1 Mother 2 Another

Yesterday was a gorgeous day outside and
the girls had a rare day of sibling amity for the entire day; we
played outside after school then came home and continued in the
back yard, pausing only briefly for dinner, until bedtime. Part of
the time I simply lay on the grass and watched them laughing and
giggling together, marveling that sometimes I get it right –
at least, right enough to be able to give them this small measure
of happiness in each other.


Anyway, their joy was overflowing and the funny things kept pouring
out of their mouths. At one point, Maddie was demonstrating how
she’s working on her front flip: she laid out several floor
pillows in a row (yes, we take them outside sometimes, and really,
the word “no” just didn’t fit in
yesterday’s vocabulary), ran at the pillows, flipped in
mid-air, and landed on her head – yes, head – and
continued smoothly into a forward roll.


I watched her do this and said, “Honey, I am really glad you
chose to use the pillows; practicing this on the hard ground would
not be good.”

Last night I taught until just after the
girls’ bedtime, and when I came home I immediately headed
upstairs for a last-minute snuggle, as is my habit. The girls read
books and say prayers with a grown-up, then are allowed a bit of
time by themselves with the light on to read some more or do
crosswords or puzzle books. Well, traditionally Maddie would read
and Cora, not yet a reader, would do some sort of maze book or
color.


But recently Cora’s been reading and I’ll occasionally
come in to snuggle her and find her working her way through a book.
Last night, I happened upon my daughter reading Shel
Silverstein’s The Giving Tree.


Now, this is one of my favorite books, and I can’t get
through it now that I’m a mom without weeping. So to see my
daughter reading it aloud to herself – well, you can
imagine.

This weekend, out of nowhere Maddie said,
“Ok, here’s something I don’t get.”


Uh oh.


“How is it that sometimes when people get married they
don’t have a baby right away, but sometimes people have
babies sooner?”


The adults at the table looked at each other.

A few weeks ago the girls’ school
began teaching soccer in gym class and for whatever reason Maddie
got bitten by the soccer bug. She’s managed to spend her
whole young life assiduously avoiding team sports, but this time
around a light’s switched on and she wants desperately to
play.


Of course, by the time she came to this realization all the spring
soccer leagues were already under way, so Brian stepped up and
offered to do a once-a-week practice at a nearby field for Maddie
and some friends. No games on Saturdays, no competition, just
getting together once a week to work on soccer skills and have fun.


Last night was the first practice.

Spring break is barely in our rearview
mirror at this household and I’m already feeling the pressure
to get our summer schedule figured out. You might think such a
schedule would look something like this: “Sleep in. Go to the
pool. Take a nap. Repeat.” And we’ll certainly have
many days like that, it’s true.


But that’s not the whole story.

So the first part of spring break was
awesome.


Then Cora got the flu.


Yes, it's true. Yes, she had the flu shot. Yes, she had the flu in
January. Apparently it just LOVES her.


Tuesday night Cora woke up with a raging fever and our Staycation
poster plans were blown out of the water. Maddie, for her part, was
pretty good about having to cancel everything - out the window went
the horseback riding, the shoe shopping, the movie-watching in a
REAL MOVIE THEATRE. My neglected oldest spent several days playing
around the house by herself - thank you, Barbie! - while I was
stuck like glue to Cora, who wouldn't let me leave her for more
than a few moments.


Then, to make things even better, my back went out Friday -
apparently several sleepless nights combined with sleeping next to
a fretful five-year-old don't make for a happy spine - and I
hobbled around for the rest of the weekend. The whole family -
minus me and Cora - went out to our rental cabin Friday morning
while Cora cried bitterly at being left behind. She seemed to rally
well so we drove on out Saturday morning and had most of the
weekend in the cabin blissfully fishing and feeding baby animals on
the farm.


While Mommy hobbled all around, cursing her painful back.


Not the way I'd envisioned spring break, to be sure.

So yesterday I filled you in on my past
life with Barbies – read that first if you haven’t
already. Let’s just say that I played with Barbies as a kid,
as did my mom who gave hers to me, and I had them all in a huge
steamer trunk neatly labeled “Barbies” in my garage.
The girls have seen the trunk and longed for the day I’d get
it down for them.


Monday was that day.


Monday was our Pajama Day – a day we traditionally have for
every Staycation, and this spring break is no exception. I thought
for this Pajama Day I’d bring in the Barbie trunk and let
them wallow in girl-ness for the day.


Now, on Pajama Day the girls aren’t allowed to go downstairs
until both are awake and an adult goes with them: I set up a pallet
of pillows and blankets on the floor the night before for
movie-watching, get out games and fun stuff to do, and tape up a
“chores list” for the day. No one’s allowed a
sneak peak, since the chores list says things like “Eat
cookie dough” or “finger paint” or “play
outside in your pajamas”.


Or “play with Barbies”.

My girls have not gotten hugely into
Barbie – she’s never appeared on a cake or taken over
our gameroom - but it’s definitely on Cora’s radar. I
think the plastic dolls first started coming in the house as the
Disney princesses; the actual Barbie first came across Cora’s
path as a book, I believe. You know the books – the tons of
books-from-the-movies that Barbie “stars” in, like the
dancing one and Fairytopia and the Ariel-wanna-be girl, Merliah.


Ok, so we have our fair share of Barbies in the house.


I’ve resisted buying them a lot of “Barbie”
stuff, partly because it’s stupidly expensive (what I do buy
comes from resale shops), a bit because of the whole feminist issue
(though let’s not put all the blame on Barbie for this one, O
Mouse House), but mostly because I have a whole trunk of Barbie
paraphernalia in the garage.

That’s right, baby. Read it and
weep.


When that whistle blows at 3 p.m. it’s SPRING BREAK!


We are, of course, ridiculously excited. The Staycation Poster is
up and ready to go, and the girls are eagerly awaiting our
bonanza-o-fun we’ve got coming up: a pajama day, plenty of
park play dates, a trip to the movies, LOTS of down time, and the
grand finale: two days at our favorite cabin rental just a couple
hours away.


We’re bustin’ outta school and not looking back.


Baby.

Hello, blue skies.


Hello, balmy, lazy afternoons.


Hello, cooing doves and trilling cardinals.


I’ve missed you!



Hello, allergies.


Hello, neti pot.


Hello, seasonal migraines.


I leave it to your imaginations to decide how I feel about you.

