Scary, Big Spider

 Scared, but brave

Aunt Tricia gave the kids some cupcakes, but Ptolemy didn't want any.  He didn't even want to look at them.  He said, "I don't want a big potato bug on my cupcake."

I said, "It's not a potato bug, it's a spider!"  Like that's going to make it OK.  Nope.  Tolly said, "I don't want a scary, big spider on my cupcake."  He's going to have to get used to scary, ghoulish and frightful decorations and sugary treats.  Halloween is right around the corner!  In the end, sugar beat out the "scary, big spider" and Tolly was brave enough to lick the frosting off a cupcake...one of the ghost cupcakes, not the spider ones.  I can't believe he was scared.  He loves to watch Scooby Doo and say, "Scooby Doo!  Scary monster in there!"  He's always pretending there's a monster who is about to get him.  "The monster get me, Mom!  Monster in there!"   The cupcake phobia might have been just that Scooby and Shaggy weren't there to save the day in case the scary, big spider on the cupcake suddenly came to life or something.  When things get scary, ya gotta have Scooby Doo.  He loves cupcakes.

On the Side

I received an unexpected validation today at the violin shop.  A woman came in to look at cellos whom I had played in orchestra with years ago.  We talked and as she left, she said, "I remember you being a good enough violinist that you could have chosen a career in music.  It's nice to see that you chose family."  I was startled, but what she said rang true, although I know many women who are musicians and mothers, and others who didn't get a choice either way. 

When I was single and in violin making school, I was serious about my craft.  I already had a bachelor's degree in violin performance under my belt, and I was looking forward to pursuing a demanding career in the intense world of violin making.  It's a small, insular, competitive and sometimes unkind environment, but I loved the tradition and artistry of it the work, and the rough yet close-knit atmosphere of a violin shop suited me just fine. 

It was at this time that one of my mom's cousins, a sweet saint in the making, said to me, "That's just wonderful that you're studying something that you can do on the side when you have a family."  I about popped a blood vessel I was so incensed.  On the side!?  I was a bona fide artist, a violin maker to be taken seriously, coming out of the top school in the country.  Not some mom with a hobby.  Sure, I planned on having kids, I guess, but they would play in the wood shavings under my workbench while my life continued exactly how I wanted it.  Right?

As it turned out, my life did continue exactly how I wanted it.  I just didn't know what I wanted yet when my mom's cousin made her innocent observation.  I mistakenly thought I wanted a life that was all about me and what I could accomplish within the very narrow definition of success that my field offers.  Some would say I'm a failure.  I just have a tiny shop that's only open by appointment.  I never see a Strad.  I work on mostly student instruments and I don't have time for making at all.  But hey, I rented out 60 instruments this fall.  I do repairs every day.  I get to meet families who study music and I get to be around what I love all the time.  And I do it all while children, mine and others, play in the shop's playroom.  I guess you could call me a mom who is using her training on the side.  I got lucky.  I'm just glad there was a tiny spark in my heart that whispered the divinity of motherhood before I sold myself short and became a "success."  I really think I'd be missing out on the best part of life if I couldn't put my tools down and make an apple pie, especially if there were nobody to burst through the door at 3:30 to enjoy that pie.  Like I said, I just got lucky, and I'm so grateful.

When the E in Email stands for Embarrassing

From: nswenson@.net
Sent: Friday, September 23, 2011 2:49 PM
To: circe@.com
Subject: Tuesday Field Trip

Dear Parents,
On Tuesday morning we will be going to Dr. Rampton's Orthodontist office. The permission slip did not get passed out today so please be sure to watch for it to come home with your student on Monday.  Sign it and return it on Tuesday morning. If you do not want your child to attend the field trip you can even email me and I will make other arrangements for them here at school.
Thanks,
Mrs. Swenson
 ___________________________________________________________________________________________
From: circe@.com
Sent: Monday, September 26, 2011 11:34 AM
To: nswenson@.net
Subject: Tuesday Field Trip 

Hi! Araceli doesn't want to go on the field trip. She was just at the ortho this morning! :) Can she stay at school? If not, I'll keep her home until after. Thanks! Circe

---

From: nswenson@.net
Sent: Monday, September 26, 2011 2:49 PM
To: circe@.com
Subject: Tuesday Field Trip

 This field trip would be for Freestone 3rd grade.

