Merry Christmas

The presents are all opened, Les is back at work, and I have a little time to sit back and reflect.
This year we decided to keep things simple.  Let's begin with the tree.  This was our monster kitten's first exposure to a Christmas tree.  We knew that he would be filled with a sense of wonder and adventure as soon as we put up the tree.  So, we gave him a couple days to explore the bare tree and get to know it.  He didn't disappoint!  Consequently, we decided to hang only nonbreakable ornaments this year.

Heinz in the treetop

Cassie told all the cats to be good or Santa wouldn't remember them!

Cassie made one last attempt - she read Heinz the story of the nativity.

Right after Thanksgiving, the girls began perusing the toy catalogs.  Aunt Susan had sent them several that promised to be full of creative and brain-stimulating toys.   In early December, Lacey presented me with her list - a lined piece of notebook paper, filled from top to bottom.  I suggested she go back and shorten the list a bit.  Lacey promptly returned, having scratched out a few items.  I told her to spend a couple days thinking and then to make a list of the five things she really wanted.  Eventually, I studied her list.  Number one was something called, "Zing Shot."  Hmmm, this sounded like some kind of rebound toy.  I paged through the catalogs until I found the circled item.  "Whoa!," I exclaimed to Les.  "Lacey is asking Santa for a slingshot.  I sure hope Santa uses his common sense."  I continued down the list.  Item number two was called, "Kids Take Aim."  Not having learned, I mused that this sounded like some kind of architecture set.  I flipped through the catalogs again and was startled to discover that this was a bow and arrow set.  Well, at least Lacey was consistent.

Les and I made a solo flight to the toy store one evening.  The first thing he picked up was a rapid-fire Nerf gun.  "How 'bout this for Lacey," he asked.  

"What will you do when she shoots you in the face?" I replied.

"Take it away, of course," said Les.

"Then," I recommended, "don't waste your money!"

As we watched frantic customers shoving through the aisles and grabbing at toys, we decided we really didn't want to be a part of that.  We ended up going home and ordering a Kindle for Cassie and a Nintendo DS for Lacey.

In mid-December, the girls helped with the toy sorting and gift giving at church.  The adults marveled at how efficient the girls have become.  But, after all, the kids are the toy experts.

Sorting toys at church

The weekend before Christmas, the Dale City fire station brought Santa aboard a fire truck to visit Gaby.  Because Gaby has been receiving chemotherapy, she has to stay at home to protect her immune system.  Santa's arrival was a very special treat for the neighborhood children too.

Santa and Mrs. Claus

As Christmas break approached, I felt a little frantic.  I still had baking to do, a house to clean, and gifts to wrap.  I just wanted to get through the last couple days of school and tackle everything that waited at home.  I had agreed to let my students have a party the last day before the break.  I was very impressed with their resourcefulness.  They called around town to find a restaurant that would have pupusas and saltenas prepared by 9:00 a.m.  Then, they tasked the one student in the class who has wheels to pick up the food.  This student owns a motorcycle, not a car.  So, I'm not sure how he managed to get all the food to school.  The students presented me with a card that read, "For a Priest Who's a Special Blessing."  Clearly a little something got mixed up in translation.  But, the sentiment was genuine.  

Later, I was telling Lacey about the party.  "But," I concluded, "my students are sad about the holiday break."

"Why?" asked Lacey, thinking my students must be insane. 

"Well," I explained, "most of them don't have family in the U.S.  They will miss their friends and teachers at school."

"I think you feel sad for them," Lacey said.  This became the "wow" moment for me, when I heard the angels singing and felt the heat from the star that was shining so brightly.  Lacey had demonstrated genuine, sincere empathy!  This was my greatest Christmas gift.

We spent Christmas Eve with Gladis, Julio and Gaby.  As you can see by our masks, we were working hard to protect Gaby from any possible sniffle or cough, because she was preparing for surgery on the 26th.

Cassie and Gaby playing

Me with Gaby

The girls setting up the table we got for Gaby

Gaby thought Les was Santa.  She kept pointing at him and saying Ho! Ho! Ho!

Gladis, Gaby and Julio

Lacey and her electronics

Cassie and her electronics

 The girls responded well to our desire to keep things simpler.  Cassie wrote and illustrated poems for us.  Lacey used her alphabet beads to make a necklace that spelled Cassie's name.  "Now," Lacey explained, "all of your teachers will know your name!"  The name thing has been so troubling for Cassie that I even blogged about it.  How very clever of Lacey!

Yesterday, Gaby had her surgery.  The doctor removed the tumors from her kidneys and was able to save the remaining healthy pieces of her kidneys.  We are now anxiously waiting for her kidneys to heal and start working.  Gladis and Julio are grateful for all the prayers from friends and family members.

Gaby wearing the hat that Cassie made for her

Diary of a Wimpy Parent, Part 1

For the past two years, we fretted over Cassie's transition to middle school.  We read a number of series about middle school students: sixth graders being tortured by eighth graders, girls being tortured by boys, and girls being interested in boys.  I continually reassured Cassie.  "It's not that bad," I told her.  Or, "Yes, you will have to deal with boys.  But, with practice, it won't be that bad!"  Of course, we assured her over and over again that she would never become a wimp.  Little did I know that I would be the one who would be forced into becoming A WIMP!!