Yesterday was a glorious day outside
– high in the mid-80’s, breezy and sunny. Maddie rode
her bike to school while Cora scootered her way there, so we were
all happy as we traveled home in the gorgeous sunshine.


Maddie moves the fastest on her bike, and Cora will often choose to
scooter slowly beside me to chat, tell me about her day, and so
forth. Yesterday, though, she scootered alongside me silently for a
bit before powering on ahead to catch up with Maddie at a
crosswalk. After we’d gotten across the street and turned
down our last block, Maddie put one foot on the pedal, preparing to
take off again.


“Maddie, can you ride more slowly so I can scooter next to
you? I’ve got some stuff to tell you,” Cora said.
Maddie moved over on the wide lane and Cora began shoving along
next to her big sister, who asked, “What do you need to tell
me?”

Last night Cora was working at our
breakfast counter, doing her homework. The assignment was to
“write five words with a short vowel sound”, and Cora
was tired, at the end of a long day, and very frustrated.


Finally, she said, “This is too hard! I can’t think of
anything good!”


Trying to be helpful I began throwing words out. “Um, how
about ‘cat’? Or ‘pet’? Or
‘cup’? Do you see how they have short vowel sounds? Or
what about –“


“Mommy,” Cora said, exasperated, “Can you please
be QUIET? I can’t concentrate!”


Meek silence.


Then, a few moments later, Cora asked while busily writing,
“Does ‘octopus’ have a ‘k’ or a
‘c’ in it?”


Clearly I was aiming too low.

I do enjoy cooking, but I don’t love
the weekly rut of meal-planning, shopping, and making
“do” in the kitchen. In a dream world, we’d hire
a personal chef to make dinners (and pack school lunches!) for us.
The only catch? I would get to tell the chef exactly what to make,
and be insanely micro-managing on the whole shopping/organic/good
produce thing.


I know, I can dream, right?


Weeknight dinners are always a little catchy: some nights I’m
teaching and leaving my mom to feed my kids – not exactly
cool to leave her with the whole “hey, what’s for
dinner? I don’t know, I’m leaving, you figure it
out” taste in her mouth. So on those nights I need to cook
the meal in advance. Then on nights I’m home I can make a
meal from scratch – but I’d much rather have extra time
for hanging with my kids.


So I’m a big fan of make-ahead meals; I usually try to double
one meal each week and freeze one for future use. I own several
great cook-and-freeze cookbooks, but I find myself returning to one
over and over – href="http://www.amazon.com/Mothers-Make-Ahead-Freeze-Cookbook-Series/dp/1558327568/?_encoding=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&keywords=not%20your%20mother%27s%20make%20ahead%20and%20freeze&linkCode=ur2&qid=1362022929&sr=8-1&tag=1mother2anoth-20"
target="_blank">Not Your Mother’s Make-Ahead And Freeze
Meals Cookbook.

Dear Maddie:


This weekend, my baby, you looked one of your worst fears in the
face. And you kicked its butt


Last week, reasonably out of the blue, you decided to dust off your
bicycle – not ridden in almost four years because of a
one-time fall – and give it another shot. You spent the
weekend joyfully rediscovering what it feels like to put the pedal
to the metal and truly enjoyed riding that bike – though
it’s too small for you and your nearly-eight-year-old legs.


You rode the bike to school one day, having thought about what it
would look like for a second-grader to ride a bike with training
wheels but deciding to do it anyway. I don’t know if anyone
teased you about it, but I know the training wheels have weighed
heavy on your mind all week; by Wednesday you asked me if I could
raise the wheels up a bit so you could start practicing riding on
just two wheels.


And then came Friday.

When Maddie was four years old, she fell
off her bike. She was riding in a bike-a-thon and a couple boys her
age came whizzing around the corner, skimming too close to my
slow-and-steady girl, and tipped her over. Ever since then
Maddie’s refused to ride her bike. At all. Every once in a
while I’d bring it up and suggest giving it a try and Maddie
would say, “I am too scared to. Remember the time I was
riding my bike and I fell off it?”


Yes. Yes, I do. I’ve remembered it for the past three and a
half years.

Last week Maddie came home from school and
announced, “In two days we get to go to school dressed like
our cultural heritage! So I’m going to dress Hawaiian!”


Yeah, ‘cause we look so darn Hawaiian.


Actually my mom grew up there and I was born there, so TECHNICALLY
Maddie’s descended from a Hawaiian, I guess, but we’re
the white Hawaiians. The ones that actual Polynesian Hawaiians
don’t so much like.


So I set out to put Maddie straight on our heritage and explained
why she really couldn’t dress Hawaiian. “Well,”
she pouted, “Then what can I dress up as?”


Ah, now we see. It’s called Maddie Gets To Wear A Costume To
School Day.

We had a long week last week, mostly from
anticipating- and then wallowing in – Valentine’s Day,
and by the time the girls got home on Friday we were pretty fried.
I was facing a reasonably hectic weekend, an incredibly filthy
house, and the prospect of two exhausted, bickering children.


I was not looking forward to it.


But for whatever reason, we had one of those golden afternoons,
where you hit that sweet spot and simply coast from one happiness
to the next. Not in any huge, life-changing, trip-to-Paris kind of
way, but in a sweet contentment kind of way.

No, the house hasn’t been visited by
a plague – just a crazy week this week and no time to vent
– er, blog.


But in case you were wondering how our Valentine’s Day went
yesterday, this about sums it up:


At 4:30 in the afternoon, after a long day of parties and sugar,
Maddie was up in her room asleep – crashed out after an
exhausting emotional battle over math homework that was “too
HARD!” (the equation in question: 14-2=?).


And as for Cora? Well, she was lying in a sobbing – I mean
crying-so-hard-she’s-losing-her-voice sobbing – heap on
the couch because it wasn’t her day to pick which video the
girls watched.


Yep, that about sums up our Valentines Day.

Dear Maddie:


We had a bit of a rough morning recently, didn’t we? School
mornings are never easy, but this one seemed to start out pretty
well and I had reasonably high hopes for getting you to school
relatively incident-free.


Then it came time to brush your hair.


As I approached you with the brush, you raised your arms up and
blocked me from your hair. And then I said, “Honey, you need
to let me brush your hair – and not fight me – or you
need to brush it yourself.”


I then lifted my arm up to brush again – and you pushed my
arms away.

