Monday, September 29, 2014

The Dropped Ball falls in a Hole

The other day, Fritz had an interesting conversation with the shipping employee who delivers packages to his office. She told him that if he's planning to order his Christmas gifts via the mail to order early. Why? She said improved economic conditions (translating into more purchasing), shipping employees who are already working as many hours a week as possible, and a very short holiday season are going to combine to result in late deliveries and lost packages.

And, she told him, if something is guaranteed delivery, and it doesn't arrive, don't expect to see it for a loooong time. Shipping companies are required to reimburse the shipping cost of a package the minute that it doesn't arrive on time. After they've already lost the money because the package is  delayed, they no longer have any incentive to deliver the package quickly; it's better to focus on the other packages with guaranteed delivery dates.

This perfectly illustrates a theory I've recently dubbed, The Dropped Ball falls in a Hole. It seems especially apt in the world of customer service. Whenever a service is delayed or disrupted, expect further complication. The airline traveler whose flight is canceled is more likely to bumped from a rebooking. The diner who sends back her flawed meal watches three more parties arrive and be served before her meal returns. In our school district, a child who is denied his first choice school ends up in his fourth choice.

This week, my car is still not completed by the autobody shop; and it will be another TEN days. If you're wondering, I thought you said last Friday, how can a it suddenly take another TEN days to finish a car? Well, we're wondering, too. I think it's partially the theory: we're already late, we might as well be later! Actually, I'm being antagonistic here. It might feel personal, but it's not. The economic strategy is: better to consolidate your losses to one customer, rather than allowing them to snowball onto many customers.

Monday, September 22, 2014

At Home

This weekend, Fritz took the kids out of the house for over 2 hours on 2 days, meaning:

I got to clean!

So exciting! So refreshing! So rejuvenating! And, no, I'm not being sarcastic. With little kids who are always home, I don't manage to keep the house neat. At all. You already know this, if you've been reading along. I'm getting better at not stressing out about it. But there's still something enormously relaxing about the house being picked up.

Fritz normally takes the kids to the playground, or the zoo, or the museums. We have several family memberships. They really pay for themselves on the weekends. Sometimes, however, it stinks to be the one at home, either managing multiple bodies or scrubbing toilets because everybody's gone. Especially as Noah has gotten older and more intellectually engaging, I'd love to spend more time doing the fun stuff as a family, outside the home.

Noah pouted when he heard I wasn't going out with them this weekend. But really, the situation around here was dire to my mental health. I'm really looking forward to the time when they are all out of the house with some regularity (i.e., I can clean regularly). Trixie is 16 months now. I'm finally beginning to catch wiffs of the coming freedom.

Man, this baby-toddler thing is so hard. I don't think it's any easier even though this is the third time around.

Friday, September 19, 2014

Send in the Clowns

I had this idea that I would make clown costumes for my Etsy site. This is really part of a bigger plan, in which I teach myself to be a better seamstress, while making a little bit of money on the side. Someday I would like to design and sew clothes for myself. I'm not sure how serious I am about the clothes designing (maybe somewhat serious since I've been actively playing with the idea for about 3 years now); I thought a good entry-level trial project might be costumes for kids. If it doesn't work out, I thought, at least one of the kids will have a costume to wear for Halloween.

[photo removed]

When I was a child, my mom made a clown costume that was subsequently worn by all three of us siblings. Or at least, it was worn by me and one brother. She sent me these photos when I told her my plan:
[more photos removed]

My mom, endlessly supportive of whatever whim is crossing my mind, said, "Sure! Sew a clown costume! That's a great idea! The clown costume was SO EASY to make!"

First, I thought I wanted to make the pattern myself. I do love making patterns. It's like small-scale architectural drawing to me. I made the pattern for the baby cloak, so I thought I'd just whip up a clown costume pattern. Except, pattern making is not quite like architectural drawings. My first rendition of the clown costume became a big failure when I sat down at the sewing machine.

I broke down and bought a pattern (pretty much with the same resignation that I broke down and bought a new builder-built house). My time was too short. Sometimes, I told myself, you just have to cut your losses and improve the wheel instead of reinventing it.

