Nothing to Fear But Fear Itself

During the Great Depression, sure, maybe there was nothing to fear but fear itself, but I'm facing a scarier scenario than nationwide bank collapse.  It's called Summer, and it's happening soon.  It's where nobody goes to school, nobody gets up at a certain time, and I spend 18 hours a day straight with six kids.  Do you hear the music to Psycho?  Because I do.  What the Freddy Krueger am I going to do with all these kids for all those hours?  Of course I like them...a lot!  But I like them on a schedule.  If we get up, do chores and practicing for two hours, have friends over for two hours and have lunch, it will be 9:30 in the morning.

These kids are too old to nap, too young to take the car and go camping, leaving me home alone with a good book.  What am I going to do?  Signing up for every class, workshop and clinic is not an option.  I can't spend the summer in my car in 90 degree weather, driving them from one activity to the next, and have you seen how much those things cost?  As much as I'm looking forward to sunny pool days, I'm terrified of summer.  I need ideas, and tons of them.  How are all of you going to handle the dog days?  I got out my calendar and, with a shaky, resistant hand, blocked out two full weeks of July with NO lessons or obligations, right after The King and I ends.  I know we'll be ready for a break, but I still have to figure out how all that free time is going to translate into something other than wet, sunburned kids tracking water into the house from the sprinklers and competing to see who can leave the most popsicle sticks on the driveway.  If you have some good ideas you want to try out, I have some kids you can borrow to try them out on.  Minimum three night requirement, and they bring their own sleeping bags, sidewalk chalk, sprinkler toys and craft paint.  You just have to supply 27 healthy snacks a day and clean up after them.  Oh, and they will require five trips a day to the Sno Shack, applications of sunscreen every three hours and several movies a night to watch between the time the pool closes and whenever it gets dark outside.  Are you scared yet?

Comfort Food

My body is confused.  I think it's storing up fat for the winter.  The snow is making my brain send messages that I need to bury nuts and hibernate.  Food has taken a central role in my life the past few days.  I chopped a big stack of corn tortillas in quarters and fried them into chips.  Sea salt and hummus made them delicious.  I also made pot stickers and spring rolls for the first time in forever.  Easy...fill the wrappers with ground pork or beef, green onions, cabbage, grated ginger.  Dip in sesame oil and soy sauce.  When I lived with Japanese and Chinese room mates, we made pot stickers by the dozens, all the time.  My friend Yanfu and his wife Yaqing could form them with one hand in about 3 seconds each.  It was fun to make an old tradition new, and the fresh ginger root energized me.

Still, one look outside and I heard my biological clock say it was time not for renewal, but for comfort.  I may have been better served using my fresh root in gingerbread rather than spring rolls.  Hot milk, dark chocolate powder and almond syrup gave me something warm to wrap my hands around as I gazed out at the giant snowflakes swirling around like so many angry cherry blossoms in the wind.  Just a moment to relax with my steaming drink, as if it were Christmas Eve, then off to take Ruby a plate of pot stickers to eat between ballet classes.  No time for hibernation after all.  Another chocolate almond steamer, perhaps?

Courage

We like to think we know what life is, we adults who are making our way in the world, learning as we overcome each trial we encounter.  We think we have learned something and sometimes we think we know it all.   My grandmother, Ruby, is 93 years old.   I can't begin to chronicle a life as long and full as Nana's.  If I think I know anything, I have only to look at Nana to know that I have a lot left to discover.  There's hardly anything she hasn't experienced, good and bad.  As a result, she has a lot of wisdom to share, yet regardless of what sophomoric or trivial stage of life I'm in, she has always treated my life experiences with enthusiasm, as if she hasn't seen dozens of youngsters through college, marriage and baby raising.  I have seen her with a serene smile on her face listening to the complaints of young mothers.  She had five kids in five years, ending with twins, and she's been there, but she doesn't use her expertise to diminish our experiences.  Ptolemy must be about her 70th great-grandchild, but every time he visits her, she declares him to be something special. 