Today our school is celebrating all the
kids’ 100th day of school. Kindergarten in particular has a
rip-roaring good time with lots of extra activities, like making a
necklace of 100 Fruit Loops or counting out 100 pieces of snack;
but the grand finale of the nearly week-long festivities is
today’s big excitement: the 100 Days Shirt.


Each kindergartener is supposed to make a shirt with 100 –
SOMETHING – on it. 100 stamps, or buttons, or stickers, or
pom-poms, whatever. And when I say a kindergartener is supposed to
make it, I mean his MOM is supposed to make it.

Last night I came in after work to snuggle
Cora after she’d already been in bed for a while. I found her
propped up on a pillow, studiously studying an open book;
she’s been “reading” very simple books for a
couple months or so – simple as in, “I sat on the mat.
The rat sat on the mat” with lots of accompanying pictures
– and she is straining hard to start deciphering more
difficult books.


“Mommy,” she said, gesturing me over, “what is
this word?”


I looked at the page.


“That word is ‘glad’,” I said. “The
‘g’ makes the hard sound, I know it can be
tricky.”


Cora huffed impatiently. “No, not that word, THAT word
–“ and she pointed more specifically.


“Oh, um, that word? That word is
‘whisker’,” I stammered.


Cora nodded thoughtfully. “Ah, the ‘h’ is kind of
silent, like in ‘whisper’. Well, not silent, more like
breathy.”


And she continued reading.


Yeah, I’m calling it – she’s officially reading.
Apparently.

The other day Maddie and I were walking to
school, Cora scootering on ahead. Maddie was holding my hand,
pausing every once and a while to give me a brief, affectionate
hug. As we neared the school Maddie grew quiet, clearly thinking
about something.


“Hey, kiddo, what’cha thinking about?” I asked
lightly.

Every Sunday Maddie brings her personal
Bible to church; her second grade class is encouraged to do so,
trying to build the kids up to actually use their Bibles and become
comfortable with them. Yesterday when Maddie ran to grab hers
before getting in the car, Cora said, “Oh! I want to bring
mine today, too!” and ran off to pick hers up – her
new-for-Christmas, very lovely but perhaps
intimidating-to-a-five-year-old grown-up Bible. I wasn’t sure
why, but was happy to go along with it.


I dropped Maddie off at her Sunday school room before walking Cora
to hers, and when Cora walked through her door she made a beeline
for the teacher, clutching her Bible to her chest. Wanting to find
out what was up, I did what any respectable parent would do: I
eavesdropped.


“Hey, teacher, do you want to know something really
interesting?” Cora peered owlishly up at her instructor.


Her teacher, of course, nodded yes.

Is it possible for a person to get the
flu, then strep throat, then the flu AGAIN?


In less than a month?


Cora says the answer is "yes".

Bear with me as I give you the background:


Exhibit A: Tuesday afternoon Cora came home from school with a new
library book. When Maddie saw the book she exclaimed, “Oh, I
saw that book at the library! I REALLY want to read it! Can I
please borrow it?”


Seeing Cora’s mutinous look, I hastily spoke up.
“Maddie, this is a book Cora checked out and she will get to
read it first. Please do not read the book or try to look at it
until Cora’s had a chance to read the whole thing, ok?”


Maddie agreed.

We're hitting a particularly ugly stage
in our household, where selfishness and jealousy abound.


Maddie won't share her new wings; Cora won't share her favorite
Barbie's favorite swimsuit; Maddie illicitly reads Cora's new
library book before Cora does, and then admits she did it even
though she knew it was wrong; Cora purposefully takes waaaaay
longer than her turn on the mini-trampoline.


We're working through this one baby-step at a time. Lots of
talking, lots of praying, lots of scripture, lots of Parenting
Tools use.


But I'm not so sure we'll all still be standing when this is all
over. I just don't see how it's possible.

Wednesday, as I’ve mentioned before,
is officially Mommy Day: I teach Monday and Tuesdays after school
through bedtime, so Wednesday is the first chance the girls get to
come home from school and hang with Mommy for the rest of the day.
We keep the schedule clear – no play dates, no appointments
– so we can really relax and hang out together all afternoon.


A couple weeks ago Cora was having a hard time getting back into
the school groove post-Christmas-break, and I knew she was
desperately looking forward to Wednesday. How do I know? Because
she told me so on Monday morning. While running errands that
Monday, I came across a yummy cashmere sweater on clearance at the
outlet mall, and bought it using a gift card Cora had given me for
Christmas. (This is getting somewhere, I promise).

Naomi went back to New York early
yesterday morning, and Maddie is a bit bereft. The flight out was
in the wee hours so Maddie and Naomi said their goodbyes the night
before and I woke up at 5 to get Naomi and Ingrid to the airport.
But when I got home, just as the sun started graying the sky, I
heard a rustling in Maddie’s room and came to find her wide
awake, tossing and turning.


“She’s gone, isn’t she?” Maddie asked
quietly. I nodded and snuggled into bed with her.


“I woke up earlier and ran downstairs to see if I could catch
her, but she was already gone. And then I couldn’t get back
to sleep,” Maddie said. Her eyes were dry, but I could see
sorrow there.


So yes, the visit went incredibly well. From the first fierce
embrace at the airport to a belated birthday party for Naomi on
Saturday night, the girls slid smoothly along, instantaneously back
in their friendship of five years ago.


When they were two years old.

Maddie and Omi, together again.


And all is right with the world once more.

Today is a red-letter day in our
household. Today, Maddie’s best friend from New York, Naomi,
is coming to visit.


That’s right.


If you’ve been with me that long, you’ll remember that
for the first couple years of Maddie’s life, she and Naomi
were pretty inseparable. They played together every. Single. Day.
Whether on the playground or in an apartment, the two saw each
other daily and were fast friends.


We moved in January of 2008 and the girls haven’t seen each
other since. They don’t even speak on the phone much –
just once or twice a year. So to make this clear, Maddie has not
seen Naomi in FIVE YEARS.

Cora has a love of music, which is hardly
a surprise in this family. Her two big requests for Christmas were
a big giant cheetah (don’t ask, and yes, she got it) and an
iPod touch.


Yes, she got it. Don’t judge.


We found an 8gb refurbished one for a pretty great deal, so Santa
came through. But what I didn’t realize was that since it was
“official” and from the store, it also came with the
charger and the white ear buds.


