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.

Driving while elderly

Rushing from a endless list of errands (ok, one of them was to get my nails done, but come on, I was WAY overdue) to pick up the kids from their first day of summer camp, I came upon an incredibly slow moving car.  Of course, when rushing to pick up the kids, imagining them waiting with anxious eyes and knots in their stomachs as they watch for my car, it always seems there's someone interminably slow in front of me.  As I passed the offending driver, muttering "Vertical pedal on the right, friend. Use it.", I looked at him, ready to shoot him a look to say "Look here, if you can't do the speed limit, get out of the road because I will run you over like a pop can if you get in my way again."  But then I saw him.  And my expression melted.

The elderly gentleman was hunched over his steering wheel, mouth wide open as if in a scream, and his hair sticking straight up and swept back as if windblown in a topless convertible (he, too, was driving an SUV).  I probably should have felt some degree of sympathy for him, but I busted out laughing.  He looked terrified that he was traveling at the raging speed of 60 mph.  Or perhaps genuinely afraid I would run him off the road.  I wonder if the majority of people, once they reach a certain age, wear an expression of perpetual fear?  Or is it just my presence?

I know when I'm driving my mother around, she is scared out of her mind.  She doesn't quite look like the road is going to jump out and swallow her whole after beating her with its concrete barriers, but she certainly doesn't look comfortable (yet another reason I'm re-evaluating the wisdom in getting her cataracts removed).  My dad might look frozen in fear in my passenger seat, but I can't tell because he insists on sitting in the backseat where he can torment Ethan and make me instantly go gray.  I can say, however, that he is not thrilled with my driving or my choice in the paths to get to my destination.

Have they always been this way?  I honestly don't remember.  Will I become that way?  I think we all know the answer to that--YES.  Yes, because we all know God is freaking hilarious and I have it coming to me.

Dad's Birthday Pledge

I come from a family of 6 kids, all of whom are or were married with or about to have children.  If you got all of that, it means when we all go out, it can be quite the ordeal.  Thankfully, we only do that once a week.  On a Sunday.  Right after mass when the rest of KC is also rushing around, trying to find a brunch spot.

After doing this every single week for over a year, our choices have become more and more limited.  This is not just because of the cost, but the size of our crowd and the reputation Ethan some have developed.  So, the unwritten rules have changed that whoever can get together, does.  Except for birthdays.  Birthdays are special, so we try to celebrate accordingly.

But if you remember, the family of 6 kids have proliferated to include a lot of people, and hence, a lot of birthdays.  Dad came up with the brilliant idea of celebrating all the birthdays of each month on one day.  In February, we have 4 birthdays, and decided to celebrate on the 26th.  For the shortest month of the year, we sure pack in a lot.  I guess quite a few people like to celebrate the end of the school year...

This year, my birthday fell on a Sunday, so Sam took me out they day before to celebrate.  I cannot remember the last time we spent an afternoon exclusively together.  It's not that we don't have a plethora of people willing to watch our kids while we go out; we just feel that weekends are the only real time Sam gets to spend time with them so we like to maximize that time with them.  After a great day without a single fight (worthy of a call to the Vatican if you know me), we went to pick up the kids from my parents' house.  Dad pulled me aside and asked to take my little family out the next day (12th).  I was confused, and reminded him of the planned get-together on the 26th, but he insisted that this year, he wanted to celebrate with each of his children on their actual birthday.

My Dad is old school.  I have always known that he loves all of us.  What I only learned in the last few years is that he has the same obsession with his kids that I have with my own.  This was quite the revelation to me, because we were raised with "tough love" from the old country.  When he was a young father, he had to fight the urge to shower his children with affection, in accordance with the cultural practice of not overtly expressing your love to your children lest they become spoiled.  But now that he's a grandfather, all that blissfully goes out the window.

So this year, Dad pledged to spend each of his children's birthday with them.  I was touched, but still confused, and he must have noticed or was wanting to share his reasons with me: he does not believe he will be with us for much longer.

Dad is 72 years old.  I stubbornly see him as a very strong and healthy man, not looking anywhere near his age, and definitely nowhere near that next phase that I cannot grasp right now, or ever.  He still loves to fish, does almost all the housework, and gives the grandchildren rides on his back.  He chases Ethan around the house, hides around the corner, and allows Ethan to use him as a punching bag.  He takes my mother everywhere, and will drop whatever he is doing the minute one of us asks him to come over.  He seems so much younger than his 72 years.  But, he is unquestionably aging.  When I was 10 years old, I begged God to not take my parents away until I was at least 20 years old, an age I felt old and mature enough to handle such a tremendous loss.  I am 39, and cannot even fathom the horrible day I will have to face this.

I don't know what made my Dad make that morbid prediction, but I do hope that I am making the most of every day I have with him.  I have had to help too many friends bury at least one of their parents, and although I know I will join ranks with them one day, I hope to put it off for as long as possible.  I hope that when that horrible day comes, I can still smile through my torrent of tears, and hope Dad will always know what he means to me.  Because I intend to let him know every day.

