Halloween--Well it is Georgia/Florida

Every Halloween I remember with a smile, Halloween 2003.  The story actually starts in early September at the final St. Paul's in the Park Wednesday night picnic dinner.

I was in the middle of my "I know everything and I will judge everyone 30's" and that particular night I was waxing on and on about why people over use cell phones and how they really aren't needed.  My very patient and loving friends who had older children just smiled and allowed me to think I knew everything.  As I was in the middle of my soliloquy, we heard a scream and Caroline yelled, "Mama I can see William's bones!"  And that she could--William had fallen off the wall and well, let's just say it was one of those moments when you didn't look around and ask others whether they thought you should take him to the hospital.

Now Chris was still at work; Christopher was at football practice and I was trying to figure out how to get information to them.  Janie and Pam, both smiled, held out their cell phones and said, "Would you like to borrow this?"  As Fr. James was getting William into my car I ran up the hill to tell Sarah Katherine that I was going to the hospital and Miss Janie would take her home.  She responds, "Well I just hurt my foot.  I should go with you."  At this point in her life, SK was a bit melodramatic and liked a little more attention than she does now.  Really who could blame her--she had three younger siblings--I'm sure she did feel ignored, but that's between her and her future therapist.  Anyway, I briefly looked at it, said it was fine, got confirmation from Pam and Janie that I shouldn't worry about it and left for the hospital.

That night every time I called Chris he told me that SK kept complaining about her foot but he thought she was fine.  He was actually a bit annoyed she kept getting out of bed. William and I got home very late after having to have his arm surgically set; I was exhausted and morning came far too soon.  When Sarah Katherine got up she limped into the den in a very dramatic fashion.  In my mother of the year voice I said, "You know if your foot is broken you can't dance in the Nutcracker this year."  She looked up at me and said, "Do you think you can get your money back?"  And with that I loaded up the four children and headed back to the hospital.

X-rays were done and the doctor walked in, "I'm so glad you got her in right away.  She's broken her growth plate and needs to be completely non weight bearing.  I'm sending you right up to the orthopedist.  She may need surgery."  We left the room and headed to the elevator where I heard one nurse say to another, "That looks like a new cast on the little boy."  "Yes," said the other, "They were just here last night."  I pictured our charts with big red X's on them, and I kept glancing over my shoulder and quickening my pace as I was certain that at any moment a social worker would flag me down. I reminded the children that both breaks happened at the picnic in front of other people and were accidents--okay I was trying to make myself feel better.  I didn't.  As we headed upstairs I kept telling myself no one else at the picnic thought SK's fall  was serious--I still didn't feel better.

Fast forward one month and we had the first snow of the year.  Yes, in Pittsburgh it started snowing in early October every year we lived there.  Natives kept telling me how unusual it was--I wasn't buying it.  Anyway, SK was still on crutches and William was still in a cast.  I was at Bible study and received a call from SK's school (yes, I now had a cell phone).  "Sarah Katherine slipped in the hall and I think there may be something wrong with her arm." said the nurse.  So again, I gathered up the three younger children, rushed over to the school, and headed back to Children's.  (There was a very good reason they were able to begin funding another wing while we lived in Pittsburgh.  Construction stopped when we moved to Virginia--seriously.)  Sure enough, her arm was broken.  Seems her crutches got wet while on the playground and she slipped coming back into the hall. So now I had an 8 year old who was non-weight bearing with a broken arm, a six year old, a four year old and a three year old.  People wonder why my biceps are so toned.  We left the hospital and headed straight for Toys-R-Us where I could both assuage my guilt with new toys and buy a wagon.

When Chris got home that evening he immediately said he would cancel his trip with his good friend Jeff Ball at the end of the month.  I really wanted him to be able to go; he doesn't ask for much--to attend at least one Georgia football game a year and the Big East Tournament--I couldn't bear to ask him to stay.  So I called fairy godmother Anne Rowland and asked her to fly out for Halloween.  Absolutely she said.

