What do I do with this kid?

  In the Vietnamese culture, there is a very strict hierarchy that commands de facto respect. Without delving into the details and caveats, the main thing is strict respect to all your elders, and that includes all figures of authority. Consequently, growing up,  I viewed my elders with awe and almost as superhuman, possessing of knowledge and unseen powers I could only hope to attain with age. 

I also became terrified of members of law enforcement, the military, and anyone in authority—my principals, managers, etc. It took time for me to compromise that all of them are also human, all dealing with their own issues, all trying to do better, be better. That is when I made a concerted effort to talk to everyone, thank everyone for their service, not view anyone as better than anyone else, regardless of their station in life. 

I didn’t want my kids to grow up with my disillusions. Yes, of course I want them to respect their elders, but also to remember they are humans deserving of compassion, grace, and friendship. Likewise, I want their friends to feel comfortable with talking to us, but also treat us with respect. It is with great joy that I can report that their friends have been raised so well, as they all fulfill my expectations! 

And then…there’s the possibility of a snow day, a possible day of school getting canceled, a possible extended weekend. This is when all sense dissolves, and lunacy takes the wheel. At one point, the friends decided to sidestep my kid, and harass me directly to cancel school. 

Let me be clear: I do not have the authority to cancel school. I have, in fact, told these friends various things, such as “you are too dumb to miss anymore school” and “I will use a hairdryer to clear the streets so you can go to school”. You would think that would deter or diminish their efforts. Nope. 

What I never dreamed, however, is that my own kid would email a demand TO THE SUPERINTENDENT. This is a direct quote:

Subject: You Will Cancel School

Well you know me as Anh Nguyens son but my friends are sitting here in seminar trying to conjure a spell to cancel school tomorrow. Have an awesome day!

Love,

Ethan David Sul

 Between the audacity of the message and the poor grammar, I simultaneously laughed and was horrified! I promptly advised him to seek alternative lodging for a few days. I could not deny my inner pride that he felt comfortable enough to actually email our superintendent, nor could I deny equal pride in his sense of humor. I am definitely relieved and thankful our superintendent has such a great sense of humor, as well. That being said, I’m bracing myself for spending an extra year in high school with this kid, because he may be the one to reverse the “No Child Left Behind” policy. God bless, I love this kid. 

Ally

How do you know when a teenager is behaving abnormally?  I have no idea.  Irritable, jittery, anxious, voracious appetite, laying like a log while watching Netflix, difficulty sleeping and getting up in the morning...all seem normal and typical to me.  So, I didn't think anything of Ally's behavioral changes, and figured it was just because she was navigating the waters of adolescence with a very overbearing mother.

When she started having GI issues, I chalked it up to a bad diet, and advised her to not eat so much junk food.  When we would bundle up to walk to Allen Fieldhouse to watch the men's basketball team play in the coldest winter we'd had in years, I thought she was defying me by wearing nothing more than leggings, a jersey and a light coat, and sometimes taking the coat off while I was melodramatically declaring I'd get frostbite.

I thought nothing of it.  Then she asked me to please make an appointment to see her pediatrician, and didn't even care if that meant she had to get a colonoscopy.  That's when I really listened, and made the appointment for a Monday.  Meanwhile, I started researching what could be wrong?  Food allergies?  Crohn's Disease?  It wasn't nothing, because she would never ask for an appointment unless it was serious.

Crohn's Disease was ruled out, and we decided to start on an elimination diet.  As we were preparing to leave, I asked her pediatrician again about her thoughts on Crohn's, as she had recently developed a rash on her neck.  Thank God I did that, because that's when she noticed the puffiness in Ally's neck and ordered blood work be done to look at a few things, including her thyroid hormones.

First thing the next morning, her pediatrician called me and told me she had elevated thyroid hormones, hyperthyroidism and to immediately make an appointment for a sonogram of her neck and a follow up appointment with an endocrinologist.  By the end of the day, we knew she didn't have a tumor (YEA!!!), and we would wait another week before she would see the endocrinologist.

I truly thought the endocrinologist would order more blood work, and we made plans to get lunch and take her back to school.  Sam and I were very anxious for this appointment, and cleared our morning for it.  But you know Ethan--he is one funny monkey.  He came into our room at 4am that morning, and declared he was sick.  We registered a fever of 100, and Sam made the decision to stay at home with him while I took Ally to see the endocrinologist.  Ethan later confessed he was hot because he burrowed under his down comforter and really didn't want to go to school.  Rookie mistake!! And not by a rookie!!!  The little sneak with the adorable dimples capitalized on a weak moment.

Once we got to see the endocrinologist, she asked a few questions, looked at Ally's labs from the previous week, did an exam, and in the same breath, told me Ally had Graves Disease that was causing a thyroid storm and would be admitted, and please give her a minute so she could call the PICU to get a room ready.  Then she left the room.

Did she really just say that?  That my daughter is going to be admitted?  I have two sisters who are doctors, so I know what that means, but did she really mean that?  I was shocked, and even though my brain processed the words, my sensibility did not.

She came back and informed us Ally would have a room in an hour while they prepped it.  I foolishly asked "So, can I take her out to lunch until it's ready?  She's hungry and I need to get something into her."  Her doctor looked at me and stated very clearly "I cannot let her walk down the hall.  She has a risk of cardiac arrest with her heart rate at 147, and we need to monitor her here until her room is ready."

