we could share this load with someone, wish we were repairing a home of our OWN instead of living in an apartment, wishing this problem would just go away...

Then disaster strikes and puts everything back in perspective. A 9.0 magnitude earthquake strikes the eastern coast of Japan. Then a tsunami created by the quake washes away entire roadways, farms, and towns taking possibly 10,000 lives with it. Factories shut down. Food is scarse. And now the threat of radiation is hanging over Japan and neighboring countries as well. The news shows Japanese citizens, politicians, and even search and rescue workers in tears... almost in disbelief at what has happened to their country.

Just imagining a 20 foot wall of water coming through my home and carrying away everything with it makes all my problems seem small. This disaster was no one's fault. It just happened. Sometimes sh** just happens. I'm going to try focusing on the good and be grateful for all I have (problems too!). I am grateful that everything I hold dear is still here.

Silver for the Stags...

My mother recently gave me her set of silver plated cutlery. She has had this set since she was in the Philippines ??? Instead of waiting to bequeath it to me in her will, she gave it to me early partly to make sure it doesn't get lost in her move from one house to another, and partly (I believe) to see me and my family incorporate the pieces in my home. It was an important moment in my life to open the wooden chest and discover all the pieces that she has held on to all these years. The design on the handles is quite elaborate for my taste. I prefer simple clean lines on my eating utensils, but I felt honored to be able to pull these same pieces out that my mother used every Christmas, Thanksgiving, or other gatherings at her home.

Now, fast-forward 30 years: I will be my mom's age (hopefully). Will my Stags appreciate or even use this same silverware from their grandmother passed down to their mother passed down to them? Silver serving/eating utensils are not the type of thing stags spend time thinking about. Will it end up in a yard sale or ebay auction?

This brings to mind the items people keep to remember/think of someone. I have an Our Lady of Guadalupe pendant from my Grandma Luz. I also still have my wedding gown she made. I will never wear it again, but I just can't seem to part with it. My friend Mary Anne gave me a gold Nefertiti pendant that reminds me of her each and every time I see it... because she IS such a goddess. My friend Carla gave me a journal that reflects so much of her playful personality, it's not possible to see it without thinking of her.

Who knows what my boys will keep for themselves to remember me after I'm gone. Will it be my artwork? My jewelry? Or will they be non-material items? I hope their wives will keep and safeguard a few of my items for the next generation, for my grandchildren, as I tried to do for John's and my mother.

John did keep a few of his mother's things after she passed away. We have 2 framed silk screens from Thailand, a pearl brooch from India, a hand painted fan from Italy, and... of all things... a silver plated water pitcher. What do you know. Stags do appreciate silver ware.

Working at the Speed of Stag

I don't know if it's just the stags I live with, or if all stags work at a certain SLOW pace that make my blood pressure rise. As much as I love my stags, I cannot sit by and watch them take their time to do stuff. My husband now knows me so well. He knows that if I ask him to help me with a project or moving furniture or whatever, if he makes me wait too long, I will do it myself. I mean, really, why am I waiting so long? Is he operating on someone's heart? Is he solving Hilbert's Sixteenth Problem? No. He is killing monsters on his computer. He claims there is no pause button on these games... MmmHmmm.

Maybe the stag's tolerance for unfinished tasks is higher than a female. We females see underwear on the floor and pick it up. Stags lift their foot higher in order to walk over it. The stack of recycling that needs to be taken our becomes inversely proportional to my level of patience. There is hope, though. After 20 years, some stags show signs of progress and improvement. Maybe in another 20 years, I won't have to remind him anymore.