Karma (or, when we finally get what is coming to us.)

This has been quite a week.


The weekend began quite innocently, with Ella and Kat heading off to swim lessons on Saturday while Ben and I moseyed around at home, napping and generally being lazy. We knew a storm was rolling in but didn't expect much--after all, we seem to be lucky when it comes to the weather. When the ice storm of 2008 hit, we were without power for about 12 hours, and had a fireplace, a gas stove, and running (hot) water.  The tornadoes last June didn't touch Barre, and even this August, Hurricane Irene didn't even flicker our lights. 


Which, in hindsight, means we were past due. 


The snow started falling around 3 p.m. and was steady right from the start. We bathed the kids and got them into bed, and I settled in to sync my iPhone while Kat fell asleep on the couch.  Around 9:30, the power went out. "Super!" I thought sarcastically, and used my iPhone to light the way to the living room, where I joined Kat on the sofa and we dozed for a while. After all, we didn't have any flashlights. Or extra water in the tub. Or even extra food. 


In the morning, the power was still out, which was no big deal, since the snow had stopped, the sun was rising, and our friend Brendan was still slated to visit that afternoon. It was a little chilly, so we played Hullabaloo to keep warm and then played outside in the two feet of snow blanketing our front yard. Ben hated it (makes sense, since he couldn't even walk in it!) and Ella loved it. Then we ate PB and J for lunch (which I NEVER do if I can help it, but it was actually kind of yummy and adventurous...) and waited for Brendan to come by.


Anyway, to make a long story short, we ended up heading over to Eagle Hill for the night, figuring it would be better than staying home in the cold, especially with the kids.  Of course, when we got there, they didn't have power either, only a few generators keeping the kitchen and dorms running. I think I was expecting to show up and be showered with warmth and Internet and cable TV and hot water and some kind of yummy, fabulous meal. It didn't quite turn out that way--instead we had grilled cheese for dinner in the dark dining hall, and then showered in a handicapped stall in a dorm where every student was hanging out in the common area right outside. Then we went up to the infirmary for the night, where I spent a cold night sharing a twin bed with Ben. Ben, who would not sleep. (More on Ben later....)


In the morning, Kat headed to her classroom to teach the little cherubs, while the kids and I headed back to Barre for more stuff--clean clothes, etc. We had to turn around several times and I was shocked by all the damage I saw.  Hardwick was a trashed mess, and even the gas station was closed! As I drove, I was sure we'd be stranded at Eagle Hill for days. I started worrying about how I would get to school, and what I would wear, and if my children could live on grilled cheese and water, and on and on... But as we hit the center of Barre, I noticed that the BP station was open...and Subway, and the little diner on the corner. Hope sprang eternal in my breast, and as we pulled onto Union Street, I started cheering. Our lights were on! I definitely did the happy dance, both in my brain and then literally as we got out of the car. 


Okay, so we didn't have it that bad, I realize. I still have co-workers who don't have power or heat.  My school is going on the 5th day (yep, that's all week) of no school due to power outages and unsafe roads. All in all, we are lucky. But you'd better believe that next time, I'm filling the tub. And finding the flashlights!


Of course, that doesn't end the week. We got our power back on Monday. Tuesday, I took a feverish, cranky Ben to the doctor, who informed us that he had double ear infections and a swollen throat. When we got home, my mom, sister, and niece came by to spend the night, as well as one of Kat's co-workers. Yesterday, Ella and Ben went back to school (with a delay) and we had to say goodbye to Benny's teacher. (SOB!) Then, last night, we had a house full of folks--my mom, sister, brother, sister-in-law, two nieces (both 2) and one nephew (2 months). Plus our family.


No biggie--all of these things could have happened separately, and it would have been okay. But put them all into one week, and we start getting a little crazy.


But karma is not done with us yet. As you are probably well aware of, we have been blessed with two lovely children. Physically adorable, with big blue eyes and cute little dimples and funny, chattery voices. For the most part, they go to bed early and do what is asked of them.


However...I've mentioned before that Ben has been showing us hints of the terrible twos...and he has been in rare form this week. I don't know if the fact that he hasn't felt good has anything to do with it, or that things are different at daycare, but he has turned into the wicked incarnation of his former sweet self. Hitting is the big thing, and the worst part is, he'll go over and say "sowwy" and give a hug to the recipient of the smack, and it's so damn cute that you (I?) just want to forgive him. Then, there is the running away naked, the fussing at bedtime and all through the night, and the lack of eating. It's really hard to be the perfect stern parent when he looks at you with those big blue eyes and his little under-eye dimple pops out and he grins with his mouth with all the gaps where his teeth haven't come in yet...then he wallops you.  He also shouts "NO" and "MINE" and grunts and screams and throws things...


Did I mention I'm going on my FIFTH day off from school? That will make for a whopping NINE days home.  So I might ramble a bit. Or scream. Or go bake some more sugar cookies....


Anyway, I'll leave you with this--it is the essence of my son at this point in time. Just let me know if you want to borrow him. Or his sister. At least you won't be bored....

Perfect.

Okay, nobody is perfect.

My kids, however, have taught me that perfection truly is out of our reach.

Don't get me wrong, I adore my children. They make me laugh and amaze me every day. 

But they are FAR from perfect.

(This is not to say that they are not the perfect match for us. God certainly knew what he was doing when he designed their little DNA structures. I think that this is karma for all of Kat's blasphemous ridicule of organized religion, but that is neither here nor there right now.)

Ella. 

She is big blue eyes and dimples and shiny thick hair.  She is tall and leggy with a round belly and big feet. She is brilliant mathematical logic and biting sarcasm and obsessed with money.

