My second inaugural post

I miss blogging. It's been 1.5 years since my last blog post and I think that hiatus has been long enough. Part of the reason I stopped blogging is because it was simply easier to communicate in sound-bites on Facebook, and I didn't feel the need to sit down and take the time to think things through on a broader scale with enough depth to create a blog post. I think I've had enough of that strictly fast-food diet now though, and am ready for some home baking again.

So in my second inaugural post, I figure I have several ways that I can proceed.

I could reintroduce myself and give a quick outline of the last year and a half - but I imagine most people are not exactly on tenterhooks to hear a year and a half of trivia.

I could explore the various options about what this blog should look like and be about and hear back from my readers - but it's awfully narcissistic to imagine that I have enough "readers" at all, much less enough readers that have an opinion about what I should blog about, to poll. That's just a silly option.

I could just...start back up. I'm going with this option.
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Lassie is going off the air.

When I was a little girl, back in the wonderful world of 70's TV, one of my favorite shows (along with millions of other little girls) was "Lassie." There are several youtube clips from old Lassie shows, but this particular one is what I remember. The theme song is important. That sad, wistful melody, played in a whistle... At the end of the show, listening to that theme and watching Lassie stand on a hill with the wind blowing through her fur, I would just bawl. I'd sit there week after week and just sob and cry at the end of every show. I can't imagine what all my mom was thinking about me. She finally asked me why I cried at the end of every show. I don't remember the conversation we had, but I must have finally been able to articulate to her that I was crying simply because it was over. I'd spent the last 30 minutes enthralled with being a part of the world of Lassie, with all of its lessons about love and friendship and love and devotion and love and family and love. (I know - isn't this just the SAPPIEST?????) And after 30 minutes of heaven always came the same realization: that the show was over.

Ever since, the code phrase in my family for what is wrong when I am distraught in one fashion or another over some change or another, is that "Lassie is going off the air."

My baby - he just turned 15, and my other baby, the littlest one, is 12. I am in the twilight years of being a mom of schoolage children. For many years there, my house was one of toys scattered across the floor and a pantry full of juice boxes and applesauce. The laundry was copious and consisted of lots of dirty bibs and tons and tons and tons of socks. Currently, the bibs have been replaced by black vintage 80s rock band t-shirts and middle school uniforms, but the socks are still multiplying. I've finally gotten the lunch-packing business down to an art now, whipping out a couple of mostly healthy lunches packed in mostly reusable containers in just a few minutes every morning. I can cook up a homemade dinner with separate versions available for vegetarians or mushroom-haters. I sign off on tests and write letters asking for excused absences when my kids stay home from school sick, and I no longer feel like I'm forging the official mom signature. I'm no longer at a loss about how to let my kids hold a sleepover, and dutifully buy bags of cheetos and plenty of rootbeer just before pumping up the air mattress to throw in front of the TV/DVD player with movies carefully selected to just barely toe the line between parent-approved age-appropriateness and coolness. I still spend hours sitting and watching practices for soccer, baseball, and volleyball, and watching rehearsal for school plays and band concerts, and of course, attend said plays and concerts. I've moved away from volunteering each week in classrooms, but still chaperon dances and school trips, and hold offices in the PTA and band boosters. My life was and is defined by being mom.

And I see the end coming, as it must, as it should, as it will. I'm helping my son to structure his activities to look good for college applications. The prospect of paying for college is no longer something that I put way off into the future. I recently realized that the dozens of family vacations I've always wanted to take with the kids is going to need to be whittled down to only a few, because time is....well, it's finite. Before I know it, the frustrations of finding socks stuffed behind the couch cushions, empty soda cans in the playroom, and candy wrappers scattered over my buffet are going to be solved....because there will no longer be children in the house. Didn't I just start this journey? Wasn't it just a few years ago that I fell to my knees sobbing in front of the perfect baby boy in the bassinet because I suddenly realized that his only mom was... me? who had no idea what to do with a baby boy? Wasn't it just yesterday that I made my first batch of birthday cupcakes to take into school for my kindergartner and was buying adorable little girl dresses at Target? I entered the parenthood years with trepidation, but with more enthusiasm than I've ever had in my life. I had the wind knocked out of me with the transition to being a parent, but it was the most invigorating rollercoaster ride I'd ever been on.

Yet, I really don't want time to stop. I adore the young people my children are now. I adore them. I have the most amazing conversations with them, and I often walk away feeling humbled by their depth of feeling and their depth of understanding of very complicated issues. They are amazing people. What I do miss is the job I used to have. Just when I finally started to get my footing and figure it out, it is time to think about moving to the next phase. I'm excited for the future. I'm excited to see what my kids end up deciding to do with their lives and see who they become. But I hope you all understand if I occasionally make cupcakes with sprinkles and topped with a Hershey's kiss. I hope you allow me to occasionally watch reruns of "Little Bear" and "The Wiggles" without judging me. I will miss wiping fingerprints off the TV and buying orange juice by the gallon.

