Ginger Jesus

We love baking Christmas cookies as a family. We do it every year, and we try to be more and more creative. Basically, as with most things in our family, it becomes a competition. This year, all the children were talking about (boasting?) the cookies they were cutting out and what they were going to be. "I'm making a star." "I'm making a sparkling star." "I'm making a tree." "I'm making a tree with ornaments." Christopher pipes up, "I'm going to make Jesus." Chris, possibly thinking this would be a good opportunity to bring faith in, says, "I don't think we should make Jesus as a cookie to be eaten." Without missing a beat Christopher responds, "Yes we can. It's Ginger Jesus."

Over the river and through the woods...

We left for Thanksgiving around 9 am. It was going to be a 7 hour drive and we thought we'd get going. Packing the car went smoothly and we went about deciding who was going to sit where. It's funny how the third seat of our station wagon lost it's appeal after the first month. So we decided boys first in the "way back " and then girls. And off we go--everyone fell asleep in the first 30 minutes, we didn't see many police and I settled in thinking how much easier traveling was now that they were older. (BIG MISTAKE!!!)

We stopped for gas; everyone woke up and switheroo with the children. Still everyone seemed happy. A little bit later-around 11:30 the children start talking about being hungry. Chris whispers to me that he wants to get to Knoxville before we stop (I look up at this time to see the sign Knoxville 83 miles--uh oh!) The children get more and more grumbly so I tell them stories about when I traveled as a child and my dad wouldn't stop. We're all laughing, but we are passing more and more exits with food and the laughing begins to fade. Chris, in a moment of what he considers pure brilliance, tries to convince them how great it will be to get to Knoxville where we can maybe find a Zaxby's-one of our favorites and not available near us. They're not buying it--I think it was the maybe that did them in. I call my niece, have her get online and yes indeed there are 3! Around this time Caroline starts whining more; she is our best whiner, and she shifts from I'm hungry to my stomach hurts, back to I'm hungry, I don't want to sit back here--you get the picture.

I think to myself, "I'm going to use this as a learning moment." Caroline has called me several times over the past 3 weeks to tell me her stomach hurts and she needs to come home. It's a miracle that when she gets home, after a few minutes she's fine. (And yes I have made sure there's nothing going on at school that's causing her distress.) I explain to her that when you cry wolf so much then we never know what's really wrong and we begin not to trust you--etc. you get the picture. I settle back in thinking I have had a Cosby family moment of parenting--no anger just pure learning-YEAH FOR ME! Not more than 3 minutes later we hear a strange sound and then Sarah Katherine says, "Um Mama, she wasn't crying wolf!" I have got to give it to Sarah Katherine she has sick all over her and she's not completely freaking out. I now am as Chris is TOTALLY stressed and there are no exits in sight. We finally see one, get off, but there's no place to stop, back on and 5 miles down the road is another one. Off we go again.

I look ahead to see a walmart. I try to think quickly and calmly, Chris hates walmart, it's the day before Thanksgiving, but we can get wipes for the car and an expensive sweat suit for Caroline. I think it's the way to go, so I quietly and sweetly say, "Maybe you should stop at the walmart. It will be one stop for us to clean up everything and get back on the road quickly." To my surprise he agrees. We pull in and find a parking space fairly easily. It's about this time I realize that we are indeed in Knoxville (Please dear God tell me they have sweatsuits that don't say Tennessee!) But worse than the knowledge that there is a very real chance my daughter might be wearing an orange Volunteer sweatshirt, I see that it is a SUPER walmart! I choose to keep this information to myself. I tell him we need trashbags, wipes and a sweat suit-how hard can it be to find 3 things quickly?

In goes Chris and the boys--low blood sugar for everyone-certainly not good at a super walmart on the day before Thanksgiving. I clean out the car as best I can with the wipes I have, get Caroline's clothes off her and wrap her in Chris' coat to wait and wait and wait. During this time several people stop to offer their assistance. They were all so very nice. I did stand in front of the Georgia bulldog license plate just to make sure they'd stay nice. I tell everyone, it's okay my husband will be right back. That is only true if right back means 45 minutes!!! Finally he comes out, I'm certain he's going to be in the worst mood, but being the brilliant man he is he bought candy to increase his blood sugar. Quickly change Caroline and back on the road--only a little over an hour delay. And no we never did find a Zaxby's!

My children are right

Sometimes children really are right. Recently my children have been saying, "Mama you're losing it." I forget where I put things, call them by random names and lose track of time. If I was older I'd be on my way to the doctor, but seeing as there is very little likelihood I have Alzheimer's I just think the children are right. But I think I have figured out why? It's trying too do to much and be too efficient. Multi-tasking is not all it's cracked up to be. I learned this for sure a little while ago.

