Farewell Picnic

The time of this has been imminent but shifting for the last six months as Mr. Duchess worked out his military path, but the time has finally come and Duchess moved out of state yesterday. They won't get housing until he is further in his training so her stuff is all still here, but she can stay with some of his extended family and see him on weekends. So. It was time. 

We decided last Sunday to gather everyone up and do a picnic in the park. We hadn't all been together since Christmas, as Dame is still living in Seattle with Bookworm awaiting the completed addition. And we hadn't done a picnic in the park since . . . I'm afraid it might have been pre-Covid. I took the kids on some local hikes during Covid but DOB was not doing well enough to venture out, and then when he was better everyone was bigger and busier and everything had changed. But when they were little it was something we did pretty much every week the weather was remotely tolerable. 

It made the most sense to meet up with Dame and go to a park in Seattle and it proved to be the sort of glorious spring day that occurs much more in fiction than in actuality. We had been to the Asian Art Museum last month and I thought it might be fun to visit the park around it, especially since there was an old water tower you could climb for a view of the city. When I saw how nice the day was I was worried it would be too crowded, but it was just pleasantly populated. 

However, by the time we arrived, DOB was in desperate need of finding the restrooms and parked near one, while Deux and Dame immediately hopped out of the car and made a beeline for the tower at the other end of the park. Dash and Duchess and I unloaded the folding chairs and lunch and then were trying to catch up, while DOB followed along in a faint hope that there would be a restroom at both ends of the park and he could watch the stuff while we climbed the tower. 

There was not a restroom at the other end of the park, nor was even the approach to the tower accessible, so DOB wheeled back to the other one by the car while the rest of us trailed the first two to the top of the tower, Dash and I ladened with three folding chairs and a cooler bag full of lunch. After we had briefly caught our breath and admired the view at the top of the tower, we all went pell-mell back down again, back across the park to the car only to encounter no sign of DOB along the way. 

At this point we had had about enough of walking about with everything and so we decided to just sit down where we were (there was plenty of nice grass handy) and hope DOB turned up. Dash went off to look for him but apparently they both just spent some time wandering separately on some of the trails and enjoying the view. Eventually everyone and the food all made it to the same location and we had lunch and a resounding game of 6-person Spades (scoring invented on the spot) and the sort of conversation that would horrify people if it were made into cute little cards to stimulate conversation but the more printable of which was, "If you swallowed sunglasses whole, would you be able to digest them?" (Which was itself a spin-off of, "If I swallowed your sunglasses, would they still be in the car?")

Like every perfect moment it was over far too quickly and it is a thing that will almost certainly never occur again, but also, to steal a bit from Winnie the Pooh, in an enchanted place on the top of the Forest, four little ducklings will always be playing. 

 

A Wedding

 This does feel like a full circle moment, as this blog was started shortly after our own wedding and also very shortly before we found out Duchess was on the way, and now here we are. 

Professional shot

Coming out for pictures

Dinner

 

I did manage to make it on time and all siblings were present and suitably, if somewhat eccentrically, attired. (Though I realized two-thirds of the way through the day that I was wearing a mismatched set of boots. I did bring a more wedding-ish pair of heels for the ceremony but I changed back out as soon as it was over because we were getting pretty deep in mud and also I hate heels.)
 

Between Duchess and DOB they managed to orchestrate a beautiful and well-organized wedding on four weeks' notice based on Mr. Duchess's ever-shifting departure date for the Air Force. (We have been racking our brains to come up with a good blog name, but Mr. Duchess will have to do for now.) 

Our family has a long-standing joke about our surprisingly good luck with outdoor wedding weather in our very uncertain climate as over the past twenty-some years we, Their Majesties, Toolboy and his wife and a couple of years ago the oldest girl cousin all have had outdoor weddings in either September or May and the weather has uniformly been delightful. While September weather around here is a transition from the desert dry of July and August to the rainforest rest of the year, heavy rain is quite unusual and there are many beautiful days or at least beautiful hours. So we were hopeful when the weather forecast a few scattered showers with clearing.  