I never want to lose the people that my children are at the moment where we are. It's just that..I'm a little sad/wistful. My job as mom is slowly moving from being the center of their universes to being someone who is merely very important. I will no longer be the architect of their every activity, the artist who colors their world. They will appreciate my cooking, but my job of feeding their souls will be gone. As it should be.
I'm just a little sad/wistful, because Lassie is going off the air.

back

Well I certainly took a hiatus. It was unplanned, actually. I apologize to all two of my dedicated followers. :-)

Since July 17, the date of my last post, we've gone on vacation to Colorado. We went white-water rafting and hiking and soaked in the hot tub under the Rocky Mountain stars. What I remember most though, is that my daughter got sick with what I assumed was a stomach bug - she was complaining of stomach pain and throwing up, with a fever. After a day of letting her sleep at the rental cabin, I went to check on her and "something" suddenly kicked in. My mom-instincts flashed on and I told my husband I really needed to take her to the ER. Turns out that mom-instincts are pretty awesome. She had appendicitis and was in surgery 4 hours after we arrived at the ER. I've tried to figure out exactly what it was that triggered my instincts. Logically, it was a combination of things - she was complaining about stomach pain more than usual, she had mentioned to me that she was peeing every time she threw up (which was multiple times that night), she groaned when she sat up...but still, the right side of her abdomen wasn't where her pain was centered, and everything else just screamed "normal stomach bug". It was partially the few unusual things, but also - I think that I could just tell something was different in a very hand-wavy sort of way. I can't articulate it. Perhaps if I was better at diagnosing my feelings or fears, or if I was better at remembering minute details I could tell you. But ultimately, something deep inside went from "off" to "on" and I KNEW, I absolutely KNEW within an instant that this was not a stomach bug.

Thank goodness, too, because her surgeon told us her appendix was particularly nasty and he could see an abrasion along it where it looked like it was close to rupturing. Oh, and her surgeon told us her appendix happened to be located in the center of her abdomen.

So.

We came home and finished up the summer. My kids mostly played video games and watched TV and ate microwaved hot pockets. This is not what I'd wished for them, but it's what they did. I would have enjoyed if they had taken up knitting or art while I was at work, and if they'd eaten cucumbers and green beans and peaches from our CSA. But you know, they enjoyed their little bit of independence and they DID do the chores I left outlined for them in the dreaded "summer notebooks" each day. They called me multiple times each day while I was at work, so I pretty much knew what they were doing each minute. They begin their new school years tomorrow. All supplies have been bought and are either already at school or are in their backpacks. They have new lunchboxes, and have enough new clothes (or uniforms in the case of my son) to get them through at least a week. They both went to bed on time tonight, after showers, and set their alarms. We're good to go.

In the meantime, I'm still reeling from the insanity in the US. Don't get me STARTED on the shrill nonsense the ultra-right is spewing over President Obama's planned speech to school children tomorrow. We've had our own minor uproar here locally when a parent used our PTA volunteer email list to send political propaganda against the speech. Me, being the DOOFUS that I am, noticed that he planned to pull his child out of school tomorrow because he was so against him hearing the speech. While I fail to understand how anything ANYTHING the president plans to say tomorrow justifies such action, I did take note that my information (which happened to have come directly from the superintendent of our school district) indicated that our school planned to tape the speech and air it Wednesday. Part of me giggled at the idea of him keeping his son home Tuesday only to discover after the fact that he would have been exposed to the dreaded "socialist propaganda" which encouraged children to work hard and stay in school when his son returned on Wednesday. But then my f*cking moral, earnest part kicked in and I thought the man deserved to at least know the facts. So I sent him an email telling him that while I didn't agree with him politically, I thought we should all have access to the facts.

Well. Stoopid me. Several emails later, I realized that he was not going to quit arguing with me over the appropriate use of our PTA email list, or demanding to know why my information on when the speech would be shown didn't mesh with the media's, so I told him to take it up with our president and that I wished to have no further correspondence with him. As a past president, I did feel a little guilty about this, especially since I'm good friends with the current president. But there you are. He'll figure it all out when the principal sends home a note tomorrow explaining exactly what will be happening on Wednesday and what he needs to do to protect his child from the Nazi-socialist-propaganda.

For the love of GOD!!!!!

I thought political games were nasty months ago. I had no idea how stupid they were yet to become.

And yet, life goes on. I had a lovely LOVELY conversation today with my beautiful friend Jamie, reminding me that friends are what it's all about. I will consider not picking up and moving to New England just so I can stay near her and many of my other friends here who make it easy(er) to live down here amidst so many many MANY people with political and cultural opinions that are lifetimes away from my own. It's all OK. I only need a little connection to make it OK.

(But Jen K, keep an eye out for good home opportunities up there just in case).

Lucy! I'm Home!

We have a new family member now. Lucy is an 8 week old diluted calico that we adopted from our local animal shelter. E (my 10 year old) has been orchestrating this move for months now. She is in little girl heaven. Her tiny kitten slept on the pillow beside her last night and woke her up by gently batting her cheek with her paw. She's been prancing around the house tonight, attacking unsuspecting toes and making Roxy (the dog) hyperventilate. She is a trip.



