It kept coming back to Ross....

"UGHH!" said Caroline as she threw herself and her back pack in the front seat after school yesterday.  (And trust me the throwing a 5' 10" body around plus an oversized backpack certainly makes an impression on the driver. I gripped the steering wheel as the car shook a little.)  Rachel calmly got into the back seat bursting into uncontrollable laughter.  It is always a risk asking Caroline how her day was--you never know what antics have happened, but when her best friend is in hysterics, you can pretty safely assume you're not going to get a G rated answer.  But I asked anyway...

"The day was fine until the end," started Caroline.  "Then Garrett decided he wanted to pickpocket my backpack, so he reached into the pocket and pulled out a TAMPON!  Then he was embarrassed when he realized what it was so he threw it across the floor."  Rachel is now doubled over in laughter trying desperately to breathe as she says, "And Caroline ran over there to pick it up without her backpack so she had to carry it back in her hand!"  Caroline, "I had to go get it--Mama you tell me they're expensive, plus I need to always be prepared.  But then Garrett wanted to talk to me.  Really?!?!?!?"  "I'm sorry," I said, "That does sound like a bad way to end the day."  "Oh no," interrupted Caroline, "That wasn't the bad part.  The bad part was I had another fight with Ross."  "Caroline," I tried to calmly say, "You have to leave Ross alone.  He's a senior; he doesn't want to deal with you."  Caroline abruptly turned her body to face me (well as much as you can turn a 5' 10" body in a seat belt) and with complete annoyance  she shrieked,  "HE STARTED IT!!"  I was having a very hard time believing a senior boy started an argument with an 8th grader, so I asked the question...  "Well," Caroline said as she settled down in her seat, "He walked by me and gave me a mean look so I said, 'Why are you always looking at me mean?' and then I said to Gingi (her nickname for another senior boy), 'Make him stop being mean to me all the time.' so Gingi told him to leave me alone (well he used some words you don't like but you get the point.)  And then I said, 'why are you so mean?' and he said because you're annoying.  So," continued Caroline without taking a breath, "I asked him how I was annoying. And he said like when you just walk up to random senior boys and hold their hands.  Can you believe it Mama?  He's holding what I did last semester against me?"  While Caroline was now forced to take  a breath so she didn't pass out I was desperately trying to come up with an answer---last fall she would walk up to random boys and hold their hands as they walked down the hall.  There was a part of me that was horrified, a part of me that was amused, and honestly a part of me that secretly envied her self confidence.  "Well," I said, "Maybe not all the boys thought it was as funny as Gingi did."  Caroline had me so befuddled now I was using the nickname!  Caroline, "Like I told him--you shouldn't hold what I did last semester against me; I was so much less mature."  I was trying to stifle my laughter as I said, "Maybe you should just leave him alone." "I will when he stops giving me mean looks." Clearly she is so much more mature.  Lord have mercy...

Later that afternoon SK and I were catching up on her day.  "Can I just go ahead and click this accept button for UVA?"  "ABSOLUTELY!" I exclaimed.  Now I was ready to talk about choosing dorms (definitely Old Dorms), room mates, colors etc but instead I heard, "I heard Ross and Caroline got in another argument today."  "How in the world did you hear about it already?  You go to a totally different school and it JUST happened?"   SK, "It happens all the time and they both start texting me telling me how annoying the other one is."  I could only shake my head as I tried to figure out a way to not go to the lacrosse games--it was so cold and windy.  SK reading my mind, "If you don't go you'll feel guilty and never get over it.  You'll keep telling yourself how you aren't seeing them for a whole week, what a terrible mother you are,  and next week will be miserable for me on the cruise."  I wanted to comment on how she was making it about her, but she had a point and so I left wondering if I needed a disguise so Ross' parents wouldn't recognize that I was the mother of the annoying 8th grader who fortunately didn't want to go.

