Crooked Pigtails

Three ways I have failed this four day week

1.  I missed my yearly physical on Tuesday because I thought it was Monday.

2.  I missed my rescheduled yearly physical on Thursday because I was still behind.

3.  I forgot to send Addie's homework packet to school on Thursday, and her permission slip to stay after school for a Brownie meeting today, because I still can not wrap my head around what day of the week we are currently enjoying.

Thankfully, it is the weekend.  Hopefully, I can reset my inner calendar.

2011 Recap

 Borrowed from Linda over at All and Sundry.

1. What did you do in 2011 that you’d never done before?  Participated in a handfasting ceremony, waxed my upper lip, wrote the first draft of a book I am excited to edit, took over the family finances, spent a week in a tent, regulated my medications, saw my girls turn eight and twelve.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?  I didn't have any resolutions per se, but about this time last year, I announced on facebook my desire to stop sweating the less significant things in life, and I did that with varying degrees of success throughout the year.

I am not a resolution kind of gal, so I will not be making any formal resolutions this year, either.  I do however, have two goals for 2012: I am going to run a 5K, and I am going to live a more healthy lifestyle.  Specifically, eating better and incorporating some exercise into my schedule.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Jessie had baby Brooklyn in September

4. Did anyone close to you die?  Francine lost her mother this fall after a long battle.

 5. What countries did you visit? None

6. What would you like to have in 2012 that you lacked in 2011?
Balance, patience with my children, a book deal.

7. What dates from 2011 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?  June 11th because the handfasting ceremony was one of the most beautiful events I have ever had the honor of participating in.

 8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Getting out of bed.

9. What was your biggest failure?  Not trusting myself.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?  Thankfully, no, but I did have a pretty severe (covered in hives) allergic reaction to a medication I was taking.

 11. What was the best thing you bought?  Gas for family trips, a State park pass, tickets to see Wicked, and comortable shoes.

 12. Where did most of your money go?  the morgatge, car payments, doctor co-pays, food

 13. What did you get really excited about?  Believe it or not, running.  Watching my girls grow into runners.  I got teary everytime they crossed a finish line and I am getting excited about joining them this year.  I think this could be a family event.

 14. What song will always remind you of 2011?  For Good from Wicked

15. Compared to this time last year, are you:


– happier or sadder?  Happier.  Much.
– thinner or fatter?    About the same, I think.
– richer or poorer?    Poorer.  For sure.

16. What do you wish you’d done more of?  I wish I had written more, played with my children more, listened to the girls more, taken more photos, trusted myself.

17. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Worrying, procrastinating, doubting.

18. How did you spend Christmas?  In New York, surrounded by family, noise, laughter and love.

19. What was your favorite TV program?  Modern Family, Big Bang Theory, Parenthood and Californication.  I'm trying to hang on to Glee, but it's getting difficult.

20. What were your favorite books of the year?  Good Lord, how am I supposed to remember the books I read?  A couple of  favorites: Faith,  The Immortal Life of Hennrietta Lacks 

21. What was your favorite music from this year?
ADELE, and the soundtrack from Wicked

22. What were your favorite films of the year? The King's Speech, Bridesmaids, The Help

23. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?  We celebrated at home, my mother was here, the kids made a fabulous cake with 44 candles.  The weekend prior, Steve took me to New York City where we had a lovely dinner, walked around Brandt Park and saw Memphis.

24. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Trusting myself.

25. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2011?  If it is comfortable, wear it.

26. What kept you sane?  Steve, my kids, laughter, and antidepressants.  Not necessarily in that order.

27. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2011.
Don't take yourself too seriously, live your own life, and my kids are smarter than I am.

Sometimes

I know this will come as a shock, but:

Sometimes things around here are more Bunker than Rockwell.

Sometimes my kids are not perfect.

Sometimes they drive me out of my mind with their constant bickering, yelling, and wrestling.

Sometimes my kids are disrespectful.

Sometimes I am disrespectful.

Sometimes I want to come here and vent about how difficult it is to raise girls in a society willing to tell them how inadequate they are even before they have had a chance to see themselves.

Sometimes I struggle with the frustration of trying to teach our girls that material things are not the important things in life while, also, trying to keep my middle schooler in the latest clothing fad because I remember being the only kid in school without Nikes.

Sometimes middle school sucks and middle school girls are mean spirited little people.

Sometimes my kids eat cereal for dinner.  With added sugar.

Sometimes they go to bed without showers.  On school nights.  After staying up too late.

Sometimes they eat store bought cookies.

Sometimes the laundry isn't clean, the dishes aren't done, and the windows aren't washed.

Sometimes I open this page and stare at the blinking cursor trying to come up with the cute thing Addison said or the smart thing Harper did, and I have to just close the page without writing a single word because I just don't have it in me to cheerful.

 And, it's okay. 

Because it is who we are.

I started this blog as a means to document our days for the girls, but I have struggled because I wanted it to be a happy place for them (and for the family reading), but I also want it to be an authentic place.  So, I'm going to be more honest here.  I'm going to write about the struggles sometimes.  I'm going to maintain my girl's privacy, I won't go into too much detail, but I'm going to shove aside the expectations of a cheery, perfect little glimpse of who we are, and I am going to make this a place of balance, which, actually, is much more perfect anyway.

Sometimes.

 

Ainsley rocking the crooked pigtails

 

Bittersweet Easter

The bunny came hopping through our home last night, and the girls had a grand ole time (I may be mixing holiday metaphors here, sorry about that) this morning collecting the resulting droppings.  Much, much too early this morning, before the coffee completed it's brewing cycle even, there was lively rejoicing and giggling and sugar ingesting--as if sugar would only be available for a limited time and that time was rightthisminute fortheloveofgod--and there was wonder. 