As for the rest of my life, I feel like I am slowly winding up the process of wrapping up an enormous package. One by one, bits and pieces are being wound up and bound off. Piano recital and lessons (with the accompanying planning and transportation), check and check. Girl scouts - check (after Wednesday). Band practices and concerts, check. Career day presentation and PTA yearbook sales, check check, check. Baseball merits no check yet, but possibly will after another couple of weeks. I am not sure where this enormous package will be sent at the end of spring. I'm glad to see it wrapped up but not glad to see it sent away. Know what I mean?

I am not sure that I will remember how to exist on the absence of adrenaline. As much as I enjoy complaining about my (oh so typical) busy mom-of-teens-and-preteens schedule, it is, like it or not, my way of life. I have never been fond of change so the abrupt end to the chaos this summer may not be the reprieve I've been hoping for. In fact, I find myself projecting the summer's loss of activity onto my empty nest years. These are not exactly looming, but they are close enough.

I asked DH what in the hell we did before kids and what we would do after they are gone. He responded by cooking me a dinner that was fabulously full of spices and onions, which is something we've had to forgo when the kids eat dinner with us. It was delicious.

We are such a funny species, we humans. And in particular, we parent humans.

You’re an interesting species, an interesting mix. You’re capable of such beautiful dreams and such horrible nightmares. You feel so lost, so cut off, so alone, only you’re not. See, in all our searching, the only thing we’ve found that makes the emptiness bearable is each other.

(from the movie Contact. I find myself repeating this line to myself very often)

Life has been fabulously fun and good this spring. I am short on time and long on things to do. The house is not very clean and certainly not organized, but my kids are smart and healthy and INCREDIBLY thoughtful. No complaints here. It's all spicy food and kittens.

oy vay

I fear I'm losing brain function. Really. Should you worry about me? Yes. I think maybe you should.

First order, it seems I am able to complete much less in a much longer amount of time than ever before. Functionality is trending toward negative infinity. Today, for instance, was my day off. I had no requirements. This was my day to catch up. I had vague notions of a sparkling house and concrete vacation plans made and clothes sorted and packed away for the Salvation Army. After that, the plan was to have lunch and proceed to the afternoon.

Instead, I wandered. All day.
(It wasn't actually all *that* bad. I had a long phone conversation with my BIL and worked on some PTA stuff. But the house is not sparkling and no vacation plans have been confirmed, and I haven't started to even think about sorting clothes).

The kicker was this evening. My children came home from school, and I, fresh from feeling guilty over yelling at them this morning over what children they were, decided we needed to order out Chinese food and get movies to watch. Family night!!!!
And all would be good. Rah rah rah.

First order of business was to pick up a Bar Mitzvah card for our friend who is Bar Mitzvah-ing tomorrow. Simple, eh? A-HAHAHA! I had just about convinced myself that I was going to have to buy a "first communion" card from Target, and delicately scratch out the words and the cross on the front when I *finally* found a card that said the words "Bar Mitzvah". (not so diverse here, I guess??) There were exactly two cards left in the pile. I'm wondering how many of the exact same card this poor boy will receive tomorrow. I'm kind of thinking I *should* have gone with the first communion card and some white-out for the simple sake of uniqueness. Actually, the really funny thing was that Q found a belated birthday card that he thought would be funny and nice. The birthday card was, in fact, quite funny and made a big deal out of the giver's forgetfulness, culminating in a "Merry Christmas!!!" greeting. I didn't know whether I should explain to Q why it was so totally and completely inappropriate or absolutely totally perfect. (He needed a small nudge and simple reminder about what occasion we were buying for before he thought it was hysterical). Oy vay, right?

So anyway, the next stop is where my problems began. We stopped by Blockbuster movie rental to pick up some movies. Simple enough. I argued us down from about 15 selections to four and went up to the counter to pay for the remaining DVDs. I even had my internet, mail-delivered Blockbuster DVD all packaged up to trade in for one of the store DVDs at no cost, so I was feeling quite virtuous. Well. *Apparently*, Blockbuster has changed their rental policies and had the nerve not to ask *ME* about it beforehand. Used to, they had no late charges, really. As long as you got your movies back in before they decomposed, you were golden. Well, not so much anymore. When the nice young lad asked me if I wanted the 1-night or the 5-night rental, first, my head exploded, and then I focused my laser glare of death upon him. I shrieked in my best banshee impersonation, peppered with the appropriate number of "But I know it's not your fault" comments as my son tried his best to disappear into the racks of DVDs. After announcing to the unsuspecting patrons in the store that NETFLIX does exist and is a very viable alternative to Blockbuster, I stalked out of the store while my poor son slunk into the shadows trying to pretend that he had no idea who I was. My daughter, she didn't care so much. She was just ready to go watch "Bride Wars."

So I figured Chinese food would be simple after that. As I am the one who is always prepared and in control, I had brought along not one, but two Chinese food restaurant menus with us in the van. My anal type-A plan was to call the order in directly after renting the movies (never suspecting that Blockbuster had colluded against me, rendering me irate), giving just enough time to arrive at the restaurant on the way home that our dinner would be perfectly ready for pickup. I had forced my young ones to peruse the menu on the way into town earlier, and they had written down their orders. After the Blockbuster confusion, my brain was showing distinct signs of implosion, so I sat there staring at the menu in total confusion for an inordinate amount of time before deciding to roll the dice and simply call in our orders and wing my own. Eggplant? OK.