After the game we all went to dinner where we watched basketball and excitedly talked about our different spring break plans.  "You know Mama, a lot of people are going to Panama City and that place is wild."  Christopher informed me.  "One of my teachers told me that 60% of people between the ages of 15 and 18 years old get in some type of trouble down there."  I thought about asking how you could possibly collect that data but I was also relieved that none of mine were going there whether the survey was statistically significant or not.  I really should have turned it into a stats lesson because SK pipes up, "Yeah last year a bunch of girls came back from Panama with chlamydia."  "Chla what?" asked Caroline  "An STD" SK answered matter-of-factly.  Caroline, "That would be awful to have some disease you couldn't even pronounce."  Now while I was trying to get my head around that comment and turn this into a health lesson stressing that not being able to pronounce it would be the least of your problems Christopher interjected, "You know how bad our defense has been lately?"  I must have looked as perplexed as I felt; all I could think was this conversation was going somewhere related to the saying 'slipped one past the goalie' (so I really am a 15 year old boy at heart) because Christopher exasperatedly continued, "the lacrosse defense." (He secretly knows I'm a 15 year old boy at heart)  "Anyway, we haven't had much energy; have looked pretty dead.  So I told Ross (oh boy here we go again) that we needed to do the nay nay and he said, 'shut up Doyle' But then we did it and did you see how awesome we were tonight?  We had a whole new level of energy.  Now Ross has to admit I'm right.  We'll probably do it every game."  And now they are all demonstrating the nay nay (a dance) as I watched the glasses positive that one was about to go sailing off the table.  "He probably is annoyed with you because you're a Doyle.  He and Caroline got in another argument today." I explained.  At this William put his head in his hands.   "Please Caroline," he begged "you've got to stop.  Do you know how much hazing I'm going to get from him because of you?  It's going to hurt."  Caroline, "I can't let him get away with it.  Until he stops looking mean at me I'm not going to stop annoying him."  "Caroline," Christopher tried to explain, "William really will get hazed--he's a freshman."  Caroline looked around the table smugly and then directly at William and said,  "Guess you'll have to take one for the team--the Doyle team."

I am so glad it's spring break--I bet Ross is too.

And then the tampons fell out....

Today was quite the day...

It all started when my phone rang and a good friend said, "Don't panic if you look outside and see me hanging out around the truck I'm trying to fix the grill on the front and to figure out what's wrong with the tire."  This is an important detail--it's really the backdrop of the whole day.  The truck is sitting in the driveway because there is "something wrong with the tire" which is code language for "I don't know what the hell is wrong with it, but it won't drive so let's call Walt."  Bottom line, Boss wasn't driving the truck today.  Bottom line, no one was driving what they should have been....

Boss is working this week in way downtown for Catholic Social Services.  It's been a great week and a learning experience (he fell asleep at 7:30 pm last night with the words, "I need to get back to school; taking care of all these little kids is exhausting."  Welcome to my world for the past 18 years buddy!)  Anyway, we decided he needed to drive SK's volvo, she would drive Chris' acura (he's in Finland) and I temporarily drove my car--the nicest and newest--I am the Queen.  BUT, Boss is supposed to go camping tonight and the volvo might not make it, the acura might get stuck, so I said he should take my car.  Plus I knew the mother of the property would confiscate keys!  An aside, this was a small relief as when he asked if he could go out to the Howard's property for camping all I could think was "he's going to try to take his truck four wheeling and he doesn't know how!"  My wonderful husband thought I was being a little neurotic, but he didn't know me in high school...so back to today.  The plan was Boss and I would switch cars before his lax practice and the venture onto camping.

I had a wonderful coffee with a friend that went a little longer than I planned; I had to be somewhere at 3 and my car was on empty.  I had planned to fill it up.   I tried to call Boss--no answer.  I tried to text Boss--no response, and here's where it got interesting.  My neurotic 'I can't completely trust this child that I birthed self' kicked in and my finger found the find friends app before I could stop it.  It identified that he was in the park (what it failed to identify was the his school is also in the park--a fact I also forgot) and so I went into hyper crazy mom role imagining what he was doing in the park and started following the tracking ALL OVER.  As I was driving watching my 'miles to empty' settings go down imaging all the things he could be up to, I was also incessantly calling him--no answer.  Fifteen minutes later (and 10 minutes before I was supposed to be at my appointment) he calls, "Sorry I didn't answer I was driving."  I began to question, okay shriek, where have you been?  This is why we don't trust you."  "Mama," he calmly responded, "We had to turn in our journals, and then we went to qdoba."  Now, even though he didn't know that I had been zig zagging all over the place like a hamster on a habitrail (those of you who have been through Cherokee Park understand), I felt like I had to save face.  "I didn't give you permission to go to qdoba.  I need you to get my car; it needs gas, and I need to be somewhere. Your little sister is at school with a headache and needs to be picked up; if I'd known you were going to be there you could have gotten her.  I've sent your sister."  "Mama," my annoyingly calm child said, "How can I help?  What can I do to make this easier for you?  I'll meet you right now."  (By the way because I'd been following him we were only blocks apart--well maybe you should forget that part.)  I sputtered some more, told him I didn't have time to meet him,  but then came up with a plan--meet me at my appointment, get my car and my debit card, go get gas, and then leave my debit card at home.