The pattern agreed with my mother. This was an EASY project. Two hours! It claimed.

Of course, I had to improve it.

Days and days and days later, we finally have something resembling a clown costume:

[photo removed]

It's not done yet. Turns out, the boys don't care at all about how cute it looks. Or about the fabulously integrated neck ruffle. Or the circle and dot patterns (eventually) reiterated with strategically shaped patches. Or the experimentation with simultaneous contrasts in the color palette. They want function: a never-ending handkerchief in the pocket. Built-in squeaky noises. A secret water compartment and hose to spray unsuspecting people. AND the boys think they'd rather not be clowns for Halloween, thankyouverymuch.

All the work. My goodness. I'd have to sell it for a small fortune just to pay myself minimum wage for all the hours that went into it. It might be faster the second time around, but I can't really gauge whether I want to make one again or not. Sort of I do. Just to prove I can be faster and better and smarter about the whole thing. Then again, I think the entire household might fall apart if I spend any more evenings curled up with my sewing machine, making clown costumes that nobody wants to wear or buy anytime soon. That's the problem with not having a business plan, right? I'm just sort of randomly making stuff for the love or the experience. Which is fun, but not business savvy. I'm just not sure being business savvy is going to fill my creative desire, you know?

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

All the Things I Thought About – Three Weeks with a 17 year-old Exchange Student

Our exchange student. Let's give him his own pseudonym: George. He came to stay with us via a rather unconventionally manner. George's mother knew Fritz's mother in Germany. (Fritz's mother lives in Germany.) George wanted to participate in an exchange program to the USA. George's mother felt that that these programs were either not safe enough or too expensive. Asking Fritz's mother if George could simply come stay with us seemed like a better idea to her. Fritz and I hemmed and hawed. This is not the first time we've been asked. We have a request like this every year.

In George's case, he hoped coming to the USA would improve his English and position him better to transfer between schools in Germany. Beginning around age 10, kids are tracked into one of three school tiers in Germany. The various tiers are a big step in determining what kind of job or profession a kid will have as an adult. The system is highly criticized for its lack of flexibility; George might be a good example of someone who was tracked into a tier that didn't fit what he'd like to do with his life. Now he's trying to change tiers (Realschule to Gymnasium). It's a big deal.

The intricacies of the German school system matter less for this post: the important thing to take away is that George was portrayed to us as The Underdog. He was someone trying to better himself and do something difficult against the cultural (and even familial) grain. And that is precisely the point that swayed us in favor of having him as an exchange student.

Fritz, Fritz's mother, and, apparently, me are – were –  all suckers for The Underdog.


One of the problems with sending your child to the home of an acquaintance, instead of putting him or her in a proper exchange program, is that the onerous for entertaining and educating that child all fall upon the host family. Most exchange programs have some sort of cultural awareness courses prior to the actual exchange. They have daily or weekly activities for their participants (so that the host isn't ALWAYS on point). They have contacts with other exchange students so that they can share the experience of America. George had only us. I think that Fritz and I are both very aware of cultural differences, etc. After all, we've lived in both countries, we've done exchange programs ourselves, and we have family and friends both here and there. But it turned out to be a LOT of effort.  George also seemed to be NOT very motivated and enthusiastic. From my perspective, it was like pulling teeth to get him out of the guest room and off his smartphone.

Maybe my expectations were too high. Maybe that's just the way 17 year-old boys behave. With three little kids, I certainly didn't have time to spend micromanaging George. Also, I don't really think that was my responsibility as a host. I left him alone when he hid out in his room. But the constant hiding from opportunities, responsibilities, and the lack of initiative: these things wore on me. Such a waste of time and money and effort. I hate waste. I can't be sure a proper exchange program would have been better, but odds are good I wouldn't have felt quite as disappointed if the successes and failures of the exchange had fallen less squarely on our shoulders.


George, for the record, told his family that he was having a GREAT time. We were shocked he thought it was going so well.

"Maybe that's just what 17 year-old boys say to their mothers," my own mother said.


Before George arrived, we skyped with his family. I asked what George likes to eat.

"Oh, don't worry about it!" His mother said. "Just the normal stuff."