All was good until I found myself driving down Rt. 60 wondering aloud where the restaurant was. My sweet son picked up the menu, looked briefly at it, and then looked at me. "Mom, this place is by Farm Fresh." (which was about 10 miles away, quite close to our house in fact and not at all close to where I was driving.)
Oh ho - little one. You don't know what it is that you are talking about (but of course, he did). Feeling quite small by this point, I did a U-turn and found the correct restaurant. And they did not have my order ready because *my* selection for dinner was not available. But of course! I managed not to cry, but the poor guy running the register was obviously worried I was about to. He asked me what I would prefer instead, and I was completely unable to answer. I simply could not make a decision. Seriously. I looked at the young guy helplessly and tried not to fall down and start crying. "I don't know what I should get!!???" He gently led me through the thought process of whether I wanted chicken or beef or veggies or did I want spicy or mild? I listlessly nodded yes to his recommendation and told him I needed to go buy a bottle of wine so would be back in 5 minutes to pick up my (his) order. And I was.

Dinner was fine and the movies were fine (E and I watched Bride Wars and the boys are finishing up James Bond. I will watch Slumdog Millionaire tomorrow.)

But really, I am concerned at my lack of ability to make decisions. You know, as we were embarking on this whole experience, I did have a warning signal. I was reciting to my kids what was going to happen tomorrow during the Bar Mitzvah and what they needed to be prepared for (I told E to have books with her for the morning service which should be about 3 hours long). She piped up with "Is the library open today?" because she thought she should check out some new books. As this was not in my original plan for my evening, I nearly drove off the road in confusion. "NO! NO! NO!!!!!" I shrieked. "I can't do that!!! No library!!! Use the books you have!!!"

Oy vay indeed.

a saturday morning...

...in which yours truly decides to finally create another blog post because there is an enormous mound (10 yards) of hardwood mulch sitting in the middle of her driveway. This is actually a very poor plan because the temperature is supposed to reach into the 90s later today so the more I put it off, the worse it's going to end up. And yet, here I sit composing.

It's spring, and as much as I love winter, I guess I can say I'm ready for spring. I stepped outside last night at 2 am to look up at the stars and it was slightly warm. It felt lovely. I spent the day yesterday removing leaves from the culvert and mowing and weeding beds (in anticipation of today's mulch) and I actually enjoyed it.

So in honor of spring, here are some spring photos for your enjoyment:


The end of a pretty successful season for Q's school baseball team means that the coach was finally letting some of the 7th graders play for a little bit. Here's Q making an awesome outfield catch yesterday. Just after I snapped this, his hat blew off. His teammates told him he was "doing a Manny." He also had a successful at-bat with a rocket line drive to left field. Sniff. Nothing like a child to turn you into an avid baseball fan. Oh, he's been dubbed Cotton-Schawb by his teammates. This is a combination of cotton swab (from Q-tip) and "stump the schawb" from ESPN. LOL!




Tell me if you recognize this plant. It's so nice, and we have no idea what it is. Here's a closeup of the flowers:





And this one has not much to do with spring (other than it was taken during spring break) but I think it's funny. Genetics, anyone?

virusii

Most of my readers are family members or close friends that I also know in real life, so I don't feel quite as selfishly indulgent when I share children stories as I might if I merited a more diverse readership. (not that my friends and family aren't diverse. You are! You're diverse and wonderful!!!!) You are just unified in your acceptance of my selfish indulgences. And I love you for it!

All this is a lead-up to...... (guess. go ahead and guess.) a post about funny/cute/fantastic things my children do.

We were in Georgia the last several days for a visit to DH's parents. We got a few trips to the Master's golf tourney out of it, some good southern cooking, poker, etc. It was mostly a very good trip, sans the tornadoes that were barrelling down upon me and my family who were trapped in a mobile home that one night. I believe I offended my FIL when he tried to convince me that we would be safe if we got UNDERNEATH the mobile home. I didn't buy it. Not even almost. Sorry. I believe you are unsafe if you are anywhere withing a few MILES of a mobile home during a tornado. I survived by drinking wine and pretending it wasn't happening. Denial Rules at times.

Anyway. Then Q got sick last night. He started throwing up around 9 pm and kept it up hourly for the entire night. At one point (I forget which hour it was), I was blearily leaning against the bathroom door as I checked in on him for the umpteenth time. I got less sleep than he did because I needed to get the obligatory worrying out of the way between the vomiting episodes, you know. He was just pathetic. He was on the floor hugging the toilet, pale little face with dark circles under his eyes looking up at me. He asked in a weak voice "Mommy, is this a virus?"
I assumed this question was along the lines of "is this a virus, or do I have a horrible disease that will render me dead by sunrise?" Or "Is there an alien in my body that is fighting to emerge?"