This morning it was 13 degrees--far too cold to go running, but I knew I wanted to run today. I certainly didn't want to have to take two showers, so I just put on my running clothes, went to study, lunch with friends, back to study, pick up Sarah Katherine and home to run before the other children get home and I head off to basketball, cheerleading, and a holiday party. I know I only have a window of 30-45 minutes for the run. So, I rush home, sync my ipod throw on my running coat, gloves, and ear muffs. Out the door I go and I felt horrible. My legs and feet hurt terribly. I'm usually a morning runner, so I assume I'm just not used to the time of day. After almost 2/10 of a mile I realize I can't do it--I look down to discover I had not put on my running shoes--I was running in ugg boots. Yes, the children are right, I'm losing it.

Juice box

Last night we took the children out for ice cream to celebrate their very good report cards. The store was brightly lit with music from the 80's playing in the background. Chris, in his typical fashion, began to dance and sing. Of course the children were horrified as he sang Coco Mo. We sat through several songs--Christopher turns around to see where the music was coming from. He turns back to us and says, "I want to change the song, can I have a quarter for the juice box?"

Please Don't Tell

Last February we sent out Valentine cards. Great picture of the children in London with our names printed on the bottom. Sarah Katherine was hleping me stuff the envelopes. In a very quiet voice (thank you for knowing to keep this quiet SK!) she says, "Why isn't William's name on the card?" Out comes the sharpie pen and in his name goes. So fast forward to Halloween this year. We live on the Halloween street which translates to over 200 trick or treaters. I was a little busy and didn't get to take anywhere near the amount of pictures I wanted to. I got up Nov 1 to upload the pictures. Guess who's missing from everyone?

The Files

It's over--the 45 children birthday party for my 13 year old. And you know, for the most part it was fun. Everyone arrived, we sent them on a scavenger hunt, fed them a taco bar and watched some of the drama of which there was one "major".

Back for a minute to the difference between 12-13 year old boys and 12-13 year old girls. The boys were having a great time throwing the football to each other and then they started some sort of game where they throw the ball in the air and all run for it (no broken boys happened :)) The girls divided into three groups-the ballet crowd who danced their hearts out to the music, the in my opinion smart second group who wanted to hang with the boys so used the theory if you can't beat them join them and they did--in the football game, and that left the much smaller group who just wanted to complain the boys were playing football. Now the queen of this group not only wanted to complain to her group here, but she got on her cell phone to call all of her "eighth grade sports friends" to tell them how the party "suc.."--you fill in the blank. Apparently that was not enough drama for her because she decided to go around the party trying to convince people to leave and go to someone else's house (the someone else had no interest in leaving our party--see the first two groups.) We adults watched this for a bit and then we'd had enough. I calmly (at least on the outside) approached the girl and said, "Sweetie, if you're not having fun I'd be happy to call your parents to come get you. But we're not going to continue talking ugly about the party here and disrupting others fun." Sheepishly she tried to defend herself and I replied, "We're going to drop it and move on with the party."

Now to this girl's credit, I must tell you that she phoned me at 10 pm to apologize and to explain that she was mad the boys were playing football. (Again I wonder what did she think they were going to do?) I told her I appreciated her call and that it takes a very big person to admit they were wrong and apologize. And I do believe it does.

The next day, Sarah Katherine and I were talking about the incident. I told her that I approached the girl for a couple of reasons. First and foremost I was defending Sarah Katherine and I was not going to allow one person to ruin her party; secondly I wanted her to see that when in a conflict with someone it was better to address the person directly and not triangulate all the friends. I also told her that it took a lot of courage for this girl to call me and that I appreciated it. Then I had to also teach Sarah Katherine a little bit of life lesson. I told her that while the young lady had apologized, this was not the first time she had done something to Sarah Katherine that wasn't very kind. I told her forgiveness is important, but that she might want to keep a little file in the back of her mind about these things because they may speak to the girl's character and I hate to see her putting herself in a position to be hurt over and over. Sarah Katherine was quiet for a few moments and then said, "Mama, that file on -------- is getting kind of big."

And I end this post by saying I am so proud of Sarah Katherine; I adore her and love watching her grow up AND I am so thankful I am no longer 13!

Starting

I love my 13 year old lithe ballerina! I have often wondered over the years if she truly came out of my body--I was a HUGE tomboy wanting to play football but settling for years and years of soccer. Sarah Katherine played one season when she was 4 but only if I would allow her to wear a dress smocked with soccer balls and big green bow. I love to watch her dance--the grace and movement brings tears to my eyes everytime and I relish watching her lose herself in her love of dance. She's not me; doesn't enjoy traditional sports (cringes at the thought), and that is fine with me. The boys talk to me about whether they are starters, was I a starter, etc. I fully recognize these are not conversations I will ever have with Sarah Katherine.