True confessions here--the appointment was my therapist (I know I'm so introverted about what I share with the world that this is shocking to you that I would admit it).  I arrive and tell Becky that Boss is going to come get the keys.  As I prepare to settle in, debate whether or not to admit how neurotic I've been for the past 30 minutes--I mean who among us didn't take pit stops from one location to another when we were in high school?  The beauty for us over 40 was our neurotic parents didn't have an app to track us. Just then, Boss shows up and is POLITE!!!  No acting like he's embarrassed that he's picking up keys from his mother's therapist's office, just that annoyingly charming smile, and a "It's nice to meet you."  like he's meeting my long lost best high school friend.  Now she'll never believe what a s*** he can be!!!  But back to me..

My phone was dying so I borrowed her charger and then started telling her all about what was going on in my life, a husband that is constantly traveling, (he's in Finland right now),  a child puking in Alabama, a child with a concussion, a charming untrustworthy son, and SK acting like (can you believe it?) she wants to go to college--far away!  Not to mention a few other things I won't mention--I do have to keep some things secret.  Both of us were trying to ignore the phone that, while on silent,,was blowing up!  Session ended--I looked at my phone, said this better be serious and walked out--six missed calls from Boss and three from SK plus a voice mail.  "Mama, it's SK.  Don't panic but Christopher has been in an accident; he's okay but I have the car insurance in my car so I'm taking it to him."  I called Boss said I was on my way and then called SK.  "I'm sorry Mama but I forgot to put the insurance back in the car after my accident last week.  I know I should have; please don't be mad."  Me trying not to imagine the insurance rates climbing and climbing and climbing, "Did you take the insurance out of my car as well?"  "No."  "He's in MY car" I yelled.  SK, "What?  Why?  Why are we constantly changing cars around?  Why does he have your car?  This is so confusing. Do I need to even come?"  Me, "Just come with the papers; I'll meet you there."

I found Boss; he seemed fine; car doesn't look terrible, but I'm sure it's at least $1000 worth of damage.  "Dude, are you sure you couldn't find the insurance in here?"  "Mama, I have no idea what that looks like, but I looked through everything and didn't find anything that looks like insurance."  I opened the glove compartment determined to show him how completely inept he was and how much I knew.  As I opened the glove compartment many things fell out.  "Yeah Mama, that was the other great thing.  The cop walked up to my car, I opened the glove compartment and your tampons fell out.  That was fun to explain.  I can't find an insurance card but I have plenty of tampons."

SK arrived; insurance card given and then I realized said child with a concussion was still at school. Second whig out of the afternoon for me--GO GET HER!!!!  SK takes off; we finish the paper work. Christopher says, "My neck does hurt a little bit but I have to get to lacrosse.  The coach might make me run." My head is about to pop off as I yell,  "FOR BEING IN AN ACCIDENT!!!  THAT IS INSANE. (Policeman trying not to let me see his belly shaking as he silently laughs)  And what about your neck?"  "It'll be fine; don't worry.  I've got to go."  Well I certainly wasn't going to settle for that--I have a child with a concussion; all these injuries are  impacting my life!!!  We get the neck injury (or possible neck injury) into the accident report and I let him leave with many warnings about what to do if he feels worse, what not to do, and saying a silent prayer of thanks that the truck is stuck in our driveway and not able to go four wheeling (there was a small part of me that felt sorry he wouldn't have that fun--a VERY small part!)...

Keep up here; Boss is now in my car, SK is in the acura and I'm in the volvo station wagon with 174,000 miles on it.  As I'm driving home I call Chris, in Finland.  He already knows about the accident.  I'm doing everything in my power not to begin to beg, "Please dear God just come home."  Instead I look down at the dash board and say, "It says no oil pressure pull over what does that mean?"  Now Chris bellows, "IT MEANS THAT THE 2500 dollars WE JUST SPENT WERE A WASTE!"  Then he calms down and says, "We'll handle it on Tuesday when I get home."  (That would be before he leaves again on Thursday--do you hear me whining?)

