Seeing Stars

Our elementary school does a fundraiser where they sell deeply discounted amusement park tickets and somehow make money off of them. Being that we live in New Jersey, I’m pretty sure they fell off the back of the truck.

Monday we took the kids to Hershey Park.

Thank god for #3, who took it upon herself to get someone to watch the dogs because it completely slipped my mind. She’s hellbent on doing as many good turns for me as possible so that I let her get contacts this year (8th grade) instead of next. I’m not above being bribed and I kind of like the way this is working out so far. Anyway, back to our trip Monday.

We got started late.

I forgot my camera.

CC forgot his hat, so we dropped two kids off with money for donuts and went back to the house.

CC picked up his hat and I forgot my camera again.

We retrieved the kids and the donuts and went on our way.

The kids fought over donuts and then fell asleep, until the last hour or so when they told each other horrible amusement park death stories, which then degraded into tasteless jokes which I will not repeat here. It’s imperative that there be no public record of what was said in the van. I will say only that I was impressed.

When you enter Hershey Park, kids line up under the candy bar signs to see how tall they are so they know which rides they can get on.

#5 talked about little else over the past week besides his hope that he had grown enough to reach Twizzler status this year. Twizzlers can pretty much go on any ride. Sadly, even with his shoes on, his very best posture, and his hair all spiked up with sunscreen, he was an inch short. He’s still a Hershey bar.

We had a grand time even though it was about a million degrees out. The best part for me came about four in the afternoon. In the distance a big storm was brewing, and gradually the taller roller coasters got shut down. We migrated to an area with shorter rides that were still open. CC and I sat on a bench, the kids all took off in a pack together, and we totally fell asleep. Each time when they finished a ride, they checked in with us and asked if they could go on another ride. Each time we mumbled yes and fell back asleep. The storm winds rolled in and dropped the temperature a blissful twenty degrees. After five rides’ worth of nap, we consulted the guide and found a place to get coffee and hiked over there. We all reconvened, the rain came down, and it was pretty much the best thing I have ever felt. It was just like that song by The Who.

Plus, my nose wasn’t broken.

I suppose now is a good time to tell you about 2010’s Log Ride Incident. It is why I think of #5 every time I put on my sunglasses, which is every single day unless I don’t leave the house.

We started our visit last year by riding The Comet, a roller coaster designated safe for Hershey Bars. The next roller coaster we found was for Twizzlers on up. #5 was too short to ride. So we split, and I took him to the log ride while CC took everyone else on the big scary coaster.

I love log rides. They’re so peaceful and then you get that little teeny scare at the end followed by a big splash, which is exactly what you need on a hot day at an amusement park.

Bolstered by his prior experience on The Comet, #5 was well aware that this wasn’t a thrill ride. He was feeling very brave. When we went down the giant hill at the end, he leaned forward, and went from sitting to squatting, poised as if to leap. I was immediately convinced he was going to jump to his death. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him back down, sitting against me.

At which point we completed the hill and the log caught, as it is supposed to, on the chain-thingie that keeps it from careening out of control.

Which sent #5’s head back full force into my face.

Full force into the bridge of my nose, to be exact.

He giggled and screamed at the ride, completely unaware that anything was amiss, and I tried not to pass out.

In the past I have experienced small traumas that caused me to involuntarily swear, moan, or shut my eyes; this time I couldn’t speak or move, my eyes were wide open, and I saw little silvery stars, lots of them, kinda like glitter. No birds. It was the most pain I’ve ever been in without losing consciousness.

Much to the disappointment of my kids and my work colleagues, there was no blood, nor were there black eyes, and my nose was not repositioned on my face, but according to my ENT it was, in fact, broken, right across the bridge where my sunglasses sit.

#5 was pretty proud of himself when he learned his very own head was that strong. I still have the same sunglasses, they just sit a bit differently now on my reformed nose.

This year, I went on the big scary roller coaster and made CC take #5 on the log ride.

What’s your favorite thing to do at an amusement park?

I Have No Shame

My garage, two years after moving into this house:

At least you can walk through it now. That’s an improvement. I’m happy to provide the public service of letting you feel better about your own garage, or whatever other room of dirty secrets you may have in your house.

Oh, and I can fit a car in here, see?

Sweet, sweet Miss Lucy. I still owe you an alternator. I’m a bad mama. Hey, what’s that on the wall?

No, not the hacksaw. Not the push broom. The long thing straddling the boards, IYKWIM.

Oh, this is new. It came home today with CC. Here’s the part where I win the husband contest, even though my garage (which is all my mess anyway, not his) looks like the Room of Requirement.