That is not what happened. What happened was it rained buckets, starting during the rehearsal the night before, when we scrambled to cover the tables before the decor got soaked (though Duchess had already prepared for that contingency with plastic tarps). Continuing through the rehearsal dinner, which we were supposed to have on the deck of a local restaurant but by great luck their indoor group canceled and we got the event room. And then the following day it drizzled throughout getting ready and set up, poured during the pictures, let up to a light drizzle for the ceremony in the woods, poured again for the reception, and only finally ended in time for dancing and send-off after dark. We had a few canopies to cover the meal tables but mostly everyone just got soaked. And had a marvelous time doing it. 

Teaching Tidiness When You Are Not

Parenting ideas tend to fall into two categories: Those of parents currently in that stage who are often very enthusiastic about something new but (without realizing it, usually) have no idea of its long-term consequences or sustainability, and those of grandparents who have forgotten what really happened and also failed to account for changing times. So I would like to post something in the sweet spot where I can actually tell if something I did worked long-term *and* can still remember what I did. I am banking on this being an area where the times have changed little, we still don't have robots that will pick up after us. 

To begin with, I have (diagnosed) ADHD, (undiagnosed) probably some degree of dyspraxia, and it is just so. dang. hard. for me to do any cleaning that involves sorting, tidying, putting away. I literally cannot sort laundry into darks and lights. (The solution to this: Wash everything on cold. And if someone wants to buy purple pirate pants from a dubious online retailer, they can wear lavender socks for the next two years.) Also I cannot follow any regular sequence of activities that is more than, say, two items long. On the other hand, I can do the physical cleaning just fine if the stuff is out of my way, and I am capable of great feats under unpredictable bursts of inspiration.

So when the kids were small, there was no way I could implement any of the nice little things people do about having regular tidy-up times to teach children to keep their things in order. Attempting to do so would only lead to misery and no greater tidiness. I also had unpleasant memories of my mother, almost certainly also dealing with her own ADHD, alternating between heaps of chaos and massive projects accompanied by wailing and gnashing of teeth at our failure to measure up to The Right Way to Do Things.

I had to go with what I could do, intermittent bursts of cleaning and sorting, followed by a slow descent into chaos, but I figured we could at least ditch the wailing and gnashing of teeth. I made it my mission to make cleanup days (whenever they occurred) to be relatively pleasant experiences. I involved the kids to start with and they in the early part of the day had the pleasure of discovering many lost and forgotten items. If they wanted to put those items where they belonged, great. (We kept a few categories of toys in designated bins.)  I let them go when their attention or energy lagged as long as they were out of the way. 

Meanwhile, I started piling whatever was uninteresting to them. Given my difficulty with sorting, I usually focused on a very few functional categories: Clothes/blankets to be washed, books (esp. library books), obvious trash, and All That Other Stuff. There were usually one-two garbage bags of obvious trash. All That Other Stuff went into boxes or baskets that were then stored in the garage indefinitely. 

Anything that we couldn't manage to put away just went in the boxes or baskets in the garage. There was no shame or punishment attached--if you wanted to go dumpster diving in the baskets to find a lost item, you were always welcome to do so. I just knew that there was no way I would have the energy left at the end of the project to actually vacuum if I tried to sort. 

I tried to make things as simple as possible to maintain for those with the desire and ability to do so. For instance, some of the children still have just two locations for clothes: Clean basket and Dirty basket. (TBH, except for my work clothes, this is how I operate as well.) They all started doing their own laundry when they were tall enough to use the machines easily, so maybe 10ish. We never bought a ton of miscellaneous toys, usually just a few large collections that everybody played with (blocks, duplos->legos, dressup, little plastic dinos/knights/soldiers). And stuffies. So many stuffies.  Over the years, when a toy category had clearly been outgrown and everyone was ready to part with it, we passed it on. I never made them give up something they wanted to keep. 

Anyway, at the end of cleanup day there was a nice, empty, freshly vacuumed space which--guess what?--*immediately* inspired a massive burst of creative play that turned it into a mess again. But with all the trash and most of the miscellaneous small items out, the mess was much less perilous to the feet for quite a while. And I made a point of never bewailing this, but rather treating it as the natural reward of the labor of cleaning--having an open canvas to begin again.