SK and concussed child arrive home at the same time as I do.  Caroline, "What are we doing tonight?"  I said,  "I'm going to have drinks with Miss Jamie."  And I thought, "And I may never come home..."  Caroline, "I should come."  "YOU ARE 13!!!"  We come into the house.  SK, "You know today would be the  day that the house was locked up.  I came rushing home to get the insurance papers and all the doors were locked.  They're never locked!"  (That would be because no one except me ever locks the doors!)  "How did you get in?"  "I climbed through the window-what do you think?"  (Oh silly me, why wouldn't I think that, because that is a completely normal thing for anyone to do.)  I look over see Caroline popping ibuprofen and begin to lecture her about pushing herself with a concussion yadda yadda yadda.  Caroline, "I have a lot of homework; I'm stressed about it.  I can't let this go."  Me, "This is the time you want to start caring about your grades?  It's 8th grade--it doesn't count.  We don't care; let it go." (who is this crazy woman speaking from my mouth). "Mama, I do care. I've always cared.  I just don't act like" Caroline began nodding in SK's direction. SK opened her mouth I thought to defend herself and her neurotic grade obsessed self, but instead she says, "Something smells.  I think Avett pooped in the house.  You should find that; it smells awful."

Poop found, cleaned up, candle lit for smell, and I left for drinks.  It was a great day, and now it's over--oops, no it's not, still have to pick up Alabama puking kid at 1 am...

Beer, Bourbon, Dylan, and The Avett Brothers

Keep in mind this is being written by the mama who brings coffee/hot chocolate/ water to their beds and starts their cars in the cold, but who currently is not doing their laundry because she is on strike and the hold out waiting game has begun.  But this mama and her husband/partner in crime did hold out some things. There are a few things we didn't do for our children; there are some things we made about us and not them--music and movies.

Well that's half true--we (read me) said that I was not going to have those children that sat in front of videos all day, so I refused to allow anyone to give them to the children.  We did watch public television but videos--I was adamant.  That was until the week that three had the flu and I was pregnant and incredibly sick with the fourth.  After we'd watched our wedding video for the umpteenth time that day, I begged my neighbors to pleeeeeeeease loan us some videos.  (And yes I did have to eat crow to do it, but I threw it up anyway, so it balanced out...)  But you know the great thing about those endless hours watching our wedding video?  The children all know every person in them and they are still connected to them.  We have conversations and mention names of the people who have been a part of our lives for over 20 years, and they matter not only to us but also to the children.  And then there's music....

This was the one area where Chris and his stubborn streak played out (and for those of you counting and already realize my neurotic behaviors far outnumber Chris' quit reading or keep your comments to yourself!) Anyway, Chris put his foot down on what music was allowed in the house--no Disney sound tracks, barney sing-a-longs or any other "kiddie crap" (his words not mine). We did have Jerry Garcia for Kids, but that was the extent of his "giving in."  So now here's a little bit of confession--when he wasn't in the car, sometimes I gave in and popped a borrowed tape in (I couldn't buy it he would have known)--but especially on long road trips by myself sometimes giving in was the difference between driving us all into a ditch and happily singing along to "I love you, you love me." This probably helps explain why the children would ask, "Can't Daddy just fly and meet us there?" When he was in the car, Chris was the controller of the radio--NPR, sports, and music he chose. They whined, they begged, they pleaded, but he wouldn't budge.  The louder their protests became, the louder the radio became--a contest I could never quite figure out--why do we want to increase the noise?

Much of the time, they were happy.  Much of the time they could sing-along--every word to every John Prine song, Jimmy Buffet (even the inappropriate ones--I eventually did skip some of those). Caroline told her three year old teacher her favorite song was Beer Run--this was the same teacher who when she left the classroom to get a drink Caroline asked her, "beer or bourbon?"  Yep, that's Growing Up Doyle!  When Sarah Katherine was 3 all the fathers loved her because at birthday parties she asked for Dylan instead of Barney--she was often sent over to the more neurotic than me (or neurotic in other ways) mothers to make these requests.  (Child labor...)  Music was our hold out--and music is now part of what holds our family closeness together.  Chris, Sarah Katherine, and Caroline all play the guitar and mandolin; the girls and I play the piano; the boys have played a variety of instruments, and they all (myself excluded) have gorgeous voices.  We've always got music going in the house--sometimes a fight breaks out as we all try to connect our iphones to the blue tooth, but a little friendly musical competition never hurt anyone, right?

