You'd think I learn. Every year it seems I'm faced with the challenge of what to do when my kids change their mind about their Santa gift. This year Sam scoured the American Girl catalog and decided, back in late October, that she really wanted the girl sized and doll sized matching sleeping bags. As a dutiful mom, I ordered them and had them sent to Grandear's house to await our and Santa's arrival. Well imagine my anger, I mean surprise, when her letter to Santa didn't mention this at all. She wanted an American Girl doll bed, a new computer (a play one) and something illegible. When we went to see Santa and he asked what she wanted she said the bed. She's going to be pretty pissed when she doesn't get the flipping bed! Part of me wants to prompt her and say "what about the sleeping bags honey, those were swell?" in hopes that she'll light up and say "Oh yes, mommy, that's it!" but most likely she'll say "oh no, that's all wrong" and then where would I be? At least this way we can hope the craziness of Christmas morning will dull her disappointment.

I mean, seriously, if I could run out and buy her the bed, I probably would, but there's no American Girl store within 200 miles of me and the thought of what that store would look like a few days before Christmas is enough to send me drinking now (it's just 6:44am). That store is crack for 5-10 year old girls. Trade dressing like a homeless person for dressing like your doll, instead of paying hundreds of dollars for drugs, you pay hundreds of dollars to outfit and pierce your doll's ears (yes, actually pierce them!), trade eating out of dumpsters for having tea with strangers and their matching dolls while servers actually serve and talk to the dolls. It's insane. Even so, I would probably do it if I could. But I can't. She's getting the sleeping bags and she'll love it damn it.

Merry Christmas :)

Pet Peeve

For those of you who aren't from the South or don't have good Southern friends to teach you the rules, whatever you say before or after "bless their heart" is totally acceptable since you're giving your blessing simultaneously. For instance, it is totally acceptable to say "bless her heart, my friend Susan is a whore" or even, "Donna, bless her heart, is effing bonkers". As such, Sam, bless her heart, is driving me crazy with all her probing into Santa and Elf magic. Why does the elf show up in a box if it can fly, Mom? No idea, Sam. Does Santa have kids? Why not? Are the elves his kids? Who fills Santa's stocking when he's out filling all the other kids' stockings? Mrs. Claus? I offer up, hopefully. No, can't be because then who'd fill hers? Oh, I figured out the elf thing mom. What elf thing? Why they show up in a box. Probably so you don't pick them up right away and take away their magic, the box protects them and comes with the book so you know what to do. (I'm more impressed with this logic than annoyed). Why do they sell the boxes at stores though, Mommy?

But seriously, why do they sell the Elf on the Shelf boxes at kids' stores? And why do these stores have giant displays that say Stocking Stuffers Here? Whenever I see these signs I cringe, please don't read it, please don't read it, why did your teachers teach you to read I lament. You don't have to say "Stocking Stuffers Here", we can figure it out on our own Mr./Mrs. Store Manager. I have no idea how to explain why there were so many Elf on the Shelf boxes to be sold when I have told the girls ours showed up unexpectedly one day, probably a gift from Santa. Yikes. And in the same vein, why do all kids Christmas shows have an underlying theme of "is Santa real?" Really, do we have to introduce this concept to kids? My girls hear this and say "why would little Johnny not think Santa was real?" and I half smile and shrug and my shoulders and say "I have no idea, what a silly show." They're going to catch on and I'm going to have cartoons to blame.

Oh Joy!

Ryan is in a phase (please God, let it be a phase) where mommy can do no right. I really thought (hoped) the mommy could do no wrong phase would last a bit longer but apparently not. It's gotten to the point of ridiculous and if I laugh at her outrage, which I would be immensely justified in doing, it only makes it worse.

Case in point #1
We are waiting in a crowded line to get on a gondola ride. It's hot out and it's been a long day and everyone is thirsty. We really just want to get out of line and go home but we've paid the $64 so we're determined to stick it out. I argued that it's a sunk cost and shouldn't be relevant in our decision making as to whether we wait or not but macroeconomic theory is lost on my kids. Anyway, as we're waiting there, Ryan walks into me from the back as she's talking to her friend and not paying attention. She drops some trinket in her hand and trips. I bend down to see if she's okay and I get "Ma-ahm! Gosh, why did you do that?! Why are you standing there!" You mean standing where I have been for 10 minutes straight? She's indignant as if I purposefully backed into her and made her trip for the hell of it. She gives me the dirtiest look a seven year old can muster (they can be pretty dirty) and then ignores me.

Case in point #2
We're practicing soccer out in the front yard and I kick the ball to her. If she doesn't move, which she doesn't, the trajectory of the ball will be about 3 feet to her right. She watches it sail by and yells "that is the Worst. Kick. Ever!" She stomps off to get the ball, shaking her head in disbelief. Love you too baby!

