PreK graduation

School programs are going to be my undoing.

We went to The Boy's preschool graduation, which had a little program called "A Day in VPK."* The kids recited Bible verses and sang songs, went over vowel sounds and counted in Spanish. I had to fight to hold back tears and there weren't even costumes.

The kids all walked in single-file, each anxiously scanning the room for the people who love them best. They glanced every few seconds at the teachers they've grown to trust, waiting for their cue. Their feet tapped and their legs twisted around the chair legs. They couldn't keep their hands from waving. Even if one of them wasn't mine, my heart breaks a little for these children,  scrubbed shiny and wearing their hearts on the sleeves of their very best clothes.

But of course, one of them is mine, my big Boy, my baby who made me a mother. I had no idea what I was doing when he arrived, and the poor thing still is my guinea pig as I figure out how to be a momma and particularly his momma. I must be doing something right though, because once he saw me -- and his daddyman -- The Boy smiled and visibly relaxed in his chair. When he had walked in, his brow was furrowed and he blew air through his mouth. I understood then all those moms I used to snicker at, jumping up and down and hollering for their kids. I knew he was nervous and as I watched his eyes dart around the room, I couldn't stop myself from waving, had to bite my tongue to keep from shouting, "I'm here! I love you!"

Seriously, I need to get a grip. I've got 13 more years of this.

I went to thank his teacher after we all had lunch. She has been a real support to the kids even as she had her first baby. She encouraged The Boy to be a leader in the class, and he has shined for her. She said The Boy was a joy to teach, which I sloughed off the polite thing to say, but then she told me something that still has me glowing. Each of the kids put together a portfolio for graduation, and one page said, "I like to play with _____." The kids wrote in a friend's name and the teacher took a picture of them on the playground.

"Nearly everyone in the class picked The Boy," his teacher said. "He's so kind to everyone, just genuinely nice."

I am very proud of all the things The Boy has learned over the last year. I love watching him play baseball and draw and write. He is so close to reading, I get giddy every time we sound out a word. But when she told me how kind-hearted my Boy is, my heart nearly burst.

*Florida calls it voluntary prekindergarten, hence VPK.

A weekend of goodness

We were on the go so much this weekend that it went by in a blur. A good blur not a blur nonetheless. Saturday brought a morning of chores followed by a playdate with friends from our old town. They moved to Central Ohio last week (funny sidenote, we've been following for years. They bought a house, we bought a house. They had a kid, three months later, we had a kid. We moved, a month or so later, they moved.) I'm so happy to have them close again. They have three girls so it is always fun to spend time with them though I think both husbands wonder what happened to all the boys.

Our playdate was immediately followed by dinner at our neighbor's house. Our kids are quickly becoming buddies and they were having another family over (again, with three girls) so they asked if we wanted to as well. The only hitch was when Maddie peed on their carpet. The husband had JUST taken her to the bathroom. Nothing like explaining to your neighbors about urine on the floor.

I had to bail partway through the party because I already had plans with a former co-worker/friend to go out for drinks.

Look at me being all social.

Sunday morning dawned with a frenzy. We had to get out the door to my in-laws for a weekend late Mother's Day celebration. But first we needed to get stuff from the store and wait for the cable guy to come fix the cable. When I returned from a 20 minute trip to the store with fruit for a salad, I found six kids at my house all eating popsicles at 10:55 a.m. Two of the kids were mine, two were from next door and two I had no idea who they were. The husband also wasn't completely clear where they came from but made it sound like they all rappelled out of the trees ninja-style once the bounce house was inflated.

With the car packed and all the kids sent on their way, we were off to celebrate at my husband's Nana's house. Her house sits on a large pond and it could not possibly be a more lovely setting.

The girls getting ready to fish.

Maddie touching a fish for the first time.

With her first fish. She caught three I think. She did amazing.

Look at that form. That technique.

Emery with one of her catches.

 

I even helped, though I am haunted by the experience. I am a bit of girly-girl so the thought of touching slimy, scaly things makes my skin crawl. Yet, there I was pulling the fish off the hooks and baiting the lines with worms that I had to pinch off into pieces (I'm so sorry little worms.) I silently screamed each time I did it and ugly faced my way through. But it made the girls happy. So.

I can do this. I can do this. Don't cry. Don't scream.

And one of the best parts of the weekend was my new quilt from Nana. She makes everyone in the family these gorgeous quilts. The girls have 7 each, I think (baby quilts, Valentine's Day, Christmas, Fourth of July, Halloween, Easter and large themed ones for their rooms.) The husband and I each have two. I love my new one so much that I think I will use it as the centerpiece for decorating the extra bedroom.

Sometimes it is difficult for me to process these kinds of weekends. They are so full of awesomeness but so FULL. I'm a homebody who likes down time (and also does not not enjoy pinching worms into pieces. Shudder.) But I keep telling myself that someday the girls will remember these times and they might actually think we are cool parents (you know, when they are talking through everything else I've done wrong during therapy.)

Phone home

"Momma. Guess WHAT?!"

