Summah

My summer plan was:  Everyone must be up and dressed by 8:00.  By 9:30, chores and practicing must be done.  !0 to noon is possible friend time, unless we go somewhere.  Then we're free until it's time to pick up the house in the late afternoon, in time for dinner.

Sunday night, we had a family council where we laid out the plan and talked about the upcoming week.  Everyone was on board, or at least had the common sense not to say anything to contradict the plan.

Monday morning Golda had to be at Weber for ballet recital staging by 8:00, so we were all up and everyone was starting their chores and practicing by the time I left at 7:30.  I am such a great mom!  When I got home at 8:30 to take Ruby for staging, everything was done!  So I assigned more chores and left again.  Came home to retrieve Ari a couple of hours later to find a clean house and a sleeping baby.  Looking back, I can see that that's where the cracks in the plan started to form.

I said to Xanthe, "Why don't you go with me to Ari's staging rehearsal?  It will be fun!"  She said, "Mom, MY staging is today.  It's on Monday and today is Monday."  Yes, four hours into summer, I was subjecting kids to scheduling blunders.  I threw Xanthe in the car with her costume, a bunch of hair stuff and some size 12-14 tights.  Her ballet shoes were nestled safely in her special bag in the mudroom.  She ended up in tights that were four feet too long and ballet shoes that were three sizes too big, borrowed from a friend.  The woes of a fourth daughter!

By the end of Day One of summer, after six staging rehearsals, three trips to Weber State and lots of chores and practicing, we ended up at Cherry Hill.  And if you end up floating down the lazy river, things must have turned out just fine.

Day Two was even smoother, but no lazy river.  Day three, we've had a cello lesson, lunch with friends, enough vacuuming to overheat the vacuum, and a very slow one-mile walk for exercise, and now it's time for the lazy river.  So we're not knocking ourselves out.  But we're having fun and getting stuff done.  Niiiice.  So far!

Portugal and Spain

Now that school has ended, we can all go back to thinking about our summer plans.  I have been "talking" (Facebook) to our friends in Spain about that part of the girls' trip.  As the whole Preposterous Plan gets closer, I try to keep the anxiety pushed down inside where sunlight can't touch it.  The girls are going, we're going, everyone is going.  Our family has seats booked on 11 flights this summer.  It makes me hyperventilate, but it's good.  My Aunt Marla asked when I was going to post the rest of the itinerary, so, blaming it on Marla, here is the Spain/Portugal part of Golda and Ruby's trip (So first New York, France and Italy, and then):

 Hola Circe. En este apartamento nos alojaremos en Sintra: Casa da Pendoa, apartamento 2. Estaremos en Sintra 3 días de julio. Entonces en Badajoz, en Mérida y con Cristina en la playa en Isla Antilla (Huelva).

So Golda and Ruby will be picked up at the airport in Lisbon by my friend Gema's brother-in-law Juan who is married to Gema's sister Sonia, who is lovely.  Got that?  They will stay HERE in Sintra, near Lisbon, for a few days.  It's a beautiful, touristy place.  I haven't been there, I don't think.  When I was in Lisbon the first time, I was with friends and I didn't really know where we were.  I just knew it was so beautiful that I wanted to go back.  Lisbon is where Scott and I began our two-month European vacation in 1996.

After Sintra, they will go to Badajoz, on the Spain-Portugal border, where Juan and Sonia live and own this adorable bed and breakfast.  Then on to Merida, a town in Spain that has Roman ruins, including an aqueduct and a coliseum, as well as a big museum.  Then Cristina, Gema's other sister, will take them, along with her two children, to the beach at Huelva on the Mediterrranean, (this beach is very close to where they're going, which is called Isla Antilla) before they fly home out of Lisbon.  Actually, they'll just fly to D.C., where I will be anxiously awaiting their return.  Scott will still be in Utah, but he'll arrive the next day.  That will be fun to have everyone together again, but I don't want to wish any of the time away.  Even though I am going to miss my girls terribly, they will have a life-changing summer.  I can hardly believe it's actually going to happen.  Golda and Ruby had saved up close to two thousand dollars for their flights when we booked them back in February.  Since then, they have been teaching, doing camps for kids and babysitting, and they both have quite a bit saved for expenses.  I'm proud of them, and happy that they get to have these experiences.  I do wish I could go with, but...I had my turn(s).  Now it's theirs.

