Peeling potatoes

I am peeling 5 giant russet potatoes in my kitchen sink when I realize that I have never taught my kids to peel potatoes- a job that I did at a very young age. My mother would have us pull a number of potatoes out of the shelf in the back porch where we kept potatoes and bananas behind a screen door to keep the flies out.  The potatoes would be covered in black dirt, shipped to market straight from the earth they'd grown in. Too dirty to come inside the kitchen, I'd take them over to the shallow metal sink next to the porch's back door and tumble them in. I carried them in my t-shirt, stretched out and dirty. I washed them, then took the old metal handled peeler and started to scrape away.
The potatoes were full of eyes which I'd gouge out with the end of the peeler- so violent- so Greek tragedy. I peeled a little too much away, and thin layers of potato with just an edge of brown peel would pile up in the sink. After the pot was full, I'd take it inside to Mom, then go back out to clean up. The choicest pieces of peel- with large transparent spots of potato- would go into the parrot's cage, carefully so that he didn't bite my hand. The other pieces I had to gather up and take out to the garbage pit- the worst part of this onerous chore. Halfway down the hillside and stinky, the dark pit harbored large monitor lizards that would scuttle away at my approach, both of us petrified of the other. I grabbed the lid, threw in the peels, and dashed the lid back on. Sometimes the Tupperware with the peels in it would fly in, too. I would not retrieve it- that was my father's task. A quick rinse of the sink- it didn't have to be that clean- and I was done.
Now I just gather up the peels and put them in the garbage can 5 feet away. It opens with a push of my foot. The potatoes are cut up and put on the boil. I check there are no peels in the garbage disposal and I am done.

More Progress

2 years later, and Sami has progressed to giving himself a shower. He actually washes his hair and his body by himself, and I just appear like a valet with a dry towel when he's finished. This has been going on for about a month. (Not that many showers, though- we are minimalists).
I'm still cutting his nails for him, but he has also progressed to pouring his own orange juice. Someone still does his chocolate milk and chocolate toast for breakfast for him.
In general, he's pretty good about personal responsibility - doesn't really remember to clear his dishes every time, though.
He likes school- for which I am thankful. After preschool fits about school and lots of complaints last year in kindergarten, it's nice to see him settling into first grade.

Progress

Sami says, "I can wipe my bottom myself."
"I'm proud of you," I tell him. "Thank you."
Lately he has been a hater. "I hate you, Mom." He hated school and lots of other things, too. When I told him not to say that to me, he said, "I prate you, Mom." The only thing he loved, and he loved it more than anything, was Minecraft and Minecraft videos. Showing him one would get me a hug.
We had a talk about saying even "I prate you," and he said sorry. I think he understood it hurt people's feelings. And last night he whispered in my ear, "I love you."

Christmas is coming!

Sami is so thrilled to hear he gets a Christmas stocking that he gives me a hard, long hug. I ask what he wants for Christmas, and he says "Money!" Why?  He says it's to pay and put in his owl bank. I think it's because the other day at the store I told him he needed to bring his own money to buy a cookie.
Then he says he isn't going to tell me or Santa what he wants. I say he has to tell me if he wants something, so he says rope. And I suggest a cardboard box, which he decides is a good idea so he can make a puppet show. (But he doesn't want puppets!)

Dinosaurs!

A Beautiful Mess just posted on how to Palm Spring one's home- and I thought of my dino prints in Etsy, so I reposted them.
http://www.abeautifulmess.com/2015/08/how-to-palm-springs-your-home-.html#comments

https://www.etsy.com/shop/lomagirl

School fan

Poor Sami- last night he was looking for his socks. I told him where to find some, thinking his dad had told him to put some on. Then he was looking and looking for his shoes. I was upstairs, and said I didn't have them. Finally he came up, socks in his hands, to talk to me. It turns out he wanted to go to school. I told him it wasn't time for school, but he insisted that it was and started crying and crying. I had to explain to him that it was getting dark, and he hadn't just had breakfast, and L and A weren't at school so he wasn't going to school right then. I tried to comfort him by reminding him of the fun things he'd done on the weekend. "What did you do with Grandma?" I asked, and he sobbed, faced scrunched up, "I played with Grandma." (I wished I'd had a video going because it was so funny to see that).
Finally the little guy calmed down and went to sleep- he hadn't had a nap and was ready for it.

Just Checkin'

I had a sliver of cleavage showing today, and Sami came over to visit my boobs. He said, "I'm checking them." I asked if he remembered them, and he got a happy, reminiscing smile on his face. "I remember them at night," he confessed. "They made me ..." I can't remember what he said- sleepy? Cozy? warm?
I told him we still have cuddles.