A couple of weeks ago, I was picking Cassie up from a birthday party.  Another mother approached me and said that her daughter has been coming home from school upset every day because a teacher calls my child, "Quesadilla."

"Really?" I asked.  "I think Cassie would probably have mentioned this to me.  Do you think maybe the teacher is just mispronouncing her name a bit?"

"Oh, no," the other mom insisted, "If this were happening to my child, I would call the teacher and complain.  Your child shouldn't have to put up with this."

Later, I asked Cassie about this.  Ever since Cassie was in preschool, we have urged her to solve her own school problems, if possible.  Over the years, she has written letters and had meetings with teachers, counselors and the principal, to discuss various injustices that she has observed.  But, when necessary, I have helped her out.  I tried to get a sense  for whether or not this was a problem that could be resolved at Cassie's level.  She explained that she had been answering to "Quesadilla" for weeks.  She continued explaining that this teacher struggles with the students' names and has been calling one student "Kuh."  (I tried to transcribe this.  Cassie pronounced it like "duh," with a "k.")  I asked Cassie if she had told the teacher how to pronounce her name. 

"Several times," she said.  "I told her that I like being called, 'Cassie, 'not 'Cassidy,' and I write 'Cassie' on all my papers.  I'm afraid the teacher will get mad if I say anything else."

"Does being called 'Quesadilla' bother you?" I queried, immediately hating myself.  Come on, of course it bothers her.  Being made fun of on a daily basis would bother pretty much anyone.

"Yes," Cassie answered.  "Everyone laughs because the teacher is clearly calling me 'Quesadilla.'  It's not an accidental mispronunciation."

I don't want to sound too critical.  I'm a teacher and I know the many challenges classroom teachers face.  Trust me, I know.  I want to be fair to the teacher.  Over the years, I have encountered many names that are difficult to pronounce.  I currently am working on pronouncing 'Aurelio' and 'Efrain.'  These names are difficult so I practice in my car, where no one can hear me.   Names are important.  They are one's identity.  Last week, several students informed me that I was mispronouncing another student's name.  They explained that the Eritrean student's name was "Sofia," with an accent on the first syllable, not the second syllable as it typically would be for a Spanish-speaking student.  I apologized and practiced the unfamiliar pronunciation in front of the class.  But, "Cassidy" is really not that hard to pronounce. 

"Well," I began, "If you really want me to, I could contact your teacher and explain how to pronounce your name."  And, again I hated myself because I was hoping that Cassie would say she didn't want me to contact the teacher.  

Cassie said that she would wait a couple more weeks and see what happens.  I sighed in relief, hoping my kid wouldn't see what a wimp I've become.  Am I really scared to contact a teacher?

Okay.  Time for some deep breathing before I completely stress myself out.  The thing is, I really don't know how to contact Cassie's teachers.  I attended back-to-school night and met each teacher.  Yeah, well, I didn't really meet any of the teachers.  I sat in their classrooms, observed, and listened to them talk.  With one exception, none of them had any idea who I was.  I'm sure they didn't even all know Cassie.  Each one had a different preferred method of contact.  One said she prefers email.  Another prefers that a note be scribbled in the student's planner.  Another also prefers email, but cautioned that it would take several days for a parent to receive a response.  Another prefers phone calls.  And, yet another prefers personal meetings because other forms of communication could cause hurt feelings.  I carefully scribbled notes about all this.  But, the following day, the notes made little sense and I threw them out.  So, as my brain raced, I realized that if Cassie said that she wanted me to contact her teacher, I would have no idea which means of communication to use.  And, if I screwed up and made the teacher angry, my kid's grade might suffer.  And, that is really the bottom line.  Grades are important to Cassie.  Grades are important to Cassie's parents. Cassie's grades have been good this year, absent any parental interference.  Do I want to risk messing this up?  Am I being unfair for thinking that a teacher would get mad if I complain and lower my child's grade?   Am I being unfair to my child?

Even if this situation resolves itself, there are several others waiting to be addressed.  And, here I sit, a self-proclaimed Wimpy Parent, not knowing what to do.  I have to believe in our system of public education.  I use things that I don't like about my children's educations to inform my teaching.  But, right now I feel that I'm failing my child because I really don't know how to help her at school.

A Little Magic

Last night, we celebrated the wedding of our very dear friends, Magic Bob and Maria.  "Magic Bob" earned his nickname from Cassie when she was three years old and Bob first performed magic tricks at her birthday party.  There is always a little magic in the air when Bob is around.  So, the nickname has stuck.

Mr. and Mrs. Magic Bob!

The girls were excited.  They got to wear their Christmas dresses and new shoes.  And, they got to stay out very late.  Lacey and her dress left glitter all over the house and restaurant.  Cassie's shorter skirt, heels and grown up appearance left Les in shock.