Tuesday afternoon Sarah Katherine had her first academic bowl meet. I went to the school to give her a snack before leaving for an interview. I hugged her and wished her well. She leaned up into my ear and whispered, "Hey Mom, I'm on the starting team!"

So Much to Say

I have always said it pays to have a good relationship with receptionists whether at school, the doctor's office or as I now know--ballet. Miss Ashley as we affectionally call her, really does love my girls. She's so kind and relates to all ages so well. Last Thursday she pulled me aside to say, "between you, me and this desk, Caroline's teacher is very frustrated with her. She's talking non stop in class and stirring the other children up." It should be said, I was not surprised. So, Saturday class comes and I tell Caroline I'm going to wait in the lobby for the hour and if she misbehaves she is going to be sent out. "Caroline", I firmly say, "you cannot chat through class. It is disruptive and you are there to learn." She looks up at me with those big blue eyes and responds, "Mommy, I just have so much to say."

Agreed

Brains must regenerate over time. Sarah Katherine has now asked if we would split the cost and not only would she pay half but she won't complain about babysiting the other children for a whole month! She's given me half the money and I'm going to make sure the backpack is a visual reminder so she doesn't complain (at least much)!

Brain Deterioration

We have smart children. I know we do because I've seen their IQ scores and they do fairly well in school. But try to reason with them about something that they "need" and right now and all of a sudden I think I should requesting a CAT scan to determine the amount of brain damage.

Two nights ago we were having our first family dinner in several weeks. All six of us were there and it was going well UNTIL Sarah Katherine brings up that she would like another backpack. I should probably stress the another because in her closet there are no less than 6 perfectly good ones in various shapes, colors and patterns. Well the chorus begins with "me too" "me too". The low roar becomes louder as we hear things like, "my notebook will no longer fit in this one" "I've had this since kindergarten" (look how well you've taken care of it I want to add), "mine's babyish" (I did remind Caroline that she was carrying the same one her cousin in middle school carries so it cannot possibly be babyish). Chris proclaims, "We are not buying another backpack." The low roar erupts like a stadium about to do the wave--and there voices were resonating. So I decided to have a moment of maturity (it didn't last long) and address each individually. I asked Sarah Katherine why she needed a new one. "well she said, I let everyone sign this one because you said last year I could get a new one this fall." I do not remember saying that; however, having just moved here and trying to help her feel comfortable, there is an outside chance I did. Chris, being less than mature, says "well she takes it back!" Sarah Katherine just kept repeating but you said but you said (proof of brain deterioration). Because Christopher is 2 years younger his brain has had less time to rot so he tries another route. He goes to get his sling back backpack and shows me that his notebook doesn't fit. At this point we must digress one year.....

Last summer literally 3 hours before we are to reboard a plane for England we went to target. Sarah Katherine found a pink messenger bag that she'd been "dying for" ($40) and Christopher found a slingback for another $40. At the time I said to Sarah Katherine who was about to start secondary school--perhaps you should wait until you start school to choose one. You usually want what others are carrying. She insisted that this was going to be it. This time Chris was the indulgent one and said just get it for her. Christopher stated his case and I distinctly remember saying to him, it's not going to hold much. But again, Chris was feeling generous and said fine you can have it. For the record, Sarah Katherine has carried the messenger bag 3 times. Back to this week

William jumps up and says he's dying for a slingback so Christopher gives it to him and we remind Christopher of the very nice LARGER backpack in his closet. This quiets him and all is restored in his life. I think we are progressing although there is continual back ground music singing over and over "but you said" Now William and Christopher are both happy or at least content and for whatever reason Caroline's orange backpack with a daisy on it is once again cool. They all leave the table and the chorus gets louder.

I tell Sarah Katherine who has oodles of money right now, "You are more than welcome to buy your own backpack." Her brain has definitely gone into meltdown because she begins to shout that it is our job to buy her what she needs for school, she doesn't want to spend her $50 on a backpack and on and on. She decides at this point to remind us that we don't pay her for babysitting our children (I chose not to remind her that none of us get paid for being in the family and I certainly don't get paid for laundry, meals and scrubbing toilets.) Chris has had enough. I have to say one of the things I love about Chris is he is usually laid back and levelheaded which is great for me who is dramatic and definitely gets on the preteen level more times than I should. But he has had it. I watch the color of his face turn from a lovely suntan hue to a sweating red. He's trying to stay in control and it is taking all he has. I can tell he's trying not to say something but for the life of me I can't figure out what it is so there is no stepping into save him--he's better at the saving and I'm better at the losing control. He's trying but Sarah Katherine is now standing and waving her arms about pointing out things wrong with her backpack. I truly am trying to salvage this family dinner so I turn to Sarah Katherine and say, "I've seen lots of girls at your school carrying backpacks that look just like yours." "No they're not", she shouts, "mine is land's end and they're all LL Bean. I want that one." There is no longer control in Chris--I think his head might pop off and he does what we try so hard not to do brings up money. We don't want our children to feel guilty for money we spend on them but he's lost it so he not so gently reminds Sarah Katherine of the tuition we pay each month for school of the thousands we put into ballet, of the sacrifices we make. I now have absolute proof that preteens brains are mush for as this list of financial burdens finishes, Sarah Katherine turns to us and says "then what's fifty dollars more?"