These days probably occurred about quarterly during good times and maybe as far apart as annually when times were tougher. We also moved a fair bit during the earliest years and of course that provided a natural opportunity to do this. 

Over the last seven years, I gradually did this less and less with the kids and finally stopped altogether. There wasn't a particular set point for this, mostly I was just too tired to do anything not immediately necessary. If a child ever *wanted* to do something in their room and requested my help, I did everything I could to provide my assistance. So over the last seven years they gradually took over doing it themselves, when it mattered to them. This also coincided with getting rid of nearly all the toys as they outgrew them, except some showpiece legos and of course books will be always with us. 

The end result with them now ages 15-19: they all maintain their own rooms at a level of neatness somewhere between functional but sanitary clutter and showpiece tidiness with zero requirements or involvement from me. (I continued helping Dame for much longer than the others because her combination of ADHD and chronic pain/fatigue made it particularly difficult. However, this week she decided to do it and made it through the whole thing herself, over a couple of days.) They wash laundry with sufficient regularity. Rooms do not stink. 

Mostly up until recently we have not allowed eating in bedrooms which prevents the worst nastiness. However, Deux's extended and intense migraines have made it necessary for him and it is gradually slackening elsewhere. I can always tell when I get home from work whether Deux's migraine has ended by the stack of bowls in the sink. (I use large glass mixing bowls for his meals so that I don't need to bring him seconds.) Having lived with many other adolescent and post-adolescent males in my life, I know the habit of returning dishes to the kitchen is not one to be taken for granted. 

Anyway, I had a lot of misgivings when they were young about my approach so this is, at least, a letter to my younger self: Hey! It worked! And perhaps it might have some helpful ideas for someone with small children coping with similar issues. 

A Slight Apocalypse

 Every once in a while, a long time after everyone else, I get around to something and Have Thoughts on it. 

This time it was *Dune*, which I decided to give a try since it's considered iconic and I do like some science fiction and it seemed better than making myself sit through any of *Star Trek*. (OK, so I really only like *obscure* science fiction. *Babylon 5* forever!) 

Perhaps it is just now being the mother of teenage boys, but I feel like the teenage-boy-protagonist-will-save-the-world thing is way overdone. With apologies to Deux and Dash, who are quite decent human beings, really, here are the responses you would *actually* get if you asked a teenage boy to save the world: 

• "Does the world really have to be saved? Couldn't we just skip it this time?"
  
• "I saved the world *last* week. It's Andromeda's turn to save the world."
• "Mmmppphh."
• "I have to finish fighting this boss first."
• "Oh right, I forgot. Save the world. Will do."
• "I would, but I'm leaving right now. Maybe when I get back."

Finally, in exasperation, one would lay into them with a store of accumulated righteous indignation, only to have them say, "I already did it!"

Repeat weekly, which is how often world-ending scenarios come up in science fiction anyway.

However, it's not just the having of a teen hero. After all, the Codex Alera books have a teenage hero saving the world, and they're delightful. Mostly, I think it's just that Paul is such a thoroughly dislikable person. Cold, detached, unrealistically competent, followed by unreasonably adoring fans and worst of all, he's boring. I would not want to be his mother. Whereas I would be quite proud to be Tavi's mother. He's warm, curious, funny, he makes mistakes and has to deal with them, and just all round feels like an actual human being. 

I think the clincher for me is when Paul is proposing to the Emperor's daughter and his common-law tribal wife is like, "Oh, Paul, you don't have to worry about me, I won't get in the way of your galactic ambitions." Even though *their child was just killed by the Emperor's forces*. Kitai would have throat-punched Tavi if he had even thought about something like that. And he would have known he deserved it. 

Then again, maybe I'm just too old for this, and I will go back to cheering on Thursday Next and Precious Ramotswe. 

It's a Wrap

As I write this, the Duchess is wrapping presents. This is a very good development. She still wants me to cut out the paper, but she'll do the rest. It doesn't look quite as good as I would do it. Probably by next year she will have surpassed me and I am willing to put up with the training period.

We took the kids to the dollar store this afternoon to pick out presents for each other. This has been a tradition since the Duchess was four and picked out the ever-famous Purple Bear for Deux, who has loved it devotedly ever since. You can get some good stuff at the dollar store. Deux took a turn at it next year and this year the twins also made an attempt.