She is also completely unaware of her spatial surroundings (as well as the volume of her voice). She is drastically moody, swinging from loving sweetness to overflowing rage in seconds. If you ask her to pick up the toy by her left foot, she can't find it. If you tell her to do something in a new way, she shuts down and refuses to do it at all. She is stubborn to the nth degree. She couldn't stay on her bottom during dinner or schoolwork if her life depended on it.

But she is mine, and I love her.

Today, at gymnastics, I was reminded again that she is not perfect.

For starters, we decided to add another class to swimming, and thought we'd try out gymnastics this year as a way to introduce Ella to coordination. (Ella, meet Coordination. Coordination, this is Ella. Good Luck!  No wait, please come back!)  There are 25 kids in the class, and 2-3 teachers. It is a disaster, and I'm not sure why we're paying $63.00 a month...no, wait, I know exactly why. Because she LOVES it.

Ella is by far the most uncoordinated kid we know. (And between the two of us, we know a LOT of kids.) We thought it would be a great idea to take this child, who is also tall and bulky and solid and kind of wimpy to boot, and throw her into gymnastics with 24 other petite, coordinated children. I'd like to say it was a mistake, but what else could we do???

The teachers do their best to ignore our daughter, unless she's causing a logjam in the rotation because she physically cannot get herself onto an apparatus. When the kids are stretching, Ella lounges and makes half-hearted attempts to touch her toes.  When being escorted across the balance beam, she hangs on for dear life and makes herself as stiff as a board.

Now, I have spent several years teaching swimming to all ages. I know how hard it is to teach those kids who are "bigger" and "scared."  Small, scared kids? No biggie.  Big, brave kids? Fine, easy as pie.  Big, scared, uncoordinated, independent kids? The hardest kids in the world to teach a skill to, be it gymnastics or swimming or dance or karate or anything else.

I know how the teachers feel about kids like Ella. Annoyed, frustrated, tempted to pass them by. I get it. And yet, my inner psycho-helicopter-mom persona wants to tell them to give her a break, it's not her fault that she's tall and clumsy and stubborn!

Today, because of the holiday, there were only twelve kids in class. It was great--Ella got some attention and actually improved! 

However (and this is my imperfection, I know....NOT hers!) every time I watch her at gymnastics or swimming, I cringe. I want to shake her and tell her to pay attention and TRY, Goddamnit!

Then, I have to remind myself that I've had 33 years of practice...and I still can't find the remote on the cushion next to me, and I am apt to trip on my own feet occasionally if I'm not paying attention. 

But all I want is for her life to be easier, and better than mine was. Is that too much to ask??? 

Things I've Learned Since Joining Weight Watchers.

Typically, I like to write about my children's antics, but tonight, I'm going to focus on a bit about me.  About 2 weeks ago I decided to sign up for Weight Watchers. I'm not really sure why--yes, I need to lose a fair amount of weight, but it wasn't like I suddenly had a big epiphany and got motivated.


It might have been better if I had!


In the past two weeks, I've learned quite a few things about myself.


1.  I eat (ate?) a lot of CRAP. Things that I miss eating? Giant bowls of ice cream, chips and french onion dip, caramel swirl iced lattes, apple pie, and many other things. 


2.  I have (had?) absolutely NO self-control with anything food-wise, and am (was?) a complete and utter SLOTH.  Seriously.


3.  I actually like whole wheat pasta (when you mix in Ragu sauce, steamed broccoli, and a little shredded cheese).  


4.  I still don't like yogurt.


5.  Like most things in my life, I am really, really bad at keeping track of what I eat. Even though I have "an app for that".


6.  Stopping at McDonald's because "nobody tells me what I can and cannot eat" is only sabotaging myself. 


7.  Fiber One bars make me fart. A LOT. I was eating one each day for breakfast, but it was getting ridiculous to try to teach for the rest of the day.


8.  I drink too much Diet Coke.


9.  The Wii actually counts towards my activity points! (Which is good, since it's the only activity I've done.)


10.  Even though I'm not really doing a very good job at staying on track, I've still lost about 4 lbs.


11. Drinking water during the day ACTUALLY makes you feel good! 


So, I'm not sure if this is going to work out or not, but I'm going to keep trying! After all, I've already paid for four months, so I have to at least stick to it for that long!

The TERRIBLE Twos...closer than they appear!

Yesterday, Ben turned 18 months old.

Today, he let us know loud and clear that he is not, in fact, the sweet small boy we have come to expect. Ben, Ella and I headed over to Eagle Hill to meet Kat for dinner.  As soon as we arrived, Ben started screaming. He screamed throughout the entire meal, except when he was throwing things on the floor and eating bananas. His dinner tonight? THREE bananas and a handful of oyster crackers.

(I'm hoping there are no adverse effects to eating that many bananas in one sitting. I'll let you know!)

Actually, yesterday was the first day he got "in trouble" at school.  Ben's daycare providers, Miss Jenna and Miss Jen, are two amazing women who spend their days with five or six or seven (I can't keep track, which is why I don't run a daycare) little boys who range in age from 18 months to around 2 and 1/2. Of course, my sweet boy has always been the darling of this rough and tumble group...until yesterday.

Jenna and Jen fill out updates on all the kids, which we get every day.  One of the sections is called: "Today I was: ______________".  Previously, Ben has been described with lovely words like "creative", "happy", "curious", "lovable", and "adventurous".

Yesterday, Ben was "jealous" with an added note, letting us know that he was throwing toys at anyone and everyone who would not give him what he wanted, including our beloved Miss Jenna. 

So it appears that our loving son is well on his way to teaching us to never underestimate the power of an angry toddler.