Hearing that your 13 year old has a risk of a heart attack is eerie and very surreal.  I sat myself right down and looked at Ally, who waited until her doctor left the room before she broke down into heaving sobs.  I held her, and kept my composure, because I did not want to upset her any further.  When she finally calmed down, she told me "You can leave if you need.  I can take care of myself.  It's a lot.  I know you will need a break.  You will reach a breaking point, and you don't have to hold it in for me.  I can take care of myself."  That is the kind of kid Ally is--always a mom and taking charge of everything and everyone around her.  I assured her I was not leaving her, and nobody could make me leave.

After three full days in the hospital and the decision to not increase her meds any further (she is on pretty high doses), they allowed us to take her home and monitor her where she is more comfortable.  Her heart rate has not changed much since she was discharged, and we have a follow up on Friday.  She is very irritable in the mornings (who isn't?), and tires very easily.  She had become accustomed to an elevated heart rate and always being hot, so she doesn't realize when it's in a danger zone.  I'd prefer to keep her at home and watch her 24/7, but I think that might make her homicidal.  In addition, her doctor wanted her to resume her normal routine, with restrictions to any physical activity.  She also accused me of being a helicopter mom (guilty), so I'm trying very hard to give her some freedom while keeping an eye on her from afar (I made her wear a fitbit so I could monitor her HR at all times).  Finding that balance of supervision and giving freedom is a challenge all parents face, but increasingly difficult for this self-professed tiger mom.

I purposely did not look up thyroid storm while in the hospital, and I'm glad I didn't.  I know the physiology of the functions and regulations of hormones, per my academic training.  I did not know of all the diseases that result in disease, or complications from those diseases.  In a nutshell, thyroid storms are very rare, and are frequently fatal.  We are very fortunate they caught it in the clinic, and very glad they were aggressive in her treatment.

I am praying for a remission, but the likelihood is small.  We will know more on Friday, and until then, it's hoping and praying while learning a new normal for my perfect little girl.

What's your name?

You know me as Anh, pronounced "Anna" or "Ana".  If you're friends with me on Facebook, you know my full name is Anh-Nguyet, and I have a younger sister whose name is Anh.  We always get the "You and your sister have the same name?"  I generally respond to this question with "When you're the last two of six kids, creativity has been exhausted."  That's really not true, because the real story is my dad is very creative, and very optimistic.

My siblings and I have hyphenated first names, and all have beautiful meanings:

Thuy-Lien, goes by Lien

Ngoc-Lan, goes by Lan

Minh-Trung, goes by Trung

Thanh-Tung, goes by Tung

Anh-Nguyet, me

Hong-Anh, goes by Anh

Notice anything?  Every one of them goes by the second part of their names, except me.  Of course, I would do something different, right?  WRONG!  I had nothing to do with it!  My dad originally planned to name me "Nguyet-Anh", which means moonlight.  My godmother intervened and advised him to transpose the two, because kids in Vietnam are alphabetized by their first names (probably because 40% of us have the last name of "Nguyen"), and she didn't want me to get stuck in the middle of the lineup.  My dad agreed, changed my name, and the meaning became "light of the moon" (which I think is far more exotic because who the hell cares about moonlight?) but stuck with calling me "Anh", his original plan.  

But WAIT!!!  My sister's name that causes confusion is truly "Anh".  Mine, however, has the added twist of an accent mark on the "A", which alters how it is pronounced.  If you listen carefully, you can notice the difference.  Most people can't hear it, but that's okay, because I'm not going to laugh at you for that (as friends, you know I'll laugh at you for something else). It's a very subtle difference that completely changes the meaning, such is the beauty of the nuances of the Vietnamese language.  And I truly believe it's one of the most beautiful and unique languages, unless it's spoken by a person whose voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard.

So why am I called "Anna" or "Ana"?  In kindergarten, I was introduced by my full name to dear Mrs. Riordan.  I never saw Mrs. Riordan after kindergarten, because we moved away, and quite honestly, she might have thrown in the towel after that year.  Sweet Mrs. Riordan looked at me, and said "We will call you 'Anna'."  And that is how I got my name.  

Anh vs. Spanx

Working in the beauty industry, I have noticed nobody appreciates the size they are, until they are no longer that size. This is not about the pressures society puts on girls and women to be a particular size, or anything of that nature.  This is also not my attempt at fishing for compliments, because I know what I look like, and I know what I need to do if I want to change things. 

This is about the evil that is spanx.

Earlier this week, I had a very important meeting.  So important that I decided to pull out my lucky suit, the one I wore to my defense 7 years and 20 pounds ago.  I probably should have tried it on earlier than an hour before the meeting, but hey, let's not judge on this beautiful Fall day.

The first sign things might be amiss was when I put on the blazer, my arms could barely squeeze through.  Guns?  Uh, no.  Unless you count overstuffed sausages as "muscles"...not so much.  Putting that aside, I went on a fervent hunt for my tried and true spanx.  This baby wears like a high-waisted underwear, tucking everything in nice and tight.  I don't know where or how it squeezes everything in (I suspect squishing all the fat together and minimizing the space between cells), but it does it.  Of course, it also holds EVERYTHING in, so when you finally relieve the pent up gas, you will shoot through the room like a jet-pack.

I don't know when I bought that spanx, but I suspect it was also 20 pounds ago.  Getting into it without pulling a muscle or breaking a bone was nothing short of a miracle.  If I ever attempt this again, it might be best to employ Sam's help.  He would have to hold it, and I will just have to pray that when I jump off the roof, I hit my target and avoid injury.  After much thought, manipulating, praying, and negotiating, I pulled it on.  Everything in my torso tucked in, I was able to pull on my skirt AND pull up the zipper.  Score!!!