Dash is plainly in the stage where he projects his own desires on others. If it doesn't involve motorcycles or fire engines, why would anyone want it? Deux is more cagey--he realizes not everyone likes what he likes. Therefore, after consulting his pocketbook, he bought himself three things he really wanted as well as gifts for others. Dot simply wandered around happily, eagerly accepted the least suggestion I made, and called it good. Duchess picked out suitable gifts and wrapped them all herself. Except for the cutting. She did express concern that her gifts not break within a week this year, as they did last year.

I gave Dash the chance to wrap his presents, and there were several minutes of tears as he had apparently thought he was going to get to wrap gifts for himself and was devastated to see the same old things he had chosen.

The Organizer

I just put the scheduled last load of laundry in the dryer, made sure the planned chili beans were turned on to cook for supper, and reserved the library books for us to pick up next week for the following week of school. In a few minutes I'll set us all onto our list of afternoon chores.

I'm not sure I can handle this level of organization.

For most of the past, my approach to domestic duties has been:
1. Is there food to eat?
2. Is there anything clean to wear, should need arise?
3. Then go to bed, finally!

Over the last couple of years that stage has gradually faded, but with drastic life changes happening every six weeks or so, I've stayed entirely on the defensive. However, I now find myself with a house to run, children old enough to hire, and a lack of any dramatic life-changing events for over a month! It is time to try being organized.

I don't like reading about other people's organizational ideas. I find this advice usually written by two kinds of people:

1. People who are so naturally organized that they have absolutely nothing to say to those of more random inclinations. I remember reading one book prattling about the need for customizing your plan to suit you, "After all, some people think dusting needs to be done every day while others think once a week is sufficient." Um, yes. Or perhaps, once a year, right before putting up the Christmas decorations.

2. People who are somewhat random, but who have forgotten that the main reason they are so much more organized than they were ten years ago is that their children are ten years older than they were ten years ago. The laziest teenager has nothing on the mess-generating capacity of a toddler trying to be helpful.

Thus, people will assure you that if you just do a little bit every day, things will never get out of hand. This may be true for some people. It is not true if you have two three-year-olds. It's definitely not true if you have a tendency to say, "Oh sure, why not?" to children's ideas of what to do and only later realize that you have just officially endorsed the plan to paper the entire house with catalog cut-outs. A house with small children goes from neat to out-of-hand in three minutes flat.

And the trouble is, if I'm following a real housekeeping schedule and *trying*, I actually get annoyed by this. If I'm just waltzing along and cleaning when I feel like it, I don't really care that I never quite get all the way to neat. If I mop for an occasion, then the floor is mopped for that occasion and we can all stay out of the mud puddles until the occasion is over and then mud away. If I mop because it's Mopping Day, then I suddenly turn into a neat freak who wants to duct-tape the children to the ceiling where they won't touch anything.

Which is another reason why I don't follow other people's organizing advice. At least if I make up my own housekeeping schedule, I can have all the fun of designing a schedule. Planning is something I'm good at. Making beautiful charts. Lining everything up. It's innocent fun, and so what if I never follow it? Whereas if I followed someone else's plan, I'd miss out on the only fun part and move straight to feeling guilty.

There really is only one thing that's holding me to a schedule thus far, and that is that it's easier and more fair to get children to help if there's a definite plan for them versus Mother suffering from sporadic bouts of wailing and guilt-tripping, interspersed by letting them run wild.

After considering the different schools of thought on Children and Work and Money, we decided to come up with our own system that would make things as complicated as possible. So they have a baseline allowance that they get just for existing, and they also have jobs (mostly pertaining to meals) that they have to do if they want to continue to exist. Then they have jobs they can do for hire, if they want to make enough money to actually do anything with, things that add to the niceties of life like folded clothes and clean floors. But to keep these jobs available to be done, I have to make sure the prerequisites are in place--that there actually is clean laundry to fold in manageable quantities, and that we can locate precisely where we last left the floor. Which means sticking to the schedule.

Some are born organized, some achieve organization, and some have organization thrust upon them. When the children leave home, I'm going to sweep the floors when I *feel* like sweeping the floor, and not before!