Gotta Catch ‘Em All

When I hear the original Pokemon theme song, I can recite every word from memory. Until a few years ago, it was buried in the recesses of my mind. When the first chord strikes, my eyes light up like a sleeper agent called to action. It’s all still there. Every note, every lyric. My little brother’s obsession from the 90s, the show in the background every afternoon, the cards, the characters, the video games. They say every trend comes around again. And boy, has this one come back around in full force.

What started with 151 characters in the 90s has snowballed into more than a thousand today, and I’m pretty sure that’s the number of cards scattered around every surface of my house. “Gotta catch em all.” We’re certainly well on our way.

What’s neat this time around is seeing how many generations of our family have embraced Pokemon cards, characters or games, and the connections this shared interest has made as it carves its niche into our world. The boys collect cards, sharing equal excitement with their cousin, a high school senior, who has been known to stop by the house to give them extra packs, meet at card shows, or give tips on which trading card vending machine has stock. They also play Pokemon Go, sharing digital gifts with their grandmama and Auntie who play the game that turns real life surroundings into a battleground for catching characters.

Their dad has started collecting as well, taking them to shows to trade and filling his collector’s heart with a hobby that thankfully for me doesn’t take up too much space. I’m not much of a collector, but I learned how to play the card game and I’m learning how to help organize and sort them into binders based on character, or deck, or evolutions, or was it type? We’re still figuring out how they’d like them organized. Once we do, I’m sure they’ll be much more manageable.

In the meantime, I’ll wade through Pokemon all over the house just as I do with Legos, and I’ll sing right along.

Morning Rush Routine

We’ve gone through several evolutions of our bedtime routine, but morning is a different story. I’d love to call it a routine, but it seems as if we just can’t get consistency into the start of our day. Only one thing has remained the same each morning: utter chaos.

I wake up with the best of intentions. My alarm goes off early so I have time to exercise for 30 minutes before the boys get breakfast. Instead, I stay in bed thinking of all of the reasons I don’t have to get up right that second. I plan for packing lunches, making their breakfast and getting myself ready to head off to work and school. Instead, I throw a fruit, vegetable and pbj into a lunchbox with a hope and a prayer that maybe a third will get eaten, I rush to get dressed while the boys toast frozen waffles, and I scramble to make coffee while yelling about putting on shoes. Most days, we’re lucky to get in the car with 10 minutes before their school gates close. We’re lucky we live very close to the school, which is also very close to work.

It doesn’t seem to matter how many different ways I try to make mornings a peaceful, organized affair. I’ve set reminders for each step that needs to be done, I’ve tried packing lunches the night before, and I’ve made my hair and makeup the most efficient process humanly possible. I even bought Big Bro his own alarm clock so he gets himself up and dressed before everyone else. But, no matter the tactic, we still end up piling into the car with minutes to spare and show up without a water bottle, or homework, or a trombone, or today- a lunchbox. (It doesn’t matter, he wasn’t going to eat half of it anyway)

We have five weeks left in the school year, and I doubt we’ll use it to miraculously pull off a polished morning exit. I had high hopes that by now we’d have it in the bag because next year, Big Bro will have to catch a bus on his own. He’s starting middle school. By the time the middle school bell rings, little b will have already been in his elementary classroom for an hour. Big B will need to find his shoes and remember his water bottle and lunchbox on his own.

Five more weeks to nail this morning routine so I can leave with the confidence of a mother whose son doesn’t follow right in her snooze button footsteps. Wish us luck.

A Workbook Summer

Just before the end of the school year, a coworker suggested we print custom summer workbooks to give out to our students. Working in the communications department of a school district, I posed a few follow-up questions to weigh the costs and benefits, asking- “how many people do you think would use them?”

He explained his children’s summer routine of waking up and having workbook time at the kitchen table before reading and then playing. In a later meeting, several other coworkers, all educators, confirmed their children did summer work too. There I was, feeling like a terrible parent. My kids’ summer routine consists of tearing apart the house, lots of swimming, Lego building, traveling, and no structure. I didn’t get the workbook memo. We were supposed to be doing workbooks this whole time?! My son is entering sixth grade, we missed six YEARS of workbooks!

But this week on our vacation to Yellowstone National Park, I realized maybe I was a workbook mom all along.

Every time we visit a National Park, the boys do their Junior Ranger workbooks and earn the Junior Ranger badge for that park. They just earned two more this week for Yellowstone and Grand Teton, where they explored active geysers and hot springs, swam in a lake carved by glaciers, and spotted bears, bison, and other wildlife in their natural habitat. This amazing free program sparks curiosity in our kids and allows them to put what they’re experiencing into context, with activities about history, conservation and the natural world. On one of our hikes, Little Bro chatted nonstop about bison and bears, citing how much weight a bison could move, what bears ate during different seasons, how long they hibernated, and more.

So yeah, I guess I am a workbook mom. It’s not a kitchen table. It’s a little wilder than that, and there’s still no structure. But I think they learned a lot this summer just the same.

The Most Wonderful Time

If there’s a busier person than a parent of elementary-aged children during the holiday season, I don’t know who it is. Maybe an air traffic controller, or the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Maybe Beyoncé. But I think the sheer volume of holiday cheer and festivity crammed into the last month of the year is enough to rival even the highest-performing multitaskers.

It’s the week before winter break and I’m wrapping presents for a secret santa gift exchange and white elephant party. We shopped for cookie baking supplies for Little Bro’s class, donated cans to Big Bro’s class, planned their purchases for their holiday market, reserved their shaved ice fundraising treat, got bells for their Jingle jog, and of course it’s also Spirit Week. Tomorrow’s pajama day is about all I can handle.

Just when I thought there was a light at the end of the tunnel of emails, I received an alert for a “Crazy Sock Exchange.” I’m convinced the universe is just making things up at this point. We’ve done book exchanges and cookie exchanges, but a sock exchange- that’s a new one. Nevertheless, I got to work filling holiday socks with treats because at this point, what’s one more celebration?

I know in a few short days, the last week of the year will bring the bustle to a stop. We’ll get a break from work and school to relax and recharge before ringing in 2024. I’ll be basking in every slow minute of it.