Jump Right In

I don't want to be writing today. I really don't. It's 1:15, and while I already have dinner in the oven, have paid bills, sent important emails,made important phone calls, and have put away (some) laundry, I still haven't made it to the shower yet today. Ruby and Judah are napping, so in theory, this would be the perfect time for me to attend to such sensitive matters. But here's the thing: every time I see the link to "Blogger: Dashboard" staring at me from my Bookmarks list, I feel a little bit guilty. I cringe, because I know that Sherrie will probably mention I haven't posted in a while, and I will see her at choir practice tonight and try to dodge her. But she sits two seats away from me, so that's not really possible. And April (who hasn't blogged in eons, either) just left a comment that she'd blog when I did. So here I sit, in the blue recliner we just got from my aunt and haven't moved from the dining room yet, tapping away at my keyboard, entirely unsure of what I want to say.

It has been a while. Sherrie is right. In late October, my father-in-law had back surgery and also found out he has cancer, and not only did I get caught up in errand-running and helping out a bit at my in-laws', I got caught up in my own rehearsals for the Christmas program at church AND with drama rehearsals for the same program; celebrations for Thanksgiving; the actual Christmas program; Christmas decorating, shopping, celebrating, and what-have-you; and while I probably could have scraped together 10 minutes in there somewhere to whip out a post, I'm afraid I never felt I had enough emotional energy to do it. Or it could be that I'm just lazy; either one is a plausible explanation.

In the time I've been away from the blog, I've gained 6 pounds. I've vacuumed the floors a lot. I've done approximately 652 loads of laundry, and loaded and unloaded the dishwasher so many times, my head spins. I made 3 batches of gingerbread men for Charis' class to decorate (only to learn from Charis that they didn't even use mine because they were too big, despite the fact that the teacher had specifically requested "LARGE" Gingerbread men). I attended my daughter's first-ever Christmas concert at school; it was thankfully short, but half of the time was taken up by The Twelve Days of Christmas sung by 75 bored/distracted kindergartners. I've bundled Judah up to go outside a thousand times. I've also changed his sheets 25 times because they were wet. SOMEDAY we'll be past this stage. Either that, or we'll cut him off of liquids past 4 pm. Ruby's hair has been in ponytails twice, and we've swooned twice on account of her cuteness. She says "uh-oh" and "Night-night" and "bye-bye" along with her usual (albeit occasional) mama and dada. She follows instructions, nods when she agrees with things, and is still a wee peanut of a child. We got a Christmas tree, and the kids helped me decorate the bottom third. We went to see the Christmas lights in a nearby city. We celebrated Christmas a bunch of times with various sides of the family and even took a trip to Ohio where Abe and I got to go out (!!) with some friends of mine from high school. We got a new couch from my aunt. We moved the big kids into the Big Room, Ruby into the Small Room and into an actual crib, and Judah (at LONG LAST) into a Big Boy Bed. He had been napping in one for a year or so, but it's now official--no more climbing in and out of the crib for him. Now that's Ruby's prerogative. And in there, we've cuddled, read books, talked about the True Meaning of Christmas, eaten lots of sinfully delicious food (there's the 6 pounds for you), and watched White Christmas for the hundredth time.

So. The ice is now broken. Since I started this post, my in-laws stopped by on their way back from chemo, I tossed the Red Skin potatoes and carrots into the stew in the oven, and though I didn't get a shower, I did put on clothes. A shower will have to wait until after I pick Charis up from school, but at least I won't feel quite so guilty when I see that link anymore.

Happy Wednesday!

Halloween at Home

I suppose I'll begin this post back in the 80s somewhere. While I remember dressing up (as Princess Leia for several years in a row) and trolling the neighborhood for candy, I also seem to remember that this wasn't an every-year occasion. Sometimes, we'd just drive over to Grandpa's house and get candy and nickels from him and have powdered donuts and cider. At least those are the memories I have manufactured for myself; the reality may have been very different. I don't have very detailed recall about a lot of my childhood. My husband did not go out Trick-or-Treating often at all, if ever. He's not here at present for me to ask.

All that to say that Trick-or-Treating is not very important for us. We didn't do it very often; our kids probably won't, either. We don't even like getting dressed up: for an annual Halloween party we attend, I always try to think of a pun-type costume that allows me to wear normal clothes: one year, I was a Spice Girl, with spice jars strung in a necklace around my neck. Last year, I went as a Schizophrenic. I plastered normal clothes with dozens of different nametags. Done. Pass the candy corn.