Nana Ruby has always advocated a healthy lifestyle, but at 93, as she says, "a lot can go wrong.  You're supposed to be dead!"  Recently, she's had some health problems.  As I was going about my artificially busy day, checking things off my inane list, amidst the sound and the fury of my life, I thought of Nana.  Whatever amount of energy it takes to see me through my day, Nana must have ten times that to see her through the hours of silence.  Recovering from a bout of diverticulitis that had her hospitalized, she is stoically fighting through pain without fanfare and alone.  She has plenty of people who call and visit, but at the end of the day, as she kneels to pray for each one of us, her children, she is alone with her pain and her fear.  "How will I get through this, and what if I don't?"  I can't imagine having the courage to confront that question.  In mythology, the hero always faces the ultimate challenge alone.  Yes, I have a lot to learn.  While anyone can do laundry and drive kids and figure out what to have for dinner, only the most courageous among us can face each day of their 93rd year saying with a smile, "This is nothing I can't handle."  Today instead of checking things off my to do list, I'm going to visit Nana and maybe learn something about being a hero.

Weed B Gone

Has anyone ever heard of an instance where humans were able to successfully combine children and yardwork?  If so, how did they do it?  Ruby, Ari, Freestone, Xanthe, Esmae, Ptolemy and I worked for three hours pulling weeds on Saturday and got roughly 20 minutes worth of work done.  The whole endeavor ended up being about "winning" for Xanthe and Esmae and math skills for Freestone.  For the older girls, it was about perfecting their fear of spiders and bugs.  Every 30 seconds, Esmae and Xanthe would ask if they were winning, Ruby would scream and point at an invisible insect, and Ari would go to Coco's to "get a rake."   Every time I asked Freestone to do something, he would say, "How many points would I get?"  He and I definitely expended more energy tallying imaginary points than pulling weeds.  In the end, Freestone had one million points, the preschoolers were deemed the "best workers," Ruby never came back from returning all of Coco and Bill's tools and Ari took Tolly on a long walk.  Scott and Golda came back from flute just in time to see me filling the last garbage bag with weeds.  I was indignant that they had been gone so long until I found out they had been Mothers' Day shopping.  OK, that's valid.

I came to the sad conclusion that having a beautiful yard is just more work than I want it to be.  Hopefully, practice will make perfect over the season.  If I don't end up with a beautiful yard, at least I'll end up with kids who can make up excuses to get out of working.

Pools and Pianos

Friday was a day of firsts.  Xanthe had her first piano master class and Ari and Freestone had their first swim meet.  Xanthe's piano video is pretty boring unless you're interested in the fine details of Twinkle Variation A.  I learned quite a bit!   Xanthe was cute in her little dress, especially when she bowed to the teacher and said, "Thank you for teaching me."  Her own piano teacher, not the master class teacher, gave her a little panda for playing.  Xanthe loved having an audience, which consisted of a bunch of piano teachers, Ruby and Uncle Trajan, who brought Ruby from her guitar lesson.  (Thanks!)

After the piano class, We drove to the swim meet, hoping we weren't too late to see the kids' races.  By the time we got there, Xanthe was sound asleep, and Scott had been hanging out in the humid pool area for a couple hours.  Freestone raced the 10 and under 50 meter backstroke.  I didn't realize at the time that he came in dead last, by about 30 seconds, and that the whole crowd was cheering for him at the end.  I was just excited and impressed to see him swim in a straight line!  The little guy was probably the tiniest swimmer at the meet in his micro-speedo, and the most determined.  They award ribbons for the first six places.  Freestone, not understanding that his race had three heats, thinks that he for sure got a ribbon, since there were fewer than six in his heat.  I thought about buying him a ribbon, just because I was so proud of him for racing.  Then I gave myself a mental slap and said, "Hello!  Buy your kid a ribbon for coming in last?  Isn't competing and reaching the finish line reward enough?"  Not to mention the ice cream after!

Araceli's race was the 50 meter freestyle.  Being a complete novice, she had actually never dived off a starting block before, and she did a belly flop, which I didn't get on camera.  She steadfastly refuses to turn her head to the side to breathe, and was a little panicky by the end that she couldn't catch her breath.  (She has asthma.)  Possibly, swimming isn't her sport.  (Neither is anything with a ball.  She told me how embarrassing it is when the ball is coming toward you, you flinch big time, and it doesn't hit you.  I get that!)  Nevertheless, I was ridiculously proud.  I was on a swim team in ninth grade and came in last every time.  Pa-thetic.  These kids have already surpassed any ability I might have inadvertently developed on my swim team.  And they didn't get any swimming ability from Scott.  When he was Freestone's age, he was crying and screaming with fear at swimming lessons.  The teacher threw him in the deep end to demonstrate that he could do it, and he freaked out.  His sister Michelle had to jump in and save him.  So seeing our kids able to get out there and swim is a little bit like a turtle discovering that its offspring can fly.  It's kinda cool.

