I wasn’t very happy with his beach pictures because he had such a terrible burn in them.  Even Photoshop couldn’t compensate for the red skin, so when we got home and he was healing up a bit, I took these.

They’re ok, I guess.

At least, I know 10 years from now I will be pleased with them.

But it is so dang hard to get my kids to cooperate.  Other kids, no problem.  My kids?

They don’t want to look at the camera.  Or me.

They see me every day.  I can make them laugh like this, but it’s in a sort of detached way… not as engaged as they might be with a stranger.

I tried to get Jack’s, too.  That didn’t go well at all.

They just wanted to play with dirt… and you know…

Be boys.

Now THIS one will engage.

She has been SO sweet while I’ve been sick this past month.  She’s rubbed on me, helped with Jack, gotten things I’ve needed, and had the best attitude- has had a “Pollyanna” approach to her day, which is refreshing to be around right now.  I love them all fiercely, but this week she’s my favorite.  This week she’s not only been a great daughter, she’s been a great friend.  xo        

Labels: Evan, Jack, Madalyn, photography, pictures, sugar and spice

Evan has begged me to cook in the kitchen for some time.  You might remember this:

I told him (this note was from about a year ago,) that come his 6th birthday he could have a chance to cook in the kitchen.  A cooking party it would be.

But a cooking party takes a lot of planning.  There were chef hats to buy, utensils, and lots of ingredients.  Not to mention- cookbooks to make!  This was the table the night before, when Evan slowly moved his way into the kitchen to see what I was doing. 

The anticipation was too much.  He started off lying with his pillow at the foot of the bed and listening... then before I knew it he had his comforter and pillow on the floor at the foot of his bed... then in the hall... with a square tub for a bedside table.  (He needed somewhere to put his cup of water, naturally.)

I had to be so "on it" the night before with prepping ingredients and such that I over-organized and found myself with time on my hands... taking pictures of random things.  Like this one, of his presents from us.

He recently watched Superman when it came on tv (a newer one) and was way impressed.  He did, however, remind me that this was a Ratatouille party when he saw the Superman paper.  (Forgive me for diverging from the theme.)

This is Charlie after his bath that night, wondering why I am standing on the kitchen counter taking pictures...

and whether or not he would be able to catch me if I were to fall. (He would not.)

This is proof that the top of my fridge is not getting dusted.  Oh, and these people are the employees at my printing company.  Sigh, we're like family...

These are light bulbs that burn too short and cost too much...

This is why there are light bulbs on the counter.  Part of Shaun's checklist, not mine... so let's move on.

This is the cookbook Evan designed for his party.  He is cooking with his chef hat on at the stove and he tore out notebook paper and taped it on the front to indicate who each book belonged to.

I meant to change the egg amount to more before having him write this, and the cheese, but I didn't.

Did they follow the recipes anyway?  No.  So did it matter?  No.  Can you really mess up cheese and noodles and butter?  No.  Do 6 year olds do major improvising on their recipes?  YES.      

This is the next morning, what Evan came out to when he declared "my party is going to be just perfect!"

Madalyn came out of her room that morning, holding her blankie, and sang, "Good morning, birthday boy."

We always put on their first year or birth video while people are arriving.  Reminds us what we are celebrating.

This is my cake that was tilting like the leaning tower of Pisa. 

This is where they were to decorate their aprons and chef hats while waiting for their masterpieces to cook.

This is Evan's goofy six year old smile.

This is Jacob's. 

This is Ethan's.

This is Corbin's.

This is not a goofy smile.

This is three generations.

These are the aprons my mother-in-law gave us last Christmas.

This is Jennifer and Jacob making the yogurt parfait.

It was a dark, rainy day and actually really nice that way.  It kind of set the mood.  Shaun found French Bistro music for me.  It was cozy and surprisingly peaceful.

Decorating their aprons while...

the food cooked.  They made the macaroni on the bottom shelf there, but the tomato tarts I made ahead of time.  They are super yummy- my mom's recipe.  You just use a Pillsbury, ready-made pie crust and top it with mozzarella, fresh torn basil, fresh sliced tomatoes (I used Plum tomatoes,) and then a touch more basil, drizzle with olive oil, and bake for about 20 minutes at whatever the crust bakes at- or maybe 400, 425.  There's not an exact recipe, I'm sorry.  That's just how it is. 

