Crooked Pigtails

Just another Thursday*

We overslept, got up late, argued about the temperature outside--prompted by H's insistence that it was a nice enough day to wear a short sleeve shirt to school (it wasn't)--managed to dress everyone, pack a snack and a lunch for H, brush everyone's hair and teeth, and hurry out the door armed with a nutritious breakfast of un-toasted pop tarts just in time to arrive at school as the last bell was ringing...which, naturally, I didn't realize until after I had unhooked A's car seat and all three of us had sprinted into the building in full anticipation that we were tardy enough to require a late pass.

I kissed the top of H's head and told her I loved her as she stumbled, still in a sleepy daze, down the hallway to her classroom.  A and I stood and watched her the entire way, but she never looked back; concentrating too hard on balancing her overstuffed backpack, and I wondered for the gazillionth time what she was thinking as she walked toward her day, I am always wondering what she is thinking.  She always seems to be so deep in thinking, this clone of mine.

As H disappeared into her classroom, I took a couple of deep breaths, attempting to shake the sleep from my own brain.  I took A's hand and we walked back towards our van, waving "good morning" to the principal as we passed the office, and we were off for our day.  It never slowed down.

A's three year old checkup was at 10:00.  Since she was incredibly anxious about the possibility she was going to receive at least one vaccination, I decided not to go home, electing to keep her secured in her car seat, hit the ATM and the Dunkin Donuts drive through (coffee for me, a bagel for her), and make our way to the appointment.  We arrived almost half an hour early; the doctor had an emergency and was more than an hour late.  A used the potty twice while we waited.

Her appointment went well.  She is 37 and 3/4 inches tall and weighs 34.5 pounds.  He asked her if she knew her full name and she told him.  He asked her to hop and she hopped.  He asked her to balance on one foot and she refused.  Then she balanced on first one foot and then the other foot.  He asked her to count to 3 and she counted to 15.  We talked about the results of her electrocardiogram; A told him that she was not happy about the gel and that it was not nice of him to send her there.  He laughed and apologized.  He gave her a potty training pep talk and explained that her issues with clothing are perfectly normal for her age.

Overall, it was a good appointment; there were no scheduled vaccinations, she got a Cinderella sticker--A was a happy little girl skipping out of the office.

After school, H wanted to go to the high school pool to watch some of her classmates race the cardboard boats they had made as part of the after school enrichment clusters---I don't know if I have mentioned these clusters previously or not, but, after school enrichment was a six week long series of activities the school was able to offer with parent volunteers as instructors.  H did scrap booking with me, we had a terrific group of kids, amazingly creative, energetic, focused; we had a blast, but I guarantee she will be wanting to do the boats next time---I had imagined that cardboard boats would be the size of a cereal box, but they were actual boats of various sizes and shapes that the kids (two or three in each) actually sat in and paddled across the pool.  Some sank more quickly than others, but they all made it across at least one round.  It was lots of fun to watch and, I am certain, one of the most fun of the enrichment clusters.  The lifeguard only had to jump in once; not because the kids were in actual danger, but because one of them got really spooked as the front of the boat became submerged--I was glad that the lifeguard took over when she did; a child's fear trumps real danger in my book anytime.

There were a couple of tense moments for us.  When we arrived, we noticed that many (OK, really just a few, but when you are six years old a few equals ALL so, let's just settle for "many" and call it a sentence) of H's friends (who had also not participated in this particular cluster) were wearing swim suits.  As the children gathered, it became clear that they were going to be allowed to swim after the racing was completed.  We, of course, had arrived prepared only to be spectators having no "inside information" about the swimming.

H was upset, wanted me to go home and get her suit.  We spoke to one another in those clenched teeth, whispered exchanges that mothers and children share in public when they are caught off guard, are angry and/or embarrassed.  I was trying to explain to her that I hadn't known that there would be swimming and that I was sorry but she had obviously not been invited.  She was crushed and confused. 

------------------------------------------------

So, we were discussing our mutual disappointment, H and I, under our breath, when one of H's friends came running over yelling, "H!  You wanna come swimming?!!!" (those exclamation points are my lame ass attempt to show six year old exuberance)  H muttered that she didn't have a suit and this child's mother says, "It's OK, I went home and got some extra suits."

I wanted to kiss her hard, on the lips.