Then I looked in the mirror.

Two pigs fighting under a blanket is one way to put it.  Two pigs fighting inside a toddler-sized sleeping bag is more accurate.  And on top of that, you could see the underwear line!  Horror of all horrors!!!  Then, I did the unthinkable--I tried to walk.  I've never really given much thought to the art of being a geisha, but I'm pretty sure I have the walk/shuffle down pat, except for the fact I don't think geishas shuffle because they are pulling two fighting pigs inside a too-small sleeping bag behind them. 

Time was running short.  Very short.  If you are eating, or plan on eating anytime in the near future (like ever), you might stop reading.  I take no responsibility for you becoming a bulimic after reading what follows.

Once I got past the shuffle, I thought "Forget it.  Just go with it.  It's too late, and there's not another suit in the closet."  But as I shuffled away, I realized I. Could. Not. Do. It.  I could not go into a very important meeting, skirt stretched beyond capacity in the front AND back, so tight you could tell if I had shaved my thighs or not.  So, I shuffled back to my room, shimmied out of the skirt, and peeled the devil spanx off.  It may or may not have ricocheted off the wall and broken the ceiling fan.  Either way, I'm in the market for a new ceiling fan for my bedroom.

I rifled through my drawer and found a thong underwear (is that what you call it?!!), pulled it on, shimmied back into the skirt, and prayed to God and any deity that might be listening that nothing falls out.

Stupid, evil spanx.  I'll be getting another one when I buy a new suit.

An open letter to the Board of Education regarding the resignation of Dr. Doug Sumner

Today, it was formally announced that our superintendent, Dr. Doug Sumner, resigned from USD 232.  I wrote this letter and sent it to all members of the Board of Education, as well as teachers who have had my children in school.  I think it is important to be the change you want to see.  I will not sit back, complain, or throw my hands in the air and lament "I can't make a difference."  Because I will make a difference.  I will be the change I want to see.  Please join me.

*****************************

Dear Members of the USD 232 Board of Education,

As an elected official in an unpaid position, thank you for your service.  I am sure most of you are mindful of the fact that although you are chosen to represent your constituents, your post is won by popular vote in the event you face any opposition.  As such, your voice is not necessarily representative of my voice.  However, as an elected official, you are trusted to truly represent the views of your populace, leaving your personal views aside.

The news of the resignation of Dr. Doug Sumner as our superintendent is inarguably against the wishes of all parents and teachers within USD 232.  This is a tremendous loss and blow to our district.  During Dr. Sumner’s tenure at USD 232, as you know, the state slashed funding numerous times, and parents were asked more and more to contribute supplies and time to ensure our children would continue to get an education that clearly supersedes what the State has determined to be worthy.  As much as parents were willing to donate their time and resources, we cannot supplement our teachers’ salaries, nor can we pay them what they deserve.  When you spend a mere 30 minutes in the classroom, it is clear theirs is a job of passion, not financial gain.  Our teachers kept their posts, despite offers in other districts of higher pay, and I firmly believe it was because of Dr. Sumner’s leadership. 

When the news of Dr. Sumner’s resignation was made known, the first series of questions were “Why?  What happened?” There is plenty of blame to be had.

1.              Shame on me for not attending the BOE meetings to personally witness reports now of inappropriate behavior by a board member.  Shame on me for believing an elected official would put his personal agenda aside and truly work for the best interests of the people he is supposed to prioritize—the faculty, staff, and students.  Shame on anyone who did not vote to prevent this person’s election into this position, and shame on those to did vote for him to put him there. To this end, I will remain silent no more.  My voice will be heard, directly from me.

2.              Shame on Scott Hancock for his clearly inappropriate behavior—lacking professionalism, respect, or any degree of decorum.  Shame on him for using his position to push out Dr. Sumner.  It is far too late to do anything to bring Dr. Sumner back, nor would I expect him to return, given the lack of respect he was given.   To this end, I ask this board member to resign with dignity.  I am unclear as to what agenda you were trying to achieve, but your purpose was achieved, and your “work here is done”, so to speak.  I am asking that you step down with dignity before I take formal measures to have you removed from your post.  You do not reflect the views of the people you have been elected and trusted to represent. If you truly believe your views represent those of people in our community, it is repugnant in the extreme.

3.              Shame on any person for having allowed that board member to have so much authority, to cross so many boundaries.  Our children are taught a zero tolerance policy regarding disrespect, yet this person was allowed to behave in a manner so reprehensible it moved Dr. Sumner to resign from his position.  If a child behaved in this manner, that child would expect to be faced with severe consequences. 

Our community has been dealt a severe blow with the loss of Dr. Sumner as superintendent.  I wish Dr. Sumner the best as he moves into his next position, though his loss will be felt deeply.  I hope that as we move forward, we learn from what has happened.  I, for one, will be heard.

Regards,

Anh-Nguyet Nguyen

HOA woes, and the vicious pit bull they appointed treasurer

I'm not going to lie.  When we moved to Kansas City almost 9 years ago, I purposely looked into subdivisions with an HOA because I LIKE the idea of an HOA.  Call me what you will, say what you will (it IS your constitutional right, after all. In addition, I have been called Gladys from "Over the Hedge", which is only slightly inaccurate), but I like the idea of some degree of uniformity while still allowing individuality, living in an area where efforts to keep your home and surroundings beautiful are valued, and strange as it may sound, I like having neighbors.  Neighbors who are older so my children can interact with multiple generations and hopefully learn a healthy respect for their elders, neighbors with children their age so they can play, neighbors with different views than our own so that we can have diversity and a peaceful means to live amongst them.

