Relaxing Before My Spanish Lesson
We had a very pleasant (but very brief) visit last night and this morning from my husband's aunt from Kalamazoo, Michigan, and her friend from Ventura, California. The two of them are vacationing together, seeing Wisconsin in its post-summer serenity.
They attempted to spread a bit of serenity here, too. Our beloved aunt brought a wonderful salmon dinner with her so that I wouldn't have to cook, and she treated me to a little hand reflexology (her retirement career) before we ate. Heaven.
My relaxation continued this morning, when I spent 90 minutes talking with a market researcher about toilet tissue. Yes, that's right. If you need an adjective to describe one of life's most underappreciated conveniences, just ask me. I thought of about 700 of them today. And I enjoyed it. It's sort of sad when you're excited about spending an hour and a half in a room with a total stranger discussing toilet paper simply because you know that no one is going to interrupt you.
Anyway, when I returned home, a couple of other rejuvenating spa treatments were proffered, which I happily accepted. Relaxation for a mother of two small children, though, is hard to come by and short-lived. Just as my brain balancing began, a little girl thrust a book into my hands and begged me to read it. My mini-massage was cut short by a phone call. And all my chakras were turned on and my stress receptors turned off just in time for our visitors to depart to Door County and for me to dash off to pick up big brother at preschool.
When we got home, he gave me the perfunctory after-school stack of papers and sullen expression that I so anticipate. I tried to ignore the latter as I looked over the former while watching the kids play in the back yard. A letter from his Spanish teacher (who makes a weekly guest appearance) explained that this week, they were focusing on the question, "Como estas?" (How are you?) When I read, "Your child should be able to respond to this question either verbally or with a hand or facial gesture," I looked up from the paper to check it out.
"Hey, buddy," I said to the little boy hiding behind our garage. "Como estas?"
He furrowed his brow, pointed his index finger (thank goodness) at me, and said, "UnnhhHHH!"
And I thought, 'Verbal response with a hand AND facial gesture. Guess he IS learning something at preschool.'
They attempted to spread a bit of serenity here, too. Our beloved aunt brought a wonderful salmon dinner with her so that I wouldn't have to cook, and she treated me to a little hand reflexology (her retirement career) before we ate. Heaven.
My relaxation continued this morning, when I spent 90 minutes talking with a market researcher about toilet tissue. Yes, that's right. If you need an adjective to describe one of life's most underappreciated conveniences, just ask me. I thought of about 700 of them today. And I enjoyed it. It's sort of sad when you're excited about spending an hour and a half in a room with a total stranger discussing toilet paper simply because you know that no one is going to interrupt you.
Anyway, when I returned home, a couple of other rejuvenating spa treatments were proffered, which I happily accepted. Relaxation for a mother of two small children, though, is hard to come by and short-lived. Just as my brain balancing began, a little girl thrust a book into my hands and begged me to read it. My mini-massage was cut short by a phone call. And all my chakras were turned on and my stress receptors turned off just in time for our visitors to depart to Door County and for me to dash off to pick up big brother at preschool.
When we got home, he gave me the perfunctory after-school stack of papers and sullen expression that I so anticipate. I tried to ignore the latter as I looked over the former while watching the kids play in the back yard. A letter from his Spanish teacher (who makes a weekly guest appearance) explained that this week, they were focusing on the question, "Como estas?" (How are you?) When I read, "Your child should be able to respond to this question either verbally or with a hand or facial gesture," I looked up from the paper to check it out.
"Hey, buddy," I said to the little boy hiding behind our garage. "Como estas?"
He furrowed his brow, pointed his index finger (thank goodness) at me, and said, "UnnhhHHH!"
And I thought, 'Verbal response with a hand AND facial gesture. Guess he IS learning something at preschool.'
posted by Lisa Strandberg at 9:46 PM
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