I'm also sorry I forgot to take any pictures of the bread or macaroni when finished.  Here is the parfait, though.

Then, it was onto the cake decorating. 

That is Jack's chubby arm helping.  Don't think he would miss out, although I'm not sure if he's adding candy, or taking it off.

Did you just throw up a little in your mouth?  Your gag reflux get the best of you?  It's okay.  It's admittedly pretty bad in the way of sugar shock (and color shock.)  And see that dark spot, that is where Jack started eating the cake and the older kids tried to patch it up with M&M's.

I wonder why daddy had to have a root canal this week?

Evan being shy while we sang.

He is outgrowing his baby teeth.  Boo hoo!

They got to take home their aprons and hats and measuring cups/spoons and whisks to play with outside or in the tub.  It was a fun day.  And our bathtub has A LOT of cooking utensils in it now.

The fun didn't end with the party.  The next day, daddy took Evan to a Chef Mickey dinner at Disney at the Contemporary Resort with Ethan and Mr. Wattles.  (Even with a major toothache, in need of a triple root canal, daddy took him.)  Now that's love. 

He got to play in the cool pool with the slide, too.

And then, as if that wasn't enough, we went to my cousin's wedding this weekend where one of the family members was a real chef and I introduced them.      

Very fitting that this is what he was doing when I brought her to the table to meet him.  She found it interesting how he was keeping his food sorted by types after he chopped it.  Who would've thought that the kid once scared of the texture of cake and macaroni and cheese would turn chef one day?  Just goes to show life is entirely unpredictable. 

Keep cooking, Little Chef, and if we're all lucky, one day you can cook for us.

Labels: birthdays, Evan, kids, let there be butter and sour cream, mealtime, milestones, pics

 

I will never buy another US magazine as long as I live.  (Okay, not that I buy more than 1 every five years anyway.)

I know this isn't a political blog, and I am not extremely intelligent in the world of politics, nor generally taken with politics, but I'm pretty fired up about this election year now...

This morning, I am truly jaw-dropped and horrified by the way liberal women and the media are placing judgment on Sarah Palin and trying to paint something moral as something scandalous.  To paint her as a Jerry Springer guest, and refer to her daughter's fiance as her "baby daddy" as I've read online, is nothing short of the voice of Evil, outright lies and a twist of the truth.  (And to think these are likely the same leftists who dismissed the Clinton sex scandal as "his personal business.")  But that's assumption, on my part.  You would think the left, at the very least, would acknowledge this selection as a milestone, rather than act out against her simply because it caught them off guard.  They just can't stand that Republicans could be the first to put a woman in the White House.  Their blatant agenda-driven sexism and hypocrisy is just too much to stomach.  The Elite Feminists don't care about women.  They care about women who agree with their agenda.  Those are the only women they want in power.   

And Sarah Palin?  Sarah Palin IS pro-women and pro-choice.  She CHOSE to have a down-syndrome child, she CHOSE to have 5 children, she CHOSE to work while raising children.  But she's also pro-life, because she CHOOSES to oppose the killing of the unborn.  To paint her as criminal because her daughter is pregnant and CHOOSING life, also, is just outrageous, and those doing so should be ASHAMED.  If Bristol had chosen abortion they would be delighted- and scorning Sarah all the more- BUT Bristol would have their support and approval instead of being labeled and demeaned.  Because she chose life, and it makes such a statement, they are painting her as a tramp?  Yeah... that makes sense?

And let's talk about abortion in all its forms for a minute, shall we?  While I'm on my soap box?  I was telling Evan it is an important time for our country because we are selecting the next president of the United States.  I told him who was running and tried to explain in his terms what they each supported.  When I defined abortion and said some people think it's okay to kill a baby in a mommy's tummy if they just don't want the baby his jaw dropped and he gasped "THEY DO?!"  I thought, 'you know, if a five year old is horrified by this, it ain't brain science as to what's right.' 

The problem is the hardened consciences out there.  Hardened by our own narcissism and self-pity and victim mentalities.  I don't expect rape victims to have a baby unsympathetically, but because I would expect that of myself.  If I know of rape victims who were terribly caught up in drugs and still chose to have the baby and give it up for adoption, if they can do it in the midst of addiction and turmoil, then anyone can.  I have so much respect and sympathy for these women I hear about from my adoption specialist friend.  They may curse out the hospital staff because they need a smoke, but they chose life, God bless them.