Because he was chicken

I woke up yesterday and for the first time in weeks we had nothing planned until football run throughs at 6 pm. The weather was a bit cooler, no humidity, and the children were getting along. It was going to be a perfect day. Sarah Katherine was sleeping in for her last week of summer and the other three children went out to ride bikes. I was alone, drinking coffee, reading the paper, catching up on laundry and getting showered--all at a very leisurely pace.

I looked out the window and saw Christopher carrying the skateboard ramp down the street. "Taking it to the dog park", he shouted. It never occurred to me to ask why--mistake number one. Twenty minutes or so later Caroline and her friend rush into the house to tell me that William is hurt. "Is there any blood?" "None at all" they both respond. Relief floods over me (mistake number 2) and we walk over to the dog park. William is sitting on the grass and he tells me his neck and head hurt. I ask what happened and Christopher responds for him, "He was riding his bike down that hill and went up the ramp. It was so cool Mom he did a one and a half!" Where's your helmet, I ask. Caroline chimes in, "we weren't wearing them because we were on grass." [For anyone counting, you will realize that the true mistake number one was me not going outside to make sure they had on helmets. It never occurred to me they wouldn't--it's a cardinal rule in our house.] Having experienced several broken bones with the children, I think to myself "I need to make sure he can move his neck" Here ends my counting of mistakes because as most people know you NEVER move a neck injury. But--I did and he could move it although he was clearly in pain. I check him over and find no obvious injuries minus a scratch on his chest. "Let's go home" I say. And, yes, I let him walk with no help from me.

Somewhere between the five houses we had to pass I do decide that I should just check in with his pediatrician, so I come in and call. The nurse answers and as soon as she hears he landed on his head without a helmet she calmly but firmly says, "Hang up and take him directly to the emergency room. Take him only to the children's hospital. We'll call ahead and let them know you're coming." I interrupt to tell her that he seems fine because he can move it. I'm very certain that she rolled her eyes and thought about the idiotic woman who would move her injured son's neck, but God bless her, she just said, "Please do not allow him to move it again."

We get to the ER (after scooting around numerous one way streets) and wait our turn. The receptionist seemed very nervous about the patient in front of us, so I thought to myself she must be really sick. They swoop her back and put a hair net thing on her and then start disinfecting everything. You see, her father brought her in for lice! (I tell you this as proof that I was not the craziest person there!) They look up, see us and clap a collar on William's neck without a word. Obviously the nurse from the doctor's office has called ahead and warned them about the crazy mother who moves her child's injured neck.


The doctors come in, examine William and decide he needs neck and chest x rays. This takes a bit of time but remember I had nothing to do that day anyway. The good news is there are no broken bones; the bad news is they can't be certain of ligament damage for 7-10 days. At this point they tell us he has to stay in the collar without taking it off for even a bath. The reality sets in for William and he realizes that he won't be playing soccer for at least a week if not more. He begins to cry. The doctor was fantastic and gently explains to him all the things that could go wrong if he reinjured the neck. It seemed that William understood because he calmed down (meanwhile I am thinking about just having him in a padded room for the next week) William's calmer so the doctor begins to lecture him on wearing a bike helmet. I must admit I am feeling a bit guilty and defensive--it probably showed as every time he paused to breathe I would insert, "I always make them wear it but I didn't see them get the bikes out today" After I said this for the third or fourth time I realized that what I was basically saying was, "I always make them wear a helmet when I bother to come outside and check on them instead of sending them out to play so I can read the paper and drink coffee in peace." This epiphany shut me up!

The doctor turned back to William (I think he thought if he didn't make eye contact with me I would be quiet) and asked him why he rode his bike down a very steep hill onto a skate board ramp without a helmet? "Well", says William, "my brother Christopher wouldn't do it." "Why not?" says the doctor--I think we were both thinking that he was going to tell us because he was dared or Christopher said it was too dangerous. William smiling proudly replies, "He was too chicken."