On the other hand, he's just learned how to say, "I love you!" and gives big squeezes when asked....so I guess he still has a couple of redeeming qualities. 

Then again, he's not two yet!

The Cousin Connection.

So, it's a Sunday night, and I have a million things to do.

Make lunches. Iron. Balance the checkbook. Pay bills. Submit online coursework. Correct 60 projects. Pick out an outfit for Picture Day tomorrow. Etc.

Instead, I want to write about my weekend.

We had a crazy week last week. Kat finally started teaching, and all of sudden, she's not around as much. (Duh!) Ella had her first gymnastics lesson on Monday, Wednesday I had a girls' night out with the teachers, Thursday I started a class, and Friday we had our Back to School dance.  We also lost a principal, gained an interim principal, and I picked up some new responsibilities, like helping out with the Peer Leaders. (This may be babble to most, but it makes sense to me!)

Anyway, I think I saw my kids about five minutes a day this past week.

After all of that, you'd think we'd say, "let's just stay home and veg this weekend." If you do think that, you clearly don't know us very well.  Instead, we packed everyone into the car and headed up to Maine early Saturday morning. 

First, we stopped at my Aunt Ky's house. She has, among other animals, NINETEEN alpacas.  I have a little boy who is OBSESSED with alpacas.  As soon as we pulled into Ky's driveway, Ben started screaming, "al-pac-a! al-pac-a!" and fussing to get out of his carseat.  As soon as we released him, he ran right over to the fence and called to the alpacas. Of course, they were a bit nervous and began to dash around in the pen (although later Ky said they were just really horny boy alpacas....). This did not phase Ben one bit. He had the biggest grin on his face, and cried when we dragged him to lunch.

Once we returned from a delicious lunch (if you are ever in Wells, ME, you have to eat at least one meal at "Jake's Seafood" and I'm not just saying that because I'm family!!) we were able to go inside the alpaca pen, thanks to my cousin Alexis, who is amazing with both animals and small children. Ben was mostly interested in checking out the communal poop pile and watching the alpacas go pee, but he did get to snuggle on one friendly alpaca who knelt right down on the ground and let us (yes, I even got down on the ground and hugged her too...) hug her and have our pictures taken with her!

Then Ella got to sit on Haley, the horse. Of course, this was after Ben picked up some of Haley's poop and tried to eat it, so he didn't get to see her sit on the horse.

Ky and Jake also have two dogs and several cats, as well as sheep. I think I am going to have to send Ben to them in the summers so that he can get his alpaca/farm fill! It was a lovely fall day and a wonderful visit. 

(I also got to meet Ky's first grandchild, Fisher, who is as cute and adorable as I expected him to be, and I'm very sad that his parents and grandparents love him so much, because I would have liked to take him home with me.)

Next, we went on to visit my cousin, Betsy.  Betsy and I are about a year apart, and GP's two oldest grandchildren. I used to spend a week in Maine with her family every summer. We went to Camp Albany together when we were little (way too little to go off to summer camp, I think) and she let me sleep with her pet rock because I was homesick. (Yes, you read that correctly. She gave me a ROCK to sleep with.) We have always had a "cousin connection." This time, it was Ella and Max (who is 6) who shared a special bond. Right from the start of the visit, they were having fun. 

I can't explain how amazing it was. If you know my daughter at all, this should surprise you as much as it surprised me. Usually when Ella meets "new" people, she can be prickly and shy, and sometimes downright unfriendly. None of this happened with Betsy's boys.

Betsy's husband Josh and I were talking about it on the way to church this morning, and he brought up the "cousin connection" thing, and it made a lot of sense. Then I got to thinking about cousins.

Cousins have been a HUGE part of my life. On the Wheeler side, there were six of us who spent a lot of time together growing up. We'd play spy games at Granny's annual Christmas Eve parties, and shout ridiculous things while jumping off the diving board one right after the other. We'd get together a couple times a summer, maybe more often, but it was always like meeting up with a best friend. (I could write a lot more about cousins, but that list of stuff at the top of this blog is still waiting for me.)

That was how Ella and Max were this weekend. How awesome is that?   

Cousins RULE!

A Sweet Moment.

[Notes explaining various things will appear at the end. I believe this is called "footnoting" but it's been a while since I've taken a research class.]

Around six o'clock this morning, Ella stompled* into our bedroom.

Ella: "I just this very second woke up."**

Kat, refering to the massive rat's nest in Ella's hair***: "That's great! You must have slept well--your hair is crazy!"

Ella: "Mama, I think that sometimes, I'm like you. We make the same faces or I act like you. And Ben is like Mommy sometimes."

Kat: "Why do you think that happens?"

Ella: "I think it has something to do with being connected by the cord.  It's like the person who cut the cord has a special connection to you."

Kat and Hannah, eyes meeting: "Awwwwww. You're pretty special, you know that?"

Then we started coming up with other cord-cutters that we felt special connections to, like GP probably cut my cord, and Granddaddy probably cut Kat's cord, etc. It was a sweet little moment in a crazy week.  Of course, by then we were all running late, and we had to throw her out of our bed and start our day.


Notes:

* I know that "stomple" is not a "real" word, but it really is the best word to describe how Ella moves about the house in the morning.  Stompling is sort of a running, thumping shuffle from her bed straight to ours. It's been worse since we moved her bedroom around, because now it's a straight shot to our bed.

** This is probably because yesterday, she woke up at "five zero five" and had to wait to come into our room.

***A massive tangle in the front of Ella's hair is always a good indicator that she humped herself to sleep the night before. Humping has always been a favorite pasttime of Ella's, and we try to be open about it so that she doesn't feel like she has to hide it or be ashamed. However, since she is now five and a "big girl" she is not supposed to hump in front of us/talk about humping anymore. BUT, we can ALWAYS tell.

