Thanksgiving and Giving Thanks

So yesterday was Thanksgiving.  The kids were out of school all week, so I asked them to clean out their closets, which was, in a twisted sort of way, meant to make them grateful for what they have.  And it worked, because they got rid of a few things, some of which had LONG overstayed their welcome, and told me that now all the stuff they have in their closets is stuff they love.  This makes me happy, and it makes them happy, and now I feel like the things I'm getting them for Christmas will have places to live.

On Wednesday Oz brought them up to see Mama at work in the office, so I took them around a little bit and then they hung out in the waiting room until it was time to go home.  (Work is good, still circus-ish, but next week we're training one more new person and then we should be actually fully staffed, and that is a wonderful feeling.  I won't be in the main office on Monday because the girl at the satellite office had a family emergency and is dealing with that, so I'm covering for her, but it should be an easy day.  I digress.)  Then Oz and I changed clothes, took the kids over to my brothers-in-law's (how on EARTH does one make that plural possessive??  Because two of them live there, and they are my brothers-in-law, but should it be brothers-in-laws'???  My brain just exploded) apartment where the kids spent the night with both of the guys as well as my mother-in-law.  It was a crowded place, but they had a great evening/night, and Oz and I went for dinner and then met up with a friend and her new hubby down at a bar where we drank beer and ate sweet potato fries and played darts until my contacts were about to either fall out or adhere themselves to my corneas from sheer fatigue.

We got home safely, took showers, and crashed, but then Oz and I both got up around 5:30 to start the meat for Thanksgiving.  He took charge of the brisket on the grill - I had put on the dry rub on Tuesday evening, so it'd been soaking up the flavor for about 36 hours - and I handled the giant leg of pork that was going in the oven.  I used this recipe, and OH MY WORD it was the bomb dot com.  We threw the meat in their respective cooking places and went back to bed for another 45-50 minutes… and then we adjusted the heat and did it again.  Around 7:30 or so we both actually decided it was time to get up for good, so Oz started the coffee and we began the process of cleaning the house for our guests while letting the parade play in the background.  For the record, I never thought I'd prefer Matt Lauer and Al Roker as hosts, but they would've been preferable to the folks on CBS.  That was painful.

By 10:30 the house was mostly ready, which was good because my mom showed up about that time and I know I wouldn't have been able to do much cleaning after that... besides anything else, my mom never arrives without looking like she's moving in, and this time was no exception.  She had a box of fabric scraps for Boo, a box of needlework books and shirts for me to browse through, as well as a pie and the non-liquored-up version of something called Apple Pie Moonshine.  We added the booze shortly after she got here, and it is just as delicious as the web site promises.  Dangerous stuff.

My kids and in-laws arrived not too long after my mother, and from there on out, it was Party Time.  There were people cooking, people talking and laughing, and just everything Thanksgiving should've been.  One thing that was different for us this year was that I had sent out an open invitation via Facebook for anyone who needed/wanted a place to come and celebrate Thanksgiving with friends, and I had a couple of folks take me up on the offer.  I was so glad they came, and I hope - I think - they had a good time.  We all stuffed ourselves to the point of pure indigestion, I do know that!!

A few people left early, but most of the family and a few friends hung around into the early evening hours.  My mom got to play with a baby, and my kids were good with the older ones, so there were no incidents that I'm aware of.  My husband and his brothers wandered down to the fire pit for a while and had some bro time, and I just enjoyed talking with everyone and catching up.  It doesn't happen often enough.

In addition to all that, I scored a beautiful ring.  When my grandmother had moved into an assisted living facility a few years ago, she had handed me the ring that had belonged to her when she married my grandfather.  The stone was amazingly beautiful, but the setting was dated and far too large for my finger.  Oz and I had briefly discussed getting the stone re-set at some point in the future, but that date had never been determined.  When he and I were struggling with our relationship issues earlier this year, I figured it would never happen.  Then he and I had our come-to-Jesus, honest-to-goodness, heart-to-heart about everything, and we turned a corner.  A month or so ago, I told him I would wear a ring again if he A) got the stone put into a ring that was MINE and mine alone and B) took me on a few successful dates and re-proposed to me.

Oz and I had discussed rings off and on since then - I'd sent him pictures I'd found on Pinterest or Etsy of custom rings that I liked, and he'd found a local jeweler who does custom work, and I'd even gone in and met the guy and had my ring size determined (5 1/4, in case you're curious, which is an odd size) - but I did NOT know that the ring design had been both finalized and finished, and I certainly did not know that Oz had picked it up.

So when he re-proposed to me in front of almost all his family and mine… well, what else could I do?

I said yes.

I'm thankful for my family (and friends!) each and every day.  They make my world wonderful.  Hope you all had a lovely Thanksgiving, if you're in the USA, and if you live elsewhere in the world, that you have a great weekend!

There's No Place Like… the Hospital

I'm pretty sure I should have just stayed in bed yesterday.  It didn't begin particularly well, and it ended… well, it hasn't ended yet.  Technically, I suppose it has, but it certainly hasn't seemed like it.

I could get into all the ugly details of everything that happened before Tuesday evening, but I won't.  Suffice it to say that while some parts of the day were good - visiting a friend in the hospital with ongoing issues and hanging with another friend at the pool while the kids played in the water - other bits were not so great, like losing the car in the massive hospital parking garage and causing the pool to be shut down because Doodlebug accidentally kicked Boo square in the nose and caused blood to gush everywhere.

Anyway, the real fun started after the kids went to bed.  A few days ago - I remember it being Saturday - Oz mentioned that he was having fairly strong stomach cramps.  Since his digestive system is temperamental at the best of times, he chalked it up to either something he'd eaten or some supplements that weren't agreeing with him.  So he stopped taking the supplements and assumed it would go away.

It didn't.

By Sunday evening, he was taking painkillers for the issue, and then… then on Monday evening, the pain began to change.  He didn't say anything to me, but the pain began to move and localize… in - where else? - the right lower quadrant of his abdomen.

On Tuesday evening, he admitted the movement and localization of the pain to me, and he didn't seem particularly well.  His appetite had been affected for several days, and he'd lost 10 pounds, though since it had been a couple of weeks since he'd weighed himself and he had been going to the gym, we're not sure how quickly that had come off.  Anyway, I insisted that he take his temperature, and while it was only 98.8, I know that to him that's at least a full degree of fever.  I had him take it again throughout the evening, and it rose to just under 100 degrees and stayed there.  The pain level rose with it, and by the time it was 11:30 and he went to brush his teeth and take a shower, nausea had appeared as well.

Shortly thereafter, he told me he wanted to go to the ER to get checked out.  So at 11:48 p.m. I began calling people looking for childcare.  Oz drove himself to the hospital, and once I was able to find someone whose phone rings after certain hours in the evening - mine doesn't, so I certainly understand -  I woke the kids and piled them in the car and sped across town to drop them off with an incredibly wonderful family.  (And yes, they went back to sleep once they got there and slept till sometime around 8, which is excellent!)  Then I took off to the ER after Oz.

By the time I got to the hospital he'd been triaged and had blood work drawn, and shortly after my arrival he had a CT scan of his abdomen.  And then we waited.  And waited.  And waited.  And about the time that I was about to lose my mind because it was 4 a.m. and there were two televisions playing two different channels and small children crying and people talking and I just needed peace and quiet and Oz was about to send me home to sleep until something happened, he got a room.  And 15 minutes after that, the PA on call came in, listened to him, and said (and I paraphrase), "Yup.  It's your appendix.  The doctor will be in shortly."  And he was, and he'd seen the CT scan results and said (and I paraphrase), "Yup.  It's your appendix.  And it's ugly, so I'm getting the trauma surgeon on call to come and tell you what the plan will be, but likely surgery and likely first thing in the morning."  And by the time the trauma surgeon came in and confirmed everything and gave us a tentative surgery time of 7:15, it was 5:15, and there was no point in going home, was there?

