Halfway through summer

Summer school ended last week, to my sorrow, but I think Kid A made progress during the five weeks. And today, Home School Summer School resumes. However, the kids are having "computer time" right now, so summer school will be later. They get 90 minutes of computer time three times a week, and even though the 90 minutes often becomes 120 or even sometimes 150 (bad Mom, but it's so nice to have the break), the three times a week thing is fixed. So I think computer time is under control.

I'm wondering how we'll get through the rest of the summer, with nothing scheduled (except computer time), but it's only four and a half weeks. We've passed the midpoint. Unfortunately, we've also lost our remaining source of income -- Rocket Boy's unemployment insurance ran out after 6 months. We're still trying to get Clifford's house ready to rent. It seems a long time until my next paycheck, which I will receive on September 30. Seventy-four days.

One thing that's kept us entertained this summer is something I've wanted to do for a long time: rebuild their Lego sets. For years I've been bothered by the Lego phenomenon: the kids receive a big, expensive set for Christmas or their birthday, put it together as fast as possible, play with it briefly, and then take it apart. The pieces end up stored in boxes and bins, which the kids rummage through to find pieces to build other creations. Which is great, very imaginative and all that, but they are always craving new, expensive sets, and then those sets are immediately subsumed into the mass of pieces, most of which don't get re-used. It all seems like a huge waste of money and potential.

So this summer we have been rebuilding. The procedure is as follows: we find the instruction booklet that lists all the pieces on the back page, and then I carefully go through all the boxes of different colored pieces (sorted by me and Rocket Boy) and find the ones we need. This taps into something very soothing for me -- I honestly could hunt for Lego pieces all day. Then I hand the pile over to a twin, and he builds the set in about 30 seconds, even if it took me several hours to find the pieces.

Often, of course, there are missing pieces. But we have discovered this wonderful service on the Lego website -- you can order replacements for almost any piece you lose, and they are so cheap! Some cost as little as 7 or 8 cents! Of course the fancier pieces cost more, like $2.50 for a replacement Husky dog, but most of what we're missing is the little stuff, so our orders have been very inexpensive (the first was less than $3). Shipping is about $3, and the parts come in about a week and a half. We've received one order already and another one should arrive by the end of this week.

We've rebuilt more than 12 sets so far, and our own personal Lego village has grown quite large.

And the kids are playing with them! My boys have never been big on imaginative play, although we tried to encourage it. But they're playing with these sets -- the little Lego people are fighting fires and arresting bad guys and all the rest. It's fun to listen in.

In addition to their toys, I've been playing with my own. I finally cleaned off the desk in my room enough to support my Playmobil dollhouse, and I set up my new birthday-present cafe next to it (don't have the store building yet). Is this cute or what? The boys and I play with it happily.

Here the mom is taking the kids out for strudel, while the hipster guy stands behind the counter. Of course, this leaves the dad and the hipster chick home alone together, still with nothing to do, and I worry about the trouble they may get into. I may need to get another workplace later. It's funny -- when I was a kid I don't recall worrying about finding the adult dolls something to do. The daddy dolls went to work and the mommy dolls stayed home. I really didn't care about their intellectual lives, but now it's a concern.

So on we go. Kid A has his new glasses, although he doesn't like to wear them (it's OK -- the eye doctor said they were only required for school). Our little flower/rock/fairy garden is doing well. It's just the right size to be enjoyable, not a burden. We walk to the park most nights. We eat out very rarely, though I think I spend too much money at the grocery store. We go to the library every Sunday, and I've started reading the boos the Edward Eager "magic" books, from my own collection. They liked Half Magic, so now we're reading Magic by the Lake, which Kid B calls Magic Down by the Lake.

We still get movies from the Video Station every week -- they'd be free from the library, but I want to keep the VS in business. I've been trying to choose something we can all watch together, in addition to our other choices. Last week I rented "Harvey," one of my favorite movies ever. So funny, and the kids enjoyed it too.

Watching "Harvey," I was reminded that in the past I've tried to model my own behavior on Elwood P. Dowd's. This is patently ridiculous, because I could not be less like him. I'm critical and suspicious, always trying to be smart, not pleasant (his choice). I'm also not a drinker, but of course his drinking is romanticized. But when I watch that movie I'm always impressed by how happy he seems, and how nice he is to everyone. I always think, hey, I could be a little nicer. It wouldn't hurt. And then maybe a pooka would befriend me (always the goal, of course). But this time, watching, I thought, oh that's right, I'm married to Elwood P. Dowd (again, minus the drinking) (and the pooka). I voiced this thought to Rocket Boy and he sighed. "I think I'm getting pretty sour." And this is true. I wish we could find our way back to Harvey-land.