H bounded into the locker room and came out beaming in her first ever two piece-Daddy-would-have-had-a-stroke-even-though-it-was-perfectly-sweet-and-not-at-all-hoochie-momma-like, swim suit.  This other mom even brought extra towels.  H stood barefoot, swim suited, and smiling, by the gate with her friends** as they cheered on more friends in the boats and then they donned life vests and they swam.  And swam.  A wanted to swim too, but I told her that she couldn't because she is not in first grade; unbelievably, and uncharacteristically, she accepted that explanation and watched cheerfully as her sister jumped in the pool.

Then there was pizza.  Which I considered dinner. 

In the end, it was a good day.

*I know it's not Thursday anymore, but I had so much of this completed and I just don't have the energy to go back and fix things.

**I was relieved to learn that H had not been intentionally excluded. The after swim had not been planned and sort of developed because *ahem* there were extra children was an extra child there in suit--which is totally ballsy and absurd because NOWHERE in the announcements had it indicated that this was anything but a spectator event, but, again, whatever.  In fact, the hero mother with the extra suit had not originally brought a suit for her daughter but went home to get her one and had the presence of mind to bring extras.

To My Daughter

My dear Hayden Elizabeth,

Wow!  Where has the time gone?  You are fourteen years old now, that’s an entire decade plus four years which simply blows my mind, and, though I have no idea how we got here, or where all of those years went, I am still as madly in love with you as I was on the day you were born, more so if that is possible.

You are a beautiful young lady both inside and out.  Because you are fourteen, you are currently more concerned with the outside, always worried how your hair looks or if your makeup is just right or that you are wearing something fashionable.  That is totally natural at your age, completely age appropriate, but I want you to know that you are so much more than those things, that your beauty is so much deeper.

My sweet girl, you are so kind, you have such a tender heart, and because of this you feel all the feels so forcefully that there are times when you are absolutely beside yourself with emotion at the injustice of it all.  I don’t always handle these times perfectly because I don’t know how to navigate your intense feelings any more than you do, I don’t know how to help you through those times except to assure you that they will pass, that they are growing pains, and that we have all gone through them, and survived.  You will survive them, too.  It might help if you let me hug you through them, but that is your decision, I’m only the mother.

You are brilliant, Hayden.  I know you don’t believe this.  I know you think your grades at school define you, tell you how smart you are, but that is not true.  Those grades are simply a measure of how well you can memorize facts and spit them back out on a piece of paper, and sometimes you struggle with that and it frustrates you, and saddens your father and I because we hate to see you struggle or be sad.  Of course, you still have to memorize those facts and spit them back out.  Of course, you still have to do your best in school, and strive for the best grades you are capable of obtaining.  But, please, understand those are such a small measure of your intellect, and absolutely no measure of who you are as a person.  You are, to name a few, incredibly creative, wildly curious about the world around you, relentlessly competitive, unfailingly kind, and wickedly funny; these are the measure, this is your brilliance.  You are so smart it frightens me at times; I love your brain.

I love your sense of humor.  I love to hear your laughter, to see you smile.  I love that you are beginning to understand and appreciate the jokes, the social subtleties, when we watch a television show or movie.  I love that you can be silly with your sister or your friends or, sometimes, your parents.  I love that you can laugh at me, and, more importantly, at yourself.

I love that you love country music even though it’s not a popular choice with your friends.  I love that you collect phone cases.  I love that you love Maine as much as your father and I love it, and that those family traditions we hold so dear are just as important to you.   I love that you are so athletic, that you are a kick ass lacrosse player, a long distance runner, and that you love field hockey (and you’re a great player) even though you were not sure you wanted to try a new sport after excelling in soccer.  I love that you showed up and taught yourself something new.   I love that you chose all of the details for your new bedroom.  I love that I can count on you to be helpful around the house.  I love that you take selfies everywhere you go.  I love that you are a terrific big sister to Anna; that you protect her from the world as best you can, and make her laugh every day.  I love that you love animals, and the beach, and shoes.

Hayden, I am so amazed and proud of the young woman you are becoming.  I can’t believe I get to be your mother, I thank God every day for this gift you are.  I get to watch you grow and learn and become the adult you are going to become.  I know I have very little to do with this, it is more and more obvious daily that you are your own person separate from me and your dad, but we get to come along for the ride, and it’s a wonderful ride.

I love you,

Momma

Just Smile

Hayden got braces on her teeth today.

She was supposed to get them almost two years ago, when she was in the seventh grade, and all the world was getting braces, and we had our original consultation with the orthodontist. That was the morning when we discovered that our dental insurance, though rather good, is actually not that good, and is, in fact, quite lacking, and doesn't cover orthodontic, and we would be on the hook for the entire six grand and change.  Including an immediate, much heftier than we anticipated, down payment.  That was a heartbreaking morning.