Thanks,
Mrs. Swenson

_______________________________________________________________________________

From: circe@.com
Sent: Tuesday, September 26, 2011 9:14 AMM
To: EVERYBODY
Subject:  Warning: I Am Losing It

Now I remember:  Freestone has Mrs. Swenson.  Araceli had Mrs. Swenson last year.  When I told Ari about the field trip and accused her of losing the permission slip, she mused, "Hmm...nobody has mentioned it.  And we did that last year!"  Still, no red flags.  No dawning of understanding in my mind.  Not until the email.  Only then did I find the permission slip in Freestone's backpack.  On the bright side, I did laugh about it all evening, which probably made me look crazier than I really am, driving around in my car cackling.  Or maybe I really am that crazy.  You'll have to ask Mrs. Swenson.

Shark Girl

This is what's next.  Our daughter is a shark.  Her permanently not-loose baby teeth were secretly harboring a permanent tooth behind them!  With another permanent tooth about to grow in, Xanthe had two rows of teeth on the bottom.  Dr. Morgan, dentist extraordinaire, pulled out the baby teeth, which weren't loose at all and still had long, healthy roots.  I didn't go back to the exam room to watch because moms' presence tends to make kids act like babies.  I just told Dr. Morgan that Xanthe is brave and to give her lots of nitrous oxide to make her forget, so we don't have to go through post traumatic stress like we do with eye exams.  The whole operation was worth it for the laughs we got afterward when Xanthe kept talking with her mouth full of cotton.  Watching her was better than laughing gas!  It was so funny, I had to take her to Scott's office so she could entertain Daddy and Bill with her stories.  I think she was pretty high.  When I took her back to school later, she was scared.  She said, "Mom, I don't even speak French!" 

Having two gaping holes in her mouth hasn't stopped Xanthe from eating, as evidenced by the fact that the holes are now filled with chocolate cake.  I don't think that's what the dentist recommends, but it got her to stop talking for a few minutes.  That can't be bad for healing her mouth, right?

When Xanthe went to bed, she was anticipating a visit from the Tooth Fairy and said, "I'm so afraid!"  She wasn't afraid of getting two teeth pulled out by the roots, but she was afraid of walking into her classroom later that day and then afraid of the Tooth Fairy.  The Tooth Fairy is cute and she brings you money!  What's to be afraid of?  When I went in Xanthe's room hours later to "check" to see if the Tooth Fairy came, she bolted out of bed and said, "Did she come?  Is there anything under my pillow?"  I quickly slid my hand under the pillow and discovered the money!  Phew!  The Tooth Fairy came and she didn't trash Xanthe's room or take her teeth or beat her up.  I think X slept better after knowing that the Tooth Fairy had come and gone.  I can sleep better too, knowing those tenacious baby teeth are out of the way.  I hope the rest of them choose to abandon ship on their own.  Shark Girl was cute once, but not every time!

Tolly's Leg Up

It was actually Thursday that Ptolemy fell off the playground.  By Friday, he still wouldn't stand up or walk.  If I set him on his legs, he just said, "Mom!  Mom!  I fall off a playground!  My leg hoots!"  By the way he collapsed if he put any wight on it, I thought for sure something was fractured.  The soonest we could get in to see our awesome orthopedic surgeon was Friday at 4:30.  At about 3:30, after I had found rides for the other kids to ballet, cello and guitar and arranged babysitting, Tolly started taking a couple of tentative steps.  The doc did some x-rays and thought he saw a tiny fracture on PT's pelvic bone, but it was so small, he said, it was probably already healing.  Now the kid can walk with a limp, but if he wants something he can't have, he says, "I fall off a playground!"  It gets him whatever he wants.  Kids learn quickly!

In case you're in the area and have a broken bone, Dr. Richter at McKay is the best.  He took care of Ruby's broken arm and Xanthe's collarbone a few years ago, so I knew he was good, and always right on time!!  This time the entire visit, with x-rays, took 28 minutes and I was on my way back home.  I was relieved Tolly was OK, but I felt a bit sheepish in the doctor's office.  On the wall were autographed photos of the U.S. Olympic ski team, Olympic skateboarders, etc., all with personal notes saying, "Thanks for putting me back together!"  I can only imagine the injuries.  And here I am with a baby who is basically fine, saying, "Yeah, he fell off the playground.  I mean, he took the half-pipe way too fast, man!"  I was tempted to lie for a minute there, but I opted for efficiency instead, and got home in time to go with Scott to guitar, where we grabbed some sushi during the lesson and talked about the kids and what could possibly be next...