The ear buds would not be a big deal, but I’m Over-Protective
Mommy and I really really don’t want those tender ears to
have music shoved WAAAAAAAAAAAY down in there. We put a volume
control lock on the girls’ iPods, but I just started letting
Maddie use ear buds this year, and then with the music on QUIET.
Otherwise, she and Cora have been using the more traditional foam
earphones that sit a little further out. And these particular
headphones are for kids, so there’s a limit as to how many
decibels it can reach anyway.

A couple months ago Cora experienced some
“dire crisis” that sent her into a meltdown one fine
afternoon. She’d asked for a couple holiday cookies and
I’d said yes without checking our stash; a quick look into
the cookie jar revealed only one cookie left. One.


“But Maddie had two of these cookies yesterday! I want two
cookies!” Cora wailed, and burst into tears.


I stared at my daughter, a puddled mass of sobs on the floor, not
trying to manipulate me into magically finding a second cookie
– just unable to move past the fact that there was only one
cookie to be had.


Now, in the past, I would have handled the situation like this:

Over the holidays I loosened my
nutritional hold on my household quite a bit, and allowed more than
a modicum of sugar to course through my children’s veins. I
do love to bake, and don’t see how I can fill the house with
goodies and then not allow the girls reasonably free rein with the
cookie jar; I worry it’ll set them up to see the sweets as
something forbidden and oh-so-desirable.


Likewise, as candy comes into the house from Christmas parties and
gifts from friends, I can’t simply take the twenty cabillion
candy canes and dump them in the trash. Ok, if I’m being
truthful, more than a small amount of store candy DID end up in the
trash, but my girls were pretty free to consume whatever they
brought in the house – after checking with a grown-up, of
course. And Maddie’s big request from Santa? A gumball
machine filled with jelly beans.


I know.

Sunday afternoon Maddie came into our home
office and plopped down in Brian’s chair as I did some work
on my computer. She sat silently for a few moments, contemplatively
spinning in his wheelie chair before speaking.


“You know, Mommy, you’re a pretty decent writer,”
she finally said.


“Well, thank you,” I replied cautiously.


“I bet you could write a whole book if you wanted to,”
she continued.


“Maybe, hon – thanks for the confidence!” I
replied. More cautiously.


“I was thinking,” she said, finally swiveling around to
face me, “you could write a book about me and Cora –
our lives, the funny stuff we say, things you notice about us.
Because honestly, we’re pretty funny and I think a lot of
people would want to read about us.”


I stared at her. Had she been surfing the web and come across my
blog?

I know, I know – it’s
mid-January and I’m talking about gifts from three weeks ago.
But as you’ve probably noticed, I’ve been a bit, well,
absent these past couple weeks – partly taking family time,
and partly dealing with household sickness and me being simply too
tired or preoccupied to write about said household illness.


So I’ve still got a few things to say about the holidays. And
if it makes you feel any better, it’s not just cyber-world
where I’m slacking: I still haven’t put my Christmas
decorations away.


Baby steps.

I THINK Cora is going to school today. But
then again, I thought she'd be going yesterday until she spiked a
100.2 fever around 4 a.m. yesterday morning, so what do I know.


Sure, I could've sent her anyway - it's not like they take a
rectal temp to let her into the school - but obviously her body's
fighting something and I'm sure hundreds of parents out there are
grateful Cora stayed home and didn't share well with the other
kids.


She sure needs to go to school today, I'll tell you that. We've
hit the point where she feels fine all day and is bored out of her
skull, begging for leftover Christmas candy and an endless supply
of videos. Instead, yesterday she got leftover party crackers and
an endless supply of kindergarten workbook pages.


She was not amused.


So I think she's ready to go to school.


Here's hoping.

We're not dead yet- though I apologize
for the long silence. First, you know, two full weeks of winter
break; the kind you wallow in wholeheartedly, reveling in the lack
of a schedule and enjoying plenty of fires in the fireplace and
copious pancakes on the griddle. One of the best family vacations
ever.


Second, though, we've had a modest wave of sickness to help us
ring in the new year.


Brian's been down with the flu, then my mom (who lives with us)
came down with it a few days ago and developed bronchitis as a
complication. Then Cora - who, unlike Brian and my mom, has had her
flu shot - came down with a fever Monday afternoon and stayed home
for Tuesday, the first day back from our winter break.


Fortunately for me, Cora woke up Tuesday with no fever and is ready
to go back today. But it's been less than fun here for the past
week or so, and in the interest of full confession I'll tell you
that pretty much all my Christmas decorations are still up. I
dragged the tree out Monday night so as not to miss our city's
last day of offering free pick-up for mulching, but otherwise
we're still full of holiday cheer over here.


I'll get to it eventually. Just probably not today.


Vacation? What vacation?

Wait, what day is today?


Seriously?


How is it that it felt like Thanksgiving was waaaaaaay too early,
so we had aaaaaaaaall this time between Thanksgiving and Christmas,
and now it's Christma ALREADY? The kids just got out of school
-aren't there three or four days of running around and getting
errands done before Christmas?


I gotta go. Too much to do.

Maddie and Cora are in quite the feisty
stage right now, and I’m dangerously close to opening up a
can of whoop-ass on both of them sometimes.


I do not, do NOT understand why they are so mean to each other, yet
so different with their friends. What is this natural antagonism,
this inbred animosity?


I fret that I have instilled some sort of insecurity in each girl:
that each is mean to her sister out of some fear of being
less-well-loved by Mommy. I worry that I have made each girl feel
not as good as her sister. Or even that I walk around trashing my
own family members, setting a bad example.


Then I just watch them and realize nope, this is just contempt bred
by familiarity at its absolute finest.

Just href="http://www.aholyexperience.com/2012/12/the-truth-about-sandy-hook-where-is-god-when-bad-things-happen/"
target="_blank">read this.


Thank you, Ann Voskamp, for this beautiful essay that gives us hope
in these days.

We’re all still reeling from the
Connecticut tragedy, I know. And I have nothing new to say –
and nothing that hasn’t been said better, by smarter people
– on the subject. We live in a fallen world, and as one local
official remarked on Friday, evil did indeed visit that town.


If you’re like me, you’re walking around on a knife
edge, one sappy Christmas commercial away from sobbing
uncontrollably. I know my children are tired of being squeezed
relentlessly, snuggled unashamedly, clutched ridiculously tightly.
I am unwilling to let them out of my sight, reluctant to stand even
a few feet away in a room of strangers. School today will be a
strange thing indeed.


