Happy Birthday, Felsh!

 Happy birthday, Dad!  They don't look excited, do they?  This was before they found out that Trajan brought five different kinds of chocolate ice cream, some with Haagen Daazs in the title!

 Mom and Dad and their favorite child...besides the others.

 Trajan also brought enough Dove Dark Chocolate bars and Coke for a month; two of Dad's favorite treats.  For Sunday dinner, Dad usually breaks out a Dove bar and passes it around like some kind of Humanist sacrament offering.  Somehow, we never run out, even though the bar looks tiny.  A little dark chocolate goes a long way.  It's like a loaves and fishes thing.

 Of course he's the favorite uncle!  Did you see what he brought to the party?  The rest of you, step it up with the chocolate, would ya?  Josh, salad?  Really?  Just kidding.  :)

 Ruby and Coco exchanging physical therapy stories.

 This guy is funny!  (But looks aren't everything. ha ha.)

 Aren't they gorgeous?

Rolayne says, "Happy birthday, Bill!"  Or maybe, "Naa naa boo boo!"  It's hard to tell with these babies!  Whatever the babies say, we all say, "Dad, we love you.  It's hard to imagine a man doing a better job of being a father and a grandfather.  You're perfect.  Please pass the Dove!"

Makes Me Happy

Every day, I say to my kids, "This could be the most beautiful day of the whole year."  And every day, it's true.

Just a Regular Day

Ruby injured herself at dance and had to go to the doctor.  Not unusual; kids injure themselves and get sick with surprising regularity, although when you times that by seven, I always feel like I must have Munchhausen Syndrome when I take them to the doctor, I'm there so often.

This time it was our favorite orthopedic, who x-rayed Ruby and found her kneecap out of place and ligaments thrashed.  While all of this doctor stuff was going on, I was performing my own little one-woman show called "You Brought Two Babies to the Orthopedic Surgeon's Office?  Are You Stupid?"  I changed one diaper and - in the interest of the air quality in the office, stuffed the dirty diaper in a rubber glove (from a dispenser on the wall) and buried it in my purse.  Seconds later, Ptolemy had to be rushed to the bathroom, where we had just made a successful deposit maybe ten minutes earlier.  The second visit wasn't as successful and resulted in a pair of poopy undies wrapped in several layers of paper towels and stuffed under the gloved diaper in the bottom of my purse.  Just a totally normal event, followed by Ptolemy falling off a chair and Tizzy choking on a gum wrapper while the doctor explained the results of the x-ray to me.

From the doc's office, dragging a kid going commando who had colored with a Sharpie all over his legs, a hungry baby and a dancer with her leg in a brace, I went to teach my classes.  On the way out the door, I instructed my kids to have "Cereal and Fresh Peaches!!" for dinner.  Later I continued on my trajectory of drop offs, pick ups, homework and more teaching.  I had just dropped Golda off at flute at 9:00 pm when I looked at my calendar and noticed I had a get-together at Yogo Togo with my band committee.  Since I had fifteen minutes before I had to pick up Ruby from Nutcracker (of course she went with a damaged knee.  You want her to get kicked out??), I stopped by Yogo.  After greeting my buddies, I opened my purse to get my yogurt money.  It was then that I remembered the surgical glove containing the poopy diaper AND, because that's not enough, the paper-towel-wrapped underwear AND an ice pack, leaking on the referral form for physical therapy. 

Just a completely normal mom, hangin' out with my friends at the local yogurt joint with a purse full of crap.

What's in your purse?

Pin the Tail on the Donkey

 Golda had some friends over last night to do math.  This morning, she went to school early to attend a math lab.  I was not jealous!  One of the best things about being an adult, for me, is not having to ever solve for x.

The way my brain works, math is like pin the tail on the donkey without a donkey.  I see the tail.  I get that it is a tail.  I just don't know how to apply it to anything tangible because there is no donkey.  There is nothing to relate math to that has any relevance to anything I know.  So you solve a math problem and the answer is three hundred forty-eight.  So what?  That 348 is the equivalent of a paper donkey tail at a birthday party where everyone else is playing musical chairs.  I don't need it and I'll never need it again.  It's not like I'll be at a party twenty years down the road and someone will say, "Hey, does anyone have an extra donkey tail?"  It's useless!

In other subjects, you take the things you learn and use them.  I still know that the difference between its and it's.  I can go to a museum and know who painted what.  When I hear about Syria on the news, I know where it is.  The things that touched my soul stayed with me.  I still get emotional when I think of the lines, "Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting...trailing clouds of glory do we come, from God who is our home..."  Ironically, "a sleep and a forgetting" pretty accurately describes my math experience, but the only emotion I feel when I think about algebra is despair.