This year was especially different. I will elaborate in a later post, but between Abe going up to his parents' house last week to do chores and the sickness that pervaded our house (Ruby may or may not have had H1N1), we figured it would be to everyone's advantage if we opted out of the Annual Halloween Party. Instead, we stayed home and had our own party. It was the best.

It has been a long week. We were sick, as I mentioned, and most nights, Abe didn't get home until after the kids had gone to bed. We hadn't been together as a family for a long, long time, and we desperately needed to. So on Halloween, we put Ruby to bed, covered the coffee table with plates and bowls of yummy things like chicken wings, tortilla chips and spinach artichoke dip, popcorn, donuts, cider, and heaps of candy, put in a movie and gorged ourselves silly. Then we cuddled up in blankets until the movie was over. The kids loved being able to eat all of the candy and junk they wanted to, they loved being allowed to eat in the living room, and we all loved just being in the same place at the same time.

It was nothing profound--just snacks and a movie--but at one point, snuggled in the recliner next to my little boy and looking across the room at my husband snuggled on the couch with his baby girl, I got a little teary-eyed at the beauty of it, of just enjoying being next to each other. I cannot imagine how life gets any better than that. I thought about taking a picture, but it was one of those moments where you're almost afraid to breathe and risk spoiling things; I was enjoying our family moment and I didn't want to break the spell. So I took lots of mental snapshots, and I will have those forever. It was a happy Halloween.

Mama Bear Eats Suzie Applewood

When Charis was 18 months old, thw two of us were invited to a tea party. It was a tea party with real tea, real scones and finger sandwiches, and real, antique, heirloom china. I spent the whole time terrified Charis would drop the irreplaceable cup on the priceless saucer and I'd spend the next dozen years trying to track down a duplicate. There were only three families there that day--mine, which consisted of me and my 18 month old; a mother with three girls between the ages of 4 and 8; and a mother (the hostess) with twin 3 year old girls. The tea portion of the outing went well--Charis miraculously did not break anything--and then all of the girls scampered off to the next room over to play. After they'd played for a few minutes, I stuck my head in to make sure Charis wasn't drawing on the walls or something. She was not drawing on the walls, but she was sitting sweetly by herself watching the older girls play, and I heard one of the twins say to her, "You can't play with us. We're BIG girls. We don't like you. You're too little. Go away."

Well, for the first time in her precious little life, my baby girl was being mistreated by another kid, and the Mother Bear in me wanted to reach over and tear this three-year-old limb from limb, because that's what Bears do. That'll teach you to mess with my kid. Being the grownup I am, though, I refrained from issuing bodily harm to the toddler and instead tried to very gently let her know that Charis was pretty much a baby and merely fascinated by the older girls. Then I smacked her upside the head.

Oh, but I wanted to.

I still have a few hard feelings towards that little girl (because I am such a mature and forgiving person), and I will NEVER forget how much I wanted to scratch her eyes out for being mean to my baby. She was only two and a half feet tall--I probably could've taken her. But time marches on, and I didn't think about this incident very much.

Until we met stupid Suzie Applewood.

She has already called my Charis "silly," and told her she doesn't want to be friends with her, which made Charis very sad. And, not that I'm bitter or anything, but even though Suzie Applewood's mother is one of the head honcho PTA people, I have never once seen Suzie dressed according to the dress code--and apparently, this is just overlooked. I guess leadership has its perks. I was very thankful the day Charis was moved from sitting next to Suzie Applewood to sitting at an entirely different table--I hoped Charis would move on, make other friends, and forget about Suzie Applewood. Honestly, we've been without a Suzie Applewood incident for a while, and I thought things had gotten better.

But this morning, we sat waiting in the drop off line, and suddenly, Charis couldn't get her bag quickly enough. "Mom!! Can I go with them? Please? Can you let me out?" I looked, and there was Suzie Applewood and her mother and sibling. Charis wanted desperately to walk into school with them. I took a deep breath, told Charis I couldn't let her out because we were still moving, and hoped the Applewoods would pass quickly. Of course, they didn't. We rolled to a stop RIGHT NEXT TO Suzie Applewood, who was kissing her mother goodbye. I had no excuse not to let my girl out. So I did.