The Language Barrier. (or, How We've Taught Our Daughter to Swear)

**Disclaimer: there is some bad language in here. Please don't be offended.

Lately, Ben has been full of words. His vocabulary is exploding these days. He has a repetoire of typical words, which include:

Mama
Mommy
Ella (pronounced "Lella")
truck ("ruck")
alpaca
baby
tonight ("oo-nigh")
goodnight ("nigh-nigh")
book
moon
belly
nose ("no-eh")
more ("mo-eh")

various animal names and sounds

and many more that I can't remember right now...

He also will repeat almost anything we say.

Apparently, so will Ella.

The other day, we were driving in the car on the winding, bumpy road that brings us home from New Hampshire.  Whenever I drive on this road, a lone turkey runs in front of my car, and without fail, I always have to slam on my brakes to avoid hitting the beast. (Usually, I'm alone with the kids, so Kat hasn't experienced this before.)

On this day, Kat was driving, and we rounded the corner, and lo and behold, there was a turkey in the road.

Me: "Oh my God, that's the fucking turkey I was telling you about! I swear, the same fucking Goddamn turkey runs in front of my car every time I drive on this road!"
(I'm not sure why I was swearing like a sailor, except that perhaps I was surprised.)

Ella: "Why is there only one?"
Me: "Maybe it's lonely."
Kat: "Maybe someday we'll hit it and it won't be lonely anymore."
Me: "Maybe it will happen around Thanksgiving and we won't have to buy a turkey this year."

(This is a perfect example of why our kids are going to be weird.)

Ella: "Is that why it's a fucking damn turkey?"

Pause.

Kat: "What did you just say?"

Ella: "The fucking turkey. You know, the fucking damn one."

Pause.

Ella, confused: "I didn't say frigging, if that's what you're worried about."

(I should explain that this is not a new conversation. I'd like to put the onus of our daughter's potty-mouth onto my wife, but I'm not sure that's fair. For instance, Kat used to refer to the iPod touch as "the fucking little computer".  This had to stop when Ella started asking, innocently, if she could play with the "fucking computer". She (Ella) will also often refer to her bottom as her "ass" or tell us that she's doing a good job wiping her own ass/keeping her asshole clean. I think some of this comes from the way Kat talks to the cats. However (see above) I also am guilty of making poor vocabulary choices on occasion. Recently, in an effort to curb our language, we have tried to used "other" words in place of swear words, hence the "frigging" comment.)

Me: "What?"

Ella: "You know, you don't want me to say frigging. So I'm saying fucking. Fuck. That's not as bad, right?"

Oh dear. After I stopped laughing (actually crying with laughter...) I tried to explain why using the word "fuck" is not really appropriate. I'm pretty sure the damage is done, however.

At least Ben's words are still pure. For today. :)

Time for a little talk about family.

Family.


Talk about a loaded word. It can be such a simple thing...or not.


My children have two moms. Obviously, that means we had to get some sperm somewhere, so that we could have kids.  Kids were always in the picture for us, we just had to figure out how to have them.


So we looked for donors. We debated asking male friends (too weird) or using sperm banks (too expensive) and finally ended up using a known donor. For those of you are aren't savvy about this sort of thing (and you are lucky...), a "known" donor is someone whose name we know and who can be contacted by our children when and if our children want to contact him. 

Our donor is pretty amazing (duh, obviously, or we wouldn't have chosen him) and made the process quite easy and inexpensive. Over the years, we've occasionally sent photographs, and then we ended up meeting some of the other recipients online. Now we have a group on facebook where we can keep in touch with the other parents, share photographs and stories, and, if we want to, meet up.

To some, this is shocking. It might be more shocking to find out that Ella and Ben have 30+ half-siblings out there...it certainly was to us. But we've gotten used to it, and even embraced it.  Sure, it's strange, and probably not what I would have envisioned originally, but there it is. At least when they are teenagers, we'll have a sounding board for donor-related questions!

Anyway, one of the other recipients posted the following article tonight.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/09/06/health/06donor.html?hp


It's about a donor who has 150 offspring.

That's not the big deal (well, it is, but not what got me fired up...). The last couple of lines in the article read:

“How do you make connections with so many siblings? What does family mean to these children?”       

First of all, my kids have a family.  It actually is a pretty typical family--two parents, two kids, two pets. Two sets of grandparents. Five cousins on each side. A super-amazing GP. Sometimes, Ella gets stuck on the idea of "birth mom" and plays it up--"I'm sitting next to my birth mom today" or "Mommy and I have Wheeler blood and that's why we're so good at Sorry", but that's about the extent of it.  We love each other a lot and tell each other all the time. Even Ben can point and say "Eye (points to eye) luvv (points to belly/heart) YOU (shouts and points to the person he's loving at that moment)".  We fight and make up and laugh a LOT and work through the tough stuff and get silly at least once a day.

MY family is overflowing with love. My kids know that there are at least a dozen people out there who would do anything for them, who are their FAMILY.

And that has nothing to do with having a donor.

First day of school!

Ready to go!

Well, we survived.

The first day of kindergarten came and went, and I didn't even cry.

After kindergarten orientation last Thursday, I was less than impressed with the school, the teachers, the other parents...and because I would die before admitting that I was sad/scared/normal, I got pissy. "This is dumb," I kept repeating, when the teachers bypassed Ella for the kid behind her, or when we got stuck behind "allergy-parents" for 15 minutes while waiting to hand in our paperwork, and again when there wasn't enough room on the bus for Kat to ride around the block with Ella.