Brian and I wrestled Friday evening with whether or not we should
tell the girls what had happened: on the one hand, they have little
to no exposure to the news or social media, and with Maddie’s
tendency to worry about EVERYTHING we could see her getting
incredibly wound up about this if we told her. On the other hand,
if we kept this from them and they heard about it at school –
we didn’t even want to think about the state they’d be
in by pick-up time.


So we decided to tell them.

Cora is, for whatever reason, in love with
the act of measuring things. She keeps a small tape measure –
an automatic roll-up one like people use sewing – in her
bedroom, and when we’ve finished with books and prayers for
the night she gets out her measuring tape and happily measures,
well, all the stuff in her room. She’s said it makes her feel
like part of the Cyberchase gang, a math-based cartoon on PBS.


So whenever I get out my industrial metal tap measure – you
know, the 25-footer – Cora’s eyes light up and she begs
to use it. I pretty much always acquiesce, always reminding her to
watch the automatic retraction – it’ll snap your eye
out – and leave her to whatever story she’s got going
on in her head.


I’ve been working on getting ready for Christmas, and Monday
I had my tape measure out preparing boxes for shipping. I left it
on a counter and didn’t think anything more about it. But
when I went to use it Tuesday to measure out pine garland for our
stairs, the tape measure seemed, well, sick.

Yesterday morning I went in to wake up
Maddie for school. She’s usually the harder one to wake up,
and she’ll often begin to stir in a very, um, crabby fashion,
so I usually approach her bed gently, like nearing a wild animal.


But when I gently touched her and lovingly said, “Maddie,
it’s time to wake up now!” she opened her eyes wide,
gave a huge grin, and stretched happily.

A good friend of ours came into town this
week to run the marathon; he’d originally been scheduled to
run the New York marathon, which was canceled at the last minute
due to Hurricane Sandy. He’d been one of our really good
friends in New York, so we were thrilled to have any excuse to see
him.


Now, I am not a runner. At ALL. I have several friends who run, and
I truly don’t get it. But I hear that it’s lovely if
you can withstand the pain and there’s nothing quite like a
marathon. I’ve also heard that having a cheering squad is
invaluable along the way; having friends to scream and jump and
encourage you along the route makes you feel a bit less alone, a
bit less like giving up.


So I hear.

Maddie is usually the most difficult
member of the household to wake up. On school days Cora and I end
up in Maddie’s room, snuggled in her bed for a few moments
before we get up and get moving. Once Cora’s up she’s
up and moving and she’ll be dressed and downstairs in two
minutes; Maddie takes exponentially longer and will often come
sliding into her seat with sixty seconds to gulp down oatmeal
before we leave.


Sometimes, though, she wakes up for whatever reason, and
occasionally she’s startled me when I’m downstairs
thinking I’m the only one in the house awake; I’ll be
doing my devotional or packing lunches and Maddie will pad silently
up to me, fully clothed and smiling with pride. These are the
mornings I live for.


Yesterday was such a morning.

Yes, Daddy is home.


And all is right with the world.


Although Cora said something disrespectful and snappy at bedtime
last night after we'd brought Daddy home from the airport, and I
corrected her, and she said with a sniff, "Well, I AM still sad
that Daddy left, you know . . ."


Yeah, that won't fly any more, kid.

My family has been incredibly fortunate in
that Brian’s job requires almost zero travel for work; in
addition, he works less than two miles from our house and so is
often home for lunch, can have lunch with the girls at school, and
can slip out of work to see a school play or something.


In short, the girls see their daddy a LOT. And are quite used to
it.


So when Brian told the girls he had to make a three-day trip this
week, they seemed unfazed at the announcement. But in retrospect, I
think they simply didn’t understand. He traveled once (ONCE!)
last year and we survived pretty well, so I figured we’d have
a few “I miss Daddy!” at bedtime but would otherwise
soldier on. Brian gave each girl a hug and kiss Monday morning and
sent them off to school, not to be seen again until LATE tonight.


When I picked Cora up after school Monday, she seemed distracted
and out of sorts. I began questioning her gently, trying to see
what went wrong with her day, but everything sounded like it went
“great” or was “a lot of fun”. Finally,
Cora turned to me impatiently.


“If you’re wondering why I’m having a hard
time,” she said astutely, “it’s because I really
thought I’d see Daddy one more time! I really need to give
him one last snuggle!”


And she burst into tears.

We started our Matthew 25/Good Deeds jars
over the weekend: every day in December the girls draw a slip of
paper from their own jar, and they do whatever that piece of paper
instructs for the day. It’ll be something like “write a
thank-you note to your teacher” or “tell a friend what
you like about her” – simple stuff, but all things that
encourage you to love on someone else. At the end of the day each
girl will put her piece of paper in a box wrapped like a Christmas
present with an opening at the top, and at the end of December we
put the box under our tree as our gift to Jesus – all the
ways we’ve loved him by loving others this month. The girls
look forward to it every year and I confess I enjoy it too.


So on Sunday Cora drew “pray for a stranger” and her
brow wrinkled up. “Mommy, how can I pray for someone if I
don’t even know them? How do I know what to say?”

Maddie’s had several loose teeth for
many months now, but after losing one tooth last year the rest have
stubbornly insisted on hanging in there ad infinitum. Three or four
seem to be hanging by a thread, but have hung there, waving in the
wind and taunting us, seemingly untouchable.


It’s gotten so that Maddie has trouble eating most foods; if
we get her a taco I have to tear it up into tiny bits because
biting into anything is too painful. Maddie occasionally takes a
stab at trying to pull one, but for the most part suffers along in
relative silence.


Until Wednesday night.

I am a creature of habit. I delight in
things being the same; I find comfort in knowing what’s
coming up next, in wrapping familiarity around myself in a new
situation. I know this is not unique to me, but it is somewhat
unique for someone who spent most of her pre-kids life living the
life of a gypsy, moving from town to town and show to show.


And I loved moving on as much as I loved my traditions: moving on
always afforded me a fresh start, both literally – if you
move every six weeks, you never need to deep-clean your apartment
– and figuratively – get in a fight with your neighbor?
Wait a few weeks, then put them in your rear-view mirror and
don’t look back!