I have vowed unsuccessfully many times to stay away from kid-centric activities where you feel obligated to shout, "Way to go!"  But...way to go, swimmers!  And, "Way to Twinkle, Xanthe!"

Knuckle Sandwich

Ari:  Mom, do you ever want to punch someone in the face and not get in trouble for it?

Mom:  Yeah, I do.  I really do.

Ari:  Me too.

I don't know who is on Ari's list, but I'll tell you who's on my Knuckle Sandwich list.  It starts with the mom who was 20 minutes late picking up her kids from my ballet class, 50 to 66 percent of my own kids and the guy who drove in front of me 10 miles under the speed limit when I was in a hurry.  That little incident prompted Ruby to ask, "How is that patience thing working out for you, Mom?"  Let me tell ya how it's working out for me.  It's making me want to punch somebody in the face.

P.T. at 9

Anyone want to see what my baby can do? He can wave, he can say uh-oh, he can chew on a book and he can melt your heart.  Before you even know what hit you, you're in love with him.  At least that's what happened to me.  My favorite is when I leave and he wails, "Oh...Ma...ma!  Oh...Ma...ma!"  I daresay he's in love, too.  I know I won't always be his favorite.  Freestone used to cry for me.  When I tucked him in recently, I said, "I love you!"  He replied, "I love you too.  Well, sometimes I don't."  That's OK, Free, but don't give Ptolemy any ideas.

A Star is Born

 No paparazzi, please!

Guess who got the part of "The Admiral" in the Sound of Music?  (Not to be confused with The Captain, who is the main character.) Out of all the people who auditioned (one or two), Scott got the part.  He was lucky to get it because he told them at the audition things that you should never mention when you want a role, such as, "My wife signed me up to do this, but I really don't want to," "If the other guy wants it, let him have it," and the height of hubris for an actor just starting his stage career, "I don't do theater.  Only film."  Maybe it was that last statement that landed him the part.  They could see he had innate comedic skills and thought they could mold that into something.  If they do mold Scott into a stage actor, they will be starting practically from scratch, since the "high school acting experience" I alluded to in talking to the director was being best friends with Erik Hickenlooper, the kid in Saturday's Warrior.  That counts, right?

I for one think it will be a great experience for Golda and Ruby to be in a play with Scott.  The girls' initial reactions ranged from mortified (Golda) to supportive (Ruby) to jealous (Ari).  Now Ari wants Scott to be in her play too.  Scott, you up for another role?  Probably not.  He really already has his hands full as the chauffeur in "Driving Miss Golda/Ruby/Araceli."  It's a supporting role, but it's a lot of work.  It does come with a private, reserved parking spot in our garage, courtesy of Ari and a foolishly unguarded can of blue spray paint. 

Thanks for being such a good sport about everything from drama to spray paint, Scott. Break a leg!

Good Things Come to Those Who Wait?

Yesterday at our Family Council (Don't be impressed.  It lasted less than two minutes during which we were eating Life cereal for dinner), everyone chose a word to be their focus for the week.  Ruby's was "finish," Ari's was "concentrate," Golda's was "read," Freestone's was "weed" because he likes to rhyme.  Scott's was "funny," and yes, Scott, I think we would all appreciate you being a little funnier.  New jokes, maybe?  You have your work cut out for you.

My word was "patient."  There are so many ways I can use this word to improve myself.  For me, the opposite of patience is rudeness, aggravation, stress, and temper.  Every time I find myself demonstrating a lack of patience, it negatively affects those around me.  Already today, I have checked my patience level about a thousand times and found it lacking.  I have my work cut out for me, too!  Helping kids with practicing, getting them out the door, teaching them to clean up, driving, grocery shopping, talking on the phone, waiting for things, working on violins, learning new things, accepting different viewpoints, facing disappointment, finishing tasks, dealing with late people, waiting for a kid to buckle up...Practically every minute of the day requires some level of patience.