However, blogging feminists would shame them, I'd imagine, as they didn't CHOOSE to abort.  Pro-choice is not above anyone's pay-grade, as Obama claimed, (what a cop out.)  Pro-choice is not pro women choosing.  Pro-choice, to many, many women and men, is anti-life and pro-abortion.  It is pro-narcissism and pro-self-centeredness and pro-me, me, me, me, me. 

I am tired of women using guilt to justify murder. "Well, you don't understand what it's like."  Irrelevant.  Doesn't make murder okay.  I'm sure I don't understand what it's like to be the serial murderer who was once abused as a child, but that doesn't make his murders justified. Condoned? Encouraged? 

But abortion is different because out of sight, out of mind. Replace authentic guilt with false guilt.

I'm over it.

It's Michael Moore's tactic, too.  What a fruit loop.  No solutions for his fantastical, fabricated crises.  Liberals are about destruction, not construction.  As the new Michael Moore spoof soon to be released says, "I love America.  That's why I want to destroy it." 

Somebody recently raised the question of why Michael Moore bugs Conservatives and it is for this very reason of his using false guilt to push an agenda.  Let me give you my take on Michel Moore, (not that you asked or care, or are even still reading this, ha!)

Michael Moore is hard for Conservatives to stomach because he passes off lies as truth. He takes a truth- for example- "we need to take care of our environment," and creates a distorted version of it- "it is your fault there are hurricanes, and you are guilty as charged until you spend more money on light bulbs and go green." This is what evil IS, a twist of the truth. If you're a Christian, you recognize that this is exactly what the enemy does, this twisting truth- it's a familiar battleground- and I battle with not believing these twisted lies about myself and my worth, that I am forgiven and loved, every day. The enemy's voice is one of doubt, self-pity, and self-chastisement. It is negative and critical and puts complete authority in our hands instead of recognizing a higher power.  And it becomes very identifiable when it is in contrast to the voice of Truth. 

I am not stating that if you're a Christian you will indefinitely hate Michael Moore, but rather, that perhaps it is for this reason that the familiar twist of the truth Moore accomplishes resonates (if unknowingly) with this deeper twist of Truth we experience and battle as human beings every day. If you don't feel forgiven, his voice feels familiar and natural. BUT!  If you know forgiveness, your heart cries out- no, that's not right. You feel secure enough to recognize the false guilt. Perhaps that is why Conservatives despise him. He is all about encouraging false guilt, victim-ology, and changing the proportion and reality of the issues as they truly are, without any offer of a solution to the lies he presents. His goal is obviously not constructive, it is destructive.

I am so sick of women guilting women about how to mother, how to not mother, how to have a career, how to eat, breathe and sleep, and recycle. And I am sick of Michael Moore guilting Americans for how to be a patriot by feeling sorry for terrorists and not using gas or oil. I'm over humans thinking they can actually control each other, let alone the world or the path of psychopaths or hurricanes!

Also, let's go back to the Palin rumors for one last moment- the sister's ex-husband was a dangerous, out-of-control man who tazored his own son.  HELLO, Left America?!  Is it a scandal to keep this man out of law enforcement, or would you prefer he act out against anyone who rubs him the wrong way, be it YOUR daughter, son, or husband?  Of course not.  You just don't want her in office, and will attack her on anything and everything, valid or not, to avoid that happening.  And you should be intimidated because she's one TOUGH mother.

Former Hewlet-Packard CEO Carly Fiorina, a top McCain campaign adviser, suggests the Democrats should ease up and take credit for helping pave the way for Palin's candidacy.

"Because of Hillary Clinton's historic run for the presidency and the treatment she received, American women are more highly tuned than ever to recognize and decry sexism in all its forms," Fiorina said.

Let's hope so.

(And don't worry, my next post will be birthday pictures.)

Labels: adoption, Evan, faith, mixing emotions and politics, when hurricanes strike

Okay, I'm not gonna lie.  Starting Kindergarten has been rough.  Maybe that's because I didn't expect it to be.  I expected it to be like Preschool, and it's not.

Like when Shaun ended up in the middle school drop-off line and a teacher left Evan standing in the POURING RAIN of Fay without any direction... like when Shaun looked in his rearview mirror and saw him chasing the car, crying, with his arms stretched out and running his duck-footed run.  That wasn't like preschool.  Not at all.