Things moved reasonably quickly after that.  Oz had a chest x-ray and an EKG, and as the EKG was being done someone came to schlep us to an actual private room, and so about 5:50 a.m., approximately 22 hours after I had awakened, we finally arrived in a room.  It was glorious.  I'm not sure how we scored the giant room that we did, and I'm sure that will show up reflected on the hospital bill later, but I was not an am not arguing.  I settled into the first comfortable chair of the night and answered questions about Oz's health (because all the gods love the man, he didn't even contemplate sleep apnea and his CPAP as being a health issue and couldn't remember his blood type and couldn't remember how high his temperature had risen throughout the evening) while half asleep.  And the nurse tech brought in pillows and blankets, and when they came to get Oz for surgery at 6:40 a.m., I was tucked in.

Of course, that meant that at 6:45 a.m., just as I was drifting off to sleep, the texts began.  I had been updating Facebook throughout the course of the night to let people know what had been happening, and some of my friends are early risers.  They were all well meaning and wanting to help, but I couldn't help wanting to chunk the phone into the wall when it buzzed.  I didn't, though, and responded to them all, grateful for such a wonderful group of friends who were willing to help.  Most of them offered to take the kids or run errands or visit or just do absolutely anything that I needed.  I could never say thank you to them all properly - I have so many favors to return as it is!  I did doze, though, and shortly before 9 a.m., the doctor who performed the surgery came in to let me know what had happened with Oz.

Oz is fine.  I'll say that first.  But the surgery was, in the surgeon's words, "a tough case."  Oz's appendix had indeed perforated and was releasing infection into his abdomen, and that all had to be suctioned out before anything else could be done.  After that, the appendix itself had to be removed, and it was "stuck" inside some inflammation and the end of it was abscessed to begin with, so that took time.  And then the whole abdominal area had to be flushed.  At this point the plan is IV antibiotics today, another round tomorrow, and we'll see how his white blood cell count and fever stands after that.  I suspect he'll be fine and ready to go home on Friday morning, but we shall see.  I'm hopeful.

I spent the day organizing places for the kids to go; actually, that's not quite true. I have two amazing friends who conspired together and commandeered my children, so all I had to do was pack bags for them and they organized all the transportation themselves.  I did talk to the kids and let them know that Daddy is okay, but I haven't seen them since midnight and it's starting to wear on me a little, mostly due to my own fatigue, I'm sure.  Anyway, I got them sorted and packed a bag for Oz to have at the hospital and spent most of the afternoon there before coming back home.

It's now 8:24 p.m., and I'm just a tad tired, as you can imagine.  I've run to the store, the animals are fed, I am fed, Oz is in good hands (and has had two bouquets delivered as well as several visitors throughout the evening), and the children are in good places.  It won't be long now before I let the dog out for the night and tuck myself into an actual bed for a good, long night's sleep.

I'll pick the kids up and let them see Daddy tomorrow, and then… well, I suppose it'll depend on what the doctor says.

I'm glad I can be there for Oz.  And I'm still so glad that I have such an amazing village of people willing to drop their own concerns and worries and rearrange schedules to help us out.  I'm so lucky.  And given the fact that Oz's issues could have been so much worse, I think he feels the same.

But I do believe I'm rather tired of hospitals for a while now…

The Summer of Blog Neglect

Apparently I can't keep up with this blog during summer.  I'd say I'll do better, but… yeah, I probably won't.  I feel like I should say something like, "It's been 20 days since my last confession…"

But I won't do that, either.

I started seeing a therapist a week and a half ago.  I've only seen her once, for the initial intake, but I liked her.  I go back later this week to start actual therapy, and if the first visit is any indication, I'm going to need a big box o' Kleenex.  At least this time I'm going in with a week or so of decent moods under my belt and not weeks of emotional lability.  It's the little things.  I also have a plan for the future, more or less, and have started working toward it, doing things like putting together a resume and filling in the odd online job application.  Of course, I'm sure I'll wind up doing something through a temp agency because nobody wants to hire a cold-call nobody with an empty resume, but it's a start.  I'll keep working.

I got back from a brief trip today.  A few weeks ago one of my friends announced that her husband was moving his start-up company to some rented office space, which meant that she was going to have a finished garage space to use as a school/game room for her kids, and she needed furnishings for it.  Which meant that she wanted to make a run down to Ikea in Dallas.  Oz and I had been talking about running down there and getting some bookshelves from Ikea at some point (and really, if Doodlebug will ever manage to learn how to take care of property properly, we'd get him new bedroom furniture, too), but he didn't really care if he went, so he agreed to watch the kids, and suddenly I was headed to Dallas.  We also took along some rented muscle - a friend of mine's boyfriend, because my friend wanted another dresser to go with some other Ikea furniture she'd gotten on her recent trip down to the Big D.

Both of them had been to Ikea before.  I hadn't.  We got there when it opened at 10, and Oz texted around 12:30 to ask if we'd left yet.  Nope… we sure hadn't.  We had actually eaten lunch AND made it to the area where we were pulling boxes, which was an impressive feat that no doubt would never have been accomplished if my girlfriend hadn't made a wish list, including aisle and bin numbers, before we even headed out.  That store is an adventure and a half, for certain.

I didn't even wind up getting proper bookshelves… well, not the ones I'd planned to get, anyway.  I got this instead:

It seemed more appropriate to the space, my taste, and the varying sizes of the books and whatever else the kids might want to stash on the shelves.  I like breaking up the monotony a little.  I got home around 6 and put this together before the kids went to bed.  Oz helped a bit when I got frustrated… mostly I hate Allen wrenches and didn't know he had a bit for that in his screwdriver.  That would have been nice to know before I started, but c'est la vie.

Back to reality now and appointments the rest of the week.  I actually booked myself a spa visit for one day this week (using a gift certificate Oz got me for my birthday in April), so that should be an interesting experience in itself!

Busy Weeks with Friends

Summer is officially here, and if I ever had any concerns that summer was going too slowly, they're now definitely dispelled.  This week alone has had activities and visits with friends coming out of every available calendar date.

Sunday night I hosted our monthly book club.  It's an informal gathering (reading the book is suggested but more or less optional) where we mostly sit around and eat, drink, and be merry.  Ordinarily the book club foundress (is that a word?) hosts, but she had been out of town for a couple of weeks and had only gotten home a couple days before.  Nobody should come home and host an event, right?  So I held it here.

On Monday, the kids and I piled in the car and drove across town to visit a friend who has a daughter a little bit younger than Boo.  She and I chatted while the girls ran around; Doodlebug was bored, but that was his fault since I had asked him to bring something to do to entertain himself.  Anyway, we set up a sleepover for Boo and the other girl in another week or two, and they're already counting the days.

Today we went over to another friend's house.  She and I are incredibly close, so when I showed up and her hair was wet and her son was wearing the same shirt he'd been wearing constantly since Sunday, it was no big deal.  She did dishes and cleaned, and I drank coffee and wandered around with her, and then we ordered pizza for lunch because fixing food was out of the question.  Who wants to do that when Mazzio's delivers?  The kids had been playing with water guns by that point and were sopping wet.  Anyway, we had a good time.  

The rest of this week is filled with plans for equally good times.  We have a tour at a museum, another visit with a friend (this one's coming to our house), lunch plans with another friend, the 4th of July, and a get-together with another family.  

Every time I think I'm an introvert, my calendar fills up with weeks like these and I realize exactly how much I love getting together with people and look forward to them.  I love hanging out with my friends, and I'm grateful for all of them!  Knowing a wide variety of wonderful people really does make life better.  