Case in point #3
After eating two bowls of her favorite cereal daily for three days, the cereal is gone, empty, trash bound, finito, no mas. Of course, she asks for it in the morning and immediately goes into a tirade about how I should have bought more, should have known she would devour it like a lion who hasn't eaten in a week, and should run out to the store this minute to buy more. In the end she settles for a waffle but gives me the stinkeye all morning.

Parenthood is so rewarding! (Love you Ryan)

Home School's Official Start

Day One – August 29, 2011

It was decided over the summer that all four girls would spend the first week together with Mrs. Brewer and both moms. The thinking was that the moms could learn how to teach and read lesson plans from Mrs. Brewer before going it alone and that the girls could ease into it with their friends nearby. Truth be told, it was probably a lot of “what the hell have we done and let’s stick together for awhile to figure it out.” In any event, that’s the way it worked. Day one was spent at the Stunkels.

Ryan and Sam woke up and quickly dressed in their pre-chosen, first day of school clothes and Olivia Stunkel woke up early, proclaiming “it feels like Christmas morning!” Wende and I wished we felt the same. In fact, I had anxiety dreams the night before, the most vivid of which had Mrs. Brewer showing up in tears announcing that all the material was wrong and she was going to teach from the top of her head. I was in the hallway calling schools to see if we could get the kids enrolled. I’m happy to report that although there were no presents under the tree, it was much closer to a holiday than a disaster.

Tricky-Sticky

“This is where it’s gonna get tricky-sticky” Mrs. Brewer says, “having to teach the kindergartners while the second graders also need instruction.”

I think my jaw just dropped, oh boy, isn’t that the whole point? Haven’t we (and by we I mean you, Mrs. Brewer) been figuring out how that’s going to happen for the past 4 months? Are we really just addressing this obvious question on day one of school? Of course I’m thinking this not actually saying it and in the time it took me to think those two selfish thoughts, Mrs. Brewer got the older girls reading a book in the hallway while she started teaching Sam and Georgia about taller, shorter, above, over, below and under. Oh, and she’s doing all of this with her 4 month old baby attached to her hip and saying things like “can you capitalize that L? Please and thank you.” I’m still sitting on the couch trying to pick my jaw up off the floor.

At our first break, a whole 70 minutes into the day, Georgia looks up and says “now that was fun!” I think she maybe thought we were done for the day (or year?) as there was a certain finality to it such as you hear when exiting a roller-coaster ride. Wende caught a note being passed between Olivia and Ryan that went like this (I am not accountable for spelling):

-Want to play after school?
-Mabey.
-If your mom says okay and my dad says yes, do u want to play teins?
-Sure.

I just love that they’re passing notes in home school. Really, how cute is that? It was a ripped off corner of paper, both sides being used. Wende and I got a chuckle out of that. Sam signed her name as Samantha, Sammie, Sam and Sammy as she saw fit. Mrs. Brewer was impressed.

We started the day with a 5 minute journal exercise where the kids had to write, as best they could, ‘I want to learn about…’ and then finish the sentence. Sam wrote “I wt to lon a” and then she drew a picture of a tennis racket. It was awesome. Ryan wanted to learn about outer space and animals and people. By the time our day ended we had covered math (a timed test and some review), reading assessments for all four girls, phonics, spelling and social studies (a packet entitled “All About Me”). It was a successful day, only 205 more to go!

Soccer Mom = Happy Mom

I'm shocked to find I haven't written about our soccer Saturdays as it has been such a big part of our lives for the past year. Between back-to-back practices on Tuesdays (Sam's team first followed by Ryan's), ironing on patches, and then two and sometimes three games on Saturdays, we have been living and breathing soccer. We have learned about defense versus offense, goal kicks, corner kicks ("grab a friend and make a wall"), throw ins, indirect kicks, slide tackles and more. And we have barely scratched the soccer surface.

Sam's team is called The Soccer Muscles. At first she suggested the Clouds, the Leaves, the Rainbows or the Unicorns. When I hinted that we might want something stronger, she came up with the Muscles, rightly exclaiming that "they are really strong mom!" The name stuck and our season rocked. We went 9-0-1 thanks largely in part to one of our star players whom I've heard referred to as the next Beckham, Messi, Pele and Landon Donovan. One mom on our team jokingly asked me if he would sign her sons jersey so that when he was famous she could prove he played U-5 soccer with her son. At least I think she was joking. Samantha had a break out Spring season. She was so close to not wanting to play again until she had a game in which she scored, then another great game and then an amazing goal in our last game of the year. She told me after she scored, "mom, I saw the guy on this side so I shot it to the other side." I am one proud mommy.

