Gak

I got this idea from Lil' Luna's blog.

Gak. It's like Play Doh, but slimy and stretchy. I made a batch a couple weeks ago while the kids were watching tv, and to my amazement it worked. In under ten minutes I had a homemade batch of gak in a horrible shade of purple (my doing). I carried it triumphantly into the living room and declared, "I've made gak! Come play with it!"

The kids wrinkled their noses at me. And at it. They were highly suspicious of the gak.

When Jolly came home I tried again. "Look! Gak! Want to play with it?"

"Ew," he said.

So much for the gak.

Damn it, I made that stuff and I couldn't help being proud of it. More to the point, I made an effort to be cool and craftsy. I wanted some acknowledgment. I wanted someone to play with it. I kept it in a tupperware container on the kitchen counter, and whenever I found myself standing idly by I'd pull it out and squish it around. I became very fond of my gak... in a totally stubborn way that makes me think I should get out more, but fond nonetheless.

I've been trying, since then, to tempt the rest of the family with the gak. "Here, try the gak!" "Are you bored? Do you want some gak?" "Look at the gak! See what it can do?" Finally, Peanut gave in out of a combination of boredom and, I believe, exasperation. He played with the gak for all of five minutes before returning it to me with a sour expression on his face. "Did you have fun?" I asked eagerly. I swear I saw pity in his eyes as he contemplated my face. "I suppose..." he replied slowly, before backing away.

 Last night, I made one last ditch effort to engage the kids with the gak. As they ate their bedtime snack while listening to their father read Harry Potter, I enthusiastically plopped the gak onto the center of the coffee table. "Look, kids! Gak!" Everyone in the room, except me, stared with disgust at the purple blob that started spreading across the table.

"What's it doing?" Jolly asked disconcertedly.

"Being gak!" I replied cheerfully.

Jolly kept reading and the kids continued munching on their Froot Loops. The ignored gak oozed it's way to the edge of the table and strung over the edge like warm taffy - stretching and glopping to the floor, making little, gooey stalagmites next to the rug. Peanut suddenly sat straight and said in a warning voice, "Mom - look at the gak."

Insisting, once again, that the gak was just being gak, I watched the kids creep curiously to where it was spawning smaller, oozing blobs on the floor. They were timid of touching it at first. It's cold and slimy and squishes disturbingly when touched. But the boys were fascinated with how it dripped off the coffee table in long strands, and after a while they had organized the Great Blob Races of Summer, 2013. "Let's see who wins!" Peanut said excitedly to Beaner.

Over and over, the boys scooped their gak off the floor and molded it into piles along the edge of the coffee table, where it once again oozed to the floor. Each of the kids cheered for his blob to be the first to touch.

"Come on, Harry!" shouted Peanut.

"Come on, Hermione!" shouted Beaner.

Thus christened, the blobs now known as Harry and Hermione raced for the title of Fastest Ooze. The game kept the boys entertained for quite some time, and entertained me and Jolly even more. Perhaps I'll make more gak in other, lurid colors and we can have Harry duke it out with Voldemort in slimy style. As far as crossovers go, gak and Harry Potter seem an unlikely pairing, but that sort of thinking outside the box is what makes children's play so interesting.

Overall, I give the gak a thumbs up. It was easy to make, is easy to clean up, and kept the kids entertained for more than 30 minutes - which is as good as it gets around here. I don't know if they'll ever touch the stuff again, but the effort was worth it to hear Beaner struggling to pronounce 'Hermione.'

My Summer Vacation

I pretty much suck at summer. I never enforce summer reading and we don't do enriching activities. Generally, I'm not really awake before 10am, by which time the kids have been watching tv for four hours (I can't be held responsible for permissions I give while still asleep). By the time everyone is fed and if I bother to get them dressed it's already high noon - by which time I feel it's dangerously hot outside and we had best stay indoors huddled next to the AC vent. And since we're stuck indoors I might as well let them watch more tv, because doing anything else not only takes effort, but will be met with screechy protest. And I'm lazy.

I know this is a horrible pattern, but there's always an easy rationalization within reach and the kids aren't complaining. Still, I am inexplicably drawn to the SuperMom Blogs, which inevitably make me feel like the slackiest slacker mom who ever did slack. So I get these crazy ideas that I will clean up my act and become a totally different kind of parent - one who leads her children in educational, fun, relationship-building, self-esteem boosting, community-minded activities each and every day. But by evening I've had to settle for keeping them alive, which is all I ever really accomplish.

I am in awe of these SuperMoms. But it's a bitchy kind of awe, as in - I don't know how they do it and I suspect the devil must be involved. I've been posting to this blog regularly for just one week and I have yet to figure out how one manages to write about parenting while actually doing it. I also would like to know how the hell they manage to keep their kids occupied while they assemble the amazing activities that are supposed to keep our kids entertained for hours (like a dinosaur bones dig in the backyard. Ladies, if I had time to dig, I'd have a garden). And then, I'd like to know how they're measuring those hours - is that cumulative? Because I can't keep my kids engaged with anything for longer than 30 minutes. Less, if I happen to be trying to do something they can't take part in, like brush my teeth - then, no amount of crafty, enriching goodness will distract them. Last, I'd like to know who is taking those photos of the perfectly coiffed children playing calmly with colorful activities, while a perfectly coiffed mom looks on in proud, loving bliss. Who the hell are these people?

But I keep reading the SuperMom blogs. I'm obsessed with these women who are balancing successful internet careers with mothering. Do I aspire to be among them? Not necessarily, but for now mommying is what I do, so it's what I have to write about. Yet, I don't feel like I have much more insight now than I did when I first held Peanut nine years ago. It seems that merely keeping the kids fed and clean leaves little time for reflection. Maybe my brain simply doesn't work that hard. Maybe I take children too much at face value and focus too much on the daily irritations of parenthood. Whatever the case is, I don't feel like I can relate to the SuperMoms.

Summertime is one of the worst times to be a slacker mom among SuperMoms (the other worst times being every other season). It seems everyone has a long list of things to do with their kids this summer, ranging from cloud watching to high tech studio animations. Me? I'm taking my kids to the pool and making sure they don't drown, in between letting them watch more than the 3-hour average of screen time and then letting them do it again. This is the reality. My ambition is to be slightly, well, more ambitious.

So I'm dubbing this week 110% Week. I'm going to see if I can step up my game and give my kids things to do that don't involve a glowing screen. I will probably spend much of the week trying to quell sobs, screams, and tantrums. I will most likely spend an equal amount of time inwardly cursing the SuperMom blogger who swore her kids loved whatever activity I'm forcing down my kids' throats. But maybe I will also dub this week Have Another Cookie Week, and everyone will feel much better.