Happy Birthday, Nana Ruby!

A 95th birthday is quite an accomplishment.  In Nana's own words, when I asked her if one of her friends was her age, "Nobody is my age.  Everybody my age is dead!"  Ruby and I went to visit Nana this afternoon, since we weren't able to go to the big Grand America bash this morning.  (Maybe it was just the "Older Generation" invited anyway?)  Nana's phone rang off the hook the whole time we were there, and we weren't the only visitors, either.  I don't know what Nana's secret is for staying so popular after 95 years, but I do know that she has Oreos and Sweet's Orange Sticks for guests.  I'm sure it's more than the chocolate that keeps us coming back, but Oreos can't hurt!

Thanks, Nana, for everything.  You're every bit as much a star as when you played the lead in The Desert Song.  You're still everybody's beacon of light, shining example and ray of hope.  We love you!

Today

Today, Ptolemy can't put any weight on his left leg because his mom wasn't watching him and he fell off the playground. And the doctor is in surgery.

Today, we're getting a new toilet instead of the bigger guitar Ruby needs.  And the floor around the old toilet is damaged.  Total saved for new guitar:  back to zero.

Today, the jr. high sent me an email that said one of my children was getting a D or below.  They let me freak out for awhile before sending an email that said, "Oops.  Just kidding."

Today, the elementary school sent home 75 bucks worth of Happenings books with my kids.  I can either pay for them or put "take Happenings books back to the school" on my to-do list.

Today is a chocolate chip cookie day.  And even though I only had one egg and no brown sugar, the cookies are still perfect.  Which leads me to believe that life is good and that tomorrow will be better.  Hey, even today is already better.

Changing the Laundry

You know I love redecorating rooms.  My kids are always changing it up and switching around because it's fun and it's a good way to clean and purge.  For now, though, they're all settled where they want to be...until Golda moves back downstairs, Xanthe moves to Freestone's room and the two boys take over the attic.  But that's later.  For now, all we needed to do was get Ptolemy out of the laundry room.  Although I love having a baby who smells like a dryer sheet after naps, it was getting crowded in there with all his "tuffed amimals."  One day, I had the fabulous idea of moving PT to the downstairs laundry room, which is still unfinished.  I resisted the urge to paint it a fun color.  I just used a carpet remnant and a cool tapestry poster we had and created an instant nursery, minus the crib.  The crib was more of a challenge.  It is designed to be a half-inch wider than an average door frame, just to make you wonder if you really could fit it through the door without taking it apart if you just tried harder.  You can't.  When I finally started taking it apart, Ptolemy was worried.  He kept saying, "You broken my kib, Mom!  You broken my kib!"  I reassured him that it was for his "special new room" so he could sleep downstairs like Freestone!  As soon as the crib was put back together and the tuffed amimals were in their places, Tolly was excited.  When we picked up Ruby from school, he kept telling her about his "kib in a new woom, Bibs!"  (He says Bibs now instead of Weebee.  So cute!)  It's not fancy, but it's clean and new and quiet, and so is my working laundry room.  Why didn't I think of this sooner?  I just hope I don't get any more good ideas.  I still need time to recover from brokening the kib.

Techno Boy

I could have sworn Ptolemy was saying, "Oh, there's my Kindle!  Oh, there's my Kindle!"  I looked around and he was pointing to Xanthe's Leapfrog device.  I handed it to him and he lovingly said, "My Kindle!"  It's so funny how babies are a product of their environment.  Tolly switched on "his Kindle" and pretended to read it in the car.  He also loves my phone, like all kids.  He says, "I see a pictures."  I hand him the phone, he swipes the screen to unlock it, touches the camera icon, then the slideshow icon and swipes through all the pictures.  There's a cute video on there of Tolly naming all the animals he likes.  On the video, he says, "I like elephants!"  When PT watches it, he laughs in delight and says, "Mom!  He likes elephants!"

It's uncanny how the new generation knows what to do with buttons.  Ptolemy got in the front seat of the car yesterday and tried to turn on the radio.  He kept asking, "Where NPR go?  Where NPR?"  Sadly, that probably comes from me saying, "OK, let's be very quiet now and listen to NPR."  But I can only talk about armadillos for so long before needing to hear an adult voice!