A REALLY Bad Parenting Day

Two days ago was one of the worst parenting days of my life.  I was under a lot of stress to complete a Christening gown by this morning; I had emotional issues with both sets of parents and inlaws, and Sarah Katherine and Christopher were being HIGHLY argumentative.  This was their first week with total free time and it wasn't going well.  I tell you all that not to justify my actions, but rather to set the stage.

 

Sarah Katherine and I had been sparring for several hours about attitude and tone.  It seemed to me that everything she said was done in a disrespectful way and she kept asking me to take her places (remember the Christening dress?).  Every time I came into the living room, she was sprawled on the couch which was irritating me as I rushed around doing laundry, picking up and answering questions in between sewing.  Basically she was being a typical teen and it was annoying me.

 

In walks Christopher who asks if he can go to a friends house.  We've already got plans to meet other friends at the pool which I explain to him, but being Christopher he doesn't let up and today I just couldn't take it.  I'll suffice it to say voices were very raised and I truly had to walk away as I was losing control.  Sarah Katherine comes to his rescue and says, "Mama please don't take how angry you are at me out on Christopher."  {Might as well have inserted please don't take how upset you are at other things out on me}  How is it that she is so perceptive and I am so out of control?  I can't remember what happened next, but she and I entered into another combat of words.  After a few minutes of silence she gets up and leaves the room.  Now here is where I could have saved a bit of myself and the awful parenting day, but no--I am on a roll and can't let go.  I sit there stewing and think, "She can't walk out on me in a huge huff rolling her eyes.  She's taking this separating herself to avoid arguments a step to far (a skill I taught her).  I get myself all worked up and storm into her room to give her a lecture on respect and kindness. 

 

I stand at the door and start talking, fully animated, finger pointing and "teaching  her a thing or two about how people should act" (I'm such a good example at this moment).  Sarah Katherine looks up from her book and says, "I'm sorry".  It's at this point in my tirade that I look down at what she's reading--the BIble!   I guess I was the one who needed to learn a thing or two.

 

It was a horrible parenting day, today is another day and another chance to get it right! 
Katherine

"Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind."  --Dr. Seuss

I Need A Pedicure

We all go into sensory overload and there is definitely a point where our brains can no longer hold information so things start spurting out--I experienced just that phenomena two days ago while visiting the dentist and orthodontist.



I take the children to the dental school here where they are seen by residents. There are two good reasons for this--the first is it's cheaper and the second and more important is they can all be seen at the same time, so it cuts down on waiting and multiple trips. Monday 3 of the children needed to have cavities filled and 3 needed to have orthodontic consults. Now the downside of the dental school and having them all seen at the same time, is that I have different doctors wanting to talk to me, sometimes at the same time. Keeping it all straight becomes a challenge.



So, three are getting cavities filled and one is seeing the orthodontist. I am back and forth between hearing about tooth decay in one, soft teeth leading to cavities in the other (this from William's dentist--William now thinks, "There's nothing I can do to prevent cavities, so why brush?" ) and having Sarah Katherine's mouth detailed to me and why she needs braces. [As an aside but one many will find humorous, the dentist says she is developmentally delayed in her teeth formation--I'm so glad to know there is something she's behind in! I found great humour in this; I don't think Gretchen, the orthodontist understood my laughter] On with the children--Christopher leaves the dentist and comes over to his orthodontist. Meanwhile, Gretchen begins to lay out the cost for me--when and how much each payment is due etc. I am seeing huge dollar signs--this is an expensive month with tuitions due and now deposits for teeth. I am listening to her, but I'm also creating in my mind how I'm going to put a positive spin on this for Chris. I am now summonsed over to Christopher's orthodontist, Thomas, who is explaining the need for an expander before braces and which teeth have roots where, the need to get it started quickly and on and on--you can see I'm heading into sensory overload as we speak. To add to the confusion, the children are milling about asking random questions like, "where are we going next week?" and "do you know what I want for Christmas?" (my answer "braces!") Thomas completes his explanation and we are now talking the dollar signs--I'm feeling very weak but smiling politely and nodding my head--onto William and I'm thinking I'm in the homestretch.



William's orthodontist, whose name I cannot remember, is tall and gorgeous with piercing eyes. For me to say that, it's got to be true. I am not a woman who goes ga-ga over "gorgeous men". I didn't hang pictures of stars in my room as a teen and most of the time don't think much about it. But this time the first thought I had walking over was "he's gorgeous" and to top it off, he was funny, engaging with the children and nice. No name gorgeous orthodontist starts telling me about William's "issues" and then proceeds to tell me we have 3 options--2 good and 1 so so. I should have stopped him there. I was already filled to capacity with information and now he wants to not only give me more, but give me extra that I will later have to delete from my mind. Truly I am listening, but a) I'm thinking non stop about the money and b) I can't look him in the face--remember those piercing eyes? I turn into my soon to be teenage daughter and keep looking down--here's the brain spurt--Dr. Gorgeous is talking in detail about my son and I look up from my sandal feet and say, "I need a pedicure." I have never been one of those women who can stop a man dead in his tracks or speech, but I finally have a good idea of what that feels like. He looks at me and says, "now or later".