"Oh, good, " said Fritz. "Our kids eat terribly. Everything they eat is white: pasta, bread, cheese, bananas..."

Normal and terrible are all relative, of course. Over the course of 3 weeks, George's normal turned out to be: white bread with salami. And white bread with salami. And more white bread with salami. No fruit. No veggies. No meat unless it was processed. I'm not one to force food on people. I spent years as a vegetarian, so I can respect differences in eating. But this was more than I could take. His eating habits were worse than our kids' "terrible" eating. I started to notice just how often our kids actually do eat colorful food. I would like them to eat MORE healthy (colorful) food...but they were great compared to George!

I felt slightly desperate about all the bread and salami he was eating. What were his parents going to think? One day, I peeked into his bedroom and noticed a pile of Pringles containers and soda bottles next to his bed. That made me feel better. Not.

At dinner, I pulled out my iPad and gave a lecture to Noah and Mattias on The Healthy Eating Plate. Really, it was a lecture for George.

We don't usually eat out, but we took George out several times. Maybe the problem was my cooking. I'm not a great chef. I hoped I could find something else that he would like. I turned into a sales person, a role I don't often assume: Indian? Look! The Naan is white and fried!  No.  Burritos? Chipotle has the yummiest, freshest food, GMO free!  No.  BBQ? It's very typical American! Check out these biscuits!  No.  Bison burgers? They're a specialty of Colorado!  No.  Pizza?  No.  Hamburgers? Okay....

I'm sure George hated me by the end of his stay.

Since George left, I've thought a lot about how I want my kids to eat broadly and try new things. Fritz seems to think that there's something age appropriate about being seventeen and indulging in your ability to eat whatever food you want, whenever you want.

I don't know.... I became a vegetarian at age seventeen; the decision (at that time) seemed to involve a fair number of portuguese bread rolls. So maybe Fritz is right.


Fritz was better at motivating George. Because he is German too? Because he's a guy? Because he felt more responsibility for making sure George had a good time? Because they spoke German all the time? (It happens when you stick two native speakers in the same room.) Motivating George was its own kind of burden. Fritz ended up spending more time with George than he normally does with houseguests. Fritz was shocked by the intensity of it. As I have mentioned before, I usually see it as my job to buffer Fritz from the chaos around the house. That would include most of the hosting activities that go along with houseguests. This time, however, more hosting responsibilities fell at Fritz's feet, unbuffered. There were bike trips and baseball games, city tours, campus tours, a trip to the county fair, museum visits, shopping for designer athletic shoes, and visiting Hard Rock Cafe for paraphernalia. ("Hard Rock Cafe?" I asked George, "Are you sure? That was popular when I was a kid....")

How did Fritz cope with the extra work? He did the same thing I do: he called his own mother and complained. Fritz took a whole week of vacation, and not because he was spending it with his family, but because he was spending it with George. That was kind of a bummer for the rest of us; but  sometimes there was just not a good way to combine the types of activities we thought George would enjoy with the types of activities the rest of the family would enjoy.

The upside in all this is that maybe, just maybe, Fritz has gained a better understanding of how houseguests are not "big help" but rather "extra work." I've been trying to make that point to him for a while now.


The smartphone. When we had our first exchange student four years ago, having a smartphone and international plan was too prohibitively expensive. Times have changed.

I can understand wanting to stay close to family and friends and girlfriends, but I must say, George's smartphone was very problematic. On the last day, George brought his smartphone to the dinner table at dinner time and clicked around on it, presumably checking into his flight the next day. At that point I became acutely aware of just how much time George had spent playing with his phone, and I wished I had noticed sooner and taken action.

I wonder if official exchange programs have policies on this? I would make a no-smartphone policy, if I were running an exchange program.


Several people thought that George would be quite helpful around the house. Someone thought he could take care of the kids. (Really? I asked. Does he have experience? I'm not sure I trust him with the kids...) Someone thought he could do some yard work for us. Someone thought he might help Noah "train" for a triathlon. Maybe he could take the boys to the pool for an hour? Maybe he could help with dishes? Maybe he could sweep the floor under the table? Maybe we could all go hiking and he'd be an extra set of legs to help carry little ones? Maybe, at least, we could have some good conversations to help him improve his English. The ideas about what George could do while he visited rolled freely until we met him.