I wet a washcloth with cool water and swabbed off his neck. "Yes, honey, it's just a virus." I was the June Cleaver of the night. I was sanity and calm and motherly protection.
"OK." he said in all sincerity. "Because that means I will most likely be immune for another year. Of course, it depends on if it's an RNA or a DNA virus. Because, see, smallpox is a DNA virus which is why there are immunizations for it, but the flu is an RNA virus which is why there is a new variant of vaccination every year. See it....." (at which point he launched into a diatribe about virus structures and immunity which I don't dare attempt to replicate because, um, I can't. OMG. Damned gifted students these days. I am out of my league.) I carefully put away the cool washcloth and kissed the top of his head. "You're going to be fine, sweetie."

a new journey

Today was the birth day of my eldest...who is now a teenager.

Teenagers love chocolate. They also love to be goofy.

See? Goofy.


Yep. Like I said. (Trying to get to his new ipod).



Another couple of Wii remotes so we can all play at the same time
(his idea, actually, isn't that sweet?!)



Razors. I am finally admitting that it is not dirt that resides above his lip.


A big hit of a present from mom&dad #2 (Brad and Kathy).
A Barack Obama magnetic doll with various changes of clothing.



"A change of clothing we can believe in."

And thus begins the first steps of my experience as a mom of a teen. I'm buckled in and ready to go.

not my finest moment

Wow. I am such bitch. Seriously. And I am so glad I didn't have me for a mother.

Q was asked to be in both the 7th grade and the 8th grade bands this year. He's a good little clarinet player; he's 1st chair in the 7th grade band and plays 1st part in the 8th grade one. The 8th graders had a competition today (identical to the UIL competitions I went to in Texas). They prepared 3 pieces for their concert performance and then had a sight-reading portion right afterward. Q has been so excited about being in the 8th grade band. He came home this fall and found a recording of one of their songs on the internet so I could hear it. He hums their songs all the time. And *I* have been so excited about going to this. It takes one second of being in the hallway outside a school auditorium, sounds of bands coming from all around, seeing band directors racing through the halls and parents filing in and out of the auditorium to bring back a flood of memories. The palpable tension in the warm-up room with the band director trying to hide his own nervousness while calming the rest of the group down...the SMELL of the building...the quiet click click click of shoes tiptoeing up and down the hallway and the hushed whispers, trying not to disturb the judging...

So anyway this morning, Q had an early baseball practice for 2 hours, then had an hour to come home and shower and get back up to the band hall to catch the band bus. He had a good practice at BB but somewhere within the hour at home, he started to feel sick. I persisted in getting him out of the house and into the van and drove him to the school. By that point, he was miserable, so I went to tell the band director that he was feeling ill and that I would drive him down to the contest so he wouldn't have to ride in a school bus.

I stopped at a pharmacy on the way and pumped him full of Tylenol cold medicine and bought him a sprite. We drove 45 minutes down to the site of the contest. Q slept most of the way. When we got there, he started complaining to me that he couldn't do it - he just couldn't go through with it. Being the loving mother that I am, I told him I wanted him to please give it a try and that if he didn't think he could participate, he would need to tell his band director himself. I'm pretty sure I didn't think he was faking it - Q doesn't do faking well, and plus, his sister has spent the last 24 hours throwing up. So it was no real surprise that he would have been getting sick.

The rest of the band arrived and Q and I found Mr. Hodges.
"Hey buddy, you gonna make it?" Mr. Hodges asked. Q shook his head and started mumbling "I can't do it, I can't do it." I looked up at Mr. Hodges in a panic, wanting him to plead with Q to please try. I'm the boy's mother, so I'm supposed to be the empathic one, right? It was Mr. Hodge's job to be the one pushing him. Mr. H was clearly not thrilled at losing one of his players 1 hour before competition, but he told Quinton to go home. "Thanks for trying buddy - just go home and get better."

I walked Q back to the van and drove straight home without saying a word to him. Q apologized several times, but I did not want to say the wrong thing, so I remained silent. Quite honestly, I was *upset* with the boy. Some things are bigger than we are. Some things are worth giving more of yourself to than you dreamed was possible. A sign of true character would be pushing through the pain - putting the group ahead of yourself - pushing yourself beyond limits that you thought were there. He should have gone with the band and played through the competition. Then I could have bragged to everyone about how selfless he is and how dedicated and determined. You are not supposed to only excel, but you are to excel well beyond expectations. Right?

Good god, I suck.

In my defense, I KNEW that if I were to start talking to him, I would be unable to NOT vocalize disappointment in him, and despite my being smack in the middle of a massively heartless Mommy Dearest moment, I DID realize deep down somewhere just how awful I was being. I tried to protect him the only way possible at the time. Of course my silence did come across to him as disappointment, but I figured it was the lesser of two evils. Of COURSE I know I should have been comforting him and rubbing his shoulders and simply being a mother to him. That's what normal mothers would have done.

We got home and Q immediately fell into his bed and fell asleep. I did remove his shoes for him and straightened his covers. I also leaned over and whispered to him that I was never upset with him - that I was disappointed in the situation and sad for him that he had to miss the contest but I was not upset with him. He kind of grunted so I think he heard me.