So, after we finished cursing our insurance company, and turned ourselves back around to a position of thankful that we have insurance at all, we began to save the down payment to put braces on our child's teeth.  And, like every home owning, car owning, furnace owning, bill paying, daily grind, American family, we saved, and saved, and spent, and saved, and ran into unexpected expenses along the way that ate up the Braces Fund until one day, almost two years later, the clouds cleared, and my mother-in-law called to say she was sending us the down payment.  Out of the blue.

It took us about thirty-five seconds of intense consideration before we cashed that check.

So, this morning, at the height of the storm, on a snow day from school, we returned to the orthodontist office to see how much of our original consultation remained in tact, and how much had changed in the time elapsed.  I held my breath, worried six grand had turned into seven or eight, and that the down payment my mother-in-law sent wouldn't matter because we wouldn't be able to swing the monthly payments.  But the numbers held up, or basically held up, and (bonus!) because of the storm, the office was experiencing cancellations, and had the time to put the braces on immediately. Since she has the next five days off from school for President's Day, we felt this was ideal, and took them up on that offer.

She's miserable.

For one thing, she is no longer in seventh grade; she is a freshman now, she's fourteen, and she is not excited about getting braces on her teeth at this point in her life.  She thought she'd settle for Invisiline, which we, her parents, vetoed because of the high possibility of losing or damaging them, and, ultimately, the longer treatment plan they involved.  She wasn't happy with us about that, but she was relieved when we agreed that she could have the clear braces.  

For another, the RIGHT THIS MINUTE application of them was a little startling for her.  None of us expected for her to come away with braces this afternoon.  She burst into tears upon looking in the mirror for the first time, and refused even to show them to us for the first hour. 

 She wants Olive Garden for dinner so that's what we are going to have.  She doesn't seem to be in any physical pain, though the rubber band bothers the inside of her cheek.  She's teary one minute and better the next; filled with teen angst, feeling like they make her the ugliest beast on the planet, and refusing to accept any words of comfort to the contrary.  She says she won't smile for the next eighteen months, but she already has; I don't dare point that out to her.

She'll adjust; she already is.  And, when she does, she is going to have a killer smile.

Balance

It's been a little strange since we've been home from vacation.  I haven't been able to get back into my normal routine.  This is not necessarily a bad thing, my normal routine was rather boring, but not being able to get back into some sort of routine has left me feeling a bit off balance.

Perhaps it is because summer is, once again, flying by us, and at the end of this particular summer my little girl enters her first year of high school, a phenomenon I can't quite wrap my brain around.  Or perhaps it is because we took the girls out of school a day early to go on vacation, and I didn't get that closure, so I am unable to count those weeks we were gone as summer making it feel even shorter. I don't know the reason, but summer is nothing but a blink and another blink after that one leaving me unsettled, uneasy, and unbalanced.

The kids have been eager to reconnect with their friends, so the house has been filled with chatty girls and joyous laughter.  They have had play dates and sleepovers and trips to various beaches.  They've tracked down Taylor Swift's house in Watch Hill, and gone to fireworks displays that were fogged over.  They've eaten ice cream and seen movies and played and texted and laughed and laughed and laughed.  Oh, how I love to listed to the laughter.

We've been experiencing a heat wave all this week and it have been unbearable to be outside.  The girls have gone to the beach every day with friends and I have stayed inside and attempted to stay cool; dusting a little here, tidying up a little there.  We are getting prepared to go back to my parent's lake house in NY at the beginning of August, so I am sure that is when the weather will turn for the worse again.

Until then we are all just doing our best to stay cool and play with our friends because really? Isn't  that what it's all about?

 

 

 

 

Where I've Been

We've been on vacation these last few weeks; first in Maine with Steve's family in a huge beach rental, and then in New York with my family at my parent's lake house.  It's been a crazy few weeks filled with family and fun, inconsistent weather and mosquitoes, babies and pre-schoolers, tweens and teens, kayaks and arts and crafts projects, singing and dancing, campfires and homemade candy, cousins and snuggles, aunts and uncles, giggles and love.

The beach house was fabulous.  Our family had the third floor all to ourselves with a queen sized bed, two bunk beds, our own bathroom with a large shower, and a separate bedroom with a television where the girls hung out during the evening.  The house also had a large, brand new everything kitchen and dining room/living room area, a bathroom and two bedrooms on the ground floor, and four bedrooms, a living area and a bathroom with a washer and dryer on the second floor.  It was lovely and we never could have afforded it if my sister-in-law had not paid for it a year in advance.