If the computer is on, Tolly climbs up on the chair and swipes the screen.  Of course, nothing happens because our computer's technology hasn't caught up with Tolly's expectations.  Part of our bedtime ritual is carrying PT around so he can push a button on the microwave, the AC and the washer and dryer.  I still think evolution is going to lead to humans eventually having giant thumbs, to better manipulate electronics.  That is, unless someone invents what Tolly wants, machines that know what you're talking about when you say, "I see a pictures!"  The device would fly to a spot in front of your face and start showing pictures of babies who like elephants.  Now that's progress.  Bill Gates?  Anyone?  Can you get started on that, please?  Thanks.

And the Winner Is...

 Number 12!  Which turns out to be Brittany, chosen at random by Ptolemy in a dart-free way.  No animals, including Ptolemy, were harmed in the choosing of the winner.  I loved everyone's comments, and I am thankful for your kind words.  Every time I got a comment, from Catherine's to Valerie's, I would think, "Oh, this one has to win."  Then I'd think the same thing about the next one.  It's nice to know I have friends out there, or at least people who like to laugh at me!  Some of the favorites, like Husband's Guide to Pregnancy and Are You My Mother, are on the side bar, but a few that aren't...

I was surprised at how many people remembered The Blue Cupcake Episode, or as Brittany called it, "How the Cupcake Learned About Traffic."  Looking back, that was pretty funny, but I titled it "Low Point" because I felt like a really bad mom.  But it got worse.  Laurel liked And Speaking of Clowns, in which I became a possibly bad mom with definitely bad hair.

On a more serious note, Jennifer remembered Death of a Salesman, a sad one, and Haiku, one of my faves.  I appreciated my cousin Kris letting me know that some of my thoughts about Ari had helped her. To get back to the more humorous side of life, there's Real Life Survivor, which I recently added to my violin shop blog.  My mom liked my Roman love story, and I like it too.  Of course, it's only a tiny part of the whole saga.

I'm glad Mark and Marla and Kristi mentioned Oh, Rats!, where I accidentally left Xanthe at the dentist, because it was pretty funny, even at the time.  Others that struck a funny bone were the one where Scott had to buy me a new wardrobe and the one where we demonstrated our shocking lack of home improvement skills.  And speaking of Scott, an "Anonymous" commenter mentioned how he liked all the posts about my cool husband.  Hmmm...I wonder who that was?  I checked, and there are a lot of posts about my cool husband.  And he is pretty cool.  When I searched "Mall, Scott," a dozen posts came up.  Is anyone surprised?  He helps with homework, he is good at his profession, he's a great dad, And he does have superpowers.

My favorite story of all time, which I have to bring back for one more curtain call, is The Car Wash Cure.  It still makes me laugh out loud every time I think about it.  And in the end, isn't that what we need more than anything, to be able to laugh out loud for a moment?  Even better than laughing is laughing with someone else.  Thanks for laughing with me.

Information Systems

I finally figured it out.  Xanthe is not ruthlessly annoying.  She's detail-oriented!  Every conversation we have takes ten times as long as a normal conversation.  This is what I would like an interaction to be like with Xanthe:

Xanthe:  "Why did you give me two cookies?"
Me:  "Because you're so special."
Xanthe:  Smiles and eats the cookies.

That never happens.  Instead, this happens:

Xanthe:  "Mom, why did you give me two cookies?"
Me:  "Because you're so special."
"Did the other kids get two?"
"Um, I don't know.  They're not home.  No?"
"Why didn't they get two?"
"Maybe they will."
"When?"
"When they get home."
"Then can I have more when they get theirs?"
"You're eating yours now."
"But I want more!"
"We'll talk about it later."
"Mom."
"What?"
"Why did I get two again?"
"Because you're so special," I say through gritted teeth.
"Why am I so special?"

Just as I'm about to scream, "You're NOT, OK?  You're not special, you're driving me nuts!  Just eat the freakin' cookies and smile," she does just that.  Just in the nick of time, Xanthe has reached some magic threshold of information acquisition and feels like she can now move on with her life and eat her two cookies.  I finally figured out that Xanthe isn't trying to slowly disintegrate my brain with her questioning.  It's in the details for this kid.  Too many times, I dismiss her questions with, "Just go.  Just do it.  Just because."  But seriously, who do you know that has the patience to answer thirty-eight questions about bedtime and why it's time to go to bed?  Xanthe, you go to bed every night!  You've done it thousands of times!  There are no surprises here!  It's not like there's suddenly going to be a new reason why humans need sleep!