"Wha-"

"I GOT A BALL SIGNED BY AROLDIS CHAPMAN!"

Mike took The Boy to the Reds game in Miami earlier this week. He was so excited to go. He had a daily countdown and told everyone he saw all week that Thursday was Baseball Game Day. I did not expect to hear from them that night.

But there was his little voice hollering into the phone.

"OK! I'm going to hand you back to Daddy now."

Mike and I chatted for a minute.

"Well, I'll let you go. He just had to tell you. He insisted we call."

I hope he always wants to tell me his news.

Grounded

Mike comes home and the boys rush to the dinner table as he strips off his tie and shirt and changes into shorts. Helping to fix the boys' plates, Mike pecks me on the lips -- "Hey darlin-o. How was your day?" -- and launches into talk of his. Sometimes, the kiss is forgotten until the boys are running outside for baseball.

"I don't think I kissed you yet."


After the kiddos are settled into bed with hugs and high-fives and stories, I flop in my chair with a book or phone or both. Mike turns on the ballgame and wanders between the couch and endless exercises, crunches and stretches and planks. Maybe we end up on the couch together watching whatever show has captured us. He quotes baseball stats at me; I read him lines from my book. Some nights we don't talk much at all. We sit next to each other in companionable silence.

---

I have stared at the CD rack in the corner for two years, watching as it got messier and messier and thinking that we really ought to go through it, toss a bunch, put the remains in baskets and move the music into the digital world. But media baskets are shockingly expensive and Mike shrugged every time I suggested it, so there the CDs sat. I forced the issue last month when I bought two baskets just to see if they'd be the right size. They weren't, but The Boy got involved as I started organizing, and poor Mike was bullied into the project.

The very first gift Mike every gave me was a mix CD. We were barely dating and I didn't want a boyfriend, or so I claimed. But listening to it in the car, I felt like he was sitting next to me. His selections made me laugh as much as his conversations. I parsed the lyrics for his intentions. I told myself I was just singing along. If I listened to it more than other CDs, it was only because they were such great songs to sing to. In the music reorganization, I found that first mix and the note he wrote with it, a meager little thing notable only because he still was addressing me as Hillary instead of darlin-o or Rue or some other endearment. 

We also discovered all the CDs we burned for our wedding in lieu of a DJ. I put the first one in the car. It's the one that played as we walked away from my parents' gazebo, husband and wife, and while people mingled and we mugged for the photographer. It is filled with all of our love songs and listening to it the other morning, I felt like when I listened to that very first mix. 

I felt like when I sat across from him at the bar and pretended not to flirt. I felt like when I decided I was going to make him kiss me. I felt like when we would spend hours driving to see each other. I felt like when I would wait til the last minute to leave his apartment on Monday morning. I felt like when we drove 1,000 miles together, in separate cars, to start a new life together. 

I remembered when silences were electrified instead of comfortable. 

---

"I have a blog post I've been thinking about, but it involves you." 

I explain to Mike what those old mix CDs have gotten me mulling over, about how love changes and shifts, about how music and memories fit together. 

"Of course," he says. "You should write it." 

We talk about love and lyrics for a bit. He starts talking about the practical side of the music project: what sound system we need, when the new iPod is arriving. Silence. He tells me something funny he's found on Facebook. Silence. I remember something the boys did that made me laugh and share it. We head to bed and stand together, watching the mirror as we brush our teeth. I nudge into him, he bumps me back. We keep talking after we switch off the lights. We fall asleep laughing. 

That's the thing: the silences never last long. We can't stop talking to each other. We make each other laugh. Our history grounds us, but the electricity still is there. 

The SURPRISE kindergarten home visit (that wasn't supposed to be a surprise)

We were just sitting down to dinner at the table when the doorbell rang.

I looked at the husband puzzled. It was 7:15. We weren't expecting anyone.

I opened the door and two older women happily greeted me, handed me an envelope that had been on my front porch and just walked into my house.

Two strangers just walked in.*

I stuttered out something like, "Can I help you?" as I stared at these strangers standing in my foyer.

They looked at me and one said, "We're here for the kindergarten visit."

Um, what?

About that time, the husband realized what was going and said from the kitchen, "I forgot to tell her. In fact, I forgot you were coming tonight."

That's right. I had no idea that a teacher and an administrator from my child's elementary school were coming to my house tonight. No. Idea.

No.

Idea.

The first thoughts were not of strangling my husband (that was third or fourth.) Instead, I quickly did a mental checklist of everything out of place in the family room. The room that I was about to lead these lovely ladies to. Toys were out, books were strewn about, it probably needed a good vacuum. You know, the usual state of your house when you aren't expecting company.

To be fair to my husband, he is the one who solved the kindergarten problem. He enrolled Emery in school so he became the contact person. They apparently called two weeks ago to schedule this visit and he forgot to tell me.

I wasn't completely blindsided by the concept of the visit. Our neighbor had told me they would do this at some point. Thankfully I was home (because I'm often still at work or on my way from work at that time.) Thankfully the house wasn't a complete mess. Thankfully nobody was yelling or crying or throwing a tantrum when the ladies arrived.