While in Maine we did all of the usual things: beach, Perkins Cove, beach, Brown's Ice Cream, beach, Nubble Light, beach, played lacrosse and frizbe on the beach, hunted for critters, played miniature golf, spent time in the batting cage, ate lobster, beach, beach, beach....

Steve's mother was there and his sisters JoAnn, Cindy and Donna, his brother and sister-in-law Bill and Tami, and his neice Brook and her family Jen and Melanie.  Everyone was able to have their own space and yet we spent lots of time together doing common activities.

When we left Maine the girls and I rode to New York with my brother-in-law and his family and my father picked us up at their house and drove us to my parent's lake house, Camp Monsoon Rainforest, where we spent the next two weeks.  Once there we were able to take deep breaths and completely relax, not having to move every second.

Camp Monsoon Rainforest was filled with cousins old and new.

Cousins my age from all over the country I haven't seen in years and was thrilled to get the chance to visit with, and brand new babies meeting their cousins for the first time.  My girls loved hanging out with my sister's kids Drew and Ainsley, and snuggling my brother's new baby Colton Timothy. 

 

It was a hectic couple of weeks with my brother and his little family there at the same time as me and my girls, but I think that is exactly the way my mother imagined it when they bought the place.  Hectic is good.  I hope. 

The Knee

Last Sunday, during Harper's lacrosse game, Addison took a tumble into a nearby pond and gashed her knee on some rocks.  The cut was wide, but not too deep, and, at first, we thought we could butterfly it at home, but after several attempts, it became apparent we needed to take her to the ER. 

Once there the doctor offered us either three stitches or steri-strips to close the wound, and explained the difference would be the width of the resulting scar.  I wanted to stitch it because I (am a mean, mean mommy who wanted the most painful solution possible) wanted the thinnest scar possible.  Addie wanted no part of the stitches; she was very upset and quite adament about not having stitches.  Steve sided with Addison, reminding me that it is her knee not her face, and we were talking milimeters.

We went with the steri-strips.

On the way home from the ER, she began to cry, telling me she was sad because her timing was so terrible, she had field day at school this week; an entire day of sporting activities that require bending, nonsteri-stripped knees, and her last lacrosse game this Saturday.  So, she was sad and continues to be sad, but she is a trooper. 

On the upside, her teacher is fabulous, and has set her up with a special seat in the classroom where she can put her leg up.  She has her own lamp, she gets to choose a different personal helper each day and she is allowed to use the elevator rather than the stairs, so she is feeling pretty special at school. 

The strips will take at least a couple of weeks, maybe up to three, to come off, and she is supposed to leave them to come off on their own.  We saw her pediatrician last night and the knee is healing well.  Not the best start to her summer, but she is going to be just fine.   

 

 

Colton Timothy

Born 12:04 a.m. June 8th 2013  8 pounds 10 ounces  20.5 inches long

Screw the rain

Our family is growing today; my youngest brother is at his wife's side as she labors to deliver their first child, my newest nephew, into the world, and the excitement in the family is palapable.  Text messages are flying back and forth and sideways with updates and requests for updates, and everyone is getting more and more anxious with each message.  Nothing, not even the rainy, chilly, windy, just plain nasty and unusual weather of this June day can dampen our joy because we are anticipating a brand new baby boy, and he is going to be perfect.

Lacrosse season is upon us, almost finished, actually; the girls and Steve are completely emersed in the sport, and, therefore, by some sort of osmosis I am too, so we spend more time on the lacrosse field than we do almost any other place, it seems, and I find it difficult even to put a meal, healthy or otherwise, on the table each night.  Homework happens, showers take place, they sleep, go to school and work, all of it revolving around the lacrosse schedule simutaneously counting down the days until school is out for the summer. 

 We're having our ups and downs.  Drama.  Hormones.  Growing pains.  Girl stuff.  Sister stuff.  Teen and tween angst.  The girls have a hard time getting along one minute and fiercely defend one another the next; like all sisters, they are the worst of enemies and the best of friends.  This makes me both anxious for, and anxious about, summer vacation.  I can't wait to have them home every day.  I am so looking forward to all of the things we will do this summer, but the constant bickering is another story.

You do the math

Gallon of cranberry juice + box of Monistat 3 =