Nor was it like preschool when Shaun got out of the car to console him and the pitiful excuse of a teacher manning the car-line led Evan away by the hand, scolding him while he sobbed his way to class.

In preschool, there was no early dismissal day of the week.  It was always the same time.

Which is why when he was in preschool, his pitiful excuse of a mother never forgot what time to pick him up.

He never cried because all the children had been picked up except for him- never felt that moment of panic and isolation, when he couldn't see his white car anywhere.

At preschool there was no such thing as "extended care" with unfamiliar teachers and students.  In preschool, someone he knew would've sat with him till they found me.

But he's a big boy now and preschool is far behind him. 

No more fire drills by manual whistle blows.

He's onto the real thing, with flashing blue lights and screaming sirens. 

The other kids cried.

But not him, because he's a big boy now.  He saves the tears for bigger issues.  Like abandonment.  

Labels: beach, bittersweet, dumbhead parenting, Evan, milestones, pics, summer

Okay, look.  I know this might be the most BORING post you've ever read (or skimmed... or just closed altogether,) but this is for me.  This is me archiving the pieces of paper that have sat in my office for an entire year, collecting dust and fading.  This is only one one-thousandth of the papers that circulate around my car, house, and Evan's desk in one year.  These are my favorites that have now been put into a Tupperware container.  So, if you're a better friend than I deserve, humor me and let's enter the gallery-

This is the cast of The Little Mermaid, by Evan.  (I guess I should preface this by saying ALL of these were completely done on his own without prompting.  He spends much of his quiet times "creating.")

This is the cast of Peter Pan.  These were both done about a year ago, actually. 

This is a beach scene.  His babysitter drew something similar and he copied her really well.  He copied her over and over again, actually, until he had it perfectly matched.

Fruit Salad, by Evan

The United States, by Evan

Evan, Madalyn, and Jack, by Evan

And then it was really weird to start finding papers with writing on them all over the house:

Days of the week.

"Vanilla, Pink Ice Cream, Chocolate"

"Sun, Spider web, Grass, Sky."

Months of the Year.

Shapes of the states of our country.      

Clocks.  When he taught himself how to tell time.  I think he might be bored in K-5 as this is the lesson on page 90 in his math book... he gets this hunger to learn from his father, by the way.  I remember my dad taking the clock off the wall where we lived in Augusta, GA, and I wanted to run and hide under my bed.  I remember thinking, 'okay, I almost get this, I am close, I can feel it... but I ain't there yet...'       

Pictures of him with his siblings and how much they love each other is a favorite topic of his...

He even made a catechism book:

"God loves me.  God loves all of the people."

"Adam and Eve both..."  I can't make out the rest, I think it was something about listening (or not listening) to God.  Then the pink paper: "I love God, do you?"

"God made the whole world."

When we got back from Universal Studios last December, I found the following papers in his room.  Let's play a game, try to guess what they say.  I'll give you a hint- they are activities or rides we did at Universal, we'll start with the easier ones:

1 2 

3     4

5 6 

7 8

9

1) Shrek4D 2)ET 3)Lunch 4)Cat in the Hat 5)Barney and Evan (character sighting) 6) Carousel 7) Sponge Bob 8) Water Ride 9) Dinner

This explained to me why he pronounced things the way he did.

Now the papers I find around the house look more like this:

"Please, I really, really, really can cook!  Just trust me!"

And the drawings I find are lately of Spongebob characters like Patrick here:

And he draws a mean Sponge Bob, I can't believe I forgot to take a Sponge Bob picture.

He also makes lots of charts and maps and such (I'm not always sure what they are):

My best guess on this would be a map.  To church or school?  Or maybe Jerusalem... from the temple to the cross...

This is definitely a recipe.  Although I'm not sure what the color code is about, I will have to ask him.

This is most likely a board game.

This is a sequence of events of how he wants his day to unfold after school, he wants friends to get in the car and come over.

Okay, I know, you need an intermission if you're still with me... we're winding down now... I'm to the end of the year papers...

This is what Madalyn brought home the last day of Mom's Morning Out last year.

Evan's teachers made him a whole year book... these are the teachers from the post below.

Yep... somebody needed a haircut.  What?  It grows REALLY fast, don't look at me like that.

His teacher made that quilt and prayed over her students while she worked on it.  :(  So sweet.

All the kids had fun signing their autographs in each other's books. :)

This is a sample of what his homework assignments looked like.