She's just checking, I guess.  Because if there ever is a new reason why humans need sleep, Xanthe wants to be the first one to have all the information and complete all the worksheets about it.  Come to think of it, there is a new reason why some humans need sleep.  It's called XANTHE!  Good thing she's worth losing sleep over.

Help Wanted (And Don't Forget to Comment on the Give-Away!)

Attention, everyone:  I need someone to potty train this adorable two-year-old.  I can't do it;  I'm too exhausted from potty training Xanthe four years ago, three years ago and two years ago.  It was quite a task.  In China, most people don't really use diapers.  It's hard for us to imagine how that's feasible, and it takes a lot of work, but they do it.  Babies are trained to go at the sound of their parents whistling.  They wear "split pants" so that when they squat, their pants open and they go.  When the babies are tiny, caregivers lay an absorbent cloth under them "just in case."  So much easier than diapers, right?  Except that the parents have to be hyper-vigilant about watching the signs in their baby that he might be about to go.  Since most people in China only have one child, someone is doting on that child at all times.  Ptolemy makes sure someone is doting on him at all times, too, but that someone usually isn't looking for potty clues.  Anyway, Xanthe's little body rebelled when we put her in diapers at 13 months, and it was a long, hard road to un-potty-train her and later to re-potty-train her.  In the end, I almost wished we had kept her in split pants!  You don't see kids squatting to pee in the gutter in Kaysville, so it would have been awkward to explain that.  But it would have saved me two summers of tearing my hair out at the pool.  Let me just say, Xanthe's stubborn bowels of steel took every swim diaper as an invitation.  She is probably responsible for the whole cryptosporidium outbreak.  Talk about hypervigilance!  I was on the lookout for the color brown every second, ready to lunge into the pool, pretending to save Xanthe from drowning, to get to that kid's derrierre before someone else spotted it.  A big part of the problem was the self-flushing toilet.  Curse the self-flushing toilet!  That loud, unpredictable sound caused Xanthe's whole system to seize up for days at a time.  It's not just the kid's personality that's stubborn and unbendable.  It's every cell in her body!  How do you parent that?

Ptolemy promises to be much easier to train.  All I need is someone to stay home with him for a few days and give him juice and salty treats.  I don't need handy tips;  believe me, I've read all the books and I've semi-successfully trained five kids.  I need to outsource this gig.  Tolly is so ready!   He says, "I do peeps, Mom," and he discretely hides behind a chair in my room when he has business to take care of.  I gave it my best shot for a whole morning a couple of weeks ago.  I bought a pack of undies, which I promptly misplaced.  Determined, I put Tolly in a pair of Freestone's briefs held on by a rubber band and let him run around the house, the little potty displayed in a central location.  He didn't want any juice or salty treats, he never went, and he took the potty apart and hid the pieces.  Then it was time to go pick up the kids from jr. high, get homework started, dole out after-school snacks, help with practicing and drive kids to lessons.  Who knows where Tolly whizzed while all that was going on?  It was only hours later that I realized the poor guy was still sporting Freestone's underwear under his soggy pants. 

So you see, I am completely inept.  If someone doesn't step in, I may have to wait until he can read, then let him read all the books and just train himself.  Does that sound like a viable plan?  I can't tell;  I've completely lost pee-spective.

One Thousand Giveaway

Hey, I just noticed that this is my one thousandth post!  That's cool if you like round numbers.  I feel like I should do something fun to commemorate having so much to say.  Since it's all about ME and MY thousand posts, how about if you leave a comment and tell me if there was a post of mine that was your favorite.  If you've never commented, now is your big chance, because I'll choose a winner and send you a prize, but only if I get more than 20 comments.  It's a good prize!!  Come out of the lurker closet!  You might be rewarded.  Maybe I'll have my panel of jr. high judges choose a winner.  Maybe I'll have Ptolemy throw a dart at the winning name.  That sound dangerous, doesn't it?  Oooh, elements of mystery and danger.  How could you not participate?

Nutty!

We always have so much fun with Nutcracker auditions.  This year, as always, the girls all went to the craft store and chose ribbons for their hair.  The selection process was, I daresay, as intense as the actual auditions.  Green or red?  Fat or thin?  Bold or understated?  Pattern?  Wire edges?  Floral?  Two ribbons, perhaps?  The girls ended up getting ribbons for some of their friends who were trying out, too.  We made little good luck bags and dropped them off to the girls on Nutcracker Tryout Eve.