But one thing that moving around a lot forced me to do was take a
long hard look at my “traditions” – the supposed
deal-breakers I needed for any major holiday or celebration. I
remember well the first Easter I was away from my family: I was
nineteen, and when I walked into the theatre the Friday before and
a well-meaning Jewish friend called out cheerily, “Happy Good
Friday!” I burst into tears.

Sunday night Cora came downstairs after
bedtime complaining, “Mommy, I can’t get to
sleep!”


I was expecting this a bit; after a week off school, Cora’s
mornings weren’t starting quite so early any more, and Sunday
morning she’d slept until I woke her up at 9 a.m. to go to
church. So I wasn’t surprised that at 7:30 p.m., her
school-night bedtime, she wasn’t quite sleepy.


“Head on back upstairs and I’ll be up in a minute to
give you another snuggle,” I said, sending her on her way.
Often the girls will need one last cuddle from me, and when they
hear they’ll get it they relax so much in their beds they
fall asleep. Cora scampered happily up the stairs and I delayed
following her for fifteen minutes while I finished watching my
recorded show.


When I finally made it to Cora’s room, she was so silent I
felt sure she’d fallen asleep. I slid into her bed and
snuggled smugly against her, breathing in her baby-ness that I can
still faintly smell.

Every year Christmas seems to get here
sooner, and my lists seem to get longer: my to-do list, my shopping
list, my list of gift recipients, are joined this year by my list
of Things to Do for the School Winter Party list, to name just one.
The holidays start sooner, but are on us before we know it.


And I am in quite a dilemma every year: one of my love languages is
Gifts, so Christmas for me is license to give a ton of gifts to
people without seeming over the top or excessive. On the other
hand, I’m uncomfortable with what Christmas has become around
here, and I keep wanting to dig down through the wrapping paper and
tinsel and myriad of children’s shows about Christmas that
spend an entire half-hour celebrating Christmas without once
mentioning Jesus, and find the heart of Christmas again.

My newest niece Julia was born this
weekend! Less than two days old right now, and she's already a
heartbreaker.


Congratulations, my friends! I am so excited. Julia, you've got
your whole life ahead of you, and it will be amazing.


Julia's parents, your life will never be the same. In a good way,
I promise.

It's officially Pajama Day. The day we
live for at our house.


Don't take off your pjs, lie on blankets on the floor all day, eat
cookie dough and watch movies in your pajams, play out side in your
pajamas, play Twister in your pajamas, you get the idea.


Favorite time of our staycations. Always.

Ok, I have nothing nearly as funny as this
to show you, so you need to click on the link below. It’s to
a buzzfeed article – “Kids Who Are Too Clever For Their
Own Good”. I particularly love the one that rants against
bagels trying to pass as donuts, the girl who writes a series of
threatening letters to the tooth fairy, and the kid who wrote, in
response to the question, “I think my mom should do less of
this . . .” the simple “Drink wine” with an
accompanying picture of Mommy with a glass of cabernet in her hand.


Kids say the darndest things, eh?


Seriously, check href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/expresident/kids-who-are-too-clever-for-their-own-good"
target="_blank">this out.

Last week I volunteered in Maddie’s
class to talk about art; it’s a monthly district-wide
program, and I very much look forward to it each time. In both
Cora’s class and Maddie’s class, we have the most
interesting discussions. I love seeing how children look at art.


And we have the most, um, enlightening discussions.

I love to bake. I confess it. When I was
working in theatre, I’d bake furiously on Monday (my day
off), then return to the green room Tuesday night with a tray of
brownies/cupcakes/cookies/whatever, just to get them out of the
house. Even now, when I don’t eat sweets (yes, it’s
true. I mean, really, really true) I still love to bake.


So calling this the Most Wonderful Time of the Year would be an
understatement for me. When the holidays arrive I’m in a
tizzy; it’s as if I’ve been given complete license to
go crazy and use fourteen sticks of butter in one session. Which I
have done before.


Early November I get out my Hospitality spiral (don’t judge)
and flip to a fresh, clean page. There I make a list of
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall the foods I’m going to make this holiday
season, followed by a nifty little spread sheet of baking items
– butter, chocolate, eggs, etc. – so I know how much
I’ll need total. Then around Thanksgiving I get to baking:
just a bit at a time, the recipes are done and pans of brownies or
trays of cookies are in the freezer. Everything comes out in early
December when I assemble long-distance Christmas boxes for friends
and family, which breaks the floodgates and we begin consuming.
Heartily.


So that’s my holiday baking ritual – but wait. I left
out one essential step.


Ordering from the King Arthur Flour catalog.

Cora has done a fantastic job adjusting to
kindergarten, but the plain truth is that it’s just darn
hard. Seven hours a day can wear an adult down, but throw a
five-year-old in that situation and make her navigate new
friendships and scary bigger kids at the same time, and it’s
a miracle all kindergarteners aren’t in therapy.


So most days I can tell how Cora’s doing just by how she
hangs out with me as we wait for second grade to be dismissed from
school: she’ll often run and fling herself at me, and then
happily let me sweep her up in my arms and snuggle, and if she
clings extra hard, burrows extra deep, or begins burying her face
in my hair then I know it’s been a darn hard day.


Yesterday was such a day, and we only avoided an entire afternoon
of tears because of Maddie’s generous sacrifice.


I’ll explain.

Every Saturday Maddie goes to horseback
riding lessons, and the countryside commute before and after has
become one of my favorite times of the week. As we drive out to the
stable Maddie visibly relaxes, and the country air and quiet roads
are almost a truth serum for the girl; a couple miles into the
drive she starts talking and usually doesn’t stop until
we’re there. The topic’s never the same – just
whatever’s on her heart.


This past Saturday Maddie seemed to be thinking a lot about the
future.


“Mom,” she began, “I’m not sure I know what
I want to be when I grow up. Is that bad?”


This from a seven-year-old.

Yesterday morning the girls scootered to
school and after parking their rides at the bike rack, walked to
the school door hand in hand, smiling and chatting with each other
about the upcoming day. A teacher passing by looked at them in
disbelief and said, "Wow! They how sweet! They look like they
actually like each other!"


I smiled smugly and walked my perfect children into school.


After school the girls were models of familial harmony, playing
together amicably on the blacktop, scootering side by side all the
way home, compromising on every big decision: Who gets to step into
the street first to cross it? Which piece of candy from whose candy
jar for a treat? And as I watched them, I began to form my next
blog in my head, about what a sweet spot we're in right now and
how well they get along.


