Art Camp and the "password"

I just dropped my boys of at their first day camp. They will spend 5 days at the local Museum of Fine Art being artists. I'm not really worried except for the fact my kids aren't used to being in a class all day so I talked about all of the "school" issues: how to raise your hand if you have a question, to ask to go to the bathroom or get a drink of water, to be polite, etc. It was only when I was leaving that I realized we had forgotten the "password." What if somebody tries to pick them up after class who isn't supposed to? Do they know what do? Do they know who a stranger is and that sometimes acquaintances can be strangers? Do they know that a puppy doesn't make somebody safe? And, what if mom can't come to get them?

So tonight the dinner table conversation will be about the "password," that word only family is supposed to know and share when there is an emergency. How many other families do this? Are we worried about to much? Is my California background beginning to show? While we were in Europe, we never even thought this way. But back here in the States I feel I must. The news is just too full of incidents I dread to read. I don't want my kids to be in that news report.

Repressed Anger

I recently read that my hiatal hernia could be caused by repressed anger. I didn't think I had any repressed anger. I'm quite vocal when I'm mad and I let lots of people know. In a calm way, I hope. Then I realized, I don't let the right people know about my anger. I'm mad about the state of the environment, about people using too much electricity, about our government conducting wars in lands where we care more about oil than we do about people and ignoring wars in lands where people really need us and the oil just isn't there. I'm mad about so many things and I just don't know what to do.

So today, while reading the NY Times, I see an ad with a list of senators to share my views with about the upcoming filibuster or nuclear option. And I sent them all an email. It may not change a thing but it is more likely to help than me complaining to my husband over the dinner table about those Republicans taking away the rights of the minority. So now I feel a little bit better. I'll have to wait and see about the hernia.

Moving again

Next week the movers come to put all of our stuff in boxes and ship it to CA. We've lived here for 10 months and it is amazing how much stuff one family can accumulate in that amount of time. I'm tired of cleaning out stuff. Next assignment will be for 2 years (unless the Air Force changes its mind). Our goal will be to get rid of things when we're finished with them. Though that's hard to do... we like to save... maybe we'll need it next month.

Change is good. We find maps and books we forgot about. Toys that have been in the back of the closet seem like they're new. It's hard to stop the boys from starting new projects with all of these "found" objects!

Ryan discovered word problems this week and is hooked. No one ever told him that you're supposed to hate word problems. And when he's run into them before and not been interested, we've skipped them. I'm very glad I've taken the low key approach. I'd much rather have my boys love to do word problems a little later than to do them and hate every minute of it. We talked about writing for next year and we both know that he's ready to write a lot but his spelling isn't ready for it. So we are going to work on a spelling program this summer... not school, just spelling. He's okay with that. Is it unschooling? I guess we'll find out.

Am I Crazy?

I'm a little tired of hearing my friends tell me how they're feeling behind the times. Some of them can't take a digital photo, much less upload it to their computer. Then I started to think about where I stand in this world. Some of this new technology is a little scary and I'm only 38. What am I going to do when I'm 50, 60, 70 years old? Well, if I have it my way, I'll be blogging while listening to my iPod and updating my PDA... or whatever the equivalent technology is in 20 or 30 years. So, here goes nothing, my first Blog.