Then, there are the other parts of living in a subdivision with an HOA.

A couple of years ago, one of my friends (who has since wisely moved away) convinced me to join the board.  With a relatively successful business that basically ran itself, I found myself with extra time, and I have always been an advocate of getting involved and giving back.  So, I agreed.  Not only did I agree to be on the board, I agreed to take on the role of treasurer without really considering all the duties it required.

Let's clarify a few things:
1.  I have been accused of being obsessively compulsive, which I think is necessary as a scientist, whether current or former.
2.  Although I am detail-oriented, I am happy to hand over the reins if someone else wants them.  Thus, I let Sam take care of our family finances, and I spend his money freely.
3.  Sam says I have no fiscal sense.  He has no malicious intent.  He is just very observant and honest.
4.  Although I spend Sam's money freely, I am very stingy with other people's money.  Sam wishes above all else it was the reverse.

Without going into details of all the colorful things that have been said, emailed, or mailed to me, I just want all those people to know a few things:

• I do not horde your money in a personal account.
• If I did horde your money in a personal account, surely you can concede my house and yard would look better, or rather, I wouldn't be living in this neighborhood anymore.
• I do not pay for lavish parties with HOA money. As the controller of the purse strings and enforcer of delinquent accounts, I am not well-liked (well, maybe that's for other reasons as well, but I personally think I'm hilarious and a peach), so do not get invited to parties. I will not pay for parties to which I am not invited.
• When you ask what you can plant in your yard, my first suggestion is grass.  And I do not mean cannibis.
• Get involved so you can join me in laughing at people who get mad at me.  I don't take a lot of things seriously, and you getting mad at me for doing my job is only going to make me laugh at you, which makes you even madder, which makes me laugh harder...and while I love laughing, I hate merry-go-rounds.
• If you're interested in building a 6 foot privacy fence, I would suggest you start at the curb because with that attitude, nobody wants to see you, either.  Don't forget the moat.  But be sure you get it approved by the Architecture Committee first, to which if you attend and get involved, you can head.
• Going to my house to "give me a piece of your mind" is not necessary.  I am confident you have little left to give away if you think it's prudent to yell at an adult in front of her children, and believe me, it's ALWAYS going to be in front of my children.  Savor what remains and just mail the payment, thank you.

Next meeting is March 4.  I wonder if I am going to need a bulletproof vest...

Letter to Ethan, age 4.

Dear Ethan,

Ok, I get it.  You no longer want to hold my hand as we walk to the bus, or even give me a kiss before you get on the bus lest God forbid, another child sees you.  But you are only 4 years old, and I am still bigger and stronger than you, so tough nuts, kid.  Unless you would prefer to be attached to a leash (I'm open to it), your hand will be firmly in mine every single time we cross a street or parking lot.  Every. Single. Time.  Deal with it now, or make plans for your savings to be used on therapy later.  Your dad (and probably everyone else we know) calls me an obsessive helicopter mom, but I really don't care what anyone thinks about my over-protectiveness.  As long as I am here, I will be HERE.  I will do my best to not embarrass you (ok, I'm lying--I will embarrass you as long as I have breath in me, but a lot of that happens without me even realizing it because I think I'm hilarious).

I know you are finding your voice, and letting yourself be heard VERY CLEARLY.  But buddy, it's not ok to say you hate someone, especially me or anyone in your family.  If you remember, I am a lot bigger than you at present, so I can and will take you out.  Such ugliness will not be tolerated, even if it comes on the heels of me tackling you and smothering you with kisses.  You are freakishly strong, and I know I won't get away with this for much longer.  While we are on the topic, here are just a few other things you should work on:

(1) the golf club is not to be used as a weapon, nor is your sister's head to be used as a substitute tee; 

(2) it's not socially acceptable to hold up a salted peanut and say "you just suck on this"; 

(3) burps and farts are funny, but not ok in church, and definitely not with the gusto you've been putting behind them as of late; 

(4) retaliating against a perceived injustice by peeing on the wall is not permissible;

(5) do not pick your nose in public, but when you do, do not hold up the giant booger and announce "I just got my brain out!"

Next Fall, you will enter kindergarten.  I will be a mess.  A complete train wreck, and this is saying something because I do not cry.  Well, I do about once a year, so I'm saving up for August.  When your sister went, I was ok because I knew thought she was ready.  With you, it's about killing me to think of sending you off to a new school with a new teacher.  You've had a wonderful preschool teacher who understands your quirks, needs, and dry sense of humor (not sure where you got that) for the past two years.  I am worried about kindergarten.  I am fully aware no child or parent ever died from the jitters of the first day of kindergarten, but you should be aware that I will be a mess.  Your dad will probably find a reason to not be in town that first day because he doesn't want to have to make the call to Jaws of Life to pry me away.  I will probably be put on a list at the school as a problem parent, if I haven't already (there is some speculation such a list exists, and it's now called the "Anh List").

Until you absolutely have to, stay young.  Stay innocent.  Stay loving, uninhibited (although it's okay to NOT take off your undies and run through the house stark naked), and always love to laugh and make others laugh (you can do this without running around naked).  I love you all the time, even if we don't like each other 100% of the time.  

When will you go back to work?

Every year in December, Sam looks over our finances from the previous year.  In 2012, he let out a deep sigh, seeing what he'd made, what we had spent, and what he projected we should be spending vs. what we I really spend.  Then he asked me, with more seriousness than usual, "Do you think you'll be going back to work once Ethan is in school full-time?"  