And then we fell apart.

Yes, I know "domestify" is not a real
word. Just seemed right.


Yesterday I finally started to get my domestic feet back under me
after a couple weeks of nursing kids and being sick myself. I spent
the whole morning trying to wade through family paperwork,
balancing checkbooks and cleaning up old documents to be filled out
and such.


After lunch I hit the kitchen, baking a couple plates of cookies
for some upcoming events for the girls. Then I took apart a whole
roasted chicken (full disclosure – bought it pre-cooked from
Whole Foods Market. But listen, $8.99 for an organic, free-range,
fully cooked bird is a steal in my book). I used almost all the
chicken for a casserole I made, doubling the recipe so we’d
have one to eat last night and one for the freezer for another
time. I set aside just enough chicken for chicken salad for school
lunches tomorrow, then set the bones in the crockpot for several
hours with some veggies to make homemade chicken stock for future
recipes.


And yes, I cleaned the whole disaster zone of a kitchen up before
bedtime.


So this morning I’ve got the cookies for Friday night’s
event done, an extra meal in the freezer, and dinner tonight is
leftovers. Yes, I am feeling reasonably on top of things.


And yes, I know that the holidays are coming. Hence the edge of
panic to my domesticity.

Maddie came home from school a little
upset yesterday. Apparently some of her classmates asked her who
she wanted to win the election, and when she told them,
“almost all” her friends proceeded to tell her how bad
her choice was, and what a terrible person he is, and how bad
(BAD!) she is to like him.


When the election first started cranking up in August, we had a
long talk with Maddie – that she instigated - and let her
know what was going on and how things would work. We made it very
clear that everyone has a right to an opinion, and we will not make
people feel bad if their opinions don’t line up with ours. We
also said in no uncertain terms that anyone running for president
deserves respect, and we have to trust that they are honestly doing
what they think is best. Likewise, anyone who IS president deserves
respect – respect for the office, if not for his ideas and
policies.


The way Maddie’s classmates responded to her is not something
they just made up: it was learned, either at home or out in the
world. And while I appreciate this opportunity for some hard but
necessary teaching, I am glad that this thing is winding up.


Time to start healing.

A few weeks ago the girls were bored on a
glorious sunny day. I could see their need to be outside, so I told
them I’d give them each a dollar if they would wash the
family mini-van.


My kids will do a lot for a dollar.


The girls were quite excited, and looking at the three cars in our
garage or driveway, they sensed a bit more cash to be had. So they
wrote up an ad and set it outside in the alley for passersby to
see. When this produced no new clients, they went straight for a
sure thing: grandma.


The girls offered to wash my mom’s car, and she kindly agreed
and dug eight quarters out of her bag. After an afternoon of elbow
grease and soapy buckets and bickering and fun, the girls each had
two dollars in quarters to show for their efforts.


Which is when the real work began.

With Maddie entering her third year in
public school, our family has seen its fair share of school field
trips. Accepting the fact that my child would be hurtling down the
highway at around 70 miles an hour without a seatbelt was difficult
when she was in kindergarten, but I have grown to understand that I
cannot control everything and must just let. Some. Things. Go.


That’s not to say I haven’t been along on those field
trips – I’ve followed behind the buses and spent the
day hanging out with my child and her classmates at the
zoo/arboretum/pumpkin patch many times. Over the course of the past
two years I’ve been asked to be an official chaperone, but
was never able to because Cora wasn’t in school and children
not enrolled at the school couldn’t ride the bus. So Cora and
I would follow along, have a great time at the
zoo/arboretum/pumpkin patch, then happily get in our quiet car at
the end of the day and putter contentedly home.


But now Cora’s in kindergarten.

2 Kids + 2 sugar hangovers = one very
loooooong morning.


Oy vey.

Sometimes, you go through a hard emotional
growth spurt with your kids. You have days when they seem to jump
from disobedient act to intentional meanness to flagrant testing
with nary a pause in between, and if you’re like me
you’re driven to your knees several times a day, begging for
patience and wisdom.


I’ve been through a lot of that with Maddie this fall. Even
starting in the summer, her ego-centricity was breathtaking.
Cutting in front of kids waiting patiently in line – not even
noticing the other kids, really. Ripping Cora to shreds with a few
careless words about the quality of work in a painting Cora just
finished. Fighting vehemently with her sister for a toy she
didn’t even really want – she just didn’t want
her sister to have it.


I’ve been praying hard for Maddie, knowing that there are
some things that are simply Not My Job, and changing my
child’s heart is one of them. I’ve tried to be patient,
trusting God that His seeds will take root and bloom in that sweet
girl’s heart.


And recently, I’ve seen signs of new growth.

Yes, it's true. I'm a little envious of
all my friends in New York City right now.


Yes, I know that this hurricane is serious business, and that
people have died in the Caribbean because of it. Yes, I know my
friends in New York City are a wee bit concerned right now, some
without power.


On the other hand, I have several friends posting video updates on
Facebook that shows their whole family at home playing Balderdash
or Uno, making big pots of spaghetti or huge bowls of popcorn to go
with their movie marathon. Everyone's home from work, no one's
going to school, no one can run errands.


It's a little bit of the perfect family time. Forced to slow down
and hang out and enjoy each other.


Of course, the flip side of that is a family of four contained to a
700-square-foot apartment for two. Whole. Days. Or a friend with a
dog who is so afraid to pee inside (the dog, that is) that he
hasn't peed in almost 24 hours because he's so tiny there's no
way she's taking him outside to pee since he'd get blown away. So
he's shivering and probably in a fair amount of pain. Let it out,
little guy, it's ok just this once, I promise.


And I'm sure that forced family fun time won't be quite so fun
when the power goes out and there's no popcorn popper or movie
marathon. I know, I know.


But I rememeber the great power blackout of 2002 or 2003, when the
whole eastern seabord lost power for days. I remember lighting
copious candles - this was pre-kids - in our apartment, sitting
around with the windows open on an August night, listening to quiet
talking from neighbors drifting in. Just slower, more intentional
time together.


Like I said, I know it's dangerous. I know it's a multi-million
dollar storm.


It just makes me wish a wee bit for, say, one good snow day here.
Is that so wrong?