It didn't matter that the damn (tired) bunny forgot to remove a price tag (or four) from the non-edible portion of the stash.  Price tags that may or may not, by the way, have coincided with the freshly crumpled Target bags in the recycling bin; I'll never tell.  Because crumpled Target bags are so very unimportant to this holiday...we're talking about wonder here, people, and the fact that Addie still possesses it so fiercely that no measure of perceived evidence to the contrary can shake her belief system.  I don't know how much longer we, as a family, can cling to this particular shred of innocence, and it is bittersweet, as a parent, to be whisked along in it's peaceful flow.

Harper has been "in the know" for a couple of years now, and our family exists in that limbo world of one child having achieved a right of passage and one child quickly approaching; everything celebrated in tandem with separate expectations and joint anticipation.  It's a privilege to watch them together, to witness the tender grace with which Harper treats Addison's innocence then winks at us with the wisdom of someone years beyond her own. 

That's the thing about being the first born: the exileration of knowledge is tempered by the responsibility to protect your younger sibling; your milestones never belong solely to you because they are the beginning of a forward movement for your family, the first step to a change in time and space for that entire family, a signal that the family is growing, taking on a new shape.

And, that's the thing about being the baby of the family: your milestones never belong solely to you, either, because they represent the completion of the family step forward.  Every stage Addison leaves is left behind for all of us, every new knowledge she gains is a sliver of innocence we loose that no one is going to come behind her and reintroduce to us.

The girls forge forward and redefine us daily.  Harper paves the way and Addie pushes us out of our comfort zones.  We've traded our diaper bags for backpacks and tote bags and, heaven help us, purses of their own that contain wallets and lip balm.  We've traded baby teeth for orthodontic consultations.  We've traded the Wiggles for the Wizards of Waverly Place, and ballerina wall hangings for magazine centerfolds of pop stars. 

And, it's good.  It's all good.

But, for at least one more year, the bunny remains.  And that is even better.

A tale of two tonsillectomies

Deciding to have Addie's tonsils and adnoids removed wasn't difficult; the sweet child has nursed what feels like one giant, never-ending, strep throat since last November, barely celebrating the end of an antibiotic prescription before the next was inked; but it wasn't a simple decision either. 

Harper had the same surgery (with the addition of tubes in her ears) immediatley following her Kindergarten year, and the thing I remember most about that time period is staying awake night after night watching her sleep peacefully, all the while absolutely convinced she was going to "pop a stitch" and bleed to death the moment I closed my own eyes.  Obviously, she never did pop that stitch, nor did she have any bleeding--to death, or otherwise--in fact, she flew through the whole trauma with uncharacteristically little drama.  There must have been pain, but it was well-managed enough to not factor significantly into any of our memories, and the worst aspect of her recovery process was keeping her calm for the required two weeks post surgery. 

Addison, our more adventurous, full steam ahead, child has been attached to my body since we arrived home from the hospital on Wednesday.  We are doing our best to keep "ahead" of her pain, but her medication is prescribed for every four to six hours while her pain returns in earnest around hour three.  Her throat hurts, her jaw hurts, her ears hurt, and she is just plain miserable.  She's a trooper: drinking to keep her throat wet, taking her medicine, trying to eat popcicles and such, but nothing seems to be effective for long.

We snuggle and we cry and we rock and we sleep and we play board games and we watch movies and we snuggle and we sleep some more...

The Rules

1. Ignore the year since I last posted. 
2. Pretend I did not have a full blown panic attack when I was momentarily unable to sign in to this account. 
3. Forget the unreasonable sentimental value a full blown panic attack might have attached to every. single. word I had ever written in this space as they all gelled and swirled together, flashing before my eyes in rapid succession.
4. Move forward with high hopes and low expectations.

Overheard

Addie:  Daisy loves to be brushed.

Harper:  Well, she's a cat.  All creatures love to be brushed.

Addie:  No.

Harper:  Yes.

Addie:  No.  Alligators do not like to be brushed.  I'm pretty sure.

Wondering why I haven't posted lately?

Would you mess with Daisy?

Sunrise, Sunset

The problem with long weekends is that Tuesdays become Mondays and Fridays become Thursdays and I become a complete fool showing up late for meetings on the wrong days. 

Labor Day. 

I want our summer back.  I want to return to the endless rolling days of sun and sleep and snuggling little girls who smell like sand and sunscreen and baby sweat and my shampoo that they use even though they have their own.  I want to hold tight to the sounds of my girls swinging in the back yard, each challenging the other to go higher, each believing they can touch the sky with their outstretched petal-pink toes.  I want to walk the beach a while longer as they run ahead carelessly weaving in and out of the waves.  I want them to come back to me and I want them to fly freely as they grow. 

Addison is in the first grade.  She's in school full days and she eats lunch in the cafeteria.  She can read and do math and almost tell time.  She plays soccer and turns somersaults.  She loves to cook and help with dusting.  Her art teacher tells us she's a natural.  She smiles constantly and keeps hoping for loose teeth.  She hates socks.  She's bouncy.  She's loud.  She's amazing.

Harper is a fifth grader, queen of elementary school.  She loves homework (for now) though she hurries through it.  She loves to help and shop.  She plays clarinet in the band and sings in the chorus.  She plays soccer and basketball.  She brings books to the beach.  She has posters of movie stars on her walls.  She's moody.  She's sensitive.  She's fantastic. 

The mornings are getting cooler.  The seasons are moving forward.  My girls are growing too quickly.  Life is very good.