Yesterday Chris and Sarah Katherine drove to St. Louis--a daddy and his 18 year old daughter on a Saturday night--to hear The Avett Brothers.  On the way down they listened to the UVA/Notre Dame basketball game.  No radio battles, just a time of togetherness; a time of love--sometimes it's worth the hardline, sometimes, it's worth holding out.  Sometimes, that's what makes the memories.

The Basketball Genes WIn

Just over 20 years ago this football loving girl married a basketball fanatic.  It wasn't that I didn't like basketball--it just wasn't a sport our family played. (I think my little brother may have played one season of little league, and if I remember correctly he fouled out of every game.  He was a true Kanto--football through and through even on a basketball court.)  We Kantos lived and breathed football.  I got left at a UVA game when I embarrassed my date by knowing more about the calls and plays then he did.  I know I should have stopped arguing with him about calls, but hey I'm a Kanto and it was football!  I desperately wanted to play but my mother put her foot down and said no daughter of hers was going to wear shoulder pads--wonder how she felt in the late 80's when everything I wore had shoulder pads? We watched basketball, especially high school and UVA, but I don't know much about it.  I still don't understand the number positions--I get center, forward and guard--no matter how many times they try to explain it to me, I forget.   Anyway, we loved football but Chris and his family--well, they're basketball fanatics!  Every March whether we had money or not (mostly not), Chris found money in the budget to travel to either the Big East tournament or at least one round of the NCAA--made my sister nuts!  (I love you Mere for always looking out for me, but truth is my expenditures far outweigh his!)  This family was and is particularly nuts about Louisville basketball (a school where only their mother attended).  Watching a game with the Doyle men is truly an experiment in nature versus nurture.  They pace the same way, shake their heads the same way, hold their hands the same way--who knew?  (These traits have been passed down to all the male cousins as well.)  The one sport Chris and I were both passionate about was soccer.  We both played for over 10 years and were both goalies--here's our common bond.

Along came the first child who at two years old declared she was going to be a ballerina.  That was nowhere in our genes.  We tried to get her excited about soccer but she refused to play unless she could wear her soccer ball smocked dress and a bow in her hair.  She's stuck with dance and I am so glad.  Watching her never fails to bring a smile to my face and a tear (or many tears) in my eyes.  She did try cheering for football--but it wasn't passion--that was given away when every game she would ask me several times whether her team was on offense or defense.

Along came Christopher and he was passionate about basketball from the beginning.  He has played and done well in many sports, (at age five he asked the Commissioner of Mt. Lebanon little league football if he could play even though he wasn't six.  Said, "I think I'm tough enough what do you think?") also rugby, soccer, and lacrosse, but his heart pounds with basketball.  Like his daddy he can watch any game with any team at any time of the day or night.  He practices endlessly, and he is fiercely competitive.  (If he misses a foul shot in the game when he gets home he doesn't come in until he's hit 20 in a row--no matter the temperature.)

Along came William and our soccer loving goalie--now he plays some in the field as well.  He has played football, basketball and lacrosse, but his passion his soccer.  On the field or court he tends to remain calm and seemingly unpassionate, but don't let that fool you-he is extremely competitive and remembers every play down to the wire.  Like his brother he plays three sports now, but soccer remains his love--watching or playing.

And then came Caroline.  Okay all you Mamas of multiple (meaning over 2) children stand with me on this.  If she didn't ask to do something, well we didn't do it.  No extra signups for me.  This was about survival not exposure.  She potty trained at ballet studios and on fields, but as long as she didn't ask to play (unless she could be on the same team as her brother), I didn't say a word.  When she did play, well let's just say winning wasn't that important--or important at all.  In fourth grade Chris convinced her to play on the 4th and 5th grade team that he coached. (I was all for that--an activity were two were gone at the same time and I wasn't in charge of driving--) After she tried out and made it I told her how proud of her I was.  "Seriously Mama?" she answered, "Everyone knows I only made it because Daddy's the coach."  And no one disagreed.  Because it was a co-ed team she had to play a certain number of minutes every game.  Chris said he always held his breath and hoped the clock would run quickly.  He didn't know which way she'd dribble or what she'd do.