Sure, math comes in handy when you're trying to land the Apollo 13 or invent the artificial heart.  For everything else, there are calculators.  Or tutors, if you grow up to have kids who must suffer through years of Pin the Tail on What?

Freestone told me, "Exercise sharpens our minds and helps us focus.  That's why old people are so dumb sometimes.  Because they're not active."  (ouch!) So it's not math that helps you stay sharp anyway.  It's P.E., just like every fourth grade boy has been trying to tell us for the last...oh, how many years?...ten?...hundred?...just a minute, let me get my calculator.

Conversations With a Control Freak

Mom:  Ari, should we do an experiment and see if you can all get ready for school without me telling you what to do?
Ari:  Yeah!  We can do it!
Mom:  I don't know...it would be really hard for me not to tell you what to do because you guys wouldn't get anything done!
Ari:  Yes we would!  Let's try it!
Mom:  OK.  I won't tell you what to do.  Now hurry and go get ready so we can start.
Scott:  That was Mom, not telling you what to do.

Fail!  In my defense, telling the kids what to do is my job!  And I'm so good at it, I can't stop doing it.  Of course, there comes a time when, if I have done my job right, I won't need to tell them what to do because they will know how to organize their own time.   Golda and Ruby are good at mapping out what they have to accomplish, which is a sweet, but sometimes hard transition for me.  Recently I said to Ruby, "Have you done your homework?  What do you even do all day?"  She replied, "Uh, get a 4.0."

Yep, my work here is done.  (Two down, five to go.)  It's hard to nag someone that has everything under control!  I feel pretty strongly that being self-motivated has to be taught.  It's ironic, but I've found it to be true.  My thought is that if we teach the kids what it feels like to accomplish all they can and succeed, we will also be teaching them to know how rewarding it can feel to relax when they have done a good job of something.

Speaking of doing a good job, I sometimes feel I am fighting against a culture that tells kids they are already good at everything.  Ari threw herself on the couch in exhaustion the other day and said, "I tried and tried and I worked my hardest and I finally got my pants buttoned."  All I could think was Oh.  My.  Gosh.

I think I probably made Ari do double practicing and homework that day.  Go ahead, call me a control freak.  My kids will probably all rebel and end up in prison.  But at least in prison, they will have the skills to make good use of their time.  Tell me that's not a useful skill when you're in prison.

Happy 96th Birthday!

Happy 96th birthday to Nana Ruby!  I love it when the DeBrys get together.  Especially when...

 Lemon Dessert by Marla is involved!  Fluffy, creamy goodness, and one of my favorite memories of childhood.

 Everyone was invited to write a card to Nana.  Julia took it a step further and brought a whole table full of scrapbooking supplies.  The kids were entertained for hours and Nana loved their creations.

 Ptolemy had fun playing with SuperAbe and Anson...and anyone else who wanted to inspect bugs and dig in gravel.

 Golda and Aunt Da

 Uncle Jim, Uncle Mark and Nana Ruby

 Jim, Mark, Mary and Ruby

 Beautiful picture of Julia and Nana.  Julia planned the whole party and did all the work, from inviting and organizing to cleaning up my kitchen.  She is amazing!

 Ashlyn and Adaline, cute cousins

 More cute cousins, Ruby, Golda and Jessie

 Ashlyn, Ari, Esmae and Xanthe, some of our little artists.

 Ptolemy, Anson and Abe examining something; not sure I want to know what.

 Isaac, Aiden and Freestone

 Rolayne, Emily and Josh

 Felshaw

 Dot and Mary

 More cute cousins?  Jon, Trajan and Spencer

 The Rubies

 Laura and Julie

 Jacob, Aiden, Freestone and Isaac

 Kylee and Savannah

 Elle and Bridie

 Julia, Ashlyn and Elle

 Lawson

 Ben, Athena and Nayeli

 Lawson and Elle

 McKenzie, Dot, Samantha and Mary

 Jon, Nayeli, Allison and Samantha

 Aren't they cute together?

 Frank and Da

 Sisters Allison and Samantha with the birthday girl

 Warming up for the big photo

 Some of the people who refused to be in the big photo.  I'm sorry, you have all been voted off the island.

 Just kidding.  You can all stay on the island.

  Some of Jim's family:  Jessie, Frank, Danny, Nana, Jim and Da

 Not sure who these people are.

 Jason, Karen and Scott

 Dot and Rita

Terry, Lawson, Danny, Gordon, Felshaw and Scott.  

See you all at Christmas!