How my children will survive me, I do not know.

more sundry yet again

Here are some random thoughts/things I've had or heard over the last few weeks that have either tickled me or touched me, or both.

My son Q made the baseball team at his middle school. Despite the HEAVY load for practices (every single school day until 6 pm and also on Saturdays for the love of Pete), I am simply ecstatic for him. He is ultra shy and reserved - and more than a bit of a geek. I thought that making the team would be a much needed boost for his confidence, especially since he's only a 7th grader. There are only about five 7th graders that were selected. Plus, I figure the label of "jock" can't hurt in the geek label department. Not that there's anything wrong with being a geek (spoken from vast experience). But still. The additional label of "athlete", as long as we're labeling, is a good thing, IMO. He is, in fact, very happy and has been doing well. But, back to the geek department, he is addicted to wearing this blue fleece jacket...which he buttons ALL THE WAY up. It drives me absolutely crazy. It's slightly too small for him so it barely hits his hips and stretches up to his nose, thanks to the excessive buttoning. Here's his chance to move into the "cool guy" department and he's walking around with no neck. On the way home one day, I asked him "Q - why on earth do you wear your jacket buttoned up like that?" He rolled his eyes and told me that it was a "reflection of his personality"... that he's a closed and private person and his jacket tells the world that about him. OK then. Can't argue with that.

My house is apparently smack in the middle of a major migration route for noisy black birds. It warmed up enough today that I turned off the heat, opened the windows in the sunroom and laid back on my comfy couch with my favorite soap opera on the TV. Unfortunately, I couldn't HEAR it because of the extremely loud birds. It was like I was in the middle of the Amazon. I am not exaggerating, I swear. I looked out into the woods behind our house and could see literally thousands of birds, all perched in the trees directly surrounding my house. They were being extraordinarily loud, too. I've no idea what it was they were so worked up about but they were certainly busy telling each other about it. I knocked on the window, opened and shut the door, let Roxy bark, and yelled loudly at them. Other than flicking the proverbial bird at me, I was totally ignored. I had to satisfy myself with calling my neighbor Mary and cursing them out to her. At least she understood.

WRT the cafeteria at work - it has gotten to the point where the cafeteria workers no longer even want to joke with me about how much of a rut I am in. I get the same sandwich every day (veggie sub on wheat, no mayo, extra hot peppers) and a diet Dr. Pepper. Used to be that the ladies making the subs and the ladies working the registers would smile at me and say things like "Hmmm, so what might YOU be getting today? Ha haha ha ha ha." Lately, they just make my sub and ring me up and send me on my way. I'm in so much of a rut within my rut that it's not even fodder for jokes anymore. In fact, I'm afraid to get anything different now. The spotlight on me would be too much to take. (Refer to my first story of my introverted son Q. NO IDEA where he gets it. No idea.)

I've been spending way too much time looking through blogs of global warming deniers lately. I've been doing a lot of thinking and psychoanalysis about why these people are so angry and so hateful, and so loathe to listen to "expert" opinion. I have several theories, all of which are kind of depressing. Global warming/climate change is a really big weight on my heart. It sure would be a lot more simple if I didn't love my children so much, you know?

For those interested in my daily activities: daughter E has been unable to eat anything solid for about 24 hours now. High fever, vomiting and other assorted illness symptoms abound. It is just so sad to look at her pale, pathetic face. I certainly hope this bug moves on quickly so I can get my sassy daughter back. My sweet puppy is also under the weather with an ear infection. Medicine bottles and measuring spoons and thermometers decorate my kitchen cabinets. Q goes to district band contest tomorrow. Sniff. You'd better believe I'll be there with my ear pressed to the door during sight-reading. I sure miss those days.

By the way. Q got his Toano Baseball sweatshirt today. I think it may have replaced the hated fleece jacket. I was thrilled. Until he pulled the hood up. "NO!!!!" I cried. "No, Q! You don't actually wear the hood over your head!!!!"
He looked at me calmly and said "I do if I'm cold...."

A quiet start

It's much TOO quiet this New Year's Day morning.

Last night around 11 pm, Q's friend called from his house next door and asked if Q could just stay there and sleep over. Before I could answer I could hear E and her friend asking if E could sleep over too. I asked to speak to their dad, and suggested that the girls come over here and the boys stay there, but he said they wanted their kids to stay at their own house. Hmmm. So I reluctantly agreed - I figured my kids deserved to have some fun their own way, too on NYE. But I made them run home to give me some New Year's Eve hugs. I also made them promise to come home as SOON as they woke up on New Year's Day. Meanwhile, DH and I fell asleep on the couch watching TV.

Now this morning. Ack. DH is still sleeping, I've been up for a few hours, and I keep looking at my kids' empty rooms. (I know it's projecting, but I am not looking forward to the day when they move out.) Hopefully, they'll be back soon. It's much too quiet in a bittersweet way over here. I'd rather start the year off with the pattering and pounding of feet running across the floor and sleepy good morning hugs than even this peaceful quiet. Besides, I've bought a bunch of delicious breakfast foods for the year's first breakfast and I want to share it with them. I can't eat all those sweet rolls and sausage patties and hash browns myself...