My standard response since I quit my job as a scientist to take care of the kids (and discovered how much fun I was having) was "Is our house in foreclosure?"  

No, we are not at risk of losing our home.  You can let out that breath you were holding; we will not be asking you to take the whole lot of us in.  But, it made me stop and think, and then seriously look for a job.

Bingo.  My dream job was available - a research analyst with Shook, Hardy & Bacon, a very large law firm.  Quite obviously, the compensation would be very nice.  However, there would be travel.  Lots of it, and sometimes, with little notice.  I was 100% confident I would get the job, and decided to update my CV and begin the process.

Then I looked at Ally and Ethan.  Since missing a Mother's Day Tea when Ally was in preschool and realizing she was the only child without her mother that day, I swore I'd never miss another one of her events.  I volunteered regularly when she was in kindergarten, was in the classroom on a weekly(sometimes daily) basis in first grade, and tried to get on the volunteer schedule as frequently as possible this year.  She goes to school now, confident that if anything happens, I will be there.  Although I don't get to volunteer in Ethan's classroom, we get to spend a lot of time together, and it's so much fun to watch his language develop from 50 words a year ago to talking non-stop now.  Ok, I actually have a lot more enjoyment from tormenting him and making him scream at me to leave him alone.  He's talking.  Now, if only we could get him to give up the diaper...

Being with the kids is a lot of fun for me.  Sure, there are days they drive me insane.  I'm human.  To suggest it's always rainbows and butterflies is absurd.  There are days they probably wish I'd find a job and just go away.  But, I'm that weird bird who enjoys the summer days and breaks where I get to spend more time with them.  I just think the time where they love me so deeply and openly, believe I have all the answers, and all hurt is eliminated by a kiss and tight hug is so limited.  I feel that when I turn around again, I'll be packing Ally's things to go to college, and she'll never live at home again.  She'll only be a visitor.  So, I cherish this very short time with them.

But then again, things are costing more and I cannot spend less than I already do, trying to keep up with all the commitments and activities the kids are in.  We didn't get those luxuries as children, so Sam and I are determined to let our kids have that experience.  So, I started thinking seriously about the job, my stomach twisting in knots.

Just as I was putting the application together, Sam called with news that he'd received his bonus.  With tremendous relief, I put the application away, relieved to have another year with my babies. 

That was in December.

You dirty old louse.

Now that it's over, I can breathe normally and tell about it.

Last Thursday, I had lunch with a friend whose daughter is in the same grade as Ally.  It's nice when you are good friends with the parents of your children's good friends.  Not only does it make socializing with adults easier, you know someone else is looking out for your child when you are not around.  It's one of the things I love about our community.

Before her food even arrived, my friend was compelled by a self-professed moral obligation to disclose that she had found head lice on her daughter and herself.  I love this friend, whose anonymity in a rare move I shall respect, because she and I share views of what warrants us to go ape s*** ballistic.  As she described her experience of her discovery and subsequent desire to purge her home of this pest, we both started.  We itched, twitched, shifted in our chairs and soon, were scratching ourselves all over in a very public place with no shame for where the itches were suddenly erupting.  Mind you, we are women - we itch just like men; we are simply more discreet in how we manage it.  And I know that as you are reading this, your scalp is crawling, your neck is itching, your back feels like bugs are crawling up and down and your legs have an itch that seems to be behind the knees but when you scratch, there is no relief.

My poor friend was beside herself, and during the course of her story, revealed that she reached a breaking point and melted into a ball with heaving sobs.  My heart broke for her.  I had lice once as a child, and I know how horrific it can be to find it, and rid your home of it.

But as a helicopter concerned mom, I felt the need to take preventive measures and treated Ally's hair that night.  It had been a long time since my experience, but Sam and I were pretty sure we found a couple of live ones.  My reaction?

SWEET JESUS, MOTHER OF GOD, HOLY SAINT JOSEPH AND THE WHOLE ARMY OF SAINTS AND ANGELS WITH EVERYTHING ELSE GREEN ON EARTH!!!!!  How did this get into my child's hair and into my home?!!!

I combed and picked and pulled through that child's hair until she was in tears, Ethan cried in sympathy, and I suspect Sam wasn't far behind in the waterworks.  Although it was late, I stripped every single bed of every blanket, sheet, stuffed animal and began THE CLEANSING.

No exorcism could be as clean.

While the kids were crying because they were tired and wanted to go to bed, I began washing all the linens, vacuuming every square inch of the house, and came very close to boiling the kids to rid them of the pestilence.  Had I been around during biblical times, I doubt the locusts would have stood a chance. At one point, Sam got the nerve to squeak out the possibility that perhaps I was going maybe just a tad bit overboard.  When I turned in response, I did not see myself but I am pretty sure my eyes must have been blood red and my fangs bared with flames coming out from behind my hair as I was sprinting through the house with the vacuum in between cycles of the washing machine, all the while itching and twitching.  Because God forbid I should let the washing machine or dryer have a break during THE CLEANSING.

The next day, I went up the school to do some volunteer work, and was approached by the nurse.  Sam and I have endeavored to raise Ally to not be ashamed of anything about herself--how she speaks (she is exceedingly polite, so it's pretty easy at this point), looks, dresses or her choice of toys or games.  Our thought process behind this is to raise a confident child who recognizes that if someone judges her for something like that, they do not deserve her for a friend.