"Can't we school-choice her back to North Brookfield?" I whined, after noticing that perhaps the teachers weren't meeting our eyes as we proudly each held one of Ella's hands, reminding them that yes, they did in fact have a child with TWO moms, and no, it wasn't just a typo.

"Umm, we're in the wrong roles," Kat whispered. "You're supposed to be reassuring me." It's true...I'm usually the stoic one, the harder, sharper one who doesn't get sappy.

The weekend came and went, and last night we picked out clothes and made sure her take-home folder was all set, and this morning, I left for my own first day of school before the kids were even fully dressed. I gave her a couple extra hugs and then headed out the door. They waved and called to me from the bedroom window as I left, and that was that. 

Of course, my first free second I called Kat, and of course, everything was fine. She got on the bus like a pro, and the only person who cried was Ben, as he tried to chase the bus. (Then again, Ben cries when the waitress takes away the dinner plates, so maybe he's just a big cheez-ball. And yes, I meant "cheeZ".) 

When I got home, I went into Ella's room and asked her, "so, how did it go?"
E: (hiding under the covers) "I don't want to talk about it."
H: "Seriously?"
E: (leaping out of bed) "It was GREEEAAAA-TTTT" (think Tony the Tiger)


Apparently, it was great. I have a pre-teen on my hands, one who refuses to give the kind of answers we want--the fly-on-the-wall details were not going to happen. I think she answered every single question we asked with, "it was greeaaaaaaat!" and a big leap across the room, which for Ella, means she loved it, and she wants to go back.
Tomorrow: the first hot-lunch adventure.

Letter to the teacher.

So, Ella's school encourages parents to write a letter to their child's new teacher, describing the child and sharing relevant information, etc.

I have been agonizing over what to write...I don't want to be "that" parent...you know, the one who comes off obnoxious and overbearing.

This is what I WANT to write:

Dear Teacher,

First of all, Ella has two moms. This shouldn't be a big deal, but I'm sure it will bring up issues or questions at some point during the school year. Already, Ella is concerned about what her classmates will think, and we've had several discussions about how to respond to questions and comments. Other than that small detail, we lead a pretty "normal" life--we are both teachers, we live in a house, make chicken for dinner once a week, and take our trash to the dump on Saturdays. Right now Ella considers herself "lucky" to have two moms, and we hope that the transition into public school doesn't cause her to feel otherwise.

Ella is a funny, precocious little girl who "gets" sarcasm and loves to tell jokes. She has a great sense of humor but doesn't use it to make fun of anyone or to be mean.  She often is the champion to the underdogs and has a strong sense of what is "right" and "wrong".  She can be intensely shy when she is in new situations, but once she gets comfortable, she can be hard to quiet down.  She is sensitive and quick to cry or get angry when something is new or intense, and usually will come around on her own if given some space and time. Pushing her to make a decision usually prolongs the process.

Ella has a quick mind, especially when it comes to math.  She can do double-digit addition in her head and seems to have a real knack for numbers.  She tends to resist reading but within the past few weeks has really started to recognize words and text.  She's good at making connections to text and inferring what will happen when reading a story, and loves listening to chapter books, but seems to consider picture books "babyish". (This is probably our fault, since we read all the Junie B. books to her when she was four...) When it comes to "seatwork" Ella tends to rush through things and can be impatient.

Ella's body is not as quick as her mind...she can only be described as "clumsy" or perhaps "spatially inept".  Her gross motor skills are a bit weak, and she's more likely than not to walk into desks, walls, chairs, etc.  Lately, she's been into dancing around the house/rolling around on the floor doing "ath-aerobics" (a combination of athletics and aerobics--her word, not ours), which can be dangerous for all involved and requires wide-open spaces. She has trouble staying in her seat and Miss Nancy (her pre-school teacher) was working with Ella to sit straight in her chair with feet on the floor during seatwork and lunchtime. Ella has a huge and varied vocabulary, but seems to have some speech issues that we would love to get some input from you on.  Both our pediatrician and Ella's pre-school teachers have voiced concerns about her speech, but because we moved to Barre in March, it was recommended that we wait until the start of the new school year to pursue the issue.

Socially, Ella is very aware of people's reactions to her, especially other children. Although she wants to hang out with the "cool" kids, she won't do so at the expense of others.  We've had a lot of conversations about bullying and how to deal with friends when people are being mean. She doesn't tend to follow the crowd but would rather play alone if she doesn't want to do what the other kids are doing.  She is cautious when it comes to trying new things, but works hard once she's committed to something. (Right now, she is desperate to get across the monkey bars, but also incredibly nervous.)  She will talk your ear off (or anyone around who might be listening) once she feels comfortable!

Good luck! She's unique...she's going to enchant you and baffle you and drive you nuts, probably several times in the same day.  Please call us or email us with any questions or concerns or funny stories from your days with her...

Take care,

Hannah and Katherine Thompson

Hmmm....
Maybe I've done it?

Thoughts? Am I too over-the-top??

Down. In. The. Dumps.

Lately, I've been emotionally trigger-happy...but not in a happy sort of way.  All kinds of things are making me sad, or angry, or anxious...

So I thought if I made a list of everything I can think of that SUCKS, that it might help. [Be forewarned, some of these things are really sucky and me writing them doesn't necessarily mean they are true, just that they suck.]