I would like to end there--it's such a good ending, but I couldn't stop there. I now have to continue to humiliate myself and my children--the only thing that got them to stop talking and stare incredulously was me telling Dr. Gorgeous I need a pedicure! The two good options are now re-explained to me. The first is to place 4 braces on his top and bottom teeth as holders until all of his permanent teeth are in and then move him into real braces (think double money) or put a tongue bracer in for a year to save room and do the braces in 2-3 years. I know I should have just said we'll do the tongue bracer and then crept out with the very little bit of dignity I have left intact, but no I was on a role--there was no stopping my public humiliation. I say, "I think we'll do the tongue bracer. He plays soccer and is a goalie; there's really no guarantee he'll still have his front teeth in 2-3 years." All four children are dead silent; I sign the consent form and leave with no dignity and a gorgeous man who probably thinks I'm going to knock my children's teeth out to avoid the cost of braces!

The Doyles Serving in Church

Last night St. Mark's (which is still standing by the way) had 5 out of 6 Doyle's serving during the 5:30 service. I really like the Saturday evening service--it's Rite 1 and a little higher service than Sunday morning--for that reason and because we are being taken over by children later today (see earlier blog), we went to church last night. The other bonus to the evening is they are usually in need of acolytes and Caroline in particular LOVES to serve on the altar. (She does say she wants to be an athleticite--but we know what she means!)

Yesterday I emailed our rector letting him know we would be at Saturday evening service and if he needed acolytes my children would be there. I get an email back saying yes he needs them and would I be the lector--not a problem.

I need to fill you in a little bit about the service. Although it is Rite I, it is casual in dress and a small number of parishioners; usually 20-25. Being a bit anal, however, Chris and I still can't find it within us to let the children go to church in play clothes, so we had the boys put on collared shirts and khakis, the girls threw on sun dresses and we were off--notice I didn't mention we checked their shoes!

We arrive at church 10 minutes early and the children head to the back to put on their robes (now why didn't we think about the fact that it didn't matter what they were wearing underneath the robes). Charles, our rector, asked me if I would also be willing to be the chalice bearer--again not a problem. Chris and I are then sitting in the pew enjoying the fact that there are not children fighting over who's sitting where, knocking hymnals and prayer books to the floor and "whispering" constantly to each other. The prelude begins and Anne, the associate rector, asks me to collect the offering. I tell her that Charles has already asked me to be the Lector and the chalice bearer; she quickly scans the prayer book and says it's possible to do all three.

The procession begins with each child carrying a lit candle. Remember I said it was a high service? Incense is also being brought down the aisle which you would know if you watched William try to hold his nose and carry the light at the same time. The procession moves up to the altar where I FINALLY notice that William has on crocs, Christopher has on athletic shoes, and Sarah Katherine has on not only flip flops, but the oldest pair she owns which are yellow and green with some sort of bangles on them--so much for appropriate dress! (Caroline, bless her heart, had on cute white sandals!)

Now the children aren't entirely sure what they are supposed to be doing, and I do believe that Charles "created positions for them" to avoid sibling fighting. They do a good job--remember to bow before the altar and don't catch anything on fire; so far so good. It comes time to read the Gospel. The children head behind the altar (thankfully not seen) to reignite the candles to process down with Anne for the reading of the Gospel. Anne walks to the altar and lifts the Bible where she then stands ALONE for a full 3 minutes which in church equals eternity. I'm not certain what shenanigans were going on, but I think there may have been battles over who lights the match. They process down into the congregation, Anne begins to read the Gospel and Caroline and William begin to make faces at each other! Fortunately they were behind Anne and I'm not sure many people saw as we are all good Episcopalians and don't sit in the front. After the sermon and the offering, I move to the chancel sitting across from the children. Again, they are doing fairly well; minor skirmishes, but hey they are children. We go to kneel for prayers of the people and suddenly I notice something is not right. Sarah Katherine is leaning dangerously to the right and frantically whispering to the boys. The boys are "whispering" back (I heard every word) "Stop bossing us around". I have always known her bossiness was going to back fire. She is still tilting and clearly now in some pain. I figure out what has happened. When the children put their kneelers down, Sarah Katherine's rope belt got caught between the two. The boys are kneeling with all 200 pounds of their weight and she can't move, the robe is cutting into her neck and here we are at the most Holy part of the service! After the prayers the rope is unstuck and we move forward for communion. All goes well--after we have given communion to all who come to the altar, I turn around, finish the cup of wine and distinctly hear William say, "She gets to drink all the leftover!" My friend swears to me she didn't hear it but how could you not? I guess it's the bionic ears I have to hear my children.