Suzie started to walk away before Charis was fully out of the car, but Charis ran as fast as her tiny little legs could carry her to try to catch up. And even though Charis was clearly inches from her, tapping her shoulder, trying to say hello, Suzie Applewood did not turn around once. She went directly to the teacher, gave her a hug, stood in line, and proceeded to ignore Charis as if she was not even there. I would love to have simply pulled away and not watched my beautiful little girl get snubbed, but I was stuck in line. And how do you pull away from your baby girl when your heart feels a little bit broken?

All of that happened an hour ago. The morning began just fine, but at that moment, a switch flipped. I became grumpy and short-tempered and considered pulling Charis out of school so I could teach her at home, where everyone loves her and enjoys her company. Sigh. I probably won't. But this Mama Bear is having a hard time calming down. I wonder what Suzie Applewood would look like without limbs.

Conversely (because while I feel angry, I would never, of course, hurt Suzie Applewood or even be mean to her because see: mature and forgiving), I am praying that Charis will not be so enamored of Suzie and pick one of the very sweet girls and boys in her class to be friends with. Could be Neil! Or Corey! Or Bailey! Or Paris! Or Allison!

Or. Sigh. Stupid Suzie Applewood.

Clearly I will have a harder time getting over this than Charis will.

She's Walkin', Yes, Indeed

I've been meaning to tell you for about a month that our dear, sweet infant is now a toddler. This is where it gets fun. She walks. She runs. She climbs off of beds and the couch on her own. She goes up and down stairs at will and without assistance. She hates being cooped up in a stroller, wagon, or shopping cart; this girl wants to MOVE.

About a week before Ruby officially began walking, Abe and I were scheduled to be in Nursery B, which is the 12-18 month "early walkers" nursery. Our church is a little bit big, and our nurseries are crazy; no mere infant Nursery for us, no sir. We've got to separate them by ambulatory prowess. At this point in time, Ruby was still in Nursery A, "infants," because she was not yet walking. We thought it would be nice to have her in the nursery with us, though, so we temporarily bumped her up. I don't know if it was the power of suggestion or what, but within a week of being with all of those Early Walkers, she joined their ranks. She just stopped wanting to crawl and started running.

On a side note, she's a bit behind on her Well-Baby doctors' visits (she's my third child; what can I say), so I really have no concrete knowledge about her percentiles or anything, but when I saw her next to all of these other children her age--instead of standing next to a three month-old--I was astounded at how small she is. It's not like she's a dwarf or something (at least I don't think so...), but she is a tiny little peanut by comparison.

What she lack in size, though, she makes up in cuteness. And ambulatory prowess.

Dancing Queen

For years now, Charis has wanted to take ballet lessons. We've postponed it again and again, for lots of reasons, but this fall worked out to be (I thought) a good time to plunk down the cash and let her learn. I am not personally a ballet-type of person; I took ONE gymnastics lesson as a child and was traumatized because they wanted me to take of my tennis shoes. My husband and I have, at various times in our lives, played and coached basketball and volleyball, respectively. We're really team sports people around here. But like it or lump it, Charis has always been fascinated by ballet. She twirls, she waves her arms, she believes she's really doing it...so we figured it was maybe time for some formal instruction.

The teacher I chose is Cathy K., who sat next to me in choir for years. That first picture of Charis is from circle time at the beginning of class. The girls each got a little plastic place mat to sit on so their space would be defined; they used it not so much to sit on, but to hold up, bend into a tube, wear as a hat, or use as a blanket. That picture was taken during the 4.7 seconds Charis actually sat on the mat.
Soon thereafter, it was time to move. Or, as I like to call it, "It's All Downhill From Here." They marched in a circle and performed actions as instructed by the song they were listening to, and on their march, Charis discovered her favorite thing ever: a giant mirror. She has always loved mirrors--she stares into them, makes funny faces, smiles at herself, poses--and this mirror was bigger than any mirror she has ever seen.
Not that it became a problem or anything.
Nope. The mirror didn't distract her one bit.
Okay, maybe a little.

Charis is not a very sit-still-and-listen kind of kid; she's usually fidgety and distracted unless she's absolutely engaged. Multiply the fidgety distraction by about a thousand, and you have Charis In Front of A Giant Mirror During Ballet Class. In my estimation, it was a bit of a disaster.