Here goes, in no particular order:

• having to close all the windows on a very humid, muggy day
• not being invited to weddings
• feeling like an outsider in my own community
• your mom posting on facebook that she is a loser
• your daughter cutting off all of her hair after 18 months of growing it out after the last haircut
• heroin addicts
• going back to school before everyone else in your house
• overdue credit card bills
• overdue babies
• hurricanes that keep you from meeting babies
• dead wii remote batteries
• redbox fees
• slow internet
• the song "If I die young" by The Band Perry
• ebay addictions
• seven sucky letters in "words with friends"
• seven great letters and no place to put them in "words with friends"
• being rational enough not to cut because it's too hot for long sleeves
• being irrational enough to consider cutting after 3 years
• feeling like I'm too old for the VMAs
• not being able to see your kid off on her first day of kindergarten
• your kid telling you "I'm going to kill you someday"
• not being able to get pregnant
• suffering from "battered women's syndrome"
• eating an entire pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream
• dehydration
• divorce via text message
• worrying about losing family members to death
• favorite pants that just aren't going to fit, no matter how hard you try
• wrinkles (in clothes AND skin)
• breast cancer
• all cancer
• holes in brand new socks
• sad, stupid movies that make you cry
• new underwear that doesn't fit (it's not like you can try it on in the store!)
• Voldemort
• friends who slack on their on-line scrabble games
• hemorrhoids
• being referred to as a "chick" by your brother-in-law
• being ignored by your kid's kindergarten teacher
• severe nut allergies

Okay, this is horrible....just writing it has made think of a few good things that I'll leave you with.

• Lady Gaga
• new babies
• big-boy haircuts
• the excitement of the first day of school
• sleeping in until 9
• Ben knowing the words to "Tonight, Tonight" by Hot Chelle Rae
• seeing Mom in six days
• my brother-in-law apologizing for calling me a "chick" (after I retaliated by calling him a "breeder" which might be worse, actually...
• Nutella
• Scary Mommy, DYAC, and FML posts, which make my life seem almost normal...
• early bedtimes
• new clothes
• fountain drinks
• blogs!

Things that make you go ewwwww.

My daughter has her first loose tooth.

GROSS.

It's funny, actually. A friend posted on facebook the other day that her daughter had lost her second tooth, and I stopped and thought, "wait, she's younger than Ella, and Ella hasn't lost any teeth yet!"

This is how my life works...a couple days later...BAM! Ella has an actual loose tooth. (It's the right tooth in the bottom middle, just in case you wonder about those things.) I say "actual" because last year, when a few of her pre-school friends were losing teeth, we had a lot of "pretend" loose teeth.

But no, I felt it. It's DEFINITELY loose.

It started in the car on the way home from Pop's house.
Ella: "Mom, my tooth hurts. I think it might be loose."
Kat: "Sure, honey, we'll check it out when we get home." (eye roll)

Then, during her shower:
Kat: "Let's check out that tooth. OH MY GOD...it really is loose!"
Ella: "I know, I'm so excited!"
Kat: "Mommy is going to be sooo grossed out."
Ella: "Let's go show her!"
(Me, downstairs: "NO THANKS!!!")

Yep.

I went to college to be an elementary school teacher. I changed my major to secondary education (specifically middle school) for two reasons:

NO snow pants and NO LOOSE TEETH.

I can deal with poop and vomit.  Cat vomit on the floor? No problem, hand over the paper towels and I'll scoop it up.  Overflowing toilet? Give me the plunger. Baby mouse limping around the kitchen after the cats have played with it? I'd love to help you out and grab it by the tail and toss it out in the bushes.The cat sitter flushed all the non-flushable litter and blocked up the pot? Sure, I'll sit on the floor and scoop out nasty 2-week-old clay from the icy water. Kid poops in the tub? No biggie, I'll just pluck it out with some Lysol wipes.

(Don't worry, I always wash my hands afterwards....)

Kid has a loose tooth? My gag reflex kicks in immediately (it's even happening as I type, much to my dismay) and I'm all tucked up shoulders and eyes squeezed shut, one dry-heave away from losing my lunch.

When I was an aquatics director and spent most of my day teaching swim lessons, my mid-age kids loved to show me their loose teeth, and I'd gag and squeal and hide my face. Then the 45 minutes would pass and they'd go on their way, to lose said teeth at school or at dinner or swallow them in their sleep.

Last year, I had a couple 7th graders lose teeth in my class, and I'd gag and squeal and rush them off to the nurse's office and that would be that.

But my own daughter....I'm going to have to watch that tooth get looser and looser, until it's hanging by a thread at a funny angle, and she pushes it around  with her tongue, and GOD FORBID if the frigging thing decides to come out when Kat's not home!!! This is just the first one....how am I going to manage this????

Like I said, GROSS.

Ahh...Vacation.



(This is NOT us camping, just a random friendly family.)

 Vacation has changed.

At least, for me. Growing up, our vacations usually fell into two categories--driving to Florida to visit my grandfather, or camping in either Northern New Hampshire or Maine.

We'd drive to FL every three years or so, pulling out of the driveway at four in the morning in our pink conversion van, with a cooler full of sandwiches and snacks so that we wouldn't have to stop unless someone's bladder was going to explode, or my dad couldn't keep his eyes open any longer.  When that happened, we'd pull into a trucker rest stop and my dad would "rest". Of course, the four of us had been dozing and cooped up in the car for hours, so we'd be wide awake and bouncing around, which is not really conducive to sleeping.  Then my mom would hop into the driver seat and white-knuckle it for a few hours, until Dad couldn't handle her driving and more and bark for her to pull over.  I don't think there was ever a single hotel stop or fast food meal (unless we drove through McDonald's and my parents ordered half a dozen hamburgers).