Two weeks!

The last two weeks seem to have absolutely flown by.  I never would have realized that it had been two weeks since I had last posted except that Blogger tells me when my last post was.

When I last posted, I was feeling down.  Really, really down.  Doodlebug was at Camp Quest, Boo was coming home from a sleepover so she and the other girl could have another, consecutive sleepover, and I was - and still AM - finally down to the lowest weight I have been since I was 18 years old.

The girls had their sleepover, and then on the 12th, Oz, Boo and I climbed in the car and drove up to Grand Lake for a family reunion with my dad's family.  One of my uncles has a home there and graciously hosts us all.  There's a reunion every three years, if possible, and this was The Third Year.  There's a picture of all of us floating around somewhere - all 91 of us who came (I think there were another 20 or so who couldn't make it?) - in our color-coded T-shirts.  My dad and all his siblings pick a different color for each of themselves and their families, and so at least on Saturday you know who belongs to which family group.  The rest of the time, all the newcomers wander around in a daze trying to figure out all the people and names and everything else.  But it's a fun weekend.  This year was the best-organized yet, and two of my cousins held a cook-off (jambalaya vs pastalaya) and a bunch of the guys threw money into a pot and went out clay shooting to win a new gun.  Yes, we're that family.  Beer was, I'm sure, drunk during the contest.  It flows freely throughout the weekend.  We spend time on the water - my uncle takes out the boat, and other folks are permitted to use the jet skis if they're trusted, and my husband is trusted - and the kids commandeer the game room in the basement or watch videos or run around with their cousins.

I actually didn't stay for the entire weekend.  One of my dear friends is moving to another state for her husband to finish college, and she had a combination birthday/going away party on Friday night that I swore up, down and sideways that I wouldn't miss, so I left the reunion on Friday afternoon and attended that.  Then I spent the night at home, picked up Doodlebug on Saturday, and headed back to the lake to finish off the reunion.  It was a whirlwind, but it was great.

Did I mention that by this point my depression had subsided and I was… and am… now in a much better place?  There were a few days I was concerned I was absolutely manic, because I was talking and typing and going 90 miles an hour the entire time, but even that has settled down now.  Thankfully.  Being in constant motion was almost as bad as not being able to move.

After we made it home from the reunion (and did all the laundry), last week was quiet.  Nothing to report, and I didn't even think about the fact that I hadn't looked at the blog for ages.  It seems so odd to blog on a homeschooling blog when I'm not homeschooling, and I haven't quite made the mental transition to being a public-school mom yet.  Because I'm not… yet.  Not till the middle of August.

This week is busier again, which is good.  Yesterday I caught up with some friends I hadn't seen for quite some time, and this weekend I have both another night out with different friends (we're going to one of those wine and paint places, and we're contemplating going for fondue first) as well as a book club meeting at my house.  Usually the book club is held at the club leader's house, but she's been out of town for two weeks and didn't quite feel like coming back into town and hosting an event two nights later… and I don't blame her!

So things are puttering along.  We've been to the pool once so far, with plans to go again soon, bowling once, and the kids want to go to some museums and do a couple other things before school starts in August.  Summer may have just officially begun, at least in terms of the solstice, but we're well into it and, I think, are having a good time.  I have some pictures I want to share; I'll try to remember to post more often and actually get them on here. :)

Revival

I realized yesterday that I hadn't posted since my ugly post about depression.  Don't get me wrong - it's still there.  But I've made it out of bed every day.  I've brushed my hair, brushed my teeth, fed myself, and kept the house in working order.  I haven't taken the kids anywhere or done anything spectacular, but I've stopped yelling as often.  I think.

I still have bad days.  Worse, I've been having bad nights.  Insomnia has taken hold.  I've spent five nights out of the last six lying in bed thoroughly exhausted and yet unable to fall asleep.  Last night was the worst.  I started drifting off about 2:30 when the thunder started rumbling in the distance.  The rain came at 3:30.  That was when I moved to the couch.  Sometime around 4:30, I think I dozed off, but I know I woke up at 5:30 because I checked my phone.  At 6:30, Oz was up because he had to leave the house early for work.  It's an ugly cycle.  Contact lenses are no longer my friend because by 2 p.m., my eyes are so itchy from fatigue that I want to peel off my corneas, let alone the lenses.  Driving probably shouldn't be on my agenda.  Thankfully it's been cloudy, so I haven't felt too sleepy behind the wheel (I'm weird… the sun knocks me out in the car far more than clouds do), but it's still a dangerous proposition.

I do have to drive, though.  As of last Saturday, I have had things on my calendar again.  Schools are out, the pools are open, and the kids have camps.  This is GOOD.  If I'm doing things, I can't dwell on the ugly and I can't become a hermit.  Having a schedule makes me more human.  On Saturday we went to a friend's house and I helped her paint her kitchen, and then Boo spent the night.  Today we visited another friend's house where I hung some shelves in her son's room, and in a little while, I'll take Boo to her first day of acting camp.  We also have an upcoming family reunion with my dad's family, and another friend is having a combination birthday/moving-away party.  So there are things to do.  

Doodlebug had his physical for his summer camp this morning.  He's 5'5" tall, which puts him at the 99.19%ile.  I find this number amusing for some reason.  The pediatrician did, too.  They have new software at her office, and she spent several minutes this morning playing with it to see what numbers she could plug in.  Doodlebug's projected adult height, based on mine and Oz's, it 6'5".  I'm pleased with that; Doodlebug was annoyed.  He wants to be taller than his father.  The pediatrician said that because he's showing early signs of puberty already, he probably won't grow too much past the curve of 'normal,' so he'll just be tall and not scary tall.  For the first time today, Doodlebug let them draw blood (for cholesterol and general screening since issues run in the family, not for anything specific) without having to be held down.  That was nice.

I'm not out of the hole yet.  I probably won't be for a while.  But things seem less dark right now.  I can keep going.  I'm still giving myself mental high fives for getting out of bed, but some days it's easier.  I hope it lasts.

Heartwarming Moments

That moment when…

… your 11-year-old son parks himself on the couch next to you and says, "Mom, I am going to snuggle you.  You have 30 seconds to prepare for snuggling.  29… 28… 27… "

… your just-turned-9-year-old daughter gets to sit between two of her closest friends at lunch, and when the meal is over and you're walking out of the restaurant, she says to the friend next to her, "Let's walk out arm in arm like they do in books."  And they do.

… your husband comes home from working all day, sees that you're still on the couch at 5:45 p.m. and decides to take care of dinner.  Steak, baked potatoes, grilled zucchini, and a lovely bottle of Cabernet sauvignon.

… you're exhausted and want nothing more than to climb into bed right after dinner, but you're the mom - so the children hunt you down and climb up on the bed, and the cats wander in and hop up on the bed, too, and the husband sits on the nearby armchair, so you have your bed and your family, and what can really be better than that?

… you find this on Pinterest and can only sit there and think, "YES" to every single one (click and zoom to enlarge or visit my Pinterest page):

… you come back from Spring Break after three weeks and everyone's done with school by 1:30, even the boy who was grouchy when he first woke up, but he snapped out of it and did what needed to be done like a mature human being.

… you strew your daughter's birthday gifts around the house throughout the day because you were too tired to wrap them the night before, and every time she finds something she shrieks with happiness and gives you a giant hug.  Way better than one big anticlimactic, "Thanks, Mom & Dad!"  

… your son comes home from an all-night gaming session (formerly known as a sleepover) and says he's played a geography game.  "And, Mom, I see what you mean when you say that world geography isn't taught very well.  We had to place flags on the countries or states.  And we all knew the US states, but then it moved to Europe, and all they knew was Italy and France!  They didn't even know England!"  (And yes, I'm painfully aware that my kids know this at the expense of knowing American history… but I'm working on that.  Really I am.)