But if you want to see some funny pictures, here are some from my youthful European adventures...

 Scott and me and our Portuguese boat driver...Algarve, Portugal, 1996.  We thought the man looked like my dad.  When Tizzy saw the picture, she said, "Bill!"

 My mom and me outside Amsterdam after spending a quarter in Paris in 9th grade, 1986

 This picture is so funny and so tragic:  I think it's after Thanksgiving when I had to go back to Indiana and I wouldn't see Scott until after his mission two years later.  Just admire the hair for a minute!

 Me in Jerez de los Caballeros, Spain, 1990 or 1991

 This is Gema Correa Cruz when we lived together at 414 South Ballantine in Bloomington.  She is the friend who invited the girls to stay, but it is her sisters, Sonia and Cristina, who will really be hosting.

I have lots more pictures.  I might have to put some more on the blog.  I have a whole, hilarious scrapbook of the Humanities trip 1987.  Lots of big '80's hair blocking view of the Parthenon, the Coliseum, Neuschwanstein...

But this summer is about Golda and Ruby, right? :)

Sophomore Girl

Golda had a wonderful sophomore year, and Scott and I loved having a high school girl in our home.  It was an exciting year from start to finish, with the DHS band preparing for the Rose Parade and all the excitement that went along with that.  Golda finished up the year with a big push to the AP World Civ test and successful auditions for Wind Ensemble and Dance Company.  Looks like next year will be just as exciting as this one!

But why am I telling you all this?  Go to GOLDA'S BLOG POST and read her own thoughts.  We are so proud of Golda.  She is a strong example to her brothers and sisters, she is a VERY hard worker, a beautiful dancer and a dedicated musician.  She is also pretty fun to hang out with!  I have been in awe of this girl since she was born, first just marveling at the miracle of life, then being awed by how she grew and thrived, with her curly red hair and determination to learn.  Then, as she got bigger and went out into the world, Scott and I watched with admiration as Golda succeeded at one thing after another.  She has turned into such a poised and accomplished young woman, we can hardly believe our good fortune.  And she really did it all herself.  We are blessed.  Now we're just in awe that our little baby with the soft, red curls and dimpled legs has morphed into this almost-adult.  We created a person!  A person who is a friend to us and others, a person who continues to learn and grow and become who she wants to be.  Golda, we love you.  We are proud of you!

Celebration after taking the AP test

Artsy picture of Mr. Hendricks conducting the band.

Every Tuesday night, 9:00, I had the honor of seeing Golda walk into her flute lesson.

Golda loves ballet.  She works hard at it and she is a beautiful dancer.
I love to see her dance.  Xanthe loves ballet too!

Friends serving at a wedding

Last day of 10th grade!

Good-bye, Golda!  Love ya!  Proud of ya!

Tizzy the Teen

This was Tizzy on Memorial Day weekend, using Scott's phone like a boss to call people, take pictures and update her FB status.  She did actually call me.  She also bought an app.

She says, "Cheeese!"

And this is my dad on Memorial Day weekend, fishing out the vent cover that Tizzy dropped down the vent. It's always a nice, relaxing holiday with Tizzy.  This kid has energy to burn!  Don't be surprised if you get a call from her and hear her whisper, "Get me out of here!  These people are boring!"

Mean Mom

When my children heard about the popcorn incident, they universally agreed that yes, their mother is a self-absorbed, hard-hearted lout.  And they backed up their stance with concrete examples.  Their biggest beef is how I treat "illness and injury."  I put illness and injury in quotes because the illnesses and injuries are usually fake.  Or at the very least, highly exaggerated.

"Mom, my knee has been hurting for, like, a month."
"It sounds like you're not getting enough sleep.  I want you to go to bed right now."

"Mom, I have the worst headache!"
"Well, you're obviously not drinking enough water.  Drink a big glass of water and then go to bed.  Because you're probably not getting enough sleep."

