1 Mother 2 Another

This fall Maddie made the decision to quit
ballet; her level was stepping up to classes twice a week and she
simply wasn’t ready for the commitment. And while I
understood it, the retired dancer in me was crushed; I know how
much I loved dance my whole life and want Maddie to know that joy.
But we also want Maddie to find what she loves, so we step back and
give her some space to make her own choices.


Horseback riding is something Maddie’s enjoyed for a while;
she’s been on a couple trail rides and always loved it. So as
I cast about for something to let my introverted, nature-loving,
animal lover to try, I instinctively thought horseback riding would
be a good fit.


Believe me, we know it can get expensive and it’s not without
risk, so Brian and I talked about it a lot. But I felt in my gut
it’d be great for Maddie – almost therapy sometimes. So
we bought a six-class session and gave it a whirl.


And it’s a match made in equine heaven.

A few days ago I was walking home from
school with Cora and asked, “Did you have a good day at
school today?”


“Well,” Cora said matter-of-factly, “One kind of
big thing happened. We were sitting on the rug for Circle Time and
Sara started saying that I smelled like dog hair. She kept saying
it over and over, getting really loud, and all the kids started
laughing. And it really hurt my feelings. And so I went into the
corner by myself to cry, and then the teacher told Sara to knock it
off and then said I could come sit next to her. And mom,” she
turned to me, bewildered, with a sad look on her face, “We
don’t even have a dog! How can I smell like dog?”


Oh, my baby.

Apparently Cora is reading now.


And I missed it.


Monday night Cora shut herself in her room for a long time, and
when Brian finally went to check on her, Cora said, “Daddy,
I’m reading now! Do you want to hear it?”


Being a good dad, Brian said, “Of course I would!”
while thinking “reading” meant “I have the book
memorized and will now recite it out loud to you”.


And that’s how it sounded at the beginning, but it soon
became clear to Brian that Cora was really reading. She’d
skip a word and he’d say, “No, what’s
this?” And she’d stop, look at it, and figure it out
one letter at a time. Yep, reading.

Maddie’s always loved riding her
scooter to school; she’s not quite a bicycle girl yet, but
adores zooming along on her scooter, especially since she’s
learned a few “tricks” like, well, braking. While Cora
was in preschool she’d tag behind on her three-wheel
faux-scooter to get Maddie to and from school, gamely pushing along
but sensing something was different. And while she’s been
patient about her rickety princess scooter, this weekend we finally
upgraded Cora to the official Razor club.

Earlier this month a mom was arrested in
Texas for allegedly allowing her kids to play on scooters
unsupervised outside; the charge was child endangerment. Her two
kids, aged 6 and 9, were scootering on their cul-de-sac while she
says she was watching from a lawn chair. After being taken to jail
– her kids clinging to her legs and sobbing – she was
held overnight before the charges were dropped.


Apparently an anonymous neighbor made the phone call.

Last Friday we took the girls to their
first live football game: our local high school was having their
homecoming and playing, of all the luck, mine and Brian’s old
alma mater. So how could we pass that up?


Football, in Texas, is just SLIGHTLY less important than religion
to most people, and to the rest of the people, it IS their
religion. Football is not taken lightly here, and our high school
just spent 63 MILLION dollars on a new stadium. Don’t get me
started.


But school spirit was high that night, and the girls couldn’t
have been more excited if they were going to a Dallas
Cowboys’ game. They wore school colors, and brought spirit
towels and pom poms. They were ready.

As I pulled into my driveway Tuesday night
from work, the sun was setting and shadows were lengthening all
around me. Twilight was upon us, and it was nearly the girls’
bedtime. I idled in the garage a few moments, waiting for the girls
to do their typical rush-out-the-door they always do when they hear
me come home.


Nothing.


And then in the silence, I heard the faraway sound of girl’s
laughter – coming from the back yard. And that’s when I
realized –


It’s back yard weather once more.

Monday night one of my advanced acting
students approached me with tears in her eyes. A high school
junior, she’s been one of my favorite students for years and
I was immediately concerned.


“Miss Jen, I really hate to have to tell you this, but I
think I’m going to have to drop your class. I just
don’t have time for it right now.”


Stunned, I said, “You don’t have time for it? Does the
class meet at a bad time?”


She shook her head “no”. “I can see this is going
to be a demanding class and I don’t want to let you down with
what you want me to accomplish as far as learning lines and keeping
up and not disappointing my scene partner and I just don’t
have time to learn the stuff and it’s the only time all week
that I look forward to – this class is “me” time
– but I don’t think I can do it!”


And it all came pouring out.

The croup is making its rounds here, and
between that and walking pneumonia I’ve given the following
homeopathic help out so much that onion farmers are lining up to be
my very own political action committee. So I thought I’d post
it up here and share the love.


For the record, I didn’t make this up. I first read about
this over a year ago on Keeper of the Home, and before that we
probably had a few hundred thousand people do it back when people
didn’t have instant access to a CVS and looked in their back
yards for some relief.