Observe.

The back of an arrow:

The front of a different arrow:

The front of the first arrow shot into the back of the second arrow:

Yep.

Color me impressed.

Splitting an arrow with another arrow was the only way CC could drag the range attendants’ attention away from #2, who was with him and is a fine shot herself. For some reason, the old guys there are more interested in a pretty fifteen-year-old female archery protegé than my handsome husband.

When he asked about repairing the arrows, they kind of looked at him and said, “We might be able to fix the back one, but really? You should hang that up on your wall. That’s a trophy.”

The kids and I don’t think the pegboard in the garage behind the Mustang is a good place to display a trophy. They all agree, it’s wicked awesome. We’re exploring other options.

I’m wondering where we can display Dad’s archery talents to have the greatest impact on potential teenage boyfriends. Any ideas?

She Hurts My Soul

We’re doing a summer reading challenge at my house with #2-#5. We let #1 off the hook because she done graduated.

Schools send home a suggested summer reading list with the kids on- wait, I don’t actually know when they do this. Last day of school? It doesn’t seem the list would have a very good shot at making it home if that were the case. Second-t0-last day of school? Do they mail it the week after school gets out? I have no idea. I only know that the list for each kid always makes it up onto either the bulletin board or the fridge, with one exception.

I’m lookin’ at you, #4.

Not that all the other kids eagerly hit their summer reading lists before they start sleeping til noon, eating popsicles for breakfast, and staying in their pajamas until dinnertime. The only one who reads voluntarily even if we’re not having a power outage is #2.

But their lists always go up. Then we commence ten weeks of them not reading anything on their lists, and me using ineffective methods of trying to get them to read.

This is baffling to me. My mom used to have to force me away from my books.

This year I gave each kid a certain number of pages to read every day, the equivalent of twenty to thirty minutes of reading. It’s what they supposedly do anyway during the school year.

There’s even a reward: if they all meet their page goals I’ll buy them a new Wii game. No, the irony is not lost on me. Get off my ass.

Here’s our progress:

Immediately after we started the challenge, #2 went away to volleyball camp at the Naval Academy. Even while playing approximately 187,046 minutes of volleyball every single day, she finished her entire six weeks of reading in ten days.
#3 dug into her list and our bookshelves and found some things she liked. This is a first. She stayed up late many nights reading, not texting boys. I know this with certainty because her phone is broken. She liked The Lovely Bones and The Maze Runner. She finished last week.
#4 acted as if I were asking her to strangle kittens instead of read.
#5 loves the Magic Tree House books. They were on his list last year, but I think this late interest is a result of him being a full year younger than most of his classmates. I’m cool with that. He likes to come into our room to read because it’s quiet.
#4 now isn’t even keeping up with lying to me about reading.

After the first week of the challenge, all the kids give me updates. #4 tries to escape. I call her back into the kitchen.

Me: How’s your reading?

#4: Good.

Me: How much have you read?

#4: Um. I don’t know.

Me, narrowing my eyes at her: Have you read at all?

#4: Yes! I was just in my room for twenty minutes reading!

Me: Well, what’s going on in your book?

#4: Um, I can’t remember.

I make her bring it to me. The book is a challenge for her, which is the point. She’s heading into sixth grade and needs to step up. I try to come up with ideas to help. I tell her that as long as she makes an honest effort, I’ll count it. She can fall short of the goal, but if she’s trying, we can work something out. She reads nine pages out loud to me while we’re in the kitchen. It’s a good book.

I think that’s the last time she reads.

I got home from work the other night and found this:

Her jotted-down user name and password for a kids online gaming/virtual world site.

NO READING 4 ME

ME NO READ

You hurt my soul, #4.

Not to be a total doomsayer, but I’m fairly confident she won’t miraculously bust out her reading chops over the next two weeks. Overall, the challenge has been a success: two of three kids who swore they hated to read are liking reading.

#4 is a happy, well-adjusted, smart kid with good grades who would just rather be swimming or skateboarding or pretty much anything else besides reading. She has a ton of friends and whenever she gets in trouble, it’s usually hilarious. Not a bad place to be, really.

But what about the reading challenge reward? The deal was that all kids had to make their goals to get the Wii game. I can’t very well get a game and be all like, “Don’t let your sister play it!”

I’m open to ideas (unless you live in this house and I refer to you by number, in which case a suggestion such as “Give them their own Wii and TV in their rooms!” will just earn you extra chores).

How do I reward the kids who made their reading goals?