… you call your sister and tell her that you're about to do something that is seriously going to piss off someone you both know, and she tells you that you're doing the right thing, anyway, and for the same exact reasons you had already said to yourself but didn't entirely believe.

So many good things each day.  I just have to remember to write them down sometimes!  What good thing happened to you lately?

Today

So today was Valentine's Day, yet another day in which I am reminded how completely inadequate I am when it comes to things like holidays and gifts.  I am the one, after all, who has completely forgotten (both of) her anniversaries multiple times and tends to forget not only her own birthday but those of her loved ones as well.  The kids are only exempt, I am sure, by virtue of their age.  When they hit 21, I hope they can forgive me for my forgetfulness.

Anyway, Oz hit home runs today, as he always does.  Usually we don't do big gifts for Valentine's - maybe a small box of chocolate or just cards or a bouquet of flowers.  But for whatever reason, Oz decided to spoil me rotten this year.  Yesterday he brought home a beautiful bouquet of red tulips and he and I shared half a dozen massive chocolate-covered strawberries.  This morning he bounced me awake (it's a good thing it was Valentine's Day, or he'd probably have lost body parts doing that), made and poured me coffee, and presented me with a beautiful watch.  I'm both really picky about and really hard on watches, so he'd asked me about it previously.  I'd told him that I liked that one, but I assumed at the time that he was pre-shopping for my birthday and/or cruise gift ideas and/or Mother's Day, because I actually am that spoiled and he actually is that good at gifts and actually does plan that far ahead.  Which makes my gift-giving incompetence all the more glaring.  But we'll move on.  He resized the watch this afternoon and, in addition, helped me with laundry, dusted the downstairs, and cleaned the kitchen and washed the dishes after dinner.

What did I do?

I got him two cards.

Oh, and he also bought cards and small boxes of chocolate for each of the kids and graciously let me take half-credit for them.

This is why I keep him.

-----

The kids and I had a good day today, too.

School was understandably shoved to the back burner today - we did some grammar, and each kid did a page of math, and they copied down the final drafts of their history papers (she wrote a little piece about the Ancient Indus Valley civilization and he wrote a short essay on the history of medicine in ancient cultures), and after that, we left.

First we went to an area assisted living center, where the kids put on a talent show for some of the residents.  The group has performed this for three years now, though we missed the first year, and all the kids have really progressed in their performances.  Feel free to read about the talent show on my friend's blog.  Doodlebug came up with the idea for using skits as part of the talent show.  He wanted to participate but didn't feel like reciting a poem like he did last year.  We found some other kids to participate after selecting the skits we wanted to perform, and I thought they all did a fabulous job, especially since they had never rehearsed together!  They spoke loudly and clearly, and in the end, there were some laughs for each skit.

After the talent show, a couple of us headed over to a local tea house for lunch with another friend, and she snapped a picture of me sitting on a ledge outside the tea house after we got done eating.

This has been cropped to become my new profile picture, but look - a picture of me!

Then the talent show friend left, and the photo friend and I headed over to the local skating rink for an afternoon of trying not to break bones while zipping around a slick wooden floor on four-wheeled shoes of doom.  Boo actually learned to skate without hanging onto a wall, and Doodlebug brought his own rollerblades along so he wouldn't have to use rentals.  The boy has brains, I'll give him that.

By the time we left there, we were ALL ready to get home.  Thankfully the skating rink is only a couple of miles from our house, so it didn't take long at all before we were crashed in various places (Doodlebug promptly soaked himself in a hot bath, and Boo wasn't far behind) wearing pajama/comfy pants and I was wondering what on earth I had been thinking when I'd decided on dinner plans.

Tomorrow we're staying home (Boo is under the impression that she wants to go roller skating again, but I think she'll be ready to change those plans in the morning).  My mom is dropping by to give the kids their Valentines, and I have warned her that we all may be lounging in our pajamas when she arrives.  Because THIS girl has no intention of moving before noon.

Hope you all had a great Valentine's Day/Friday.  And may your weekend be as warm as mine is supposed to be!

Decision Backlash: The Other Side

I remember when I first decided to bring Doodlebug home from private school.  It doesn't seem all that long ago, though I know I'm in my fifth year of homeschooling him (that doesn't seem real... seriously).  What I do remember, though, is fielding a lot of questions and offering a lot of explanations.  In fact, one of my first blog posts was actually spent answering some of the questions I was hearing on a regular basis.

Now that at least one child (and probably both) will return to public school - or, rather, go to public school for the first time ever - next fall, I am discovering that the criticism and skepticism is equally strong on this side of the fence.  It is, if anything, even uglier. 

I'll be honest.  I didn't expect it.  I'm not sure why.  I know, logically, that many people homeschool because it fits their ideology.  Just like some parents who have a kneejerk reaction against homeschooling, some homeschool parents find the notion of sending their child to a public school anathema.  I know this.  But since I hang with what I consider to be an open-minded bunch, I really didn't expect to be grilled and criticized for my decisions for my kids.

It irritates me.

I don't feel like I should have to justify a decision, whether it is to keep my children at home or to send them to public school or to ship them to military boarding school or to put them in private school.  And yet, people push:

Why would you want to send them back?

Why do you let your children have any say in where they are educated?  You're the parent!  It's your choice!

But they'll just become one of the crowd.  How do you expect them to learn anything in a class of 24/30/random number?

Won't you miss them?  I just couldn't do that.  I'd miss having them around.

Don't you worry about the influence of the other kids? 

ERMAGHERD, PEOPLE.  Don't you think I've considered all these things already?  And why, really, does it matter to you?  Does my decision threaten you in some way?  I hereby solemnly swear not to corrupt your children with stories of happy children attending public school.

I understand.  I really do.  Change is hard for many people to accept.  I'm not immune to that.  When people make life-altering decisions, it usually takes a while for me to get used to them.  I am human, after all.  But I really try hard to not question the decision and to simply be happy for the person.  They've gone through the process of asking themselves everything I could possibly throw at them, and they've made a choice.  That in itself is difficult! 

I'm trying to be gracious in my responses:

I will send them back because I think they'll be happy - Boo especially. 

I let them have a say because that's how I do things in my house.  My children get a say in their future.  Is it the final say?  No, but it's certainly a large portion of all the things I consider before I agree or not.  I don't want them to resent me as adults because I made all their choices for them. 

I expect them to learn just the way I did when I attended public school as a child, the way millions of other successful children do. 

Of course I'll miss them!  My house will feel empty and lonely for months, I'm sure.

And no, I don't worry about the influence of other kids because studies have shown that it's what is taught at home that largely counts, and my kids and I have a good relationship (I think).  I've taught them what to expect from real friends, and I've taught them how to be one (I hope).  They're going to be exposed to the same things sooner or later, so they might as well learn to avoid the ugly stuff now.  I've never sheltered them from the truths of the world, so I don't think there will be any culture shock.

It's still frustrating.  I'm sure folks will get used to the notion sooner or later... as will I.  Just like when the kids were young and I could no longer attend daytime events for moms because I had my kids in tow, it will be weird to no longer be able to attend daytime events for homeschool families because I won't be part of one.  I'll have to step away from several groups.  Extracurricular activities will have to be arranged after school.  There will be an adjustment period.

I know my true friends and I will keep in touch.  But it will be interesting to see who hangs around and who doesn't.  Friends are there for a reason, a season, or a lifetime - time to find out who my seasonal friends are!