God's not so small creatures

God loves all creatures, big and small.  At least that's what I was taught when I was younger and too stupid to know any better.  Now that I'm much bigger and slightly less stupid, I think this is flawed, and the nuns who taught me this were probably laughing behind their veils.

I'm pretty sure mosquitoes and all flying insects are examples that not only humans, but God makes mistakes.  It is unseasonably warm in January, but I hardly think warm enough for this: I opened the door leading to the garage yesterday, and a horsefly the size of a small pterodactyl flew into the house.  I finally cornered the germ-infested flying bastard to a window, hit it with a fly swatter with enough force to make Ethan feel the ripple effect from the other room, picked up the carcass with a napkin and squished it before unceremoniously crushing it into the trash can.  I did NOT want that nasty creature to have any chance of coming back.

I left the house for 3 hours.  I may or may not have been going out to lunch and shopping, spending Sam's hard-earned money almost faster than he can make it.  This is not a confessional, and what's more, that's neither here nor there.  So, when I got back, I had to throw something (I think it belonged to Sam and was offending my natural balance of the chaos in the kitchen) away, and opened the trash can.  That filthy, disgusting creature HOPPED OUT OF THE TRASH CAN AND ONTO MY KITCHEN FLOOR!!!!!

So then I realized maybe these nasty bastards are not God's mistakes, but more like a harsh shove (no gentle nudges from The Big Guy) and cackle of "Did you really think you'd get away with that?"

Beware the sick and sleep-deprived Ethan

We have all been very spoiled to have Sam at home with us the last two weeks of the year.  While many people have been praying for school to start up again, I was excited to have the kids at home for three weeks and nowhere to be at any particular time.  It has been absolute bliss to have my little family at home, waking up late, sauntering downstairs for breakfast whenever the spirit (or one of the kids) would move us, and then go about the rest of our day.  Ethan has been especially happy to have his Daddy at home.  He gets to play games that I would never entertain; you know the type--basketball, football, or anything that might require coordination or worse, for me to exert some energy.    

It's amazing how much a little boy, who barely speaks, can convey using only his eyes and facial expressions.  For the last couple of weeks, he has gotten even more animated when trying to get us to play with him.  No, he doesn't flap his arms like an injured bird trying to take flight.  His excitement is expressed more with his eyes lighting up, excitedly yelling at what he must believe to be coherent speech to tell us to get up and moving, and then when all else fails, he gets a running start and tackles us and falls over laughing at our pain.  Except for his five days of fever and chills, he has been a very happy and funny kid, which made for a peaceful (albeit a little bruised) existence for all of us.

So, you'd think we'd have enough sense to do whatever we can to avoid situations that aggravate him, but it's not so easy.  There are days where he wakes up, mad at the world and ready to duke it out with whomever or whatever crosses his path.  And it's exponentially worse if he's been sick and thus, sleep-deprived.  Sometimes, it's poor Ally who is on the receiving end of his wrath.  Fortunately, she is an exceptionally kind and patient sister, and is able to defuse the Ethan-bomb rather quickly.  When that happens, Sam and I stand in the corner, chewing our fingers (we have one functional knuckle remaining on each finger) and hope and pray she can work her magic.  Most of the time, she is successful and we are able to resume breathing right before one of us collapses from lack of oxygen.  Unfortunately, some days, she refuses to cater to his psychotic rages and simply avoids him.  On those days, we live in abject fear.

One of those days, we decided we were no longer going to be held  hostage by a non-speaking, still poops in his pants two year-old, no matter how cute he is.  We were going to stand our ground and let this boy know, once and for all, that WE are the bosses.  And furthermore, we are NOT afraid of HIM.  Yeah, that's right.  We drugged him up (he had a fever), took him out, and strapped him into his car seat, tightening the belt just a little more than usual to make sure he would not fly out of it and shred us to pieces.

Not even out of our subdivision, I apprehensively peeked in the backseat to make sure both kids were still okay (more concerned for Ally than Ethan, to be honest).  The look I got from Ethan expressed so much disgust with us, my immediate reaction was "Sam, you'd better sleep with one eye open tonight.  He is going to crawl out of his crib, grab his noise-making car, and run your face over and over until you are no longer recognizable.  He is furious."  I could tell he was desperately searching for a half-eaten bag of cheezits to crush and flail all over the car to watch his mother twitch uncontrollably and progress to a full grand mal seizure.  Then he was going to rip off one of his shoes and beat his father into oblivion in the back of the head.  He'd spare his sister, because she'd at least have the sense to hide in the third row of seats.  Yes.  I got all that from the expression on his face.

Needless to say, we turned around and fetched all the basketballs, baseballs, footballs and bouncy balls we could find to appease The Little Man.  And completely chewed off one finger from each hand.