"Mom, I can't go to school.  I've been throwing up!"
"Well, that's probably because you didn't go to bed when I said, and you didn't drink enough water.  If you're staying home from school, you'd better go back to bed.  or no, don't go back to bed yet.  I'll need you to watch the kids while I run to the shop."

Notice how all of these little gems of wisdom center around getting more sleep.  That's so that I can enjoy more awake hours without injured and sickly children, while I'm staying up until midnight, getting up in the night with babies and waking up at 6.  I don't need sleep.  It's just other people who need sleep.  I function on grit and snarkiness.

I'm also not very good at nurturing children through food.  I noticed this morning that someone had tried to eat a bowl of cereal using a bamboo shishkabob skewer.  Not only did I not make breakfast, I didn't even provide any clean silverware.  I though if the children had to make their own breakfast, they would learn skills.  Obviously not, if they're trying to harpoon their Honey Bunches of Oats.  They're just turning into wild animals who probably have rabies because I don't take their maladies seriously.  ("Mom, I'm foaming at the mouth."  "Well, you probably brushed your teeth for too long.  Here's a washcloth.  You'll feel less rabid after a good night's sleep.")

If there is one thing I am good at as a parent, it's getting my kids to their lessons.

"Mom, I think I'm going to throw up."
"Great.  Grab a bucket and get your leotard on.  Let's go."

"Mom, my eyes are swollen shut,  I think I have pink eye."
"Good thing you have the music memorized.  Get your violin and for heaven's sake, don't say the words "pink eye" to anyone.  Take these sunglasses and get in the car."

In a whisper, "Mom, my throat is killing and I can't breathe."
"Wow, it's a good thing you play the cello and not the flute!  Get a glass of water and let's go.  You can rest when we get home.  After jazz, tonight, I mean."
"But my throat hurts!"
"So don't dance on it.  Use your legs.  Your legs don't hurt, do they?"

Last week, Freestone was coughing on the way to violin.  I said, "Don't be coughing during your violin lesson."  He answered, "Mom, you're not in charge of the laws of physics."  I'm not sure what he meant by that, but I'm pretty sure I AM in charge of the laws of physics, at least as far as they apply to my children.  He didn't cough during the lesson, which just proves that he was being over-dramatic by coughing in the car.

It's sad, the legacy I'm leaving my kids.  Last night, Ari complained that her thigh muscles were sore.  All the other kids, in unison, heaved a weary sigh and said, "Eat a banana."

She did.  On a bamboo skewer.

Multi-Racial Cheerios

I am so mad, so angry at the world right now, because of THIS ARTICLE.  It says that Cheerios is getting criticism for a commercial featuring a multi-racial family.  WTHeck? It's 2013, not 1950.  Can we still just not accept the fact that all of us are created in God's image?  You think somehow that you're going to get to heaven and there will be a ghetto?  A certain neighborhood of the Kingdom reserved for certain races?  I don't think so!  I just don't get it.

A friend of mine posted the Cheerios article on Facebook and someone commented, "The color of a person's skin simply shouldn't matter."

And then I got even angrier.  My comment was this:  "Don't even get me started. The color of a person's skin DOES matter. My Chinese daughter has beautiful, dark skin, skin which represents where she came from and who she is inside. Her skin is beautiful and it matters, and I will not pretend it's the same as mine. Multi-racial family? A non-issue. Get with the times, people! I'm gonna go buy me some Cheerios in solidarity."


I guess the world is full of idiots.  FULL of idiots.  Is Xanthe really going to have to put up with this crap when she dates?  Or any of our kids, for that matter.  The color of your skin matters, and should be acknowledged and celebrated, yes.  To say that it "doesn't matter" is to say that "it's OK that you're not white."  Ugh!  To say it doesn't matter is to say "Who you are doesn't matter."  I wouldn't like someone to say to me, "It doesn't matter that your ancestors were Dutch and English."  Yes, it matters to me.  I am proud of my heritage.

So skin color matters.  But it certainly doesn't determine who should be in a family together!

It's as Good as Over :( (:

"There are five people in class and we're watching Kung Fu Panda.  Save us!"