The day was fun.  Golda and Ruby tried out first and had the rest of the day to analyze their performances and speculate on whether they would get a part.  Later, they BOTH got called back to audition for Clara, which was a wonderful thrill.  Meanwhile, Ari and I were in the afternoon auditions, as well as Freestone, who tried out with the boys.  He was hilarious when we found out later that he didn't make it.  The story slowly came out as to maybe why, other than his total lack of experience.  "Maybe I shouldn't have put my leg on the barre...Maybe I walked on my toes too much."  It sounds like he was showing off.  Yikes!  The horror.  Also, I walked in during his audition and he ran over to me and said, "I want to go home with you!"  He lacks a certain professionalism.  Even if he can put his leg on the barre.  I'm still cringing.  At least he got a drink and a bag of Kaysville Theater popcorn while we waited for Golda and Ruby to come out of their callback.


In the end, Golda got the Clown part she has always wanted, Ruby gets to be an Arabian Soloist, one of her coveted roles, and Araceli is a Blue Soldier!  They are all so excited.  Now it's time to get started choosing fabric for our Nutcracker bags.  And rehearsals start Saturday.  I just added, with gratitude, four additional ballet classes a week to my calendar.  It's nutty!

Wild Thing

 Araceli, Araceli.  I say that a lot.  She is such a force of nature.  She has been a character these past few days.  Friday morning she was asked to play her cello in an orchestra recruiting assembly at a private school.  The cellist they had couldn't come, so it was last-minute.  Ari dressed to the nines and packed up all her music.  In the car, she looked the mirror and said, "Oh my goodness!  I need some lipstick!"  She was a riot.  Afterwards, she wanted a smoothie at McDonald's, but I told her stuff like that was only for special occasions.  She rolled her eyes and said, "Mom, this IS a special occasion.  I just played...AN ASSEMBLY!" Sometimes I wonder just how important Ari thinks she is.  My guess, on a scale of one to ten, at least an eleven.

That night, I took the big girls (Golda, Ruby, Lexie and Ari) to a Ballet West Curtain Up performance.  The other three girls have their own heart-stopping tale to tell about the night.  Ballet West's principal ballerina, Christiana Bennett, sat right in front of us with a group of other dancers.  The girls' faces displayed their extreme excitement in neon.  They were all lit up in a giddy daze at being so close to their idol.  Ruby even had a pointe shoe and a sharpie handy in her purse and asked for an autograph!

Araceli, on the other hand, was completely unfazed by the dancers' celebrity status.  She calmly pulled out her book and read until the lights went down.  When the lights dimmed, I looked over and little Mary Poppins with her magic carpet bag had produced a flashlight and was blithely continuing her reading as the show started.  I made her put it away and she settled in.  It was all new works choreographed by members of the corps, so some were a little avant garde.  The first dance was set to didgeridoo music and had a surreal tone.  Ari leaned over and whispered in a loud voice, "I don't get it." She would have been the first to point out that the emperor had no clothes, had she been a character in that fairy tale.

The next day, we had Nutcracker auditions.  The older girls had all gotten audition advice from their idol, Ms. Bennett, and were on overdrive trying to follow her sage words of wisdom to a tee.  Not Ari.  She packed her magic carpet bag with extra tights, leotards, band-aids and a water bottle, ordered me to do her hair and was ready to go.  As she jumped out of the car I said, "Wait!  Do you want me to put a little mascara on you?"  "Nah.  I have really long eyelashes, Mom.  And I made it last year, so..."  The implication hung in the air until she finally said, "Bye!"  Nerves?  Not an issue.

I saw Ari about a half-hour later when she had checked in and was in front of the judges.  I was the audition teacher.  I scanned the room and saw one girl with giant runs in both legs of her tights.  And really long eyelashes.  And the confidence of a prime minister. 

I was mortified.  Ari wasn't.  Did I tell you she had extra tights in her bag?  I don't get it!  It was an amazing, exciting, thrilling day for us all, except for Ari, who was like the very calm eye of a colorful storm throughout the audition and the rest of the day.  Results were posted at 9 PM.  Ari yawned and went to bed at 8:30, leaving the rest of us to agonize.  The next morning she asked, "Did I make Nutcracker?"

"Yes!"  I was so relieved and happy to share the good news.