Halloween was on Friday that year.  Anne arrived and we took the four children bundled in coats (still snowing) out to trick or treat.  I had very wisely bought a double size wagon--plenty of room for candy bags and chubby three year old tired legs.  We began trick-or-treating.  Halloween in Virginia Manor in Pittsburgh is an experience.  It is packed with families and there are pick-up trucks driving around with kegs in the back--welcome to Pittsburgh!  You're no longer living in the Bible belt.  Standing outside of one house we began a conversation with several parents--mostly men--Halloween does seem to be a "daddy holiday."  One of the men we knew and he asked where Chris was.  I explained that he was at a football game.  The man seemed quite surprised, "He went to a football game instead of being here for Halloween?"  At this SK,my usually extremely respectful child to every adult other than me, spoke up with a somewhat incredulous tone that clearly said how could anyone  be so stupid and even question this, "Well it is Georgia/Florida."

We propped her up well for the picture!

She has no filter but she has a heart

Life with Caroline is interesting to say the least.  If she thinks it, she says it.  Within the four walls of our house, it's pretty hysterical, but we sometimes have to remind her (again and again and again) that while we know she doesn't have a racist, sexist any "ist" bone in her body--she honestly is the most inclusive person I have ever met-- sometimes the way she says things could be taken wrong.  For example--I was going to the beach and one of my best friends, Mac, was going to come stay one night with me.  Mac wanted me to ask Chris if he was okay with it as it would just be the two of us--Mac is a true southern gentleman.  Here's the conversation:

Me:  "Chris, Mac wants to make sure you don't mind if he comes to the beach for a night with me?"
Chris: "Not at all.  I'm glad you get to see him."
Caroline:  "Seriously?  Why are you even asking, Mac's gay.  I mean you're cute and everything but not cute enough to make a gay man straight!"

That's the background on Caroline.  The other thing that makes Caroline interesting is  her conversations which are  complete stream of consciousness--attempting to connect them, while amusing, is pointless.  So here's the conversation that happened in our kitchen two nights ago in the course of 10 minutes.

Caroline, "I need to go to a jeanologist."  It was evening, I had already had a glass of wine, so my defenses were down and I made the mistake of trying to make sense of what she was saying.  I thought perhaps that was a new fashion word or a new shopping service so I say, "Caroline we just bought you jeans.  We're not getting anymore right now."  Caroline looked at me as if I was completely ignorant (let's be fair she's 13, she often looks at me that way).  She responds, "I don't know what you're talking about but I'm talking about the doctor you have to go to once you start menstrating."  (spelled as she said it).  I looked over at SK who gave me a look which said, "How are you going to handle this one?"  I decided to investigate--"Why do you need to need to go to a gynecologist?"  "I think that's what they told us in sex ed," responded Caroline, "I can't remember.  I wasn't paying much attention because I was trying not to laugh."  She was already losing interest in this conversation so I just finished with, "We'll stick with the pediatrician."

She may have been finished with that conversation but not with talking.  "Mama you know what I want for my 20th birthday?"  Again, the wine and late evening time interfered with my judgement and I had to ask, "What?"  Caroline, "A cake that says 'Congratulations you beat the teen pregnancy statistic.'"  As I was wondering whether there was a connection with the previous conversation--a big mistake as she's already moved on in conversation.

"I have to make 5 more of these bracelets--five white links and one black."  This time it was SK who fell prey and asked why.  "Because the fat five have become the fat five plus one."  SK, "What is that?"  Caroline, "My friend group--and she proceeded to name them."  One of these girls is African American.  I gasped and wondered whether to address the calling themselves the fat five plus one or the race comment; it won out. "Caroline, you cannot make bracelets like that.  That might really hurt ________'s feelings."  "Mama," responded Caroline in a very exasperated voice, "It was her idea.  It's not like she doesn't know she's black."    And with that I moved onto my second glass of wine.

Last night the conversation was a little bit different.  We were talking about Halloween and the group of friends she had coming over for chili and trick-or-treating.  She named one little girl who is not Caroline's siblings favorite.  There's been some drama-shocking with middle school girls. I wasn't thrilled either as I have recently found out the mother of said girl has been talking about Caroline and frankly telling untruths.  (Chris talked me down off that cliff and wouldn't let me call the mother or the school--that's a totally different story.)  Caroline also knows about those conversations and she filled SK in.  Now my children can fight with each other--I sometimes wonder if WWF is filming in my house--but if anyone else says or does anything watch out.  That is particularly true with our 5'10" "baby".  First time I put her in timeout, the other three children went with her--they were in tears (she was not).  SK was furious!  "She is not welcome here.  How can you let her come over when her mother is saying those things about you which a) aren't true about you and b) are true about her daughter!!!  This is not okay--stand up for yourself."  And here is where we see both Caroline's lack of filter and gigantic heart. "SK, she cannot control her mother and what she says anymore than we can control Mama.  I'm not going to not be her friend because her mother is a lying b***."