This is what they looked like when we lost the official paper and I made my own lines for him.  I got an N in handwriting in first grade and thought I was going to die.  I haven't improved much since then, so why on earth would you think I could draw a straight line?

See how he wrote "bumblebee?"  I'm not sure if this means he's Dyslexic or just really bright?  Don't answer that.

His teacher gave his picture a caption after asking him what the dots were on this assignment.

He liked to make notes for all his classmates.  They all did this and left notes in cubbies.  They thought they were sooooo cool.

On the first day of school last year he told me about a boy who has lots of dots on his face.  I told him those were freckles.  You can imagine that I nearly died when I walked into his room after his quiet time and found pictures of every classmate... and Brett.  Complete with freckles.

We were also all forced to comply to a behavior chart at home, just as he was at school.  He made this completely by himself.

I had no idea he had become a redhead by the end of last school year.  He changes completely... goes from dark hair and light skin to light hair and dark skin every summer.  Don't worry, I didn't pay MONEY for these.  I just stole the proofs.  Wow, that is SO unethical of a photographer.  But, they didn't ask me for them, so whatever.  I'm KEEPING THEM.

And hers.

Her coloring has come a REALLY long way... even further this summer but I didn't take any pics of her recent stuff.  She is very into the details, and using many colors, and staying inside the lines now.  I LOVE watching her color, and her patience that has come with it.

Evan's coloring has come a long way, too.  But Madalyn about has him beat out now with staying inside the lines.  I'm just happy they can do that at all considering I am so fine-motor-challenged.

Madalyn would come home with a paper like this,

or this...

or this...

Or this.  And I would be all 'you know how to do this??'  Because she SO wouldn't act able if I were the one showing her.  That's why it's good someone else is.  Then we can just play and be silly together.  It's better that way.  (Don't you like her mini-pattern on the pattern... I was amused by that.)

This was my favorite thing she brought home all year.  I don't know why.  Maybe because she doesn't know any Joshua's and I have no idea where she got that name.  Or maybe it's her drawing of the giraffe.  Or that she said a giraffe was most decidedly her favorite animal.  I don't know.  I just like it.

She brought home this cross she had made during free coloring time.  I thought the sticker choice was very appropriate to the picture.

And she has her name down pretty well.  Sometimes she writes it perfectly, sometimes she leaves out the "l".  Why she leaves the easiest letter out, I have no idea.  I think it's cute she started writing it by herself next to the one she was asked to trace... she decided to go above and beyond, take the extra mile.  That's encouraging... considering a year ago she spent all of clean-up time in time-out for not cleaning.

But almost better than the actual work they brought home, were the cards and handmade gifts:

It kind of surprised me about myself to find out that I could tear up over something the teacher printed out that my child never actually thought or said... what in the ??? 

But even better than the ones that come home from school, are the ones that come from their bedroom, without prompting:

Evan drew this of Jack and wrote the words.  I found it later and said, "who is this a picture of?" 

"Jack."

A placemat Evan made me, all on his own.  He made one for everyone in the family.

Shew!  If you got this far, you are SOME kind of wonderful.  Thanks for hanging in there with me, doing life with me.  Thanks for visiting the McDonnell Art Gallery.  Now, take a few deep breaths and move along to another blog... and I assure you, you don't have to do the art work again for another year.

Labels: bittersweet, Evan, kids art, Madalyn, milestones, nostalgia, phases, pics, school, school work

It has been an emotional few days.  To say the least.  And I feel like I just wrote this yesterday.

It started with a letter from his teacher.  It was sweet and all, but nothing in it made me cry- it was just the sight of it.  The fact that I was opening a letter from his kindergarten teacher.  I had the same experience when I looked at the cafeteria menu.  The tension built on this night when we went to his Open House.  These were taken with my camera phone because I forgot my camera.  Thank goodness for technology or I might've missed these confused scowls and this balding parking lot.  Phew.

But the reason I took these are because of his backpack.  LOOK at that backpack on him.  That is nothing big or fancy, it's a standard sized backpack from Target.

He's the oldest in his class, and the smallest.  This is his fake smile at its best.

We had to clear up that he would not be teaching the class.  Just kidding.  He knew that.  He just liked the teacher's chair.  It gave him an ego trip.

This is his desk, front and center.  Actually, no.  Just center and center.  He is in the middle of the middle row.  Perfect for someone who has trouble paying attention and likes to make his own way.  I'm just saying.  If I knew a certain 5 year old who was like that.