Here is what George was willing to do:

1) Minimize answers to questions to a single word. And the answer was, "great" whenever possible.

"How did you like the museum?"
"What did you like the best?"
"They're great."

2) Carry his own dishes from the dinning table to the kitchen island.

It's a distance of 5 feet, at most.

One night, I asked him to wipe off the table after dinner. He pushed all the crumbs (we have a lot of those) into the center of the table and then asked me what he should do with them.


You know what? I blame parents on this one. I'm sorry. I do.

Noah's 7 years old. I don't find it impressive when HE carries his plate to the dishwasher. Why would I think that's a sufficient contribution for a 17 year-old?

The whole lack of involvement made me think about how learning to do one specific chore is not the same as learning to be a generally helpful and thoughtful human being.

Learning to participate willingly is way more important than learning a specific task.

I'm not sure that willingness is the type of thing you can teach your kids. But maybe you can instill in them an attitude of willingness?


The biggest silver lining in this three week cloud is what I take away as a parent: thinking about the qualities I would like to see from my kids at age seventeen. Thinking about HOW we will get there. Thinking about the bad habits we have already developed in this house, and how those bad habits could play out a decade from now in our own teenage children.

I'll never forget our earliest days of being a childless couple, when Fritz and I would watch our friends with children, and think: that will NOT be us. We won't have children like that! There's a bit of that sentiment in this post. We won't have non-communicative, unhelpful teenage boys!

But we could.

The best is to keep our goals in mind, keep questioning, and keep evaluating the choices we're making as parents. We might not be able to change our children, but I do believe we can nudge them in certain directions if we stay aware. And we should be aware. If nothing else, George was a very good reminder of that responsibility.

Monday, September 15, 2014

Cars, cars

This weekend we temporarily ventured back into the territory of being a one car family. My car is still in the shop being repaired after my accident last month. The loaner car, covered for 30 days by our insurance, isn't really justifiable now that we have to pay out of pocket. That leaves us with Fritz's bug, which has only four seat belts. Our family trips will be by bike and foot for the next two weeks.

Being a one car family worked for us for a long time (until two year ago, see: The Three Kid Minivan Dilemma). I'm sure we'll adjust, but I'm really not looking forward to the necessary schedule adjustment. The schedule adjustment is going to mess up nap time. Honestly, it makes me a little teary-eyed to miss that 1 hour and 15 minutes of quiet.

I'm sure someday I'll look back on this version of myself and laugh.

On the topic of cars, we're parting ways with the 13 year old bug. We'll be upgrading to TWO cars, either one of which can seat the whole family of five(!). The boys will be sad to say goodbye to the bug, but there's nothing like being in an accident and walking away completely unscathed to make you really appreciate the current safety standards and AIRBAGS.

We've been car shopping. We still really dislike most of the 7 seat options. The only thing that we like (a little) is the Toyota Highlander. Unfortunately, they've populated our neighborhood like rabbits; that's a drawback as far as I'm concerned. And we're still rather lukewarm about the gas mileage on SUVs. I'm crossing my fingers that Volkswagen's Crossblue will be as great as it sounds: all wheel drive, 7 seats, electric-gas/diesel hybrid, reasonably priced. But it's still 2 years away from being available to the general public.

So. In the meantime, with some hesitancy, we're jumping off our Volkswagen trend a getting a Subaru Outback. (Although they're almost as popular as the Highlanders around here. Sigh.) That'll make us a two car station wagon family, which still strikes me as very luxurious indeed.

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Street Lawn (Dogtooth Continued)

It's September and theoretically, our new African Dogtooth street lawn should be established.

Established. I guess that's an okay description. Here's the progress.