I know I should have corrected her language but I was too busy being amazed at her mature, loving heart--

We All Have Our Ways to Say Goodbye

Two weeks ago Sarah Katherine was leaving to go to South Carolina to visit her "bestie."  The boys went with me to take her to the airport.  On the way Christopher says, "We're just dropping her off right?  We don't have to go in?"  Sarah Katherine looked over at me trying to act very confident, I'm her Mama I could see right through it, and said, "If you don't have time you don't have to; I'll figure out how to get my ticket."  (This child has flown by herself for years as well as internationally; I suppose we all have our fears.)  "Christopher," I say, "We have plenty of time to take her in and still get you home.  We are all going in."  Christopher responded with a grin, "Probably means you'll make me carry her suitcase too."

So we all four went in (Christopher rolling her suitcase), checked her bag and got her ticket.  In years past I have often been allowed to walk her to the gate--guess since she's now 18 no one offered that.  After checking in we headed for security.  William carried her backpack and Sarah Katherine held my hand as I gave her one instruction after another about getting through security. "You'll have to take off your shoes; take your computer out; empty your pockets" All things she has known for years, but it felt better to be talking. Christopher, having walked over to Burger King, ranted on and on about how they should have a dollar menu just like other "normal" fast food restaurants; "this is ridiculous.  Why would anyone buy food there?  Why isn't there another fast food restaurant here?  This is just wrong!!!"  (It's funny that the price of things matter when they're spending their own money.)

We approached the line, William handed SK her backpack, and I launched into my regular speech as the children rolled their eyes and lip synced along with me,  "Have fun; remember who you are; be true to yourself."  As this was Sarah Katherine's first college trip alone I added, "Don't screw up--you have the world at your feet; do not give colleges a reason not to take you.  You have worked hard to have the choices you are going to have; don't blow it."  Then I took her face in my hands and kissed her forehead.  We both had tears in our eyes, although I tried to hide them.  I hugged her fiercely,  smiled at her and sent her towards the line.  She started down  continually glancing over her shoulder.

William, "Mama you're crying!!!!"  Christopher, "Of course she is.  You know Mama, this time next year she won't be going for just a weekend."  "Yep," added William, "She'll be long gone."  (I just love my sensitive caring boys...)  "Let's go, "  I snapped.

We all turned one more time to look at SK; just as we did she again looked over her shoulder.  She was almost to the front of the security line, the place was packed and Christopher yells out, "Hope you remembered your emergency tampons!!!"  He turned to me and said, "Now we can go."

Radius and Diameter

Do not read this if you want it to end well; do not read this if you even want to understand how this conversation happened because I know neither.

Homework is often done at the dining room table; all four children sitting there working on their own assignments, but every once in awhile someone will ask someone else for some help. The other night only the babies (yes even at 13 and 14 we still call them the babies) were in the room and this is what I hear.

William, "I have a hard time remembering the difference between radius and diameter."

Caroline, "Radius is the measurement from outside to your nipple; diameter is all the way across with your nipple in the middle."

Something tells me William will never confuse those terms again.

The Way to Clear a Room

Last week my bonus sister gave birth to her first child. The whole family was so excited when she went into labor; I kept them up to date on what was going on. At noon I told them her water broke; at 2 I said, she's three centimeters dilated, and at 6 she was up to 5.  At 10:10 I announced she was pushing and then Everett was here!!!  There was never any discussion about what any of that meant, so I assumed they all understood--well so much for assuming....

This weekend three of the four were away where a good friend also is close to delivering.  SK was updating me on how our friend was doing.  "She's 3 cm's and ______________ kept saying, maybe we should go."  I asked, "was she having contractions?"  Christopher, "what's that?"  That should have been my first clue that this conversation was not going to end well.  "Contractions," I began to explain, "is the pain you have as you're dilating."  Christopher, "So how do they measure that anyway?  What kind of ruler do they use?"

Without thinking, again big mistake, I hold up two finger and say, "they use fingers to measure."  And then the room cleared.