In an illustration of the effectiveness of our parenting, Ally announced to her class "I have lice!  My mom found bugs in my hair!!"  And of course, on that day of all days, her amazing teacher who is now very familiar with our family (I'll let you guess why.  One hint--it's not because Ally misbehaves) was absent, and the substitute panicked.  The nurse examined Ally's hair, and declared to me "She has a really bad case."

WHAT THE WHAT THE WHAT?!?!?!?!

"Please, show me what the devil you are talking about, because I just treated that child last night."

Turns out Ally has dry scalp that can easily be mistaken for nits if you have poor eyesight.  However, after a more intense search, she did find two nits, but determined Ally to be safe at school since I had preemptively treated her the night before.  I asked again and again and again if I should take Ally home and put her in an autoclave?  I think at this point, the nurse insisted I keep Ally at school for Ally's own safety because ape-s***-crazy-mama was back on the loose.

THE CLEANSING continued throughout the weekend.  I treated Ally again with prescription-strength shampoo on Saturday.  I vacuumed, washed, dried, dusted, polished, and sanitized everything in sight and a few things still in hiding.  Finally, on Sunday night, I collapsed onto my very clean bed and promptly fell asleep.  In the middle of the night, Ethan crawled into our bed as he sometimes does.  I did not care.  I was too tired to care.

Until he promptly peed.  All over my bed, pillows, down comforter, quilt, duvet, and sheets.  At least now, I am happy to report Ally is squeaky clean and free of lice.

Goodnight, Perry...

He was a funny little kid with his curly hair, button nose and his slightly darker skin that never meant anything to us other than he was a little different, just like the rest of us.  So, he welcomed us, we welcomed him, and being in the same grade, he quickly became friends with my older brother.  Of course, being friends with one of us meant you were friends with the whole pack.

The two of them made a funny little pair, both slightly chubby, both a little dark (one spending every spare minute fishing or playing outdoors), and both with a goofy sense of humor.  One of my most vivid memories was in the midst of a game of backyard kickball, he stopped, wrinkled his button nose, cocked his head to the side, declared "I smell rain", and sniffed the air the way a puppy sniffs when it detects something mysterious.  To this day, every time it's about to rain and I detect that distinct smell in the air, I think of Percy Crosley, or as he became known as an adult, Perry.


We reconnected on Facebook after not seeing one another for over 20 years, and all those intervening years melted.  He was the most attentive user, always responding quickly to any comment or post.  And, he was the most optimistic and positive person.  Every morning, he'd give an update on his plans for the day while enjoying a cup of coffee, ending that post with "Enjoy the day! Be blessed!"  His evening post closed with "Much love as always! Be blessed! Ciao!!"

Last week, we lost Perry after a long battle with pancreatic cancer that had hatefully spread.  Perry knew his days were numbered, but that did not stop him from living, and sharing his love.  He was never judgmental, and always gentle in expressing an opposing view.  Losing him hurts.  Really bad.  Nowhere nearly as bad as the pain he battled for so long, but it still hurts.  My only comfort is that I know when he passed, he knew he was loved and cherished by so many all over, and he was not alone.  Rest, my dear friend.  You were loved, as much as you loved.  When my daughter smiles, I know you are smiling.  When my son giggles as he thinks he has tricked me, I know you are giggling at me, too.  Rest, and I know I have someone looking after my family from above.  Much love to you, and thank you for your many blessings.  And for now, ciao.

Politics anyone? Not around me.

I am far too cynical to be an idealist, too goofy to be serious or taken seriously, and too realistic to think Rodney King's eloquent question will ever be answered in the affirmative.  There is one topic that I absolutely never discuss with anyone with any breadth of seriousness: politics.  Like everyone else, I have my own very specific views, and will not be swayed by propaganda, mud slinging or threats of impending doom if a certain candidate from a particular party wins the vote.  When I say I refuse to discuss politics with anyone, I mean EVERYONE.

As I have gotten older and have small impressionable children, I have tried to adopt a more simplistic approach.  One of my favorite authors for what seems like the last seven years is Dr. Seuss, and in his brilliant fashion, I will explain my view on discussing politics:

I will not discuss politics.

Not with my husband.

Not with my kids.

Not in my house, 

Not even with a louse.

Nor outside my abode.

Especially when weighed down with a load.

I won't talk politics today, tomorrow, or the next.

Not even if you wail and beat your breast.

I will not waste time to discuss such things

That make people seem they're barely hanging on by a string.

If you insist on sharing your views,

Avoiding the existence of other hues,

Do not be surprised or hurt

When I suddenly turn and punch your throat.

I will not discuss politics.

Ok, I really will not punch anyone in the throat, and it really does not even rhyme, but you get the idea of how I feel about this topic.

Safety in Suburbia

About once a year, we get a notice taped to our door.  For some reason, though I swear I have no reason to feel guilty, I always think it's an eviction, foreclosure, or notice of some kind of violation.  No.  It is this:

It is an offer, for a nominal fee,  to paint our house numbers on the curb with reasons why this is so important.  Apparently, the numbers on the house are not sufficient for the police or emergency personnel to find it, and they are delayed by having to use a searchlight.  I suppose that with the delay, by the time they reach you, you'll have given birth on your bathroom floor, your older children will have witnessed it, they will be traumatized and screaming while your husband is passed out and you're wondering when the devil are they going to get here?  Or, it's an intruder and the intruder has decided to let me live long enough to alert 911 and calmly give directions.  Alas, all that effort will have been wasted because they could not find my house.  Any number of potentially deadly and disastrous situations could be circumvented by paying to have my house numbers painted on my curb.