Ryan's U-7 team is called The Aces. This was her third season on the same team with me as assistant coach. Unfortunately this team was never able to rack up the wins but their abilities on the field improved dramatically. Ryan earned the nickname "the Wall of Ryan" from one of the dads for her defensive prowess. She loves the accolades but I fear that she thinks she's learned all there is to learn. Contrary to her own beliefs, she has some work to do but she has great potential and is one of the better players. Next season the girls on our team are breaking off and starting an all girls team called Girl Power. I will be the head coach and I'm so excited. One thing three seasons of coaching has taught me is that the girls are much more coachable than the boys at this age. Maybe the boys don't want to listen to a lady coach but I find the girls actually listen and try to learn. The boys are there to run around and rough house. Obviously there are exceptions, we have a few great boys on both of our teams.

I'm surprised at how much a institution soccer is in the lives of the families that participate, my own included. If you like it, you love it, and you look forward to soccer Saturdays and practices and the camaraderie. Friendships are formed on the sidelines as we root for our friends' kids and much as our own. We go for slushies after practice, we learn about the off-field goings on in others' lives, we socialize and bond and learn to love the fact that one girl shows up late in high tops and skinny jeans and one boy never has a ball and one kid is going to tell you all about the new gym his family joined as he runs down the ball for a pass. It's all part of the experience and I hope my girls continue to love it as much as I do.

Budding Songwriter

Ryan's first song lyrics (at least the first she's written down):

Oh ooho...When you look at the stars, when it is grey you see the rainbows, the unicorns, and flowers. I let her go oh oh oooh why did I let her go - she's part of my system, part of my system oh why did I let her go. Just wish on a star = your wish will come true. When I look at her eyes I see happy I see sad. Why did I let her go, oh ooya.

Let The Debate Start

There is a reason why cliches are so, well, cliche. Time has been flying by. The third quarter of the school year is over and we are debating a major change for next year. I am pushing for pulling the kids out of Las Vegas Day School and doing a year of homeschooling. Yikes, I said it! It sounds crazy, I know. A few years ago I would have been the first to stand up and say that's crazy, suck it up, how bad can it be, kids need to go to school and moms need to get them out of the house, only those a few sandwiches short of picnic would homeschool their kids, etc. But now I'm not so sure. It's a combination of realizing that we need a different long term schooling solution and seeing how my homeschooling friends are thriving.

Regarding the first point, we intend to move back to the beach in a year and enroll the kids in public school, a school to which they can walk and hopefully in which they can thrive. So I essentially have one year to bridge and the question is, do I maintain the status-quo and leave them enrolled at LVDS where they are definitely learning but at a price, do I change schools for one year and then do it again next year or do I homeschool. Based on grades and friendships made, the girls are doing wonderfully at their school but I have serious questions regarding the administration's adherence to the letter of the law versus the spirit of the law, the grading system, the emphasis on worksheets rather than interactive learning, whether they are teaching the kids to think and solve problems or just to memorize and regurgitate. Everything is so structured and strict (don't dare try to use the restroom during class time or you'll get a card change) that I wonder if the kids aren't learning to please rather than pleased to be learning.

Coupled with my disenchantment with LVDS, I have homeschooling friends who are happy and normal! Their kids are well adjusted, intelligent, socially adept and so on. The parents seem to enjoy the experience, they get to create a flexible schedule and make it work on their terms. I know myself well enough to know that I couldn't make a lifestyle out of this but for a year, it seems like it could work. I want to travel to China with Jim when he goes on business, head out to see the grandparents without expecting a nasty note from the administration saying my child's promotion to the next grade is in jeopardy due to missed classes (oh, by the way, we make up all the in-class work and homework and my kids are on honor roll but we still get the notes). And best of all, I have a teacher lined up to help build and implement the curriculum with me. I really think it would be a great experience.

No final decision has been made. We have concerns over them missing out on school musicals and recesses and screeching with friends when they discover they've come to school in the same outfit. Our biggest fear may be that they won't want to go back to regular school in a year's time. Yikes! Somehow a decision will be made and we'll move forward - we are lucky to have choices.

The Case of the Lost Teeth...

Another milestone achieved! Ryan lost her first (and second!) tooth. The first one had been loose for over six weeks but Ryan was reluctant to help it along by wiggling it. I'm not sure if she was scared of losing the tooth or losing the moniker "Girl Who Hadn't Lost a Tooth Yet". Whatever the reason, nature overpowered Ryan's resistance and the tooth came out on Valentine's Day, 2011.

The actual separation of tooth from mouth was fairly anticlimactic. Ryan stood up from the dinner table and announced "my tooth came out" with a slightly puzzled expression on her face as she looked into her cupped hand at the tooth. My reaction was similar, a bit shocked, mostly because I'd come to expect it would never come out. While rinsing out her mouth, I noticed that the tooth next to the now missing one was very loose as well. I offered to help it along right then and there but Ryan insisted on letting it run it's course.