No reaction.  Then she asked about her best friend.

"No, I'm sorry."

Ari's eyes filled up with tears.  She glared.  Her lip quivered.  She hung her head and went to her room.

I may never "get" this child.  I don't know how her mind works, but I don't have to.  She is wonderful and unique and unpredictable and I love her.  Nutcracker or no, she keeps us all on our toes.

It's a Girl!

Just in case you wondered...:)

I was so worried when I went in to the doctor's office this morning.  You worry about pregnancy when you're almost 40, ya know.  When I saw that the tiny heart was still beating, I almost cried!  Karen, my midwife, said, "Of course everything is OK.  This baby has a mission in your family."  Of all the reasons I love my doctor, that's my favorite.  Now I must go and buy something very, very pink!

Nickels and Dimes

I'm not complaining.  Well, I am, but let's pretend I'm not, because I appreciate our public schools.  Let's say I'm just making observations about being nickel-and-dimed to death this time of year!  Granted, people in Manhattan, for example, fight over the chance to pay 40 grand a year for a private preschool, so compared to them, we're talking peanuts.  Twelve dollars for art supplies.  24 for P. E. fees.  20 for the uniform.  A hundred bucks for a scientific calculator, times two!  Each class at the junior high has its own fee.  This is after I paid 98 dollars per kid up front and went to every store in town for a wide yet specific variety of binders, pencils, notebooks, folders, pencil pouches and water bottles. 

It never ends.  $20.00 for the 4th grade journey fee.  Eighty for a show choir outfit, 200 for the SBO jacket.  I even forked over eight dollars at Sam's Club for 500 Ziploc bags.  These are things you don't think about until you're in a buying frenzy because each kid must have a slightly different kind of folder TODAY!  Oh, and each teacher wants a year's supply of glue sticks, "class store" items, antibacterial wipes and kleenex.  And the PTA wants dues from every adult in your family going back three generations.  And you have to contribute to all the fundraisers, too.  You can choose a volunteer position or you can check the box that says, "I'm too busy.  I would rather give money."  That's annoying.  How about  "I'm too broke?  I would rather not give money.  I don't think the school needs to purchase that much antibacterial soap.  Germs are good for kids."  Besides, I've already signed up for every grocery store's educational rewards program and I'm saving all my box tops and milk jug lids.  I can't afford every school sweatshirt, every roll of Sally Foster wrapping paper, every tub of cookie dough and every Scholastic book where a portion of the proceeds go to the school.  I don't know what the answer is, but I keep hemorrhaging money to the schools because I admire how they do so much with so little, and I care about the kids' education. 

When they tell you how much it costs to raise a child, don't believe any of the figures.  The answer to, "How much money does it cost to get a child through school" is "All of it."

Let's Play a Game

 Well, Autumn came right on schedule, didn't it?  The clouds seem to have brought with them a menacing feeling of anxiety.  I am so NOT on top of my game!  So I decided to post a picture that makes me happy and invite you to do the same on your blog.  Post a happy, funny, good moment that makes you smile and that just might make me smile too!  Leave me a comment so I can visit you.

This is my picture.  I love it because I heard horrible noises coming from the TV room when the kids were supposed to be practicing.  I marched in there, thinking I was going to have to reprimand somebody, and Ari and Freestone were collaborating on Minuet One.  It sounded awful because Freestone was in A Major and Ari was in D Major, but I resisted the urge to step in and ruin their fun.  I just snapped a photo and backed away, letting them play.  For every hundred times I do the mom thing wrong, it's nice to feel like you got it right once in awhile.  Never has poly-tonal music sounded so sweet.

Anyone else have a happy thought?  Come on, we could all use a few!  :)

LDW

I love the drive up Emigration Canyon over to Parley's.

Floating in the hot tub at the Ranch

The zoo on the way up to PC

Ptolemy didn't care that he had to stay home.  He could hear the ocean!