The blessing is given and Sarah Katherine and Christopher proceed to the top of the altar to extinguish the candles--I think they are supposed to do it simultaneously but as most things in our family it appears to have become a competition in speed. Sarah Katherine finishes a full 4 candles before Christopher. I sit in my pew terrified that in his haste to catch up he will knock over the 4 remaining lit candles, set the altar on fire and well, you can fill in the rest. But that doesn't happen; they process out with William giving us the peace sign heading down the aisle.

We move outside where several people tell me how angelic the children looked and acted and we must be so proud--they are either blind and deaf, good liars, or I'm too neurotic! I'd like to go with one of the first two, but I feel certain it's the later.

The children come skipping out asking, "When can we do that again?"

A BIG Birthday Party

Christopher and Caroline have birthdays 2 weeks apart. Every summer we go through endless discussions about when to have each party, what to do for each party and on and on. So this year, I thought it would be a great idea to have a combined old fashioned birthday party. You know the kind where you play games in your yard, have cake and ice cream, and send the children home? Not the kind where you spend exhoribitant amounts of money on all the bells and whistles that everyone forgets anyway--I mean it's all about the goody bag (which we are also doing without this year). Well as we are talking about this, I tell them to just make a list of people they want to invite. So they do--27 in all (minus my own lovely 4 offspring). It seemed like a long list, but here was my thinking a) we've just moved here and are trying to make friends b) I'm cutting the cost by having it at our home and NOT serving any meals and c) it's summer so tons of people will probably be out of town. ONLY A IS TRUE!

The birthday party is in two days, invitations have been out for two weeks and NOT ONE person has regretted! You've got to be kidding me--don't you people go on vacation? It's 2 weeks until school starts; doesn't anyone want to work one last trip in? Alright, I can handle 31 children (7 are related 4 of mine and 3 cousins so they don't really count), but then I find out the next bit of information. We had people over last weekend (and I think I've truly made a friend) and they were telling us about "birthday party rules in Louisville". These people are not from here but have lived here for 10 years-and for the record they think these rules are weird too! So they tell me that most birthday parties they have attended with children the same ages as ours, HAVE PARENTS STAYING!!! Are you kidding me? Keep in mind the youngest child will be 8--what are these people thinking? Two hours of FREE entertainment for your children who have been out of school for 10 weeks and are "bored" and you want to stay? I would be barely slowing the car down and watching mine hop out into the birthday blast as I sped off for a little bit of FREEDOM!



Now I can look at this two ways, first, I am trying to meet people and make friends. But be real, I'm going to be running around supervising games, giving people drinks, cutting the cake--I'm not making friends here. The second is --I now have to go back out to buy soft drinks and snacks for people who WANT to stay at a birthday party (in the heat). Well, I think I'll combine the two--potential friends (whose only known flaw is they want to stay at children's parties) will be here drinking soft drinks and eating snacks that I have to find time to go out and buy. I'll let you know how it turns out!

And there's even a gift

First please forgive all the background information, but it's important so that you know my frame of mind by the time evening came around.

Yesterday morning started out no crazier than any other--Christopher to football camp at 8, Sarah Katherine to ballet camp a bit early so that I could get to the dentist by 10 (keep in mind none of these places are close). And yes, William and Caroline did have to go to the dentist with me where they watched a continuous feed of how to brush your teeth and what happens to your gums if you don't. From there we scoot to the grocery store and to the gas station where I've earned 10 cents off a gallon. One more grocery store for seafood and then to pick Christopher up at 12. At this point I let the children know that I have a doctor's appointment that afternoon and they are going to have to go because Sarah Katherine will still be in ballet camp. (I already knew I would be late to get her so I left her with $10 and instructions to walk to the local coffee shop, read and wait.) Back to the story--you can imagine the groans that went up from all three. So, I tell them if they want to call Grandma and see if they can swim there while I'm gone that will be fine. Three cheers for Grandma!