After dropping the girls at school the next morning, I received a phone call from a mom friend of mine who said she saw Ryan running towards her classroom yelling "I lost my tooth, I lost my tooth" so I knew right away the second one had came out. Unfortunately, the lost tooth was actually lost, it fell out of her hands somewhere between the playground and the classroom as she ran back to tell her teacher. Have no fear though, Mrs. Brewer has the tooth fairy's email address and quickly shot her a note explaining that Ryan really did lose a second tooth even if she wouldn't find it under her pillow that night. Just to be sure, Ryan wrote a note and put it under her pillow that read "Dear Tooth Fairy, I lost my tooth, what should I do? Love Ryan." I'm happy to report the tooth fairy showed up, dropped off $3 and a return note reading "kids lose teeth all the time" signed with a poorly drawn butterfly. (Insert quizzical look here)

Sam has been wiggling her teeth now, willing one to come loose.

Happy Birthday Sam(my)(antha)

When we brought Sam home from the hospital she weighed just over 5 lbs. She fit, head to buns, in the palm of my hand and no matter how small the clothes we found, nothing fit her. The premie outfit with giraffes and elephants engulfed her and, in fact, is currently being worn by one of her baby dolls. She suffered from reflux and clogged eye ducts which meant I was always cleaning up spit up or eye goop. And she had a bad case of what I referred to as "the squirms." She was a tiny, goopy thing that constantly wiggled - she actually bounced herself off the couch when she was one month old. I thought she was broken lying there on the floor, but her screaming assured me she was okay. This constant restlessness coupled with the reflux caused her to not sleep through the night until she was 8 months old. Needless to say, it wasn't all oohs and aahhs and smiles and giggles that we envision when we decide to have children. The happiness of having a new baby is lost in the misery of it but the misery is equally lost in the happiness. It's a strange time.

I'm happy to report that she eventually grew out of the reflux and clogged eye ducts but not so much the squirms. We affectionately refer to her as Monkey Girl now as she is fond of hopping from couch to ottoman to your shoulders without warning. Once there, she will announce "Monkey Girl on shoulders" in a unique, third-person-no-verbs, speaking style. She scurries up the kitchen cabinets, using the drawer knobs as a foothold similar to a rock climber wedging a toe into a crevice. It's not uncommon for me to enter a room and find her standing on the counters looking about. I'm not sure if she's taking in the view from a higher vantage point (she's still pretty little) or plotting her next move but she seems partial to the kitchen counter.

I'm equally happy to report that I have traded in cleaning up spit up to cleaning up dolls and their detritus, art supplies and her clothing. She goes through outfits hourly, the more layers the better. Yesterday she went out in leather boots, pajama bottoms that reach the middle of her shin, a turtleneck with a tank top over it and a ski hat. She called it her "special agent outfit." She's growing up quickly and now the happiness is all we feel. When I suggested that perhaps we could skip this birthday and just stay 4 years old she explained that that would be impossible since we've already mailed out the birthday party invitations. How can you argue with that? Anyway, we've agreed to put a moratorium on the rest of her birthdays (and mine) and have decided to remain 5 years old forever. Happy birthday Monkey Girl.

The 18th Longest Picture

Art, and I'm using the term loosely here, has been one of a few constants in the lives of my kids. From the time they could hold a crayon without immediately putting it in their mouths, we've had an art table in the family room for them to color, paint, cut, glue etc. If they are not playing outside or building a fort, they are begging one of us to draw with them. I think Jim has colored more in the past 6 years than he did in his previous 35 by a factor of 2-3 times. It seems we buy paper more often than milk.

Inspired by the movie Ramona and Beezus where Ramona and her dad draw a super long picture of their town, long enough to wrap around Ramona's classroom, the girls set out to draw the 'Longest Picture in the World'. After some discussion about how long that would have to be, Ryan settled on it being the '18th Longest Picture in the World', a claim no one can challenge.

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There was no consensus of what the picture should be so Sam declared it to be a design picture which apparently means lots of designs and little pictures within a picture and lots of colors, of course. As you can see, there is a rainbow airplaine and an actual rainbow, several people, a car driving down a street, a house with Christmas lights on it and in the bushes, some colorful clouds and flowers. There is also a twirly-ma-gig with loops and lines, the original "design" per Sam.

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Being it is the 18th Longest Picture, the art table would not accomodate it so it was created on the floor between the kitchen and the family room. This caused us to have to carefully avoid the masterpiece on our way to the kitchen. Yelling out "don't step on the 18th Longest Picture!" was cumbersome so Sam renamed it 'The Cluve'. Now if we can only find a place to hang The Cluve.