Peaceful Monday

I don't always love Monday.  In fact, most of the time I am not a fan of Mondays at all.  They are, however, growing on me.  The primary reason for this is simple:  I don't have to go anywhere.  Every other day of the week, I have to get in the car and drive someone or multiple someones somewhere to do something.  Swim team practice, swim meets, yoga class, violin lesson, homeschool group, even going to the library - all of those involve me spending time driving back and forth across town.  I love to drive.  I just get tired of running the same routes every week.

This Monday has been particularly glorious.  Doodlebug and I went to a concert last night and didn't get home till 11.  It would have been later, but we left the show early because the poor boy is not a night owl at all and was nodding off in his seat.  He felt bad, but he usually puts himself to bed around 8, and even with a nap yesterday afternoon, he just couldn't stay awake any more.  Obviously getting up early was not in the cards today.  We managed to be up and around by 8-ish, though, which was a good thing because a photographer friend of mine came over after dropping her own munchkins off at school and proceeded to spend the next hour or so taking a million photos of my kids.  It was cloudy and a little drizzly, but not misty, so the lighting was perfect.  When we got done, she browsed through some of the photos she'd taken and made me tear up because the kids looked soooooo big.  Some of her pictures of Doodlebug reminded me of senior portraits.  Scary thought.  Boo had conned Speed Bump into being in some of the shots, so we have pictures of the girl and her dog.  Those are adorable, too.

We wandered upstairs and did school for the what was left of the morning before breaking for lunch.  Broken bowl, lentils and pottery shards all over the floor - sometimes that would have made the entire day crappy, but I just couldn't manage to be grumpy today.  It was - and is - still gray outside, so I asked the kids if they wanted to do the rest of their school work in front of the fireplace.  They did.  I dug out a fall-scented candle (What does fall smell like?  Apples and cinnamon and pumpkin, in my opinion) and lit that to accompany the heat of the fire.  I walked upstairs a bit ago and realized that our new logs are doing a fantastic job of heating the living room.  I may never leave this space.  It's deliciously warm.

Boo has finished her school work and practiced her violin, so she's almost done for the day; she only needs to fold and put away her laundry.  Doodlebug is on his last subject, math, and then will do his own laundry and give the Tom-lizard his daily bath.

As for me, I'm going to do my own laundry and make meatloaf for dinner.  Days like this make me wonder if it's worth having extracurricular activities.  I've been debating whether or not to make the boy take a break from swim team for a month or two this winter, just because he's been doing it for so long without one.  The idea is rapidly taking root.  It would free up a lot of time.  More things to think about another day.  Today... today is for relaxing.

Girl Trouble

I don't even know where to begin this blog post.  I've typed the first sentence about 15 times and have finally resorted just to writing this in an effort to have some sort of introduction into this topic.  There's no pretty way to write it, I guess.

Doodlebug suffers from sudden-onset preteen ennui and sullenness, but I think I expected that.  Several parents have warned me that there was a chance that he'll no longer speak to me after a certain age, and I can certainly see where that may be true.  He just stares at me, either blankly or with much malice depending on his mood and what I've dared to say.  Obviously these generalizations aren't a guarantee, but so far it's been fairly accurate - he flip-flops back and forth between grumpy preteen and snuggly boychild quite often, and while I don't know that I'm going to like 11 very much, I have confidence that I'll muddle through somehow.  I guess 11 years of not totally failing as a parent have given me that much.

Then there's Boo. 

People had warned me about girl drama, too, and I've kept a careful eye open for it, wondering how on earth it was going to manifest in my particular female specimen.  Here's how it has evolved for me: it started young.  Two- and 3-year-old girls are sassy creatures, constantly asserting their dominance and mothering instincts over the entire household, stuffed animals and pets included, and parents wonder how on earth their daughters can get any worse.  (I was guilty of that as well, when Boo was that age.)  Then they turn 6, give or take, and everything ramps up a notch.  The sass becomes more direct, more personal, and it's generally targeted at one particular person like Mom, Dad, or a sibling.  Then they turn 8, 9, whatever age happens to be a year or two before the onset of true adolescence/puberty (I think...), and suddenly the drama doesn't stop at the door of the house.  Other people get dragged in.  Cliques form in schools right around this age, and the girls start to flock together like small wakes of vultures, actively preying on one another on occasion.  Friendships that were formed in kindergarten fall apart because differences - even subtle ones - suddenly matter.

Boo is a sweet girl (I've been told this by other parents, so it's not just a proud mama saying that).  I've worked on acceptance with both kids, remembering how my opinionated stances and assertive bossy attitude alienated me from a lot of people when I was growing up, and Boo really tries to give people the benefit of the doubt.  However, since she's getting a little older and a little more discerning, she no longer wants to hang out with people just because they're of a similar age.  I get that.  I like that she's starting to think about who she wants to be friends with, who she can bond and share secrets with as she gets older.  Knowing who to trust and who to keep at arm's length is important.

She's come to me (me!) several times lately with questions about how to handle situations that have come up between herself and another girl, and I can tell she's really struggling with whether she wants to be friends with this girl or not, and if not, how to let this girl down gently so that there aren't any dramatic aftereffects.  I'm encouraging her to be kind but honest and firm and to remember that I am aware that there's no way she can be friends with every girl that comes along and she shouldn't expect to be, either... but I know she still idealizes friendship.  She still wants everything to be all sunshine and unicorns and rainbows, and she fears what will happen if she decides she really doesn't like someone.

As a homeschooling mom, I find myself in an equally precarious position.  If this was a public school setting, I likely wouldn't know the other girl well at all, let alone be acquainted with her parents.  I would have distance and, with distance, perspective.  The way things are, however, I do know the girl and her mother (and have met her father once) and find myself pondering the what-ifs.  It's an odd dynamic, and I hope I don't find myself in the position of defending my daughter, because this Mama Bear doesn't usually express herself well when confronted.  I don't want to cause drama any more than my daughter does, but I will speak the truth, and I won't make my daughter go outside her comfort zone just to appease others.  I don't see how that would help her in the long run, especially if she's already gone out of her way to be polite, honest, and non-confrontational as long as possible.

It's just one of those situations that is inevitable but still regrettable, and I wish I had a magic ball that told me all the 'right' things to say.  In the meantime, I've told Boo to remember that she still has plenty of friends that she does enjoy and is close to and not to worry too much about this other girl.  These things often have a way of sorting themselves out.  Any advice?

Sleep = Good (But Try Telling That to 10-Year-Old Boys)

The kids and I survived their sleepovers.  M2's was easy.  She hitched a ride over to her friend's house while M1 was at swim, and nary a word did I hear from her until I showed up to retrieve her.  The mom called a couple of times to give status updates, but the girl herself was apparently having too much fun.  From what I gather, much giggling was done by all, and they slept from about 12-8:30.  Pretty good night's sleep for a sleepover in my opinion.

M1's twin best friends and their mom, who is one of my best friends, arrived at the house about 5:45, and before anyone could say much of anything, a duffel bag, two pillows, and one of the two sleeping bags had been hauled upstairs to the game room along with two extra Xbox controllers and a couple of 'spare' games in case they got bored of Minecraft (the very idea amused me).  The boys were engrossed in their playing well before the pizza and cheese sticks arrived and were reluctant to come down, even for food.  We adults managed to pry them away from the screen only long enough for them to eat between 1/3 and 1/2 pizza each (and plenty of cheese sticks... I'd been pre-warned by M1 that the cheese sticks, not the pizza, were the main attraction and had ordered two boxes) before they heard the siren call of the screen and vanished again.

(Thankfully they believe in hydration, and they all eventually came down, one by one, to get covered cups of water that could be taken upstairs.  I was rather impressed by that, not only because they came to get water of their own free will but also that not a single soul requested pop.)

