School Dance

Thursday night we were at Jack's school for Kindergarten Literacy Night. They taught us all about reading strategies and showed us how the kids work on reading at school. It was super fun to hear all of the kindergartners doing their best to read.

We were telling Jack that we were going to be here again the next night for their school dance. Jack had known about it, but still looked nervous. I asked him about it and he said "but they haven't TAUGHT it to us yet so I won't know what to do."

It took me a minute - "school dance" he thought meant something akin to the Hokey Pokey or the chacha. A dance to be learned. HA! Adorable. He told me that he and Izzy were both worried about it.

Izzy, you'll remember, is the little girl in his class that he's particularly fond of.

After the literacy night was finished we went over to meet Izzy's mom. I told Izzy what a school dance was and not to worry. I promised we'd see them there.

So Friday night rolls around and we get decked out. It was a sports-themed party and the whole family was invited.

While we were waiting at the make-shift coat check (adorable), one of Izzy's moms (Leslie) yells out "you're lucky you're here or I was going to be really mad!" We went in and said hi to Izzy and met her other mom (Rhonda) and her little sister, Olivia, who is four. Izzy was dressed in her soccer stuff, just like Jack.

They gave hula hoops out to the kids for a few songs, and we learned three things:

1. Jack is a hula hoop savant. He says he learned from Wii Fit.

2. Hula hoops leave welts if they hit your face. (That was Izzy. Tough kid though, she bounced right back. I don't have a pic. That would have been weird.)

3. Jack's idea of sharing his hoop with Izzy meant having both of them in it at once.

Jack and Izzy were perfectly adorable. She seems as enamored with him as he is with her. Whenever something happened that they were both a little nervous about - the drawing for a contest, lining up for the limbo, gathering to do a dance all together - they stuck to each other like glue.

Jack's teacher played basketball against me in college so we like to flaunt our Carleton-ness for her. She wasn't at the dance but we sent her this pic:

Ryk was a little nervous about this whole thing and spent the first part of the night in Chuck's arms.

Eventually he warmed up to it and we spent a good part of the time dancing our hearts out - ALL of us. Olivia, Ryker, Izzy, Jack, Chuck, Leslie, me and Rhonda. It was hilarious. We kept looking around laughing that the other parents weren't having nearly as much fun as we were.

By the end, Ryker clearly had his own crush on Izzy and Olivia both. They wanted to be chased, and he just wanted to hug them.

It was a blast.

My Love, In Tattoos

A long time ago I decided I liked tattoos. I wanted one. I wanted something that meant something really special to me and would make me smile every time I looked at it. I wanted one to represent my mom and Chuck - the two most important people in my life. My mom and I have a thing about sunflowers. Chuck and my wedding song was At Last. I spent hours drawing those two things together, figuring out ways to incorporate them into one design. Hours turned to days, days to months. A year or two later, I was still talking about it incessantly, but was scared. Finally, Chuck told me to put up or shut up. It was the walk-in appointment day at the tattoo parlor I was going to go to, and Chuck told me I could either go get it that day, or SHUT UP ALREADY. (Okay, he probably didn't say it that harshly.) So off we went, and here's what happened (photo taken tonight - it was much more vibrant 8 years ago or whenever I got it):

When I was pregnant with Jack I started thinking that I'd like to have a tattoo to represent him too. After he was born I waited and waited, trying to think of what I'd like to get. We got our first-year portraits done, and one of them just stuck out to me. That was the one. Again, it took me awhile. I went the day before Mother's Day when Jack was one and a half. Here's that one - that's his foot in my hand, with his initials (JMV), but it's backwards because apparently I'm photo-challenged:

After that I knew I would have to get one for any other kids we might have. You know how second kids complain that our parents didn't fill out our baby books the way they did for their first kid? Yeah - well this would be MUCH worse. "Mom got a TATTOO for me and nothing for you! Ha ha! She loves me MORE!" Okay, so that was a done deal before Ryker was even a twinkle in our eye. Then the wall mural went up, and as Marianne (3rd generation family friend) painted the flag on the wall and harassed us for the initials of Baby To Be Named Later, I knew that would be the tattoo for him. Here's the Flickr set of photos of the nursery. This one took me a LONG time to go do. Not because I'm scared of the permanency, or the pain, or the needles, or wondering if it was the right thing to do. I was just nervous. Normal state for me, as you know. Anyway, I finally committed to doing it, thanks to some gentle nudges from friends and Dr. Tom. I went on Friday, loved the tattoo artist, and here it is. It's still healing, and the picture is a bit dark, but you'll get the idea:

I have one more planned, and it's for ME. I'll get that sooner rather than later, I hope. Then we'll see what happens. I told my tattoo artist I was going to be done then, maybe, and he looked up from his work and laughed at me. "Yeah, I've heard THAT before."

There Aren't Enough Wristbands

Subtitle: Stop Reading if You Don't Want a Buzzkill

Does anyone else think the wheels have come off? Like...on the world? Does it feel like that to everyone else too? Just me? World ending? Mayan Calendar? Apocalypse now? Anyone?

I'm wearing a wristband to support my friend Sean. He was diagnosed with a very rare, very deadly disease. The websites devoted to this disease don't have any tabs called "Survival Stories". He has been in the hospital for four weeks now and has a ways to go before he can even go home. He's had chemo, full body radiation, and a bone marrow transplant. He has a five year old daughter.