I quickly do two loads of laundry, straighten the kitchen, find addresses for invitations to Caroline's and Christopher's birthday party and at 2:00 we're off to Grandma's. The cousins are there which makes it quite lively! I drop the children and head downtown to the doctor. I've been waiting for this appointment for 6 weeks. Finally I'm going to know the source of all my stomach pain--he's going to fill me in on all the tests--I'm as eager as I've ever been to see a doctor. But alas, it's not to be. Even after an appointment was set, a letter with the appointment on it was sent, and the previous day I received an automated call reminding me of the appointment, I sign in to discover that the doctor is out of town and someone forgot to let me know! Instead of being able to just leave and chalk it up to everyone makes mistakes, I am asked to wait for 25 minutes (note parking meter running) when finally I am told that they will fax my records to the doctor and he will call me. Back into the car and head out to get Sarah Katherine. We go back to Grandma's and though I had intended to not stay long--we did. Caroline and Grandma had run to the Valumart for a few things which included a pair of pink wire rimmed sunglasses for Caroline (now that detail is important). We had a great time laughing and playing by the pool--Grandma and my children were playing poker--interesting! Sarah Katherine is green with envy about the sunglasses. She has gone through 3 pairs in the last 4 months and apparently sunglasses are a must as an accessory for a soon to be 13 year old. Even more enticing is the fact that they are $15 sunglasses on sale for the low price of $1.99. Finally at 5:30 I realize that we must go home as Chris will be there soon and I've got to make dinner. Into the car we head--now for the real story.

As we get in the car Sarah Katherine pleads that we stop at Valumart (makes it sound like it's on the way home, but it's not). Fine, I say but you are to run in get them and run out. I completely forgot it's 5:30 and what Valumart was going to be like at that time. As we are waiting (for 22 minutes) I check our messages at home. There is a call from our neighbor inviting Caroline to go with them to their cousin's 4 year old birthday party. Please call us back and let us know the message says, but it doesn't give me a time for this shindig. I try calling both the home number and the cell phone but no answer. Since it is now 5:58 I assume they have left. Caroline is upset, Sarah Katherine feels a bit guilty but hey she's sporting new sunglasses! We arrive home to see the neighbors in the yard and to be told the party is not until 7:30 but they will leave at 7. Can Caroline go? Sure I reply--I'll get her some dinner (it's 6:11) and send her over. Into the house we go with Caroline saying what will we give her? At this point my eldest daughter's reasoning kicks in and I hear her whispering, "Caroline, just be happy you get to go. There's no way Mommy can go out and get a gift and get you dinner in 45 minutes" (actually I think to myself we're down to 37 minutes). But not wanting to disappoint my child, I sneak down to the basement where I have a drawer that used to be full of emergency gifts. Actually they are gifts that I find on sale over time and buy them up. I have not restocked this drawer since we moved back to the States. I dig in there behind the unfinished sewing projects and behold there is a small purse! Based on the price tag I assume I bought it to give as an adult gift, but it was back in 2001 so I'm fairly certain it's out of style, but not for a four year old! I also find a $1 jump rope which I tuck in there. Up the stairs to the girls and I ask Sarah Katherine to wrap it--Caroline smugly looks at her and as I leave the room I hear, "I knew she'd have a gift for me!"

Caroline shovels down some spaghetti and skips out the door with a lovely wrapped gift (thank you sunglass clad preteen). At least for one of my children I am still the mom who can do anything! (Now off to restock that drawer!)

Big Dreams

Several weeks ago we told our children that if they earned a full scholarship to college we would buy them a car. (I think we'd be coming out way ahead!) This has sparked a HUGE interest in cars, gas mileage, the rise of gas prices, planning and this morning questions about MRSP (no, I don't have the answer to most of these questions including what the heck is a MRSP?) I'm so glad my sons think I am so knowledgeable about cars, but truly I can pump gas (when I have to), check the oil and call for help with flat tires. But, on to my sons' big dreams!

William has decided to get a full soccer scholarship to UVA. Now as an alum I am thrilled with his choice of schools, but it's also a top 10 soccer school, so it's going to take a lot of work and determination. I'm not going to crush his dreams but at some point he should probably consider a fall back. Christopher, on the other hand, is having a very difficult time. He has been AGONIZING over what to do--should he accept a basketball scholarship to University of Louisville or should he play football for the University of Georgia? He's very concerned about this. The only larger concern in his life right now is what to do if the University of Kentucky offers him a scholarship. He claims he won't take it--I'm thinking he should probably spend less time worrying about these things and more time studying! But since I don't even know the gas mileage for a smart car, he's not listening to me!

Was Golf Invented Yet?

Christopher received a set of golf clubs for his birthday and he now wants to frequent golf stores daily. Of course his sidekick William always tags along. There is a wonderful little store run by two more mature gentlemen that is right next to Sarah Katherine's ballet studio. This has made having to go pick her up and always wait much less excruciating for us all. So, the boys go to Golf Galaxy, talk to the men, and put on their astroturf.

These men are truly wonderful people and answer all the boys questions from "which glove is the best" to "how do I hold this club?" Yesterday one of the gentlemen said to the boys, "I think it's great you're learning to play golf so young. I didn't learn until I was much older and it made it more difficult." William responds by asking, "Was golf not invented when you were a little boy?"