Happy New Year to all!!!

Recap

Being a self-professed and totally-accepting-of-myself type-A anal extraordinaire, there should be no surprise from anyone who knows me that my favorite holiday is New Year's. What's not to love about the ending of an old chapter, and then the beginning of a new one? ...about neatly tying up loose ends and packaging the old year into the box labeled "the past?" ...about a pure, clean, unblemished fresh new slate lying before me as I balance precariously up on the very left tip-top of the New Year's calendar on January 1? As much as I love the anticipation of the yet-to-come, I also love the wrap-up of the past year. I'll be the one parked on the sofa watching CNN's montage (to cheesy music) of the big stories from 2008, and I'll even shed tears for parts of it. (For what it's worth, I actually used to grade my years as well, and select songs for them. Haven't done that recently....Maybe I should return to this?)

So bear with me in this completely indulgent post as I reminisce over my past 12 months.

Without hesitation, 2008 will always and forever be to me the year that my country pulled its head out of its ass and finally made an intelligent decision by electing Barack Obama as our president. I've been wishing for this for 8 years, and anticipating it (with a name to my wish) for four years. I can't tell you why I instantaneously felt as strongly as I did in July of 2004, and I fully admit that then, it was purely a gut feeling that I knew he was destined to be my president. However, it ended up that my gut feeling was spot on and was only strengthened as I was able to shore it up with information, learning more about him through the years. This is a man with intelligence and integrity. This is a man of MY generation (I say with pride). This is someone who respects humanity, respects science and has ears to hear. He is the real deal (thank GOD). I wasn't sure exactly when he would become president, but the fact that it happened in 2008 will endear this year to me forever, despite the rest of the crap that happened worldwide.


So other than that obvious, my year-in-a-nutshell consists of the following:

This year I finally went into the field (Fairbanks, Alaska and Cold Lake, Canada) during our aircraft campaign. I am enormously glad I went, and documented some of my personal thoughts on the Discovery Channel science blog. For anyone who's interested, here are my entries. There weren't as many as I would have liked - I was sick for a significant part of my time in Fairbanks (99% sure I had Rubella, oddly enough - a mild but exhausting illness for a middle-aged gal).
here1
here2
here3
and here4.



We added a gorgeous sunroom onto the back of our house.



We had a fantastic vacation this summer in Boston and Maine - were able to see not only my boys play in Fenway, but got to spend time with not-often-seen-friends in the Boston area.



I learned this year that I was able to survive Jamie and Jamie and their beautiful children being located in Austria for the year. It's been hard, and I could not go for longer than a year without them, but I have survived (so far). But hurry home please. I need that honesty and acceptance and pure love from your family. Plus, my kids are a million times happier when their best friends are nearby.


We saw the Counting Crows and Maroon 5 and Shakespeare's "Taming of the Shrew."
I finished up a year of being PTA president and embarked upon a year of taking it easy in the volunteer department (am loving that, I tell you).

The Red Sox made the playoffs. I saw baseball-boyfriend Mikey play in person a couple of times.

Q and E were busy with soccer and baseball and Odyssey of the Mind and Girl Scouts and piano lessons and African Dance classes and science/math camps and cooking and art classes and Model UN and band and making excellent grades and playing with friends. I could not have imagined kids more fun, more awe-inspiring, more loving, or more all-around wonderful than the ones I ended up with.


As for my blogging life, it's interesting that I have been so consistent for the past several years with my blogging. I wrote 115 posts this year (111 in 2007 and 110 in 2006). October was my heaviest month, with 19 posts (pre-election build-up to be sure) and April and December were my slowest with 4 each (though this one makes 5 for December).


It's not been such a good year for a lot of people I know, though, or for most of the US or world. We have global warming issues to grapple with. We have an economic disaster on hand. There are many people I love who are now without a job. We have wars continuing to rage and the associated deaths of servicemen/women and civilians. Overall, 2008 has not been good to this little blue dot in the universe (from the human perspective, that is). However, since that perspective is the one I hold most dear, I'm going to throw all my wishes into improvement on that front during 2009.

A grade? I'm gonna give the world a C-. Only the election of Barack Obama kept us from failing. For myself personally, this was a B or B+ kind of year.

Year's theme song? What else? I didn't even have to think about it. This is what I played ALL NIGHT LONG on November 4 as I downed a bottle of wine and a bottle of champaign and cried and cried with joy as I emailed several of my friends through the night with cries of "WE'VE GOT PENNSYLVANIA!!!!" and "LOOKS LIKE OHIO!!!" as I told them to hang on and don't give up on VIRGINIA.... What a night to remember.

It goes along with my slogan for 2008:

"It was about f*cking time."

from the last week...

Me, my mom and dad, and sisters with my grandmother on her 100th birthday.


Watching Stephen Colbert's Christmas special DVD on Christmas morning.


Son Q with his granny and pawpaw.