So patience is my word for the week.  Thinking about it helps me not tailgate in the fast lane.  It helps me send kids to school with a smile.  When I'm patient, it helps Freestone avoid meltdowns.  It makes me feel better about how I treat people.  Having patience gives me time to understand where others are coming from and to evaluate what triggers are making me feel impatient.  Everyone in the family agreed that Xanthe's word should be patience too.  She doesn't have any.  She can think of 50 different ways to ask when dinner will be ready in the amount of time it takes to microwave a slice of pizza.  Then, as soon as she has the first 4 or 5 bites shoved into her mouth all at once, she is asking where her drink is.  Before I can open the fridge, she is crying.  Those situations are the ones where I need the most patience, so I don't end up screaming, "JUST HAVE A LITTLE PATIENCE, KID!!!"  That would be ironic, now, wouldn't it?

Deal Breaker

Scott and I had a conversation:

Oh, Scott, can you get me the new Johnny Cash CD?
No.
Why?
Because it sucks.
No.  It doesn't.
Why?  Just because you heard it on NPR, you like it?
Yeah.
OK, I'll get it.
Thanks.

At the beginning of our marriage, I would have walked away from that conversation thinking, "I can't believe I'm married to someone who doesn't revere NPR.  What shallow, vapid, uninformed man did I marry?  Is this my life now?"

And Scott would have walked away thinking, "She likes Johnny Cash?  Can't she tell his new CD isn't good?  How could I have ended up with someone who knows nothing about music?  How can I share my life with this person?"

I mean, that brief conversation could have been a deal breaker!  "I'm sorry, I just can't be with someone who doesn't love Lakshmi Singh."  "No, I'm sorry.  I can't be with someone who thinks Ain't No Grave is a good album."  Thirteen years into eternity, NPR is still my drug of choice (it calms, invigorates and balances me.) and he still knows everything about music.  It hasn't created any sort of existential crisis.  Furthermore, he likes sports and I still don't understand what pick and roll means.  He was telling me about the Jazz game the other day, about how they had ruined their chances for the home court advantage and on and on.  I said, "Now I know how you feel when I talk."  No hurt feelings.   That's why it works.  That and the fact that he is willing to download the awesome music I hear about on NPR.  I guess there's something to the "opposites attract" theory.  But where does that leave Scott if I'm the cute one?

Evil Migraine Does Not Thwart Federation

Usually when Golda goes to flute Federation, we get pictures of her before performing at Gardner Hall, smiling with her shiny flute, nervous but ready.  Then after, pictures of her in front of Backer's Bakery with a beautifully frosted flower cookie and a sense of exhilaration.  Not this time.  The before picture:  Golda sleeping in the car on the way with sunglasses to block the light.  The after picture:  Golda resting on the steps in front of Gardner Hall so she could make it to the car.  Yep, the culprit was a migraine.  She came home from play practice this morning delirious, took medicine and fell asleep.  After resting for an hour, she dragged herself to the car, her flute caddy (me) right behind with the flute, music, judging sheets and tupperware with sealable lid.  (You know migraines make you throw up, right?  Not to mention the numb left arm, blind spots in your vision and vise-like, disorienting pain in your temples.)

This is why I have to brag about Golda.  Because she can go from muttering incoherent thoughts about not being able to do this, to announcing her pieces with a smile and playing them very well.  When I was her age and got these evil headaches, all I could do was whimper in a dark room for two days.  I also have to hand it to her amazing teacher, Jane, for preparing her students so well that they can still get up in front of judges and do what they practiced doing, no matter what.  That's a great teacher.  A million thanks to Jennifer, our accompanist.  You have no idea what a relief it is to have a good pianist who is willing to put trips to the baby animal farm on hold for us!  I don't know what Golda's score is because the judges let us go after she played.  Golda is nothing if not competitive, mumbling, "What was my score?" periodically all the way home.  Golda, I'm going to give you a Superior.  Whether the judges agree is immaterial.  You did it!