But yeah.

They were both very nice about it. They thought it was wonderful that we were all eating dinner together. They were impressed with how much Emery is learning at preschool. Many of the things they said she would learn by the end of kindergarten she already knows. (The first question they asked her is if she knows any letters. The kid has to write her full name out each morning at school to sign in. She knows her letters.)

They told us about some of the curriculum. We explained our situation (just moved to the area as well as our plans for daycare after school.) We talked about kids using computers and iPads. We chatted about the state budget and what it's doing (or not) doing for education as well as Common Core standards (thankfully I had just edited a story alllll about Common Core about 90 minutes before so I actually knew what I was talking about.)

They gave Emery (who didn't utter a word this entire time because she is painfully shy around strangers) a puzzle, a pencil bag, some books to read, sidewalk chalk and worksheets to do.

And that was that. Despite the surprise, it went fairly well.

As soon as I shut the door, the husband said to me, "You are going to write a blog post about this, aren't you?"

Yes. Yes I am.

*The husband would later chide me for letting these ladies into the house but it was a half-hearted attempt to deflect the fact that HE FORGOT TO TELL ME THEY WERE COMING!

Stuck in a good place

I've had writer's block lately and the more I thought about it, the worse it got. So instead of trying to write some profound post, I'll tell you what's been happening around these parts.

Maddie is in the middle of potty training. Her school has been trying to do this since November. We haven't really been on board (see: holidays, trying to sell a house, buy a house and move). She had success off and on at school but showed no interest at home so we didn't push it.

Well, now we are.

The first couple times she screamed and cried. Maybe it's the second child but it didn't bother me as much as when Emery cried over it. (Then again, I'm also trying to make sure Maddie gets the hang of this before she turns three unlike another small person in our house.) But once Maddie used the potty successfully at home and we made a big deal of it (clapping, dancing, lots of fist bumping) she doesn't seem so angry about it.

Fingers crossed, the end of diapers is coming.

 ****

In other fun news, we are slowly making friends with our neighbors who have a 7-year-old girl and a 4-year-old boy. There were no kids in our old neighborhood so this is a new concept for us. The girls really enjoy playing with them and they seem like good kids. Sunday afternoon they came over and played in the bounce house while the mom and I made small talk and even made plans for a cook-out.

This is exactly what I wanted for my kids.

I also was able to catch up with a good friend from my childhood who happens to live down the road from us. She came over Saturday evening for wine and brownies. We saw each other about three years ago and before that it had been years. But, Saturday night, it felt like we had been talking every day. She is such good people and her kids are the same age as the girls.

I'm starting to get the hang of this "being social" thing and I'm enjoying it.

 ****

We are getting settled into the new house and I'm figuring out how to decorate it. I found some gorgeous prints on society6. Now I just need to get them framed and hung.

I got these two for the living room wall:

Source: society6.com via Michelle on Pinterest

Source: society6.com via Michelle on Pinterest

I'm trying to find some antique-like things to mix in with them to make a gallery wall. (And by antique-like things, I have really no idea. Maybe some old keys? Interesting mirrors? I'll know it when I see it.)

And this one for above the fireplace (which is quickly becoming a mishmash of things and once I get it together, I will post a photo.)

Source: society6.com via Michelle on Pinterest

And this one for Emery's room (she gasped when she saw it.)

Source: society6.com via Michelle on Pinterest

I promise to have take photos once everything comes together. So, you know, check back this time next year.

Silver linings and questions

The bad news is we have to replace a toilet.

The good news is, because I had to come home to deal with the plumber, and because I had to pick up the boys because Mike couldn't leave early to do it at the regular time, I have a few extra hours with them this afternoon. The even better news is that today is gorgeous, all sunshine and blue skies and cool breezes.

I spent all yesterday in a low-grade fever of rage. An extra hour in the sun with Beastie and The Boy seems like the thing to blow away that mood.

---

I have wanted to see Silver Linings Playbook since it first came out, but I never seem to get to the theater any more because I am a mommy cliche. Anyway, I do still manage to read and I bought the novel for our Boston trip and devoured it in one plane ride. It was not the best or most lovely book I have ever read, but it was enjoyable and satisfying. Mike, after listening to me whine for several weeks about wanting to see the movie, rented it this weekend for me. Like any movie adapted from a book, it differed from the source material in a few irritating ways. But it was just as satisfying.

The book, the movie -- they are what I believe about life. People are damaged. We're all struggling somehow. But when we reach out and care for each other, we're all better for it. Cheesy and Pollyanna-ish as it is, that is how I feel.

Now, I will admit it is easier to remember that with people you like than it is, say, when someone cuts you off in traffic. Still.

---

Apropos of nothing, I have two questions for you:

1. How did you get your otherwise potty-trained child to stay dry all night?
2. How much would you pay a babysitter -- not a family member, but a trusted, regular sitter -- to stay overnight with your kids?