In fifth grade she got a little better--there was no way to go but up.  She moved onto her first middle school and made the team.  Again I congratulated her and she said, "I only made it because I'm tall. They think they can teach me to play basketball."  That year the team won the city championship and while she didn't get a ton of minutes, she did play in every game.  It used to make the boys nuts that she didn't play more and even more nuts that she didn't care.  Caroline just loved being on the team, cheering her teammates on, and having a good time.  Seventh grade came and her second middle school.  There were many games she never saw any action--other mothers would complain to me, but Caroline never minded.  "I'm not as good as the other girls," she would explain, "I wouldn't play me either."  This year was different....

Caroline grew to 5'10" this fall and grew out of her clumsiness.  She started every game.  During the first game she made every free throw and every time she made it she looked up in the stands and said, "Boss taught me how to do that."  Boss was SO proud of her!   Caroline entertains the crowd--not with her play but with her facial expressions and her antics--dances to the music, pretends she's a cheerleader and prances down the court talking to people in the stands.  Every once in awhile we see a huge competitive streak come out, but she mostly hides that behind her comedy.  (Hides it; doesn't mean it's not there.)  Last night was her final game in an annual middle school tournament.  Both boys played and won the tournament.  As they were announcing the All Tournament team, Caroline was horsing around with her teammates and not paying attention.  After they said her name one of her teammates nudged her and she ran over and got the trophy.  As I hugged her she asked, "What does this even mean?"  I love that girl!!

The absolute best part of the night--Christopher couldn't be there because he had a game. (Yes, you know I'm going to need mounds of therapy to get over the fact that I can't be in two places at once and Chris was out of town so I had to choose--Boss chose for me, "You've got to be at her tournament game, Mama. You can watch me Wednesday.)  Before he even got out of the locker room he texted me to see what her score was.  I told him about the All Tournament Team and he responded, "NICE--that's awesome"  Caroline walked into the house, William met her at the door and they did some sort of secret handshake basketball players dance.  Both boys had wanted to be All Tournament and neither was, but they were as happy for Caroline as if they had been.  "Mama," said Boss, "If she will just get a little more serious she could play at the next level.  That would be so awesome!"  (I'm a) not sure Caroline can be more serious and b) remember I know nothing about basketball so I have no idea, but I do know that has been a goal for Boss and his support of her...well let's just say I'm incredibly proud of him) And SK, "That's my little tall sister; she's awesome."

Guess the basketball genes win--maybe someday I"ll learn that number thing...
....

Boss is Officially the Tallest in the House

Last night it became official--Junior is taller than his daddy.  They stood back to back and although it is slight, there was no mistaking--he's got him.  This news was met with cheers from the Boss.  They were both standing in my very small kitchen, I turned to Chris and asked him to put something in the refrigerator.  "I'll do it," said Boss as he grabbed for it, "You might not be able to reach it."

"I can take you on now," he added as he grabbed Chris, "bring it on shorty."  They were both laughing and the wrestling turned to a hug.  As I glanced over at the Chris's  I saw love and pride in both their eyes. This was his son--his namesake, and he was becoming a man.  This was his daddy who never stops loving, supporting, and believing in him.  Yes he's taller, but not only that he is growing into the man we know he can be.

I suspect there will be many more short jokes abounding in our house!

PS--And then Caroline added, "And my boobs are bigger than Mommy's.  Grandma even told me I had big bosoms."