Harbinger

Ah, the ubiquitous Otter Pop, harbinger of summer, harbinger of toddlerhood.  I may not be ready.

The King and Ari

It's official:  Araceli will be getting to know The King and I.  She has been cast as a princess in the play!  To prepare for tryouts, she had a special voice lesson with Rebecca, Golda and Ruby's teacher, and numerous run-throughs with her sisters.  She sang "Whistle a Happy Tune."  The lyrics are perfect for a scary audition:  "Whenever I feel afraid, I hold my head erect...and whistle a happy tune so no one will suspect...I'm afraid!"  When we got home, I pulled out the camera to take a picture of her with her "Number 14" sticker from the audition.  My nephew, Jackson, stepped into the picture at the last minute, solemnly saying, "Cheese."  I like the "18" on his shirt.  He's perfect for the picture!

Much to everyone's delight, Ari got a callback for the part of Princess Ying Yaowlak, the king's favorite daughter.  We looked up her lines on YouTube and Ari rehearsed them.  As so often happens in these situations, we got to the callback and one of the girls was absolutely amazing.  When she sang, all the adults in the hall looked at each other with a "Holy cow!"  expression.  When she practiced her lines, she delivered them with a British accent!  The other 4 girls who got a callback were pretty much doomed, but fortunately they had no idea they had been upstaged.  So Ari didn't get the favorite daughter part, but she is still going to be my favorite princess in the production.  Ari is a princess to her very core.  Now she has a chance to play the part officially!  Good job, Ari!

Vacation Day

Who knew there would come a time in my life when caring for three kids with the stomach flu would constitute a day off?  But that is what it's come to.  Yesterday was a busy day full of voice lessons, ballet classes, homework, an audition and swim team, interspersed with sprints to the bathroom on my part and vomiting down my shirt every time I changed my clothes on Ptolemy's part.  It was Extreme Motherhood.  I felt like a warrior, but two days of battle would have been one too many.

So today, with Ari and Golda falling victim to the flu, I cleared and cancelled and rescheduled until all I had to do was hand each kid a bowl and say "good luck!"  Thanks to Xanthe's field trip and Emily inviting her over after, I enjoyed a full day of sunny stillness and naps with a soft, sleepy baby.  The delicious quiet was broken only by occasional gagging sounds from the girls, learning the life lesson of holding your own hair back when you throw up.  "Tough love," I thought as I rolled over and pulled up my blanket.

Now I am rested and ready to go into battle again.  I still have two kids and a husband who haven't caught the flu yet, and you can bet it will strike on a night when there's play practice and a band concert.  Bring it on.

Coconut Cake

Besides Xanthe's Elaine Dance, Aunt Michelle's Coconut Cake seems to have been the hit of the luau.  Michelle always comes up with the most delicious concoctions, and she cooks like I do:  a whole bunch of this, a little of that, a glob, a spoonful, a pinch.  Well, actually I don't think a "pinch" is in Michelle's cooking vocabulary.  Her flavors are always over the top.

So here's the "recipe" for Michelle's cake.  She made it in a giant pan, so she probably used two yellow cake mixes to form the bottom layer.  She baked the cake, then for the middle layer, mixed pudding (banana or vanilla?) with a block of cream cheese and a can of pineapple tidbits.  The top layer was whipped cream and coconut.  It was so heavenly, I wish I had a big piece of it right now.  Good thing I don't have the ingredients!

Faucet Man

As everyone knows, our kitchen faucet has been leaking for, oh, a year.  It's interesting to watch people try to turn it off.  Women will automatically finagle it until they find the spot (7:00) where it turns off completely.  Men will say, "Hey, this sink won't turn off."  I don't know what that means, but someone should write a research paper on it.  Anyway, the sink finally got to the point where not even seasoned grandmas could find the sweet spot where the drips would stop.

So Scott decided he could install a new faucet himself.  Not based on past experience or anything, the rest of the family mercilessly ridiculed him for thinking he could do it.  He looked up instructions on Youtube and said, "See?  It's easy."  Ruby replied, "Yeah.  Easy for THAT guy!"  Even my faith wavered when Scott prepared to tackle the task and asked, "Do we have a flashlight?"  I know Scott is smart, but let's face it.  The odds are against a man who doesn't own a flashlight having the tools to install a kitchen faucet.  Nevertheless, he got under the sink with an LED toy from a happy meal and successfully changed out our faucet!