Friday night the family had a hurry of
clean-up before bedtime. I’d been slacking on it all week
since I’d been sick, but Friday night I told the girls
everything had to be picked up. “But can’t we leave out
a couple games, Mommy?” Maddie asked.


“No, kiddo, tomorrow we’re having people over for
dinner and I don’t want to have to clean up the house on my
birthday. Fair?” I asked, and Maddie reluctantly nodded.


That night I lay in bed with Cora saying prayers, and I was going
through our usual blessings when Cora said, “Oh, I’ve
got something to add!” I turned it over to her.

Still sick, with my allergies/cold having
settled into a lovely sinus infection. And on top of that, I can no
longer hear (hello plugged ears) and am losing my voice.


But I have to believe I'm getting better each day! We celebrated
my birthday this weekend and the girls and Brian gave me a lovely,
low-key day to hang out, book shop, and enjoy a quiet family
dinner. Getting there, I'm sure.


Bear with me.

No, don't worry, Cora's not sick.


I am.


I don't seem to have what Maddie had - no fever. Just a plain ole
cold, but enough to make me draggy and crabby.


Fortunately, both of my children go to school full time now, so I
have crawled back into bed after the morning rush and stayed there
until pick-up time for the past two days. Canceled a few clients,
put my home maintenance on hold, and stayed in bed.


Thank you, Lord, for small graces, like full-time school.

Maddie woke up fever-free on Friday and it
never came back.


Praise the Lord!


We rented a cabin on a farm for the weekend and I was surely glad
she was well enough for us to go; she was begging me to let her go

even if her fever came back. But that didn’t happen and
she’s almost all better, with just a little congestion and
cough left over.


We had to encourage Maddie to take it a bit slow after a week in
bed, and she took a couple spontaneous naps, but she’s up and
running again.


So we’re back to normal and I can start to get the house back
in order. Thanks for all the well wishes – now back to our
routine!

Still sick here.


Yep.


I did a phone consult with the doc, who said there's a virus going
around that does this - fever at night, not so much during the day
- and will last 5-7 days.


FIVE TO SEVEN DAYS.


She said to not even come in until it's been seven days or, you
know, she gets a lot worse.


Sigh.

Sunday night Maddie woke up at 3 a.m. with
a fever; I loved on her, told her she couldn’t go to school
the next day, and sent her back to sleep. She spent all Monday with
no fever and just slight stuffiness, but at bedtime the fever
showed back up. Sigh.


Home from school again on Tuesday, and I have to tell you,
I’m pretty sure this thing is allergies. I’ve taken
Cora to the doctor before for exactly the same symptoms – low
to moderate fever, sore throat, slight stuffiness – and she
guaranteed me it was allergies. Apparently in addition to causing
EVERY OTHER SYMPTOM in the book, allergies can also run a low
fever. Which, of course, is not contagious.


But without knowing for certain that it’s allergies, Maddie
has to stay home until she’s fever-free. Which means I have
one very bored kiddo around the house.

Yesterday I went to Cora’s school as
a volunteer art lecturer. No, I’m not that good; it’s
part of a district-wide program called Art To Go, where
everything’s put together for you – pictures on foam
board, questions pre-written, everything – and all you do is
show up and look really really cultured. I’ve done this for
Maddie’s classes in the past and was looking forward to
sitting down and talking about art with Cora’s class for the
first time.


Note to self – don’t ask kindergarteners such
open-ended questions, and then LET THEM ANSWER THEM.

Maddie discovered Junie B. Jones in
kindergarten and we spent a few painful months reading waaaaaaaay
too much of that child’s escapades before Maddie finally grew
out of the books and moved on to other, more well-written heroines.
I was quite pleased to bid Junie B. adieu, and only saved the
half-dozen books we’d bought out of sheer thriftiness.

I should have realized I wasn’t
finished with the annoying child.

Hit the state fair yesterday, and we had a
fantastic time but I'm totally wiped out.


And I can hear all those snickers out there - and you are so wrong.
The Texas State Fair is ridiculously cool.

When I was around five years old I was
living in New Orleans, happily playing outside one day. Suddenly I
noticed a ticklish feeling on my ankle and leg, and looked down and
saw a swarm of red fire ants enrobing my lower limb. I stared in
fascination, until the pain registered. And then I started
screaming.


I remember that day vividly.


When we moved back to Texas four years ago, I celebrated a return
to many of my favorite things in the South – excellent
margaritas, even better Tex-Mex food, and winters without shoveling
the sidewalk. What I did not look forward to, though, was the
return to southern bugs, especially chiggers and fire ants.

Monday was a day off school to celebrate
Columbus Day and after the whirlwind of the weekend – a
women’s retreat for me, birthday parties with school mates,
and more – I felt like we deeply needed some unstructured
down time together. Time to veg and hang out and play and bake and
watch movies.


In other words, a Pajama Day.

I love the changing of the seasons. It
doesn’t even really matter which change we’re talking
about – I love them all. Every winter I feel a yearning for
hanging out on the grass on a warm spring day, watching trees bud
and listening to birds sing. Then after a few months of that, I
become restless and develop a yen for sunscreen and lazy pool time
– those endless days that seem to stretch on forever, when
your kids scream and play for hours and you laugh and chat
desultorily with your girlfriends.


And then I have a hankering for the fall.

I spent yesterday getting ready for the
fall and its inevitable rounds of sickness: I made my homemade
cough syrup, a few pots of lip balm for the girls, and some
homeopathic cold medicine/immune system booster. I was racing and
sweating, bags of dried herbs strewn about the kitchen and pots
simmering on the stove. I now have several jelly jars safely in the
fridge, with even a couple left over to give to friends if need be.


I think I've officially crossed over into Uber-Crunch Land.

A few days ago, Maddie’s class had a
competition to give themselves a name – you know, the
All-Stars or Cougars or Champions or whatever. Her teacher, Mrs.
Hall, stopped me at pick-up that afternoon and said, “Ask
your daughter what name she suggested for my class.”


A little while later, I brought it up and said, “So what name
did you come up with, Maddie?”

Said yesterday morning while getting ready
for school:


Cora: “Mommy, can I ride my scooter to school this
morning?”


Me: “Of course!”


Cora: “Yippee!”


Me: “Why are you so excited about riding your scooter to
school?”


Cora: “Because I really love the sound of my shoe softly
tapping the pavement when I push.”


And she ran off.

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.