Anything Can Be Blamed on The Mama

Last fall Caroline's teacher reached out to us and said she had some concerns about Caroline's reading comprehension.  She was pulling a strong B, but the amazing, wonderful, intuitive Darcy Cleaver still saw signs that something wasn't quite right and she thought we might want to get it checked out. She told it to me straight-man I love that woman!   Chris and I have never been ones to put our heads in the sand when it comes to their educations and educational needs. You might even be able to say that one of us (the one with hair) spent a good deal of time being obsessive about it. Mrs. Gegner, Mrs. Waddell, and Mrs. Martin spent way more time with me than they should have had to as I reported every incident I saw of reversals with Christopher, William, and Caroline --would have had to with SK too except we didn't live in Virginia at the time.  I think as they saw me coming they were already starting the speech, "Developmental..." and I'm pretty sure they definitely sent up special prayers for the children of the neurotic mother. Anyway,we immediately scheduled testing for Caroline, told her what we were doing, but left it at that.  While we feel absolutely no embarrassment about the possibility of there being a learning issue (we are Doyles where learning differences are a badge of honor), we also were sensitive to the fact that she's a 13 year old middle school girl, so we told her she can just tell people she has some appointments or somewhere she has to be.  Shoot, I didn't care if she said she was sick except for the fact that she wanted to go to basketball practice that afternoon.

Thursday evening as we were driving to dinner Caroline piped up from the back seat, "Oh I told my classes I wouldn't be there tomorrow because my parents think I'm either stupid or crazy."  "Caroline," I started.. 

Caroline, "I also told them it could be because I was dropped on my head, but basically we just have to find out what's wrong with me."  

"Caroline," I continued, "There is nothing wrong with you we're just trying to figure out how you think..." 

"You think someone will really be able to figure that out?" Caroline interrupted again, "That's going to cost you A LOT of money.  And I hope they don't have any of those open response questions because those take too long and I don't want to have to write that much."  

At this Chris glanced over at me; we both have some suspicion that there might be a tinge of laziness and overly social that also hampers Caroline's reading comprehension.  "Anyway," Caroline continued, "I told them I'd let them know."  

"Caroline, there is nothing wrong with you and it's not about being stupid or crazy.  I'm curious though, why did you tell them where you were going?"

"Why not?" replied Caroline

Later that evening during Christopher's game she turned to her friend Kate and very loudly said, "You know I have to go find out what's wrong with me tomorrow."  As Kate tried to maintain her balance and not fall off the bleachers because she was laughing so hard I said, "It's just some reading comprehension stuff.  There not trying to find out what's wrong her."  Caroline again interrupted (I should really talk to her about that), "Yeah, they're not going to be able to do that; the test is only 5 hours.  It would take them WAAAY longer to make that list."  

Yesterday morning before taking Caroline to her testing I was with some other mothers.  One of them had been in the class the previous day when Caroline made her announcement.  "You know," she said, "I love that Caroline is being so open about this and in fact I think figuring out how you learn is important whether there is a "need" to or not.  I hope she knows how great this opportunity is--I tired to tell her yesterday and I'm going to try to tell her again."  (Oh honey, I try to tell her many things; I wish you luck with that.)  "And," she continued, "I hope that her openness gives others permission to be open." (Please not as open--Collegiate really couldn't handle that!)  But as I've thought about it over the last two days, I agree.  I do hope this gives others the courage to embrace who they are--their strengths and challenges--and to remove some of the masks they live behind.  I hope that if any of the students told their parents about it it gives them an opportunity to talk about either their own needs as learners or how to have compassion and understanding for different learning styles.  Because the answer to "why not?" should be, "Yeah, why not? There's nothing to hide or be ashamed of; we are all created as we are created and that in and of itself is good.

I picked Caroline up from her testing and asked her how it was.  "Some was easy; some was hard--no open response or science questions that was a relief.  The verbal stuff was pretty easy, but you didn't tell me I'd have to play with blocks!  Seriously Mama, you should have played with me more as a child.  I did terrible on that part because I never played with blocks.  I couldn't do it past four blocks. You should have spent more time playing with me."  Yep, anything can be blamed on The Mama.

The Flu Shot Failure

Yesterday morning started as most mornings--coffee, laundry, a little quiet time, and a run.  I was actually feeling pretty good..

As I was out running my music was interrupted by Caroline's ringtone.  "Mama, where are you?" I heard her quietly say.  "Out for a run--everything okay?"  A sob escaped her throat, "No, I feel terrible; my head hurts, my throat hurts, and my legs ache.  Please come home."  Uh oh--this can't be good.  She's up early and asking me to come home.  I headed straight home and my suspicions were confirmed as I entered the den.  There lay Caroline, no TV on, no phone in her hand (and I'm pretty sure it hadn't been surgically removed which I believe may be the only way to remove it),  she was just quietly lying there with tears streaming down her face.  I immediately took her temperature and it was rising to above 100.