Here's my problem with this offer to increase my safety: The first time it was offered, it cost $25.  Now, it costs $10.  Is my safety cheaper to secure now?  Or is the paint cheaper, and hence, just another empty promise because the police are still going to use a searchlight to try and find me?  I have a neighbor who is very willing to come over to help me in the case of an intruder, and odds are, he'll get here before the police.  That is, provided I have the frame of mind to call anyone at all.  If I really did have the chance to call someone, it would be the coroner at that point anyway, and why should they rush?  I'd be better off calling a lawyer, and I've never known a lawyer to rush anywhere unless your name is O.J.

The only other reason I can think my house would need to be located quickly is in the case of fire.  I'm thinking if that were to happen, they'll easily locate my house by the flames billowing out the windows, me screaming like a lunatic in the yard, all my neighbors standing outside pointing and wondering "Why does her husband keep letting her buy candles?", and my kids thinking this is the best way ever to make s'mores.  Either way, I'd still need to call a lawyer.

I think I'll pass on this offer for now.  But maybe next year...

First Day of School with Many Firsts

This time of year always brings so much excitement to our home.  The summer heat begins to subside for the cooler Fall weather to slowly creep in, the grass that went dormant (or died) from the heat is showing promise that it's coming back, any leaves left on the trees not killed by the drought will change soon, and most importantly, a new school year means shopping for school supplies and new clothes.

I love it.  Or, I used to love it.

This year, I dreaded it.  I'm one of those rare birds who do not want to send my children off to school (but know better than to home-school them because I need them to learn more than cuss words).  This past summer, I saw more of Ally's personality emerge, and fought the balance of letting her become her own person vs. controlling her to prevent a monster-diva from emerging.  It was not easy, but often times fun and I think an ongoing project.

We saw an explosion in Ethan's speech.  In May, his speech therapist transitioned him over to the district, and we enrolled him into a preschool specializing in speech development.  When you add his expanding vocabulary with his already animated expressions, there is little need for cable (except for the Olympics--let us not forget the men's swimming and diving events).  Because his school is almost 2 miles away, he gets to ride on a bus to and from school each day.  I struggled with this, but decided to let him ride the bus because it was something unique to his routine, and I thought would add to the excitement of going to a new school.

But as we got closer to the day, the more my stomach hurt.  It literally hurt every night to the point I could not sleep.  Finally, the day came for Ally's first day.

Her nervousness made her wake well before her usual time, eyes brimming with tears when she came into my room.  Last year, she cried almost every single day, and I did not want to go through that again.  I had to lie and tell her the principal said there is no crying in second grade.  You can gasp and judge all you want, but a key to my parenting method is determining which lies will have long-lasting detrimental effects weighed against the benefits of said lies.  In this case, it worked!  She got moving and ready for school.

It is impossible for Ally to pretend to be impressed with my ideas.

Finally, a sweet and toothless smile I will always cherish, and she will always hold against me.

Once at school, she caught up with some of her best friends before they excitedly stormed the school.

Ethan did not know what to make of his sister's excitement to be with anyone other than him.

I believe she's telling me to get out and quit embarrassing her.

Once Ethan and I left, we loitered outside the school to catch up with other parents and their children.  Can you believe Ethan was the only boy in a sea of beautiful little girls?  That is one lucky little guy.

This is the sweetest little girl. She always looks after Ethan and makes sure he crosses the street safely.

This year was the closest I'd come thus far to shedding tears after seeing Ally off to school.  And, it was the first year she did not shed a single tear when I left.  I know she is in great hands; she has a wonderful teacher and a lot of old friends with the opportunity to make many new ones.  I am sad my little girl is growing up so fast, but excited and happy for her.

Ethan and I went home to enjoy our last full day together.  Because what hit us on his first day of school was unexpected.

This little clown told me "Take this, Mom!" and made this face.

This is his "happy face". Sure makes me laugh.

He was so excited, he refused to sit on the porch with me while waiting for the bus.

Once he got on the bus, he turned around and asked me "Mommy, you go, too?" This is when the unwelcommed and unsolicited lump formed in my throat and refused to leave.

And before I knew it, he was gone.  I couldn't stay another minute, and went inside, thinking I could pull myself together.  I could not.  Suddenly and without any preamble, the tears came and I started crying.  Sobbing.  Loud, snot-dripping, ugly-face crying.  I couldn't stop, no matter how hard I tried.  I even tried to scare myself into stopping by looking in the mirror, but that just made it worse.  Pathetic.

I solemnly swear to never laugh at another parent who cries on the first, last or any day in between of school.  I get it.  And I am sorry for all the jokes I made at your expense in the past.

Our Last Summer Hurrah in Vail

As time zipped past us, we decided to take the kids on one last trip before school started.  Given the unbelievably hot weather this year, we decided to head to the mountains and introduce the kids to one of our favorite places.  

Sam and I love the mountains--skiing, hiking, just staring at the natural beauty while breathing in the sweet, clean air as it cools our upturned faces.  My friend, Erin Dedrickson, accurately describes it as God's country. We love it.

Coming on the heels of a family reunion, I did not have the chance to clean the house and adequately prepare for this trip.  At departure time, I was still packing feverishly.  To better achieve this, I let Ethan play on the Wii while I finished up. 

Big mistake.  I finished up sooner than expected (with his engineer mentality, Sam had a schedule and WE NEEDED TO STICK TO IT) and Ethan did not get to play on the Wii for more than 5 minutes.

From home to Vail, he complained every 3 minutes he was awake that he wanted to go home.  Ally was a good sport until eventually, she decided to join in on Ethan's fun and follow every one of his whines with "Are we there yet?  And don't tell me we already got there and I missed it because you always say that."  She's on to me.