One of my best friends, Nicki, is waiting to hear how bad her mom's cancer is. She was diagnosed as Stage IV back in November. We'll hear tomorrow what the prognosis is and what the treatment options are. Her father-in-law has two aneurysms that can't yet be operated on. Her mother-in-law passed away seven months ago.

My other best friend, Nikki (confusing, no?), has a mom who has been fighting cancer for a very long time, going in and out of "good" times. Nikki's boyfriend's mom has had major health issues and was in the hospital over the holidays.

Half of the people in my department at work (literally) have had close family members get diagnosed with cancer recently. Maybe more - those are the ones I know about.

There are more stories - really important ones - but I'll stop there. Like the old saying goes, "if I had a wristband for every person going through major life trauma, I wouldn't need sleeves on my shirts." Or something.

I keep wondering if it's just a weird coincidence or if my eyes are just open to it more now. Has it always been there? Struggles and heartache and hurt? Have I been too focused on my own business to see it, and now that my blinders are off I'm just seeing it EVERYWHERE? Am I finally at the stage in my life where this is the new normal?

I learned something about myself today. When the going gets tough, I do three things:

1. Workout
2. Clean
3. Teach my kids lessons

Poor kiddos. They made the very, very bad mistake of refusing the chili-mac Chuck was offering to make them for dinner. Chili-mac. I was halfway through the dishes I was doing, after I killed myself at the gym (all safe for my back, don't worry). I haven't done dishes in 2 months. It hurt.

The kids refused dinner. I said they should go to bed without dinner then, if they don't appreciate it. Maybe THEN they'd appreciate it. There are people who can't even swallow WATER right now, that are getting their food from a TUBE in their STOMACH and they would LOVE to be able to eat CHILI-MAC.

The kids freaked out. They didn't have any idea what to do. I texted Chuck to see if we should cave. After a good 15-20 minutes of them believing they were not getting fed, we decided (out loud) that if they didn't want the food we were offering, they could make their own. That wouldn't have been so bad, except they were already all worked up. Totally crying and running around the living room giving us hugs and asking if we loved them and sobbing some more. It was pitiful. Then a funny thing happened. They just calmed down. Jack found pizza in the fridge, Ryker said "k, here what we gonna do. ok. here." He sounded very convincing even though I don't think he was adding value at all. First order of business was figuring out how to open the tupperware. I've failed as a parent. They did figure it out, Jack microwaved it, and they spent the next few minutes commenting on how much they loved it and how appreciative they were. Ryker can't really say the word but he tries hard. "I pre-...pre-...she... it."

I put them in bed and told Jack how I was sorry we had to teach them that lesson but it's important. He asked why I wanted kids. HA. Then he asked how long I was going to live. Umm?

Anyway. Where was I going with this?

I'm sending SO much love and support out to all sorts of people. And I'm grateful that my biggest problem tonight was two healthy kids who refused to eat chili-mac.

I'll Regret This Later

In the spirit of chronicling the lives of my young ones, and Chuck and me as parents, I'm going to out myself.

I'll regret this later.

I was picking Ryker up from school last week and one of the teachers pulled me aside and said that they were going to be moving him up to the upper preschool room. The way our school works is there is an infant room, toddler room, and then a lower and an upper preschool room.

My reaction? "Is he smart enough for that?"

I kid you not. That is the first thing that popped into my head, and I lost my filter a long time ago, so it came spilling right out of my mouth unabridged.

Here's the thing - it's not that I don't think Ryker is smart. It's just that he doesn't get the chance to show it to us that often, or I don't have a comparison. The comparison I DO have is Jackson, who is 3 years older and brilliant. Jack has conversations with me about democracy, the civil rights movement, physics, and social justice. (Okay, he has the physics discussion with Chuck, not me.) I have conferences with his teacher wherein she tells me that he's smart.

Ryker, on the other hand, is sort of like a pet. He's my little puppy. He's a goof and likes music and sports and doing anything Jackson does. But I have no barometer on his intelligence. He sits quietly while Jack and I have our discussions and then participates by yelling "booty!" once in awhile.

To be fair, I also used to pay attention to all the mile-markers with Jack. I was all OVER Baby Center's website to see what Jack should be doing and when, so I knew if he was doing something that OLDER babies were doing. Comparisons. With Ryker, I am not nearly as paranoid and don't have nearly as much time on my hands.

So I let that slip to the teacher. She looked at me with wide eyes and said "umm, yes. He's a really smart kid." I tried to not look surprised.

While I'm outing myself - my NEXT thought was "oh crap, I have another too-smart-for-his-own-good child."

Wish me luck.

Just Like Momma

Last night Jack and I were reading a book about Monster Trucks that he purchased at the school book fair. We hadn't read it yet, and at one point it talked about shock absorbers. He found them on the trucks, but didn't know what they were. I said "you know how you can be in shock when something happens?" and I made a shocked face. He said yes. I said that that same thing can happen physically to you. I asked if he ever jumped down from a high place and had his feet and legs feel funny.

"Yes!" he said. "Also when I use screechy markers."

Being afflicted with all kinds of weird sensation woes, I knew immediately what he meant.

"When I use screechy markers, it makes my whole body feel stingy and weird. I don't like using them."

I know, baby. Me either.