I never knew until last night that playing Minecraft - or any video game - could be a noisy experience.  When by himself, the gamer child is a fairly quiet, solitary individual given to long bouts of thoughtful planning of his or her next adventure.  This child only becomes passionate when the game itself is taken away.  It's an interesting experiment.  However, when placed into a social gaming situation, the gamer child becomes quite gregarious, and the shrieks of panic ("DON'T BLOW UP MY GUY!!") and laughter will fill your home to the point where you and your fellow gaming-child mother feel more at ease on the front porch than in the living room.  Mosquitos were preferable to listening to shriekage.

At midnight or somewhere thereabouts, I went upstairs to collect the remotes and tell the boys to turn off the TV.  I'd warned them during dinner that this was the plan, and at 11 I'd made them pause the game for a bathroom/pre-bedtime routine break so they could spread out the sleeping bags, change into pajamas, etc., so my presence and request for remote controls wasn't a surprise.  One of the boys likes to sleep with the light on, so I dimmed it enough so M1 could sleep but so that it wasn't too dark for the anxious child and checked on them periodically until they all sacked out around 12:45.  Then I, too, went to sleep.

At 5:30 a.m., the upstairs toilet flushed (It flushed!!  Who knew it did that??  I should mention that the TP roll was completely empty and that, at least, was normal in that a new one never made it onto the holder, but still, it was a bit of an epiphany... boys can flush toilets).  I squinted into the dark at my phone and hoped against hope that the flushing was simply the result of a child awakened by his bladder and that he was now stumbling back to the game room to fall back asleep... but in my sinking heart, I knew better.  I heaved myself out of bed, the headache that had been lingering in my skull from barometric pressure changes announcing that it had not, in fact, been cured by Aleve or sleep, and quietly went upstairs.

Sure 'nuff, the boys were wide awake.  They were talking quietly while Despicable Me played in the background.  I made them turn off the television, and I told them to go back to sleep.  Fifteen minutes later, I was back upstairs telling one of the boys to stop jumping on the others because Miss Sarah gets awfully cranky when she doesn't get sleep, and neither she nor Mr. Oz was making coffee before the sun came up, and that the thumping of a small herd of elephants didn't fly at that hour of the morning.  Fifteen minutes after that, I went upstairs again just because I was still awake, and two of the boys had fallen asleep... temporarily.  Boy #3, who was the jumper, was still awake and not likely to let the others sleep for long, but he at least promised to be quiet.

And I have to give it to them... they were quiet.  Oz got up, having slept through most of the nighttime shenanigans, and left for work around 8.  When he left, after taking out trash and making coffee (bless the man), he told me that he'd heard noises and that the boys were up.  Being the ever-dutiful mother type, I hauled my butt out of bed yet again and puttered around doing my morning chores - letting out the dog, putting on clothes, putting in contacts, taking more Aleve to try to banish the rest of the headache that was still lingering, getting breakfast, getting coffee (coffffeeeeeee...) - and waited for the boys to come barreling downstairs begging for breakfast.

No boys.

Finally finished with everything I could do downstairs, I grabbed a sack and headed up to empty the upstairs trash cans.  I figured I'd tell the boys to come down and get breakfast while I was up there.  But when I got to the top of the stairs and peeked into the game room, I was greeted by three motionless figures in sleeping bags, legs and arms flung in all sorts of weird directions.  I instantly regretted the fact that I'd already done all the morning chores because if I hadn't done those, I probably wouldn't have been so wide awake and probably could have gone back to bed... but I knew that according to Murphy's Law, that would have meant the boys wouldn't have been asleep... and so I sighed, smiled at their cute sleeping innocence, and trudged on.

Two of the boys - the two that had fallen asleep fairly quickly at 6 a.m. - woke up shortly after 10.  I woke up #3 at 10:45 because we had to be out the door by 11:30 to deliver them to their daytime residence so that I could pick up M2 on time.  Despite their very obvious fatigue, they never stopped talking about Minecraft.  They all wished they could have stayed and played longer, and they attempted to exact a promise from me that next time they came we wouldn't have to go anywhere the next day so they could stay up all night.

Sometime between now and then, I think I'm going to invest in a pair of good earplugs for sleeping.  This mama is starting to feel her age, and sometimes there just ain't enough caffeine!

Preventing Boredom

It's probably a darn good thing that I am good at compartmentalizing and managing time down to almost the minute.  Last week this house threatened to get boring, and summer break seemed interminably long.  This week?  Not so much a concern.  In fact, by Sunday we will all probably welcome a quiet day.

Today - any minute now - my stepsister's kids are showing up to stay till Wednesday morning.  That will be an adventure.  After they leave on Wednesday, the kids and I are going to run errands.  Specifically we're going to drop off a book I'm selling, going to the library, and perhaps going to the grocery store on the way home.  In the afternoon, they're going to do some research for a meeting we have on Friday.

Thursday will mean house cleaning and probably some laundry.  The kids aren't very thrilled about that, but I've told them that the advantage of having a big house is that we CAN have groups here; at the old house, it wasn't as hard to clean, but we also couldn't invite people over like we can now.  The good, the bad, the ugly... it's a balance.

Friday means our meeting, which is going to be a potluck lunch event, plus any laundry that didn't get done on Thursday.

And Saturday means a hair appointment for me (and possibly M2) followed by a different potluck in the evening with a different group of people... still at my house, though.

There's no way anyone here will be bored this week.  It's probably a good thing.

What a Day!

Today has been one for the books.  When we got up this morning, I knew it was going to be a busy day... I just did not even begin to realize how busy.

We did some school, but we had to be out the door by 10:30 because we went to a "back-to-school" party at a friend's house.  The local public schools start back this week or next, and it was a good excuse for a group of us to get together for one last hurrah before the hectic school year schedules start up for good.  (By the way, crab dip and roasted chickpeas, recipes courtesy of Pinterest... NOM).  We left there about 1 p.m.

We came home, finished up the rest of the school day, whipped out some laundry, and did a chore or two before the kids saw other kids running around outside and dashed out to join them.  I went out to say hi to the mom who was accompanying the group, and the next thing I knew, my kids were headed back into the house to change into swimsuits because the mom had offered to take them swimming along with the rest of the brood (6 kids total, including my two... and yes, I do know the mom enough to trust her... and I got her phone number to boot).  They left about 4:30.  M1 apparently told her that they had to be home by 6:30 (true... I usually serve dinner between 6 and 6:30, and I'm thrilled that my son is finally learning that time - even other people's - is important), so they wandered back in the door at 6:29.

We ate dinner, they changed back into regular clothes, and then even MORE friends - M1's best friends, who are twins - came over to play.  One of the neighbor boys asked his mom if he could come over and show my two plus the twins how to hunt for crawdads in the creek, and next thing I knew there were four 9-year-old boys scouring the creek with nets and a plastic water bottle to catch a whole passel of crawdads.  The 7-year-old girl did not choose to participate.  She regaled my friend and I with her hula-hoop and Skip-It skills.

The boys were successful and very proud of their catch.

By the time everyone packed up and went home, it was fully dark.  I put one child in the tub upstairs and one child in my shower and packed them off to bed as soon as it was feasible.  We have more friends coming to play in the morning, and I'm sure both kids will be outside in the afternoon if there are more neighbor kids about.  We have so many friends to be grateful for - it's awesome!

Mind. Blown.

I met one of you today.  Totally out of the blue, too.  It's not like we had e-mailed back and forth and you were going to be in town and we thought, "Hey, let's meet up and actually be those people who meet other cool folks from the Interwebz!"

No, it was totally random.