His teacher told him his number should be easy to remember because it rhymed with his name.  He liked that.  He found that to be very thoughtful of her.

These are the frantic parents, desperately trying to figure out how to fit entire packs of pencils, markers, and crayons in one supply box as though they were being timed.

This is Shaun making a weird face and Jack laughing because Shaun's making a weird face.

This is what "Little Shaun" did.  That's a cookie in his hand.  He licked the icing out and handed us the rest- all done.  He did that with about 6 cookies.  What?  Who cares, it kept him quiet.

This is Madalyn on the way to get ice cream afterwards.  She is demonstrating how NOT to wear your seatbelt straps.  

So all was fine and we felt good about things.  Especially Evan.  He spent his weekend counting down the minutes until he would go.  This morning he woke up at about 5:45 and came in our room talking to himself, "today I get to go."  He was so excited reminding us of this that his whole body would clench and his voice would get shaky whenever he got to the name of his school... "today I get to go to..." shake, clench, voice cracks...      

It was funny to look back on my preschool post because he was excited about the playground then, and still excited about yet another new playground this morning.  This is what he looked like at about 7:20 this morning, when the whole family took him to school to walk him in and drop him off...

But let's back up a minute.  To last night, when I had a complete and total nervous breakdown.  And I didn't even see it comin'! 

I had had a nap Sunday afternoon, so I was wide awake when we were trying to fall asleep that night.  I feel sad.  I feel lonely.  I feel nostalgic.  Why can't I shake that feeling?  I said to Shaun.  I can usually pull myself out of the funk or ask Someone else to pull me out, but I can't seem to shake it.

Well, sending your firstborn to kindergarten is a big deal.

It hadn't even occurred to me that perhaps that was the trigger.  As soon as the sentence left his mouth, though, I was bawling.  Not tearing up, not sniffling, BAWLING. 

And that was the way I fell asleep; remembering that scene from Father of the Bride when he replays all his daughters milestones leading up to that day while Today I Met the Boy I'm Going to Marry serenades all his nostalgic emotions.  I mean, talk about NOT helping.  I was picturing his wedding day, I was re-living his birth and his toddlerhood.  I was a WRECK.  A complete and total MESS.  A mell of a hess, and seriously concerned about whether I would ever survive graduation... college... marriage... menopause... 

Because it's all about me.

Actually, that was what snapped me out of it this morning.  When I realized it wasn't about me and I was fixating on my emotions and not his. 

As I watched him in all his excitement, rush to his desk, go through his school supplies again, observe the other students and start following suit... I realized he would be just fine. 

Fake smile and all.

And if he was fine, I could be fine, too.

(Gosh, though.  I still can't look at these right here without tearing up again.) 

It's not that he's in school and I will miss him during the day, per say. 

It's that he's gotten SO BIG.  He is so big.

And he is so kind-hearted.  He is so naive and pure.  Not in a cheesy way, in a wholesome, refreshing way.  I know that sounds biased, but mother or not, I am insisting, he's just a good kid- a good person.  And I am better for knowing him.

So we left him, were the last parents in the room, (yes, my teacher-friends, we were those parents,) and went to a boo hoo brunch.  Then we said bye to daddy.  When we drove away from campus Madalyn said to me, "I'm sad, mommy.  I miss Evan."

"Me, too, baby," I said.

Then we pulled ourselves together and went to Target, where we ran into two other moms we had just seen.  Ahh, Target.  The meeting grounds for moms everywhere.  It's like the modern day choice prairie for hunting and gathering. 

Then we had Madalyn's preschool Open House- this is her in her spot at the table.

I can't believe I have to take her to Kindergarten next year!  AHHH.  One thing at a time.

This is her with Ms. Jan and Mrs. Larra.  Below is Mrs. Christine.  Jan and Christine were Evan's teachers last year and Larra is the director of the preschool.  I have come to really appreciate these people!  They have been true blessings. 

Evan told Madalyn earlier in the weekend, "Madalyn, you're really going to like Ms. Jan, you know why?  Because she has your favorite kind of hair.  It's light white and curly.  Like wavy.  Isn't that your favorite kind of hair?"

Madalyn nodded emphatically like she had certainly shared this preference with him before.