Dogtooth grass plugs at planting at the end of May:

Dogtooth grass plugs one month later (June):

Dogtooth grass at the beginning of September:


  • I've done no weeding. There are a fair number of weeds. More in some places than in others.
  • We've watered according to instructions, meaning it currently receives water only once a week.
  • Where the Bluegrass has historically done well, so has the Dogtooth grass. 
  • Where the Bluegrass hasn't done well, neither has the Dogtooth grass.
  • Where the Bluegrass has died, the Dogtooth grass is hanging on. Barely.
  • Dogtooth blades are finer than the Bluegrass and a shade of green lighter.
In a dreamworld, the Dogtooth grass in the street lawn will get thicker and thicker and choke out all the weeds without me doing any weeding. Nonetheless, I'm going to start weeding a bit now that the boys are back in school and the weather is cooler.

African Dogtooth Grass. Between my fingers is one of the runner-like pieces.
This grass spreads (like strawberries) with runners, not seeds.
I'm sure there are more technical terms. You can find them here.

In the spirit of experimentation in May, I planted a few Dogtooth plugs in our regular lawn, without killing the Bluegrass first (as the instructions recommend). Those plugs are still alive, but haven't spread as much.

Can you spot the African dogtooth grass? 

African Dogtooth grass in circles. Other grass is mostly Kentucky Bluegrass.

In another dreamworld, the Dogtooth will slowly take over this lawn as well. It will prove to be a much better alternative than Bluegrass.

Planting the dogtooth grass plugs
Why we planted the grass (a dialog)
The African dogtooth grass experiment begins in May
The additional bulb flower experiment
Where the bulbs get eaten by the rabbits
Fifteen months after planting
Two years in when the Japanese Beetle Grub arrive

Sunday, September 7, 2014


I am really hopeful that all the time the kids and I have spent together over the last few years will result in really strong familial bonds. Not just between me and the kids, but between the kids themselves. This year, I decided to keep Mattias home half days so that he and Trixie would have more chance to establish their own relationship. It was a hard decision to make, as around 4 years of age – with both boys – I've really felt that they are ready to spend more hours in structured environment.

[series of photos with Mattias and Trixie playing ball removed]

However, three years ago, when I kept a 4 year-old Noah at home with me for half days, I noticed how Noah and Mattias's (then 16 months +)  relationship blossomed. To this day, they still genuinely enjoy each other's company and play together really well, despite the 3 year age difference. I'm hoping this will repeat with Trixie and Mattias. I know Mattias and Trixie will ultimately have a different relationship than Mattias and Noah. But it's such a gift to have a sibling who is also a friend.

Thursday, September 4, 2014

The Tamper Proof Collective

This weekend, our tamper-proof carbon monoxide/smoke detectors turned into collective tormenting devices when one decided that it was malfunctioning.

Do you know about these fancy-schmancy smoke detectors they use in newer houses? I didn't until we bought this new house. First of all, they are not just smoke detectors, they are carbon monoxide detectors as well. But they LOOK just like the $10 smoke detector that you can buy at any big box store.

They are wired into the regular 120 volt electrical system of the house. If the power is out, they run on backup 9 volt batteries. We have seven of them throughout the house.

The best (or worst) part is that THEY COMMUNICATE with each other through the house's ground wire (I think). If one is triggered, they ALL sound the alarm. If you unplug one, the others freak out and sound their alarms. If you try to silence one, it will only silence itself very temporarily. They have a very a complicated system of chirps versus alarms versus lights flashing this color or that color or solid lights – you get the idea – basically, all this to tell you what type of problem they detect.

Our malfunctioning device just wanted to let us know that it was malfunctioning. It was located outside our bedroom door. It chirped three times every minute. If it had simply died, we could have silenced it for 48 hours. If we tried to disconnect it, we would sound the collective alarm. Instead we had to listen to it chirp until we replaced it with a new model. The problem? None of the nearby stores carried the same model for replacement.

Our resident auditory expert decided to line a cardboard box with soft material and tape it to the ceiling, muffling the chirping detector overnight. Ummm... It was NOT a very effective sound insulating box.

2,160 chirps (and no sleep later), we finally found a replacement detector. It would have been good to have a spare one.

Also, these detectors? They're kind of brilliant in design. But they are just as often maddening.

Did I mention that our exchange student kept setting off the smoke detector alarms with whatever smell-y cologne-y product he was using? Can you imagine?

Tuesday, September 2, 2014