E with granny


E with her grandfather (pawpaw).

holiday fun

Today ended up being the offical start to the winter holiday season for my family. Although we do not consider ourselves christian, we embrace the spirit of this holiday season wholeheartedly. I love the warmth and the focus on family and togetherness and tradition. In the words of Martha, "It's a good thing." Indeed.

We started the day out by helping friends with their llamas in our local holiday parade:





(There are more pictures on my facebook page).

It was a lot of fun! I have to admit that the introverted portion of my nature (which is substantial, even if held in check most of the time) kicked into high gear when I realized that hundreds of parade-goers were watching me. If *I* felt a bit uncomfortable, I can only imagine what ultra-shy son Q was feeling. He put his llama between him and the crowd, and pulled his hat down over his eyes and was fine, however. Good coping skills. I was proud that he wanted to do it.

Next on the agenda was our annual christmas tree hunt.

The hunt:


The catch:


The dressing down:


And the final result:


And in case anyone is wondering what middle school aged boys do during all this:






And the obligatory eating of the christmas village...

the big ten

E reminded me last night around 8 pm that I'd promised her I'd send cupcakes into school today for her class. And I pulled it off. Moms Rock.

Happy birthday, my sweet girl!!

post-holiday

Here are the two cousins



And here is my sister with Roxy. I double checked that Roxy was still in the house after we took them to the airport for their departure. I was a little worried Tracy was going to sneak her back to Texas in her luggage.

drivel

We certainly did our part yesterday to continue the flow of good and services in this country. I finally couldn't stand it anymore that we had no seating (other than one papasan chair) in our sunroom, so DH and I ended up going shopping. We now have a new couch (courtesy of a local shop), and a new bookcase capable of handling the mountains of books daughter E collects (also courtesy of a local shop). This is on top of replacing the brake pads on the van this weekend (national dealership). So you're quite welcome, US economy.

(J writes here encouraging those of us lucky enough not to be unemployed at the moment to not become too cautious of spending. It's a cornerstone of our economy. If you can, then do.)

My heart is totally warmed by this couch, by the way, as the MOMENT the delivery guys put the couch in the sunroom, E grabbed pillows and blankets and a good book, and she has been parked there ever since. She's claimed her spot.



Note, at the time of this photo, E temporarily moved to the papasan chair because she wanted a snack and I'm forbidding food or drink on the new couch for a while. Wow - the walls REALLY need some color and some artwork, don't they? Regardless, Oh, I love our sunroom.

If you love your country, thank a vet...

Hoo boy.
I managed to make it through my daughter's 4th grade Veteran's Day program without crying, but only barely.
Here's E saying her part.


(Hello! Can you GET any more all-American then a 4th grade class putting on a Veteran's Day program in a school gym decorated red white and blue in front of a painting of the Statue of Liberty?)

I was able to hold back the tears (barely) when Mr. O, our school's beloved custodian, came out to sing Lee Greenwood's "God Bless the USA" with the kids. He does this every year, and invariably gets a rock-star reception with cheers and stomping and whoops (Mr. O is very loved in our school). So here was this black man, our custodian, who is as kind and generous and humble and hard-working a man as I've ever seen, in a setting with about 100 kids absolutely adoring him, singing about his pride in this country, which has just elected its first black president. I can only imagine what he was feeling. (It was at that point that I looked at Q who was standing beside me and said "I'm trying not to cry." Q gave me the middle school eye roll.

The section where the kids sing the service songs and have audience members stand up during their song, for recognition??... (sob) That one gets me every time - watching moms and dads and grandfathers stand up proudly and giving a big thumbs-up to their 4th grader. I watch the kids so proudly singing patriotic songs and think - well yes, that's pretty much what it's about, isn't it?

Thank you, my country's armed forces. I believe this one thing very firmly. Our country has remained a safe-haven for American families, a place where liberty and freedom runs rampant, only because of the courage and the dedication our armed forces. It seems trivial to simply say "thank you," but it is all that I know to say. I'm a little verklempt, having just run through the wars that this country has been through since it's inception, and thinking of the sacrifices that have been made to bring it where it is now.

And on a totally different subject, then there was the outrageous fact that my baby looked so freaking big up there.



Sorry, can't help it:


and
(note the lovely bangs-job courtesy of her brother that year)

When did she turn into this pre-pre-teen up there wearing jeans and flipping her hair and whispering with her friend (lord, those two are gonna TEAR UP this town when they're older). She has always been the smile in my family. She's a happy kid. (She cried during Mr. O's song...she's also sentimental.)

autumn rites

Systematic disassembling of the pumpkins begins.

(I ADORE the color of baked pumpkins)
The seeds are currently soaking in salt water overnight in preparation for toasting.



Puree:



and then creamy pumpkin soup with cinnamon (YUM):



There's still lots of puree left, and I'm not running out of ideas for what to use it for - I'm only running out of time.

In other pumpkin news this weekend:





A good time was had by all.

never too old

I made my kids come with me to the pumpkin patch after school yesterday. They complained about having to leave the house...but I didn't hear any complaints when we were there.


Trying not to have fun on the hayride. It was us and a bunch of 1-2 year olds and their parents. You can see how miserable they are.

Careful selection.

Handsome son.