This all sounds dramatic, but mostly I have fond memories of our drives. This was before portable DVD players and iPods and even CD players.  We always sat in the same seats. Me, the oldest, in the middle left seat.  Next to me was Keegan, the youngest and only boy.  In the way back were my sisters, 20 months apart and either fighting or plotting at any given moment, with a pile of blankets and toys around them.  They would take turns putting their bare feet up over the seat and rubbing them on Keegan's buzz cut, saying, "pedicure, pedicure" while giggling hysterically. There was a LOT of farting going on during those trips. One year, Meggie brought a little boom box and a Bryan Adams tape...I've never felt quite the same about Bryan Adams since. I loved being awake in the night and driving through DC or Baltimore and taking in all the lights, or watching the sunrise, and listening to my parents talk. Mom always brought along Twizzlers and Junior Mints (until she choked on a Junior Mint while driving one year!). 

We'd make it to Florida in about 24 hours, stay with my Grandpa Jim for five days, and then do it all again on our way back to NH. I did this once, in college, with a group of rugby players. It was just as fun, probably more, except of course I had to help drive. :)

Then, there was the camping.

My parents were essentially poor hippies when we were really little. So we camped. Sometimes, it was on a whim, like when we camped up in the White Mountains in October, and it snowed. (Less fun.)  But for several years, we went to the same campground for a week every summer--Lake Pemaquid Campground in Damariscotta, Maine.  It. Was. Awesome.  I have a plethora of cousins, and their families would usually join us. There were little playgrounds all over the place, and campground store, and a big rock out in the middle of the lake that we could swim to and climb all over. We are tent campers (not RV campers, or cabin campers, but I think that if you read about our trips to Florida, you'd probably already figured that out).  Folks would bring their guitars and  lots and lots of booze, and after a dinner of hotdogs and s'mores, we'd play Yahtzee by citronella-candlelight and then the kids were shuttled off to bed and the adults would play music and drink by the fire, while an occasional skunk ran around. 

It was a lot of fun--we were old enough to run around on our own as long as we stuck together.  On the weekends there would be dances, and I may even have had my first ever kiss up there!

So, that was my vacation experience growing up.

Little did I know...

In the meantime, while I was spending 24 quality hours in the car with my family, or sleeping on rocks and eating "raw" (aka cold) hotdogs and not bathing, my wife, Kat, was vacationing in the Outer Banks of North Carolina.

I didn't even KNOW what the Outer Banks were six years ago, when I went on my first Thompson family vacation experience. We had driven down to Virginia to visit the in-laws for a week, and then caravaned from Richmond, VA to Avon, NC.  Driving with the Thompson clan is NOTHING like anything I'd ever experienced.  We'd drive for an hour, then ALL stop for breakfast/brunch. Then another hour, and it was a pee and snack break at McDonald's.  Then another pee break, then a stop for lunch, then a stop at the rest area at the top of the Banks. Then driving down the winding two-lane road nearly to the end, until we all stopped at the realtor's to pick up our keys. Then, finally, to the house.



Our 2011 beach house



THE HOUSE.

(If you recall, my vacations were spent in tents.)

My first Outer Banks house was three stories. It had (among other things) six bedrooms, six bathrooms, a pool table, two dishwashers, a pool, a hot tub, and an ELEVATOR. Our bathroom was big enough to keep the Pack n' Play in. We were a few hundred feet from the ocean (warm ocean with a sandy beach, very different from the ocean in Maine). 

It completely blew my mind.

While in the Outer Banks, we play at the pool in our backyard, or play in the ocean, or play in the sound. We visit the lighthouse and we go shopping. We eat a LOT of seafood (I'd never had crab legs before....AMAZING!) and we play a lot of board games. It's really the only time I drink coffee or alcohol. 

It's a whole different experience, and while I love it, some days I kind of miss the tent.

Kind of.

Legwarmers? Really?

I've always harbored this deep-seated desire to be an earthy-crunchy mom. (**No offense to any "real" earthy-crunchy moms is intended here, I just don't have a better adjective at the moment.) A breast-feeding, baby-wearing, cloth-diapering mama who makes my own baby food. The kind of mama whose kid is always a scraggly ragamuffin with a big grin on his or her face as he or she jumps around naked in a mud puddle or plays with homemade wooden blocks while dressed in a mama-made woolly sweater (or hat, or pants, or scarf, or really anything woolly and handmade). The kind of mama who takes my infants camping or hiking and co-sleeps in a family bed in a big pile of happy, sleeping bodies.

I'm not sure where this comes from--probably a lot of it comes from my own mom, and the way that I was raised. I'm sure over the years I've romanticized my upbringing...a little girl dancing around at bluegrass festivals, sleeping in a old VW while everyone partied all night long, helping "build" our house, not being allowed to have any sugar for the first 3 years of my life, etc. Also, I know a lot of earth-mama type folks, and I think they're really cool.

Unfortunately, like many of my hopes and dreams, this one ended up being kind of half-assed when it came to putting it into practice.

First of all, I didn't breast-feed. Major, major earth-mama no-no.

We didn't co-sleep at all. Ella was a prickly, independent little thing right from the start. She's been sleeping in her very own bedroom since she was about four weeks old. Believe me, it was better for all involved. When we do have to share a bed, it's torture! Ben was a little different, but again, if he was sleeping with us, then we weren't sleeping. If you know my wife, Kat, at all, then you know this was a very, very, very bad thing.

Next, we aren't exactly organic farmers. Hell, we're lucky if we pop open a can of green beans for dinner. Broccoli or corn on the cob are delicacies over here. No wonder my daughter is a picky eater...it's like the old anti-drug commercials, "I learned it by watching YOU," the kid says in an accusatory tone to the screaming parents waving around a bag of pot. OOPS!

I did invest in some baby-wearing gear. We bought a Baby Bjorn. Then a Moby Wrap. Then a Kelty backpack carrier. Then an Ergo. I loved the Moby Wrap....when I remembered it. The stroller, although bulky, seemed to offer more convenience. A place to put my latte, a place to put the diaper bag....