Now, Madalyn had seen them before, nearly every day when we picked up Evan.  She talked Mrs. Christine's EAR OFF.  Mrs. Christine was most charmed by her, and went out of her way to engage her.  She loved Madalyn's view on fashion and why she chose this particular outfit this particular day and all the things she was thinking about in that moment.  I'm sure they will enjoy each other this year, especially seeing as how the class dropped from like 12 students last year when Evan was in it, to FIVE this year, including Madalyn.  Which is awesome because they will get lots of one and one.  There are four girls- she knows them all from last year- and one boy.  Poor boy.

This is not him.  This is her first love (well, after her daddy and Evan and Jack.)  Meet Andrew.

I believe I wrote about him long ago, here.

Madalyn and Andrew have a special thing.  They get downright giddy and flirty around each other.  They dream about each other, actual dreams, yes.  And they have asked to go on dates.  Madalyn asked just this weekend, "Can I go to a restaurant sometime?  At night?  With Andrew?"  You should SEE the eyes she makes at this boy.  I am glad she picked a good one.  Yes, maybe we should be concerned... but his parents are golden, so instead we are taking pictures and planning their wedding slideshow.  Very appropriate of us, I think. 

Don't you just love what his shirt says?  HA!

So after she had a moment with the Big Man on Campus, we headed to Chuck E Cheese with her little girlfriends in her class.  It was really fun for her, and for me to get to know their moms better, even though I saw them all year last year.

Before we knew it we were headed back to get Evan.

When he got in the car he teased me and pretended like he wasn't going to tell me anything about his day.

But I already knew a little because we had arrived early enough to see him not come off the playground when his teacher called and she didn't notice and almost left him!  I bit my lip and waited to try and not interfere.  He finally realized and ran over to the gate and said, "hey!"  And she spun around and I could tell- felt terrible- KNOWING I was watching.  THEN she did a head count.  She won't make that mistake again.

Neither will Goofy Grin.  I hope.

So, when he finally quit teasing me, the first two things he told me- and everyone else who called him to chat about his day later that afternoon- were that his teacher almost left him on the playground, and that there was a girl in his class named, Charlie, and wasn't that ridiculous because that was a boys' name!

And then I tickle-tortured him till he told me more. 

And that was one therapeutic tickle session.  Boy, was I glad to see him.      

It was all pretty anti-climatic, though, as Hurricane Fey has put a big cancellation cloud over tomorrow.  It's like we're on a Monopoly board.  Stop, Go, stop! Can we just get these new changes going, already?  Because I think everyone is going to have a great year.

Labels: bittersweet, boys will be boys, dumbhead parenting, Evan, Madalyn, milestones, nostalgia, parenthood, parenting, pics, school, siblings

I always knew this day would come.  When I would have to choose.

I've worn aqua-tinted contacts over my pale green eyes for nearly 12 years. 

You can keep the color, or trade it out for better vision and moister eyes, he said.

You can stay superficial and blind, or get real and- be healed- is what I heard.

We had come straight from swim class to the eye care office. I had three wet children sprinkling rice cake crumbs around the room, there wasn't time to deliberate.  It was vanity or vision.  The choice was that simple. 

I knew what the right answer was, but still... my fake blue eyes!  My DEEP, FAKE BLUE EYES!  How I would miss them!  They were the only contrast to the rest of my whiteness.

But I'm stubborn.  I'm stubborn, gosh darnit, and that adds fervor to my moral compass.  So I forced out the answer better vision, and swallowed the lump in my throat with an audible gulp.

And here I am.  Casper, once again.  Not much difference in black and white or color.  Gone are my artificial Alice Blue's, gone is my contrast.  Boo hoo! 

That was over a week ago but still, something looks "off" when I brush my teeth in the morning.  A little dull, a little flat, a little washed out.  Maybe I should write a letter.

Then there was shock #2 of the day at the office.  When it was discovered that I am not slightly, but majorly asymmetrical.  And so- whatever, who cares- right?  But it was more that I had no idea!  That was the shock.  You would think a person would know this about herself. 

When I was fitted for my glasses I asked if they looked crooked.  She said, "oh that's just your face." 

Seriously.

My left eye is- apparently- further away from my nose than my right eye.  One eyebrow is lower than the other.  One EAR is lower.  How very ODD.  I always knew my jaw and bite was asymmetrical, but obviously the problems don't end there. 

These are my old glasses, do you SEE how crooked they are?  How MUCH lower one ear IS?  We're talking plastic-surgery-low, people.