Our arrival in Vail was welcomed by all except Ethan when he realized our stop was not at home at all.   The kids perceived walking to the bus stop as a full-fledged hike, and they let everyone within hearing distance know of their displeasure.  Frequently, when I am out with the kids, they are complimented on their behavior or how people are surprised with how cute they are, given their genetics.  Not in Vail, and not because the people were snooty.  The kids just complained that much, and that loud.  After awhile, our sense of self-preservation made us laugh at the whole situation.  

Going into Vail Village was an adventure in itself.  But, we forged ahead and took the kids in the gondola to get to the top of the mountain for a day of fun.

Ally was thrilled with the ride!  

Ethan was absolutely terrified and held onto my leg for dear life.

There are so many family-friendly activities in Vail in the summer, I really don't know which season is my favorite up there.  We started out on our hike after a lovely lunch.

Typical Ethan, filling his pockets with rocks.  

In contrast, Ally appreciated the flowers.  

I wish I could say I didn't make her pose for this sweet picture.

I also wish I could say our hike lasted further than 200 feet on a paved sidewalk.  We finally gave up and went back down.  Miraculously, the kids found the energy to run and play in the stream.

Ethan was inordinately proud to have made it to this rock with his sister.  The look of sheer joy and pride on his face (and probably diabolical plans to push his sister into the water) made me laugh so hard it startled people out for their afternoon stroll.

Climbing these rocks was quite taxing on our little princess.

 There was a little girl nearby, and in typical boy behavior, Ethan thought the best way to get her attention was to throw a rock at her, immediately after he had been warned to do no such thing.

We finally got a moment to just sit (actually, I was sitting the whole time.  There was no way I was getting in that cold water.  No idea where Ally gets her princess tendencies.)

 Ally was happiest playing on the rocks, conquering every one and turning for a photo op.  

Although we did get to spend a few days at one of our favorite places, we left with looming questions for our future vacations:
1.  Do we keep torturing them and ourselves by taking them into the mountains?
2.  Or, do we leave them behind so we can enjoy it ourselves?

My thoughts are to continue the torture so that eventually, they will learn to appreciate it as much as we do.  Or, they hate it so much they never ask us for money to go skiing with their friends when they get older.  Something good always comes out of every situation.

Summer Days...

Last summer went by so fast, the next thing I knew, I was rushing Ally to the first day of first grade.  Although I volunteered quite a bit in her classroom, I missed her while she was there.  And this Fall, both kids will go to school every day, and I'm already having anxiety about sending them both away.  So when school let out in May, I resolved to make the most of my time with them.

I planned an outing a day from the day school was out until we left for our Orlando vacation.  By the time Saturday rolled around, the kids begged to be allowed to just stay at home.  Perfect for all of us because after a week on the road or in the office, Sam is ready to kick back in the comforts of his home.

While it was still cool out, Grandpa would come over and play with the monkeys kids outside.  You can see how much my Dad loves these kids.  Too bad Ethan can't be as nice to his Grampie.

Every so often, good 'ol Ethan would get in trouble and find himself in the corner.  Most kids can't wait to get out of the corner, right?  Not Ethan.  He is one odd duck.  He will stay in the corner until he is good and ready to come out.  On this particular day, he was in so much trouble, and he was so mad he decided to defy me by not sitting, per se, but at least still on the chair in the corner as directed.  This boy loves to push buttons and limits.

We have seen a lot more bickering this summer.  Ally usually walks away from a fight, or whimpers when Ethan hits her.  In his questionable wisdom, Sam offered her a reward if she'd just hit him back.  It has made this summer interesting, to say the least.  But most of the time, they are best buddies and Ally always hugs her brother to comfort him.  It warms my hardened heart.

Sam's annual company picnic proved to be a lot of fun this year for the kids, now fully able to appreciate all the activities and treats.  His company really strives to make this picnic about the kids, and makes for such a memorable experience.  Of course, as we were waiting in line for our food, this little princess took her brother to the shade and let us, her servants, stay in line in the full sun.

Oh, Orlando!  How we loved bringing the kids to Sea World for the first time, seeing their reactions to so many firsts.  All the packing, sweating, waiting was worth it to see the look of wonder on their faces the first time they saw a dolphin jump out of the water, their shock when Shamu splashed them with ice-cold salt water, their trepidation replaced by sheer excitement and joy when feeding dolphins.  So many firsts, so many memories.  So worth all the money we spent, even the two gigantic plush Shamu toys that barely made it home (one now shoved into a closet somewhere).

From Orlando to Ft. Myers to see our good friends, Bonnie and David Dorsey and their family.  My sweet girl experienced the beach for the first time, and was a vision of perfection with the sunset.  Gorgeous weather, great company, and an unbelievably good time.  David is holding is suddenly camera-shy son, Sam, whom he and Bonnie adopted from Korea three years ago.  They adopted this little guy from Korea and named him after Sam.  I was stunned.  I never knew Sam had that effect on anyone.  During their adoption process, I suggested a baby from Vietnam.  I think they feared they'd get a little Anh, because they gave about as much thought to that as I do when Ally asks me for jet pack.

We have a little over three weeks before the kids go back, and I feel like time is flying right by me.  I don't want to let them go, but I know I cannot stop Time from tick tick ticking away.  Our last hurrah for the summer will be in Vail, CO.  I hope to help create more memories for them, taking my exertion-adverse children on multiple hikes.  I suspect that by the time we are done with that, the kids will be ready to get rid of ME.