Then, with Ben, I got into cloth diapers. When I say "got into" I mean, became OBSESSED. I tried all different kinds. I spend hundreds of dollars (wasn't this supposed to save us money?). I bought BabyLegs because I thought they would be cute and crunchy with the cloth diapers (and they were!). I became active on diaper-swapping websites. I used baking soda and vinegar to get my diapers clean. I dried them in the sun. I LOVED cloth diapering and was really sad when we had to stop. It was the closest I've ever felt to being a true earthy-crunchy mom.

Speaking of BabyLegs...these are leg warmers for infants, and the original point of this post. Easier to change the kid without getting him entirely undressed, I think. The packaging touts them as warmers for all--full legs, shins, arms...they probably would even work as headbands. I bought a LOT of BabyLegs, in fun girly colors for Ella. I mean, who wouldn't want to wear leg warmers?

(Here is another reason why I kind of fail as an earth-mama. I also secretly want my daughter to be the kind of kid who dresses up in quirky outfits and wears tutus and glittery sunglasses to the grocery store.)

She's NOT that kind of kid, and believe me, it's not from lack of trying on my part.

But every once in a while, she'll surprise me. Like today. T-shirt, bike shorts, and a full skirt. Then, leg warmers. In JULY. I think it's my fault because I told her she didn't need any socks, and we're going through some power-struggle issues. So she put on leg warmers, and wore them all day long.

(Secretly, I was amused and not embarrassed at all.)

Two in row.

My daughter can be the greatest kid on the planet.

She's gorgeous, smart, and understands higher thinking. She "gets" sarcasm and can add double digit numbers in her head. She speaks in metaphors. She hangs out with all kinds of kids and stands up for the kids who aren't always included. She spends hours designing "stores" in her bedroom or inventing intricate play scenarios for us. She wants to rescue animals when she grows up.

However... (and you must have known this was coming, especially if you know Ella...)

She can also be the biggest brat on the planet.

Ella's first spoken word was "WHAT?!?" (with attitude). I'm not even kidding. We would joke about "oh no, we're in trouble..." and laugh. Little did we know...

She's moody, tempermental, clumsy. Oh, and did I mention STUBBORN?? When you ask her to whisper, she screams. When you ask her to help you out, she either refuses or spits on the floor in response. She plays the martyr to perfection. "You don't love me as much as you love Ben" is the constant refrain out of her mouth. She whines. ALL. OF. THE. TIME.

Today, Ben went down for his nap early, since he'd been up since 5:45 or some insane time. I told Ella I was going to take a shower, and she could watch something on PBS. This is our usual routine, and it works. EXCEPT...
I heard it coming up the stairs...the whine...a little bit of teariness in the voice...the two-syllabled "Mo-om" that makes me cringe....
Ella: "I'm hungry."
Mom: "Well, I can't really help you out right now. Look in the pantry for a snack."
A minute later, she's back up, screaming that she can't find anything. I suggest blueberries from the fridge.
Ella: "Don't you know anything? I'm not a fan of blueberries, reMEMber??"
Mom: "Well, I'll be out in five. Can you wait?"
Ella: "NO!" Leaves bathroom screaming.
Mom: (in a snake-like hiss) "Eleanor. GET. IN. HERE."
She screams from the hallway, outside of her brother's bedroom: "NO!"
In my deadliest whisper, I tell her that if she doesn't stop screaming/if she wakes her brother up, she will spend the rest of the morning in her bedroom.
Ella: "FINE. I DON'T CARE. YOU LOVE HIM MORE ANYWAY. AND YOU'RE STARVING ME." Then she runs back down the stairs "DON'T YOU DARE COME DOWN HERE MOMMY!"
I shrug, since the danger is passed and at least she's away from Ben's room.
Two minutes later, she's back in the bathroom, crying. Her bug bite itches, can I put some "carolina lotion" on it? Sure, I say, it's in my bedroom.
Ella: "MOM? I CAN'T FIND IT."
Mom: "Shhhhhh....it's right on the mantle."
Crash.

I end the shower, get dressed, and come down stairs. She's lying on the floor in front of the TV, quiet as a mouse. I throw the bag of raisin bread at her and leave her alone.

Did I mention she's my Doppleganger?

Today.

I've always wanted to have a blog.

Actually, I think I've created several, websites that have a little witty information about me and a then-current photo of one of my gorgeous, perfect children. But it's the actual blogging part that I get hung up on. I always want to give a backstory, and then I get overwhelmed.

So, my new plan of attack is to just address what happens when it happens. If the past comes into play, then I can add it in then. :)

Today. July 24. Eleven years ago, my friend Kim lost her battle to leukemia. I was at Camp Takodah when I found out, at girls' camp training. I remember every painful detail of that summer. There was magic too, like butterflies everywhere, and for the first time, I really believed in a higher power, that Kim was working from above. While it doesn't always happen as much now, it still does.

This day always used to be my worst day of the year. It's easier now, and I think part of that is because I have a family, I can't wallow in my sadness because I'm usually "ON." And time heals a lot of things.

My biggest fear in life is losing one of my children. Actually, right now, I'm afraid of losing Ben. No worries, he's healthy and thriving. But my little boy is so sweet, so fun-loving, so GOOD. He reminds me a lot of Kim, and of others I have known who have left us early. I just have this horrible feeling that we won't have him for very long. How AWFUL is that? I can't explain why. Kat was horrified when I first told her my worries, and she thinks I'm crazy. I might be--I can certainly be both a drama queen and a hypochondriac.

This is very rambling. I think I'm going to end it here.