Yep, the school year is in its last throes of death at the high school.  At the junior high, though, there is no end in sight.  Last night, Ruby said, "I think for my term project in art, I'll get a broken violin and paint scenes from Venice and Paris on it.  With only four days left in the school year, "When is it due" was probably more of a rhetorical question.  Of course it was due within the next 12 hours.  Why else would Ruby be starting on it?

And then yesterday, Freestone said, "Mom, I signed you up to help with 4th grade Pioneer Day on Wednesday.  I wanted to surprise you."

Um, hashtag: idontthinkso.  I have four more days to get my act together for summer and I'm not spending one of them stuck in the year 1849 with a hundred ten-year-olds wearing bonnets.

And then Golda says, "My friends and I want to have a barbeque here.  On Thursday.  At lunchtime.

Make that three days.

Then Ruby looks up from her term project and says, "And I'm not going to school Thursday or Friday, because Field Day?  Really? #idonththinkso."

So I have today and tomorrow before summer hits, and I'll probably be spending it helping Freestone memorize his lines for the French play.  Here are a couple of snippets from the past few days.
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MMJWRGz__-A&feature=youtu.be

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XXSs0EDa2FI&feature=youtu.be

Now doesn't that look like a fun way to spend your last hours of freedom?  It's better than Pioneer Day, I tell ya.

A Bail of Hay

My grandfather, Opa, once bought a horse.   As the story goes, it was a bit of am impulsive purchase.  Opa was so much fun, so clever and exciting.  I wasn't on the scene yet when he bought the horse.  My mom says Opa came home with a horse and a bail of hay and put both of them in the field next to the house.  Brushing off his hands, Opa said, "There.  That bail of hay oughtta last all summer."

The next morning, the bail of hay had been entirely consumed by the horse.  Opa sold the poor animal straightaway.  Who could afford a bail of hay per day?

The reason I bring this up is that I just spent a hundred bucks at Sam's Club buying supplies for the summer, and I just know every last granola bar, every peanut and every cracker crumb will be gone in two days.  Except for the peanuts and cracker crumbs that will forever be part of the layers of sediment in my car, of course.  Already, two hours after Sam's Club, Ptolemy has magnanimously handed out half of the peanut butter and cheese crackers to strangers at the park, and Tziporah has figured out a very efficient method of opening the crackers and smearing the peanut butter all over my pants before mashing the cracker part into the ground and then licking it up.  She does it swiftly and dextrously, making me believe she has a possible future as a ninja.

If she does, I might perhaps train her to steal snack items from big-box stores, sliding down from the rafters on silken ropes to lift life-sustaining juice boxes and trail mix for the hoards of children I must feed for the next 12 weeks.  I'm going to have to start her training right after nap time, because Ptolemy has already had three Fiber One bars for lunch and I've used most of the other snacks for teacher gifts.  Yes, I know Teacher Appreciation Week ended May 28.  I just choose my own time to appreciate our teachers.  It has nothing to do with me being behind the eight ball.  In fact, I have accomplished so much today, I think I might sit down and have a bag of Cheetos.

Another Parenting Fail

No Extra Credit - With the link to the article

Yes, we love our techers.  But since they didn't tech us how to spell, we thought two days was long enough for Techer Appreciation Week.  Either that, or they didn't tech us math and we don't know how many days it is from the 27th to the 28th.  (Hint:  a school week should be five days.  Oh, and May 27 was Memorial Day.  No school.)

I do love our teachers.  I love that they take care of my children and teach them during the hours they are away from me.  We are a team.  But I have been chuckling about THIS ARTICLE ever since I read it because it perfectly sums up how I feel about the end of school.  Last week at Scouts, Freestone moved up to the Webelos.  His leader approached me and said, "Freestone has all the requirements to advance, but in the back of the book there are extra things, if you want..."

I interrupted, "I don't.  I'm not doing any extra credit."

Touchy!  But seriously.  If nobody is graded on it, we're not doing it.  If someone IS graded on it, we're probably still not doing it.  Die, school year, die!!

P.S.  I initially posted this without the link to the article I referenced.  Trajan texted me and said, "There is no link.  Does that count as extra credit?"  Ha ha