The littles and I had a little Park City adventure to celebrate the official end of summer.  At Freestone's request, we went on a hike.  There are many beautiful places to hike around Jordanelle and Deer Valley.  We managed to avoid all those places, ending up in a dry, weedy area that looked like a former dumping ground for home builders.  The kids loved the big piles of discarded slate and rock.  Scrambling to the top of a three-foot high pile, Ari shouted, "You can see EVERYTHING from up here!"  Hey, if all it takes for a little perspective is a three-foot ascent, I'd say it's worth it. I got my perspective by taking three cute kids to the zoo, lounging by the pool, reading and watching the kids delight in piles of rocks.  When we got home Sunday, Scott took Golda and Ruby up to the Ranch for their turn to do nothing while the little kids and I stayed home and...did nothing.  We all relaxed and charged our batteries separately, then met on Labor Day at Oakridge for the last day of the pool, complete with the long-awaited treats from the snack bar.  Ptolemy started out the summer as a little thing, tentative in the water.  Now he owns the baby pool, racing around it, getting up if he loses his footing and helping himself to toys in the lost and found.  I hate to see all of that cuteness end, but you know what they say about "all good things."  It's time...

Bad Seeds

September 28th is Johnny Appleseed's birthday and the first graders are going to have a celebration!  Hooray!  Sounds fun, right?  Not so fast.  You'd better read the fine print:

Each child should bring his/her favorite kind of apple in a baggie to school on September 28.  (Not before.)  If s/he forgets or fails to bring his/her apple, the teacher will have some extras.  However, there is no guarantee that the child will get his/her favorite kind/color.  If your child brings an apple from home but does not qualify for the Johnny Appleseed event, (bad behavior, not turning in homework, excessive tardies or absences, etc), s/he will be asked to take his/her apple back home.

When did a first grade party get so intense?  Xanthe may not qualify for the apple gig because she got a "red light" on her behavior chart for "disobeying the teacher."  When I asked her about it, she started shaking and crying and said she thought it was time to go to the reading rug but it wasn't.  Well, there goes Johnny Appleseed's birthday celebration.  I will have to keep her favorite kind/color of apple at home that day so that s/he doesn't have to go through the humiliation of bringing his/her apple back home while the other kids, who did not go to the reading rug at an inappropriate time, enjoy their celebration.

I bet Johnny Appleseed wouldn't have qualified to go to the party.  Have you seen how he just randomly tossed all those seeds?  Did he even have a permission slip for that?  Wasn't it a health code violation?  And if it was during school hours...well, I don't even know where to begin.  Detention?

Only Child

I took my baby boy to the zoo yesterday.  It was fun having an only child;  I've never really had one before, but with all the kids in school all day, Tolly gets to be my one and only from nine to three.  The zoo was a perfect morning as we lazily strolled around in perfect temperatures.  I just followed PT around watching him discover little things and point at big things, like the tiger eating his lunch.  After we watched the tiger, my boy thought all the animals were tigers.  He was hanging out watching the turkeys when another two-year-old came up, pointed to them and said, "Monkey!"  Tolly looked at her and knowledgeably said, "Tigers."  I love this age!  All the way home in the car, Ptolemy shouted, "Armadillo!  Armadillo!  Armadillo, OK MOM?!?"  He liked the armadillo as much as the tigers...I mean turkeys.

What Ails You?

My kids are falling apart.  Every time I turn around, someone is asking for a band-aid, and we don't have any because when we do, the kids use them up as fast as they can.  Ari had to come up with a new design for her tights to compensate for a big scrape on her knee.  Freestone has had pain in his foot, then his knee, then his hip and his elbow.  And Ptolemy, I can't tell if he's just copying or if he has the same symptoms.  When he runs out of things to say, he says, "Ow!  My knee!  I need a band-aid!"

It's gotten so bad that Ari and Freestone tearfully confronted me about my callousness.  "You don't even care about us one bit," they cried.  "You don't care if we're hurt.  You won't even buy band-aids!"  Their sad little faces almost softened my heart, but I answered, "You're right.  I don't care that you're hurt because I can't do anything about it, but I do care if you practice and do your homework, so you'd better do that right now."  Gee, maybe I am mean.  Especially since practicing seems to make Freestone's hip hurt worse.  And Ari has spent a large part of her reading time patting her knee with alcohol-soaked rags.  And now she thinks she has an "overgrown toenail."  I must say, it does look suspicious.

Freestone cried so much this morning as he valiantly tried to make it down the stairs to get dressed that I promised him I'd call the doctor.  Is there anything legitimate he could possible have?  What am I going to say to the doctor?  "His hip hurts when he has to practice, homework makes him start limping and his elbow aches every time I ask him to get dressed.  Oh, and I think it's contagious because his baby brother has it too, now.  The only thing that seems to help is going to Pack Meeting, but only if there are s'mores.  Can you help us, doctor?"