I was in Park City with the girls when I got a picture of the new faucet sent to my phone along with a text that said, "I am taking everyone who didn't doubt me to dinner with the money I saved by installing the faucet.  So that's me and Ptolemy."  Lesson learned by the rest of us!  We knew you could do it, Scott.  It's just too fun to give back some of the teasing you dish out.  Thanks for stopping the drips.  Now, is there anything you can do about the leaky April sky?  I wouldn't put it past you to be able to fix that, too.

My Answers...

 I gotted tagged by one of my favorite bloggers, Golda!  Here are my answers, G.  Thanks for inviting me to play with you!

6 places I want to visit...
Hong Kong again
Thailand
Switzerland and Austria
New York/Boston/D.C.
Paris/London/Rome/Istanbul...some of my faves
Pretty much anywhere.

5 of my favorite movies...
The Sound of Music
What About Bob
My Big Fat Greek Wedding
Forget Paris
City Slickers

4 of my favorite books...
Les Miserables
Pope Joan
The Help
Diary of Anne Frank

 3 of my favorite flowers...
Tulips
Lilacs
Lilies of the Valley

2 of my favorite songs
Brahms Tragic Overture
Bartok Quartets
Rodrigo Concierto de Aranjuez...oops, that's three.  There are too many!

1 person to tag... Ruby, my other favorite blogger!

A Joyful Mother of Children

Spring Break came at just the right time this year.  It was time for a breather, but I was scared of the equation Spring Break presented:  Kids + time = chaos.  Despite my misgivings, Spring Break 2010 was fun, awesome, restorative and relaxing, and it went by too, too quickly.  Now my calendar says it's time to get back to work, and it doesn't give me a break until June 4th, the last day of school.  That's eight weeks that I know from experience will start to feel like the inside of a tornado, spiraling faster and faster and sucking up everything in their path until another school year is history.  I don't want the school year to end, and I really want it all to go smoothly, and to enjoy it. 

I really lucked out when I grabbed this book 10 minutes before the library closed on the night of our office sleepover.  When I turned the last page of the book, I almost flipped right back to the first page to read it again.  A Joyful Mother of Children, by Linda J. Eyre.  Every page of it inspired me and made me laugh and/or cry.  Mostly, it motivated me to set some goals for our family.  I expected my kids to roll their eyes today when I announced five-minute Mom Meetings I wanted to have with each child individually.  With no argument, they all eagerly awaited their turn outside Araceli's bedroom door.  I started to wonder if they felt so neglected, the promise of five minutes of attention was manna from heaven!  With each child, we talked about and set three goals for the week; a spiritual goal, an academic goal and a family goal.  I asked each one the question, "What bothers you the most about this family?"  Freestone's response was, "Hard video games."  I'm not sure how to make video game time easier for Freestone, but from their answers and goals, I'm thinking of things Scott and I can do to make things run more smoothly.

Even if this plan only gets me through breakfast tomorrow, it's better than NOT getting through breakfast tomorrow!  Any mom who needs fuel will love this book.  More important than the goals and rethinking is the hope and inspiration it offers me as we enter the final stretches of the school year.  We're adding up to 6 play practices a week, baseball games, testing and looming deadlines, but I feel like it's all going to be just fine.  More than fine.  It's going to be a wild ride and I'm thankful to have a season pass for the adventure.

Xanthe Mary Mei "Aloha" Dopp

The luau was so much fun! Xanthe was surrounded by all of her fun friends, teachers and relatives. The Brown girls did a fabulous job of entertaining the crowd with their hula dancing. They were so talented and amazing! Thank-you, girls! Xanthe was uncharacteristically NOT shy and chose this moment to demonstrate her own, self-taught version of hula. You have to see the video. I honestly don't know what came over her!  There are a lot of sides to Xanthe's complex and intense personality, and she will always have friends from different areas of her life. Today was a celebration. We are so blessed to have been able to somehow get a tiny little 13-month-old from the other side of the world safely to our home to be ours forever. She truly is a hula-dancing, food-loving, loud and spicy miracle girl. We love you, Xanthe!