This is the first week of the 'fall' session at the swim school.  I say 'fall' in quotes because when it's 107 outside, fall isn't exactly the word that comes to mind, but then again, all the trees are turning brown and losing their leaves, so maybe *I'M* the one who's got it wrong.  It's entirely possible.

I'm digressing again.  I do that when I get excited.  My mind starts jumping around and I can't focus on anything... oh, look, SQUIRREL!

Swim school.  I expected that there would be a few new kids since this was the start of the fall session, and I was both right and wrong.  There were a few more kids than had been attending during the summer, but only one new kid that I could immediately recognize.  I picked him out easily since he got put in M1's lane; M1 had been the only kid in that lane for the past few weeks, and I was glad to see that he'd have someone to swim with.  It didn't hurt that the other kid looked to be roughly the same age as M1 (and also had red hair, which I see as a bonus).

Shortly afterward, I said hello to his mom.  She seemed very nice, and we started talking.  She had been sitting behind everyone, and I feel like it's weird to be turned around backward while talking, so I moved to sit a couple seats away.  She gave me her contact info so we could set up a field trip sometime in the future, and then I passed on mine...

And then she - YOU - said that you read this blog!  I'm not sure if it showed, but you could have knocked me over with a feather.  I don't often imagine this blog having readers; I'm not The Bloggess or Pioneer Woman, and the idea of having any sort of following sometimes just makes me shrug and smile wryly.  To MEET one of you... I can't wipe the stupid grin off my face.  To know that you read and follow this blog is mind-boggling.

Best of all?  I'll see you again soon!  Thanks for making my day!

Unwinding

I don't feel well today, and part of that, I'm sure, has to do with the fact that the last two weeks have been incredibly crappy and I'm sure the stress is just now trickling down into my system.

I read this Onion article yesterday (warning: It's The Onion... there is profanity and plenty of it), and while it made me laugh, it also made me a little sad.

I miss my girls.  I miss going out.  I had dinner with one friend last week, and it made me remember how much I love going out with half a dozen women and spending the evening laughing so hard we cry.

I haven't done that in far, far too long.

Part of that is my own fault, of course.  I'm really good at making excuses rather than plans.  When evening rolls around, I'm worn out.  I want to read.  I want to take a shower and climb into my pajamas at 7:30 p.m. and watch old movies.  Whatever.  I have a good chunk of introverted nature that is quite happy to never go anywhere.

I also have a good chunk of extroverted nature that withers when I go too long without seeing my friends.

The biggest problem is that my friends and I are all busy moms.  We thought it was hard to escape when our kids were tiny and needed us "all the time," but really, they didn't need us that often.  It just seemed that way.  In reality, that was the easy time to get away.  The kids didn't have sports events in the evenings.  They went to bed earlier.  They didn't have homework.  Heck, even meals were simpler because when a child is 3, you can put a bowls of pasta and steamed veggies in front of them and they think they're at a 5-star restaurant.  Now?  Not so much.  I have to fix a main dish and at least one side dish per meal or someone's going hungry... and that pasta better come with a sauce, and the veggies better have some seasoning on them.  And all that means there are more dishes, more ingredients, and more effort involved.  The amount of food my family of four goes through each week is staggering.

But that's another post.

I've heard rumors that when the kids get a little more independent, so do the parents.  My best friend and I talk incessantly about being able to go to the gym together.  I dream of morning coffee dates and going to the grocery store during daylight hours... without someone coming along to "help."  I can't wait until I can make a doctor's appointment and not have to consider child care into the matter.

It may be that I am incredibly optimistic.

I'm not saying I want to be one of those 30-something-year-old moms who still think they're 21 and can drink, dress, and act like it.  Far from it.  But I'd be quite happy to be one of those 30-something-year-old moms who meets up with her friends at a local restaurant for dinner and a few drinks once in a while.  I just need to unwind.

And soon.  Before we all implode.

I am Zombiewoman

I bet you wondered if I was going to EVER post Halloween photos!

OK, not really, but I'm going to share them anyway.  It is required by my sense of blogging propriety to subject you, once again, to cutesy photos of my holiday doings.  (How was that for writing in the passive voice?)

First, we have the cookies, decorated by my kiddos:

Then we have the dinner plates, decorated by me.  I wanted to accompany these plates with a good ol' nostalgic viewing of the Great Pumpkin movie but got voted down by my Rowan Atkinson-loving kiddos. So "Johnny English" (the first) it was.

Halloween wouldn't be Halloween without getting together with friends...

... carving pumpkins...

... and, last but definitely not least, the Wearing of the Costumes to go trick-or-treating.

My little flapper and my wise-guy gangster had a blast.

In the midst of all this, my nearly-5-year-old laptop finally bit the big one and had to be replaced, Oz got sick (and better again), and I've seen the dark side of 1 a.m. more nights than I care to recount.

Christmas is in 52 days, y'all.  Better get crackin'!

Why My Friends Rock

OK, OK, I was all about starting this post off with a serious tone, and then I went and read Pioneer Woman Homeschooling today.  I am mentioned.  I fell over.  After I recovered, I had to share.  My grammar-related pet peeves are shared by others, and this makes me happy on a primal level.  I know that it's me because I'm comment #10 on this post from last week.  Otherwise I would never presume that out of the thousands upon thousands of Pioneer Woman readers that I would ever, EVER be mentioned.

I am not that special.

However, my friends ARE.  And I'll tell you why.

I'm sure most of you have heard all the hoopla surrounding Facebook lately, with the new format, the new feed, the new lists, the new profile/Timeline feature, etc.  I can't say I've been happy with it, either, but I will concede that since it IS free, I don't get the right to gripe.  If I don't like it, I don't have to use it.  But I'm extremely resistant to change, so over the past week, I've been making major changes in order to continue having Facebook work the way I want it... and in so doing, I tightened up my security measures exponentially.  One of the things I did was created a list - I can't delete it anyway - of "Close Friends."  As I was making this list, it hit me that I have quite the amazing group of friends and that while some of them may be as different from one another as night to day, there are still a few qualities that I am proud to say they all share.

1.  They are all loyal.  No backstabbing.  This provides me with an amazing sense of relief.  I really, really enjoy not having to worry about someone poisoning my friends behind my back.  Gripe about me?  That's fine.  Everyone needs to have a rant about other folks sometimes, even friends, and I'm sure I'm the occasional topic.  I get that.  If they need a break from talking to me/dealing with me for a while?  Go right ahead... I'm here if and when they're ready to hang out again... and if that day never comes, I wish them all the best.  No hard feelings and all that.  But those things are very different in my mind than going around spreading rumors or just plain being malicious.  Frustration and confusion over a friend's actions do not equal being spiteful and horrid.  They equal patience, kindness, forgiveness... all the good stuff that true friendship is made of.

2.  They are all truthful.  Nobody makes up stories.  If you ask a question and they think you won't like the answer, they'll generally try to be as nice as possible, but they'll still tell you the truth.  Don't ever ask if your butt looks big in a certain outfit unless you can handle the answer, "Uh... well... yes."  By the same token, don't ever ask if you're making the right decision unless you can handle, "Well, it's not what I would do in your situation, but I'm not in your shoes," because that's what you'll get.  Truth.  Even if it ain't purdy.

3.  They all love a good joke.  Whether it's a prank or just a stupid Internet meme, we all love to laugh at something and happily call one another to share the idiotic moments of our day, even at our own expense.  (That's another thing about my friends... I will answer the phone when they call!)

4.  They all love holidays.  I think.  This one I'm not entirely sure about all my friends, but I think most of them enjoy holidays, even if it just means taking a day off from the regular shenanigans to deal with holiday shenanigans.