And finally for the other record, I’m not a doctor, so
don’t listen to me. You know what I mean. If you or your kid
has a medical issue, seek professional help and for heaven’s
sake don’t say “But this chick I read on the internet
said to . . . .”


With the caveats out of the way, here goes.

Is it wrong that, when my daughter
mistakenly (and consistently) refers to Justin Bieber as
“Justin Beaver”, I feel no small amount of glee?


Example:


Maddie: “Cora, can I play with the Eric (from Little Mermaid)
doll now? I need him for my game.”


Cora: “No, Maddie, I’m still playing with him.”


Maddie crossly: “But that means the only guy left for
me to play with is the stupid doll that looks like stupid Justin
Beaver! What am I supposed to do with him?”


Yes, great satisfaction indeed.

There’s a parable in the Bible about
a rich man heading out of town, leaving his estate in the care of
three servants. To one servant he gives a small amount of money, to
another a medium stake, and to another a small fortune. When he
returns, the two servants who’d been given at least a modicum
of cash had taken their portions and exponentially increased them;
but the servant with the least had buried his cash in the back
yard, afraid of losing it. The rich guy, not surprisingly, was
displeased and took the small amount away from the poor guy and
gave it to the servant who’d been given a huge amount in the
first place, as a reward for being such a good steward of his
property.


When Maddie was born and I held her in my arms, I looked at the
fortune God had just placed in my hands, and vowed to be a good
steward with His property.

Thanks a lot, season premiere of
Parentood. As if my day weren't emotional enough yesterday,
I am now officially weepy at the thought of Maddie going off to
college. Yes, I've added worrying about my second grader's
imminent departure from home to go on to college to my
list-o-crazies.


Wait - she's just now starting to get real letter grades instead
of smiley faces and stickers this year; it's not too late to
sabotage her academic career!

Today is 9/11, and I don’t think I’ve made a single post on this day before. Eleven years ago, I was awakened in my New York apartment by the phone ringing off the hook with friends frantic to get hold of me. I turned the television on just in time to see the second plane crash into the building right up the street from my husband’s work.

The number of years I've now been
married: 17


The number of poolside glasses of champagne I consumed celebrating
this fact during an overnight anniversary getaway: 2


The number of panicked calls I received from our first-time
babysitter who also happens to be seven months pregnant with her
first child during said overnight getaway: 0



You are so ready for this, Nikkie. You're going to rock
motherhood.

Maddie and I were talking over her day
yesterday – what she did, what she studied, and so forth
– when she said, “Oh, Mommy, good news! Elise and I
have already picked out what we’re going to do for the school
talent show this year.”


Which is, I should tell you, in May.


“Oh, that is good news! But why are you working on it so
early?” I (reasonably, I thought) asked.

Yesterday, school finally caught up with
Cora.


Hard.


We sort of made it through the afternoon and dinner and Cora began
to create an elaborate make-believe game – a sure sign in my
girls that they’ve got some stuff to process. All was going
fairly well until Cora blatantly took a bag of Maddie’s and
then refused to even share it with Maddie. When I gently but firmly
insisted, that was the. Last. Straw. And Cora fled to her room,
sobbing uncontrollably.

I do miss my girls terribly while they're
at school.


On the other hand, I’ve gotten an awful lot done during the
day while the girls are school. Dinners made, laundry done,
cabinets organized, household running smoothly . . .


Hmmm.

We had our first three-day weekend as a
school family, and boy did we appreciate it.


Saturday was one of the most glorious Saturdays EVER. Brian got up
with the girls and when I stumbled out of my room at nearly 9 a.m.,
he was lying on Cora’s bed doing the voices while the girls
played Dollhouse. “Wah, wah,” my husband would say with
his eyes closed, and the girls would rush to pick up the doll
babies and take care of them. “How long have you been at
this?” I asked. He peeled one eye open. “Hard to
say,” he mumbled, and drifted back off.


I sent my man back to bed and found out the girls had been playing
happily for over an hour, and had not yet had breakfast. And thus
it went for much of our weekend.


We spent most of Saturday building towers and playing board games
and reading books and, yes, playing Dollhouse. A lot. Maddie and I
hit the library part of the afternoon, and I enjoyed the new
sensation of being there with a child who could be trusted not to
run off by herself, and who was perfectly content to park herself
on a library couch and read. TO HERSELF. We sat side-by-side and
read for half an hour.


Heaven.


A lazy evening eating burgers at our pool with friends rounded out
the day, and as we went to bed both girls said, “This has
been a great day.” And Cora added, “And we have
SQUEEZED IT DRY!”


Sunday was after-church lunch with friends, and Monday was spent
hosting neighbors in the house with the girls’ newly-opened
Treatment Center; you could choose from muscle treatment (massage),
food treatment (snack), or show treatment (yes, a show). The
neighbors were quite tickled and stayed for two hours, much to the
delight of my spotlight-hugging children. We wrapped up the day
with a family movie night and leftovers.


No big running around, no fanciness. Just pure heaven with my big
school girls.