I told her this about these old glasses, I said, "NO WONDER one of my ears always hurt when I wore them!"

She nodded like it was a real shame, as if she understood the gravity of the situation.

These are my new glasses.  Hm.  Is it just me or am I looking whiter every picture?

Now, I know what you're going to say... oh please, there's not much difference, you would never know these things at a glance, and look how nice you look.  But you're only saying that because I'm wearing makeup in these pictures.  Most of the time I look like this:

And when a four year old is styling your hair and choosing your wardrobe, having deep blue eyes is not just important, it is essential in order to keep confidence.

But enough about my self-absorbed thought life.  Let me show you who really makes glasses look good:

 

Not that I would wish bad eyesight on any of my children. 

But if their day comes, it's nice to know they'll wear them well...

if not goofy.

Because glasses or not...       

There's always gotta be a little bit of goofy.

Labels: doctor, Evan, Katie, Madalyn, pics, pictures

I love Summer.  Summer tans, like hers.  Summer mornings, and days, and afternoons, and evenings... like right now.

Jack and I are having appetizers; Triscuits with Muenster cheese and OJ on Ice (mine may or may not have a splash of Amaretto in it.)  The older kids are washing the dog in the shower.  Shaun has to work late, but eh, it's summer.  We'll eat cereal or sandwiches... or Triscuits with Muenster cheese.

And then there's the summer weekend mornings like this one, where the kids climb in bed with us to cuddle, and crisp summer light greets us.  (I love how you can see the word "dream" on the back of Shaun's shirt in the first picture up above.)

It is just so nice to have hardly a schedule at all, to sit with the kids while having your coffee, to do "summer" things like play in the mud puddles and go to swim school.

And let's chat a minute about swim school, shall we?  Evan is in the highest class of those tested, Madalyn in the next level down, and Jack had one-on-one lessons.  I think these lessons back-fired because now Jack LOVES to swim and both he and Charlie (the twins) jump at me simultaneously in the pool.  I literally CANNOT turn my back to watch E or M perform a dive, or there are two bobbing, clawing, flailing bodies soon next to me and thirsty for air. 

Evan was disappointed that swim class was not about showing off his tricks.  Madalyn was disappointed that swim class was not a chat room.  Madalyn ALMOST got her side breaths down, Evan ALMOST got his back stroke down... but they both learned new things and- eventually- learned to follow routine and not swim upstream. 

Still, they had their moments right up to the end of talking over the lane ropes while they waited for their turns, and swimming under them, giggling, and going back to their lane again.  It's hard to be mad when they love being together so much.  When Evan got to wear his flippers for the first time he yelled at the top of his lungs down the ENTIRE length of an Olympic sized pool, "MA-DA-LYN!  I've got FLIPPERS ON!  FLIPPERS!  LOOK!  MADALYN!  MA-DA-LYN!  FLIPPERS!  SEE??  I'M WEARING FLIPPERS!"  His swim teacher was gently gliding the kick board and trying to get him to turn around and do the exercise, but it was no use, he had an entire leg in the air and was waving it frantically toward his sister who was a half a mile away and talking the EAR off her own swim teacher. 

"FLIIIII-PEEEERS!"

Today was the final day of swim class.  This meant they FINALLY got to climb up that high dive they've been eye-balling for the past two weeks.  Evan did the whole thing in a cautious, OCD manner; in an I have set my mind on it, I WILL go through with it, but I could quite possibly wet myself along the way.  Madalyn, on the other hand, (you totally know where this is going, don't you...)

Madalyn could not get off the board fast enough.  Her red polka dot bikini a-flappin' in the air the whole several yards down.  It is HIGH.  I was a little worried about them falling off onto the concrete before getting to the end of it.  Every mom within hearing range asked me one after another, "Now how old is she?"  The older swim class students standing around waiting for the little tykes to get off their boards already were oooing and ahhhing, too.  Look!  Look at that little tiny girl!  I wouldn't have done that at that age.  Look at her!  Even the swim teachers were lifting their shades and sharing knowing looks of amusement.   

The other great thing about swim class, other than an activity in and of itself, is that I think I might have picked up two new babysitters.  Jack's teacher was SO sweet to him and they fell totally in love with each other.  He would point out all the bugs in the pool drain- "I see a bug!  You see da bug?"  and tell her "I tired of kicking," and rest