5.  The clincher for me and why my friends truly are the best people I've ever met is... THEY ARE TOLERANT.  I have friends in my life from various religions (from atheist to Anglican priest), various political backgrounds (uber-conservative to reasonably liberal... don't think I have any diehard liberal friends, but I don't discuss politics, so I could be wrong), various family situations, various educational agendas (homeschool, private school, public school), and they are ALL awesome.  They listen to other views and don't attack.  They educate themselves about different topics and draw their own conclusions and aren't afraid to stand up for what they choose to believe but they don't force their beliefs down anyone else's throat.  They like to step out of their comfort zone occasionally (even if they then retreat back into it for a few months afterward).  They really try hard never to judge a situation until they know all the details... and if details aren't available, they step back and let it go.  They are accepting. 

My friends - and this includes my spouse and kids - are what make my world go 'round, and I'm so, so happy to have them in my life.  Thanks for being there and putting up with my quirks.  I truly appreciate it!

Watching the Crash

M2 has been 'up' lately.  In general, this is positive.  I deal much better with hypomanic/manic behavior than depressed behavior because having a child with ADHD is more or less the same thing, and I'm used to ADHD!  The only difference between the two is the rages that can accompany a manic episode... ADHD kids don't really 'rage.'  They get mad and throw fits, but the fits don't last three hours and don't involve breaking things, hitting, biting, kicking, etc.

Anyway, as I said, M1 has been 'up.'  We went on a guided tour of the Gilcrease Museum yesterday with some of our friends, and it ROCKED.  The tour guide/docent was an amazing woman with a deep love for kids, and it showed throughout the entire tour.  The kids loved her; I loved her.  Both kids (all the kids who attended) behaved amazingly well, showed off their knowledge, took turns, and were just impressive in their behavior.  If you're local and ever get a chance, GO.

We got home around 12:30 p.m., and M2 promptly launched into a 20-minute crying jag.  She stomped to her room and finished her cry before she came out and got a veggie corn dog for lunch... and then got upset all over again because my lunch wasn't ready when hers was and I was busy getting my lunch and filling the hummingbird feeder rather than sitting down with her. 

After we ate, she spent some quiet time in her room and emerged back on top of the world and bounced around the house like a springloaded 4-foot-tall pixie-faced she-demon.  I made a note in my head that something was bound to happen sooner or later.  What goes up must come down, after all, and her moods have been extremely labile lately.  We took the kids out for Cherry Berry last night, and then they got into a fight on the way home because M2 whacked M1 on the head, so he thought that meant he could grab her nose and twist.  I had to become 'that mom' who's turned around in the car yelling at the children while holding the phone in her other hand because there's a friend having a crisis on the other end of the line and she's not hanging up till the conversation is finished.  (No, really, I did have a friend with a crisis on the phone.  I was even going to go crash her apartment with a bottle of wine till she texted me and said she was going to take some Nyquil and go to bed, and I figured wine and Nyquil really didn't mix.) 

M2 didn't really want to go to bed at all, but we eventually got her nestled in between the sheets, and she stayed there till this morning... when she tiggered down the hall to announce her good-morning self to the world, fully dressed and as chipper as could be.

She stayed 'up' all day, with only one minor meltdown occurring when she realized that the pearl necklace she had made for her flapper costume was lost (no doubt stuffed somewhere... she's so scatterbrained these days that I'm usually amazed she can remember her own name when I yell it). 

Then... then... THEN...

Oz took M1 to swim practice and I tucked M2 into bed.

She waited about 3 minutes, then got up.

I tucked her in again.

She got up bawling her head off.  The sad cry, not the mad cry.  Not the I'm-crying-to-see-if-it-gets-me-attention cry.  Not even the I've-got-something-to-tell-you cry or the I-don't-wanna-sleep-in-my-room cry.  The sad cry.

This was at 7:30.  If I tried to put her back to bed, she flipped out and grabbed me like a hoarder losing a doll collection.  Then she'd cry some more.  If I did manage to leave, she followed me out, wailing, and the process would start all over again.  Staying with her didn't help matters, because she wouldn't close her eyes or loosen her grip enough to where she would fall asleep and I could extract myself.

She had no idea why she was crying.  She had no idea why she felt sad, and yes, she really truly had been happy all day but was really truly sad now.  She was scared, too, but didn't know why.  She felt like nobody cared about her and that she should just go live somewhere else - she didn't know where, but she knew she'd have to walk there.  Mostly she didn't want to talk, though.  She just wanted to hang onto me for dear life.

By the time Oz and M1 got back home around 9:15, I'd given up trying to keep her in her room and had let her lay on the floor at my feet (not that I told her to be there... I just told her she wasn't allowed on my lap because I was trying to catch up on e-mails that I hadn't read in, oh, about 36 hours, and she decided my feet were an acceptable alternative).  Oz told her that he was tucking her in, and she willingly got up and followed him to the bedroom, where - 45 minutes later - she's dead to the world and completely oblivious to the cricket that just scared the poo out of M1 because he thought it was "something mechanical" trying to drill into his room.

It's gonna be a long night, and my guess is that 'up' won't be here tomorrow.  I think we're due for a day of 'down.'

Bleh.  Mood swings.  Who needs 'em anyway?!?

A Beautiful Weekend

I love beautiful weekends. They remind me of the quote from "Anne of Avonlea" by Lucy Maud Montgomery: "I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens, but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string."

The weekend was lovely. It was cool, especially for May, with highs only in the low 70s, so yard work was the name of the game. The kids and I weeded the garden to within an inch of its rhizomatous life. As soon as the *real* plants are tall enough, I'll mulch and hope not to weed again for a long, LONG time. The ground looks so smooth and dark and warm, I can almost imagine the plants sighing with happiness and spreading their roots out underground.

Oz mowed and weedeated (is that a word??) and started removing stumps from some shrubs we'd cut down until he realized that his brother still had his Sawzall. So instead he cleared out the brush pile that had been sitting in the corner of our yard for a couple of years. It had doubled as a wild rabbit warren from time to time, but the pile was infested with barbed wire, so it really was a hazard.

The horses were gone for the weekend, and we took a family jaunt down to the back of the property to check on all the blackberry bushes. One of them has been completely choked by honeysuckle, but several others are starting to produce, and I'm excited to see what the yield will be this year. The kids found a couple of passionfruit plants, and M1 ran to the pond to check for tadpoles - none yet.

On Sunday we ordered pizza for lunch - something we NEVER do - and sat around watching NASCAR until it was time to go to a birthday party where all the kids got along marvelously and there were no major issues at all. M2 had a blast playing with all the girls, and M1 enjoyed the fact that he wasn't pressured to play with anyone. In fact, for a good chunk of the party he sat next to the fence and played games on Oz's phone. But it was a great party and both kids came home exhausted and happy!

Yesterday was good, too. M1 took a nap to try to get rid of the last of the cold virus he's been fighting. M2 came home a tad worked up but snapped herself out of it by going outside and spending time on her bike and cleaning up parts of the garage since Daddy hadn't done that yet and she felt it needed to be done. My mother-in-law came over to visit and borrow our printer, and when she left, she offered to take one of the dogs home with her so that he could be groomed for summer. I got her a leash and promised to come get him later this week.

Today I went to the dentist, got my rear in gear and cleaned the house - M1 helped without being bribed! - and fixed a fantabulous dinner of grilled beef (I seriously love my two-sided cast iron griddle and highly recommend them to anyone who has a gas stove) with cucumber raita, tabouli, whole wheat rolls, and Waldorf salad. I even took the kids to the book fair!

I'll admit that there have been a few kinks this evening and M2 is very worried about the dog at the moment, as he's run away from my MIL's house and may not return, but that's how life works sometimes. Murphy's Law and all that. I refuse to let it ruin my week, though. Sometimes bad things happen, but it's all about perspective. I plan to have a good week anyway!