For the first few weeks, despite the presence of the huge reflective surface that allows Charis to watch her favorite program, "The Charis Show," Charis said she didn't really like ballet class. I think she imagined ballet class to be a big room where they played music and she could twirl to her heart's content. We missed last week because we were traveling, but this week is Parents Viewing Week, where the parents get to sit in the class and watch. I am a little nervous, truth be told. We'll see if she likes it any better.

And if she doesn't, we'll just have her stand in front of the mirror and make faces. She'll like that.

Charis' First Day at the 'Garten (Part 2)

At precisely 8:00, the doors opened, and we made our way down to the classroom. The place was swarming with parents. That is, as a matter of fact, one of the reasons we chose this school; parental involvement is a fundamental part of the school's operating procedure. Parents volunteer for lunch and recess duty, volunteer to help with classroom projects and to drive on field trips, volunteer to bring snacks to the kids...the list goes on and on. We loved that when we visited. It is reassuring to know that we will know who our kids are friends with, and studies show that students whose parents are closely involved with their educational process are more likely to succeed. I've already had the opportunity to do lunch duty. I don't think Charis enjoyed it very much. Speaking of not liking things much, check out her face in this picture. She is SO not sure she likes this. I thought for a minute she might cry. It was this fact that actually kept me from crying; I figured it would be harder for her to leave me if we were both crying, and I really didn't want kindergarten to start that way for her. She should have fun! She should be excited to learn! Her evident fear helped me to be strong and encouraging in that moment.

When we arrived at Mrs. N's classroom, we noticed the the other kindergarteners were lined up against the wall. We stood there until Mrs. N began to usher the children in. She greeted them all warmly, shaking their hand and saying something like, "Welcome to class! I'm glad you're here, [Charis]." This is standard procedure, too. I guess it helps the kids learn good manners?

Then, before sending Charis into the classroom, she attempted to rip her head off. Oh, I kid. She cupped Charis' face in her hands and said, "I'm so glad to see you!"

And then Charis walked into the room and I thought I might die. I began to walk away, fumbling for my tissues, hoping I wouldn't make a fool of myself in front of the much-more-stoic parents of the upper grade children.
That is, until I noticed a couple of parents going INTO the classroom with their kids. Really? Are we allowed to do that? Shoot, who cares? I thought. I'm goin' in! I wiped away my solitary tear and marched right into the room, like I belonged there. Charis was identifying her cubby and hanging up her backpack. That red arrow is pointing to her arm. Glad I got that shot of her arm. She's really going to treasure that someday.

I watched Charis begin to color her butterfly picture (with a pencil).

I watched her tell her little sister what everything was.

I watched as the teacher directed them to their spots on the story rug.

And I watched as Charis was chosen to select her favorite donut as they chanted some kind of song.

And then, after I'd watched Charis acclimate for about 20 minutes, I slipped out with nary a tear. She seemed to be doing well. She was following directions. She wasn't crying.

Fast forward to 3:15. I took Judah and Ruby in with me to pick Charis up, eager to hear all about the fun she had and the friends she made and how much she loved it...only to find that she didn't. She didn't love it, she didn't make friends, and she was grumpy. VERY grumpy. It took me a while, but I finally realized that she hadn't, of course, had a nap. Charis was still napping up until Kindergarten Day 1. We knocked her bedtime back to 7:30 and hoped for the best for Day 2.

I never realized what a difficult transition it would be for her. I thought it would be all sunshine and happiness, and the first week brought only fatigue and loneliness. Even as I write this, she hasn't made any close friends. And around the 6th day of school or so, she seemed extra grumpy as she got into the car. I asked her what was wrong. "Suzie Applewood (not her real name) HATES me. She thinks I'm too silly and doesn't want to be my friend." My heart broke. Stupid Suzie Applewood. She should BE so lucky as to be friends with my wonderful little girl. I refrained from asking her where Suzie lived so we could go have a few choice words with her momma. I did, however, tell her that I was certain there were other very nice girls in her class who would like her exactly the way she is. It's Week 3, and she is still a bit of a loner. I never in a million years thought I'd write that about Charis. But I am confident that in time, she will find a sweet friend to be silly with. Maybe it will be Bella or Bailey orElla or Kaylie. Maybe it will be Yeaniva or Paris or Arylon or Allison. Maybe it will even be Suzie.