As the daughter of a doctor, I learned early on that doctor offices have a great time making fun of people who call a)all the time and b) when it's just a cold, so I am programmed to never call before 48 hours of illness (unless there's asthma involved of course--learned that lesson the hard way). But I knew the flu could come on quickly and I knew they could prescribe tamiflu within the first 24 hours and I knew I hadn't taken Caroline to get a flu shot.  So I picked up the phone.

I began explaining to the receptionist that I don't usually call on the weekends, I don't usually call the minute the children are sick, I hate to bother her, and maybe we don't really need to be seen today but I just wanted to run it by her.  (I'm suspecting she was rolling her eyes and wondering why this crazy lady felt the need to unburden herself  as she was watching all the other lines lighting up with equally--maybe not equally-neurotic mothers. And by the way, it was her job to answer the phones--if these crazy parents weren't bothering her she wouldn't have a job.)  She pleasantly responded, "Sore throat?  Could be strep she should be seen." At this point I felt I should make a complete confession, "Could it be flu?  She hasn't had a flu shot."  DEAD SILENCE  Perhaps it was only a few seconds, but I felt like it was an eternity and that she was probably marking in large red marker on the front of our file "NO FLU SHOT AND IT'S DECEMBER"  Again pleasantly, but a little less patiently she replied, "You didn't get her a flu shot?  How old is she?"  "13" I responded wanting to add but she's 5'10" and outweighs me, plus she's kind of sassy and we're really busy--oh and did I mention I'm a priest? Anything you want me to do for you? Instead we made the appointment, and I was secretly relieved that I had to go to work and Chris would have to take her and get the stare that comes when the doctor learns your children haven't had their flu shots--yep, it's happened before.

As SK was driving me to my car I told her that if Caroline had the flu I would call her and she would need to immediately go get a flu shot.  "By myself?" she asked with a tone of utter astonishment and disbelief.  "Yes by yourself; I've got to go to work.  I have baptismal prep this morning."  (Probably with a baby who has had his flu shot.)  "I can't go by myself," she retorted with an accusing tone that seemed to say, what kind of mother are you that makes your child go get a shot by herself--oh yeah, the kind of mother that also doesn't take her children to get flu shots the day they come out.  "Sarah Katherine," I calmly said trying to regain any credibility I had as a preventive health care mother, "You are going to college in 9 months; you have gone to the doctor before by yourself.  And need I remind you your over 18."  "But," she humphed "It was never for a shot."

I returned home as the boys were getting out of bed.  I repeated my instructions to them about flu shots if Caroline was positive, and then I told Chris about making her appointment (leaving out the guilty pleasure I had that I wasn't the one taking her in)  As I got to the part about the long pause after the confession of not having had flu shots, Boss said, "You know that lady was probably thinking 'what a shitty mother--wonder if she even loves her kids?'"  He certainly knows how to heap burning coals upon an already guilt ridden soul--I couldn't even correct his language.  "Yeah," William added, "And didn't Pop remind you about that last weekend when he was here for Caroline's play?  I think he told you several times and stressed how important it was. And," he added just to punctuate the importance of the conversation, "he's a doctor."  Feeling very chastised I thought to myself, "Yeah he stressed over and over to get ya'll flu shots but apparently he didn't take quite the same amount of time with his advice on how NOT to have four children in four years and he certainly never taught me how to surgically close your mouths as you entered the teen years! Now that would have been useful advice.)  William continued, "I think even Babah told you the other day."  Oh the joys of having divorced parents--double the advice in double the time.  "Anyway," finished William, "I'm not going today; I'm not getting a shot on my birthday."  "You'll be lucky if you have another," I thought as I slunk out of the room.

The good news is that Caroline doesn't have the flu or strep--just a regular old virus.  (You know the kind that the nurses make fun of you for bringing your children into the office immediately upon the start of symptoms?)They tested her for both, "First they stab and choke you," she told me, "And then they scratch your brain sticking a long q-tip like thing up your nose all to tell you there's nothing they can do--just drink fluids. And now I can't even go to Owensboro for the birthday party--you won't let me." she added with an accusing tone.  I may not be good at getting my children flu shots, but apparently I am personally responsible for viruses.  Glad I'm responsible for something.

Guess who's going to get flu shots?