(On a side note: on the day I had lunch and recess duty, I met Suzie. "Hi," she said, "I'm Suzie. I sit next to Charis." "Oh, hello, Suzie," I replied. "I've heard a LOT about you. Tell me, are you being a very good friend to Charis?" Suzie looked flummoxed for a few seconds before finally uttering a very indecisive "yes?" Then I kicked her in the shin. Or maybe that part just happened in my head.)

Charis' First Day at the 'Garten (Part 1)

First of all, let's get this out of the way: take note of how dark it is in these first few pictures. Yes. It is essentially still nighttime, a fact Charis reminded me about when I went to wake her up that morning. It was the first day of school, though, and there wasn't any chance we were going to be late. I'd even arranged for Judah to spend the night at Auntie Beth's house the night before so I'd have one less child to get ready to go on the first morning. I woke up ridiculously early and shared morning space with my husband. We've never had to do that before. In fact, until school started, I'd convinced the kids to sleep until at least 8--well after the sun had established its place in the sky, and well after my husband had left for work.

Weren't the good old days great?

Plus, I didn't want to run out of time to take Charis' First Day picture. Every parent needs one of those, right? She stood patiently for this first one, but then...









"Mom...."

"Almost done, sweetie. Just a few more."

"Mom, we need to go!"









"We neeeeeeddddd to gooooooooo!"











"Fine, then. go get buckled. We're pretty early, but at least we'll get a parking spot."

"Thanks Mom! I'm so EXCITING!"







You can't really tell it, but this photo was taken on a side street next to Charis' school. I knew I'd walk her in that first day, and as I drove through the parking lot and saw that EVERY. SINGLE. SPACE. WAS. TAKEN. (a full 20 minutes before school was to start, mind you), I figured my best bet was to head for the street and park as closely as I could.

I usually keep the van stocked with umbrellas, but the children have a habit of removing them. So that morning, we waited in a wee bit of drizzle until they let us in to the school.

Funny...the closer we got to the school and to her actual classroom, the more visibly nervous Charis became. I would never have guessed it to be so; Charis is by far one of the most social, outgoing little girls I know, and I was convinced that she'd take to the Kindergarten social scene like a koala to eucalyptus.


By the time we were next to the door, ready to be let in, she looked downright petrified. Charis, who ALWAYS has something to say, was speechless.

I had come prepared with tissues, knowing that I was likely to dissolve into some sort of tearful puddle as my baby girl walked triumphantly into class for the first time. I mean, we never even sent her to Preschool, so this was really, in all aspects, her first day of school ever. This was the first day I was sending my precious daughter to spend most of her day with complete strangers. The first day she'd carry a lunch with her and eat it with other kids, not sitting at the kitchen table with us. Yes, she's crazily independent, and of course, she'd love it wholeheartedly by the time the day was over, and no, I was not emotionally prepared to let her go do that.

to be continued...

Eye, Eye, Judah.

So a week or two ago, on the Big Canning Day, Beth and I were in the kitchen working when we heard Judah crying in the living room. All of our kids were in there, and it is just not unusual for one of them to be crying at any given moment when they're all together, so I was not initially alarmed. The crying continued and even escalated, though, so we went to investigate, and we found Judah really was upset. Apparently, he tripped and fell into the coffee table (not that piles of toys on the ground had anything to do with that, oh, no), narrowly avoiding putting his eye out with the corner.
The area around the eye swelled immediately. Judah's head injuries tend to get bad really fast--lots of blood in there?--and I figured we'd ice the area and watch its progression from this lovely shade of lavender to the green and yellow shades that always follow it.
When we woke in the morning, I realized it had to get worse before it got better. Judah could barely open his eye, and the gentle lavender color was replaced by this deep magenta hue. Also, the color extended all the way around his eye now. We had Sunday school the next day. We were worried about what people would think.
As always, though, Judah rolled with the punches. Here he is posing gamely for the camera. We were at Elise's birthday dinner. This is Judah after the french toast and bacon, and before...
he inserted his head in his ice cream cake.

Two weeks later, he is now back to normal, but may be steering clear of that coffee table.

These Feet Were Made for Walking

Today, Ruby took 16 steps in a row, unaided and unprompted! That's right--she walked of her own volition! If I'd had my camera anywhere nearby, I would have taken some pictures. So sad. It was not nearby. But it seems we're seeing the beginning of the process, and before we know it, she'll be running! (I know this one from experience.)