I hoped to get a snapshot photo worthy of appearing on our Christmas card.  As I clicked away, I was reminded of how wonderful my kids are and how lucky I am.

It Was Worth It

Cassie received her black belt last Saturday and things have almost returned to normal around here.  I recently spent time with the parents of several of Cassie's friends.  While full of congratulations for Cassie's efforts, they questioned the amount of time invested in the black belt.  Of course, I've asked myself that a number of times.  And, now that the frenzy is over, I've had time to reflect on the whole process.  Of course, the first question that came to mind was, "Was it worth it?"  And then, "What did Cassie take away from this?  Now that she has her black belt, will she be different somehow?  Would I be willing to go through all this again with Lacey?"

Well, in terms of the pride that Cassie feels, it was worth it.  Below is a photo that was taken by Magic Bob minutes after Cassie's black belt was tied on her.  You can see the quiet pride in her face as she admires her belt.

But, what did Cassie really gain from the black belt odyssey?  Cassie is not good at following through.  She is hyper creative and always coming up with new ideas.  When she's on fire with a new project, she throws herself completely into it, neglecting essential things that need to get done and leaving ongoing projects in her wake.  I don't blame her entirely.  I consider this a genetic flaw.  But, she's been working for her black belt for over 2.5 years.  And, during the last few months, she practiced and exercised 7 days a week.  So, she learned perseverance and commitment.

As part of the process, Cassie was required to record 100 Acts of Kindness and 100 Acts of Self Control.  We began discussing these items as a family every night at the dinner table.  When Cassie struggled to define an act of kindness, Lacey would chime in, describing something that Cassie had done for her that day.  Most of the acts of kindness, therefore, highlighted Cassie as a big sister.  The acts of self control were difficult simply because Cassie has always over-regulated herself.  Exercising self control is not a challenge for her.  We spent time identifying acts of self control - not talking during class; doing homework before watching TV; picking up after oneself.  Lacey listened carefully and started to give her own examples of self control.  This was a triumph for us as self control is not Lacey's greatest strength.  So documenting self control  served to help Lacey.

Taekwondo is also supposed to teach responsibility.  Well, that seems to have happened.  10 days ago the girls had a day off from school.  Cassie volunteered to watch Lacey and did a phenomenal job.  My only instructions were that they pass the day with a minimal amount of arguing.  On that day, Cassie texted me at 7:30 a.m. to inform me that she was up, drinking chai and writing in her journal.  At 9:00 a.m. she notified me that she had fixed breakfast and they were both doing their homework.  It just got better.  When I arrived home from work, Lacey showed me the menu that Cassie had typed for their luncheon party.  After their luncheon, Cassie had done the dishes, washed the kitchen counters and vacuumed the floor.  She had practiced her violin while Lacey read.  And, Lacey rejoiced, they hadn't argued once.  What a spectacular day.  Les and I didn't know whether to attribute the success to good parenting or the whole black belt thing.  But then I guess the black belt is part of parenting.   

A couple days later, Lacey volunteered to clean my car.  She removed all the trash and vacuumed the seats and floors.  She even took out the floor mats before she vacuumed.  Could her behavior have been influenced by Cassie? 

Over the weekend, the girls asked if I would take them to the track to jog.  I was happy to oblige as I realized....doing 9600 kicks, a gazillion knee highs,  and jogging regularly with Cassie was good for me!

After mulling all this over, I decided that the whole family had gained from the black belt journey.  Maybe working toward a black belt would be good for Lacey too.  She tends to rush through everything, both at home and at school.  She still doesn't understand that being the fastest isn't necessarily the best.  Watching Cassie's progress over the last couple years has helped Lacey to appreciate the value of hard work.  When I asked her if she was interested in getting a black belt she answered, "No way!  That's too much work!"  I guess I'll try again in another year.

Veteran's Day 2012

We are remembering my Dad and other veterans on this day.  The girls decorated the Christmas tree at the Taekwondo studio with red poppies, in recognition of Veteran's Day. 

Taekwondo Moms

Last summer, my niece Amanda introduced me to the TV show, "Dance Moms."  This reality series features mothers who are obsessed with their daughters' dance competitions.  I watched the show and laughed at the intensity of the mothers, made jokes about how they needed to find lives, and swore that I would never turn into a "dance mom."  Several days ago, I was running down the sidewalk between the Taekwondo studio and the grocery store, on my way to fetch a gallon of milk.  I caught a glimpse of myself in a store window and froze at the sight.  Some strands of my hair were literally sticking straight up in the air.  I tried to pat them into place, then, in desperation, licked my palm and tried to smash them down.  I sighed and tried to remember the last time that I had looked at myself in a mirror.  Then I was struck with a shocking reality.  I'm not a Dance Mom.  I'M A TAEKWONDO MOM !!!!!

Whoa. . . slow down.  How did this happen?  Wasn't Les the one who signed Cassie up for Taekwondo?  Wasn't that supposed to give them some quality father-daughter time?   But, in an odd role reversal, I've become the Taekwondo parent because, according to the girls, I can keep track of all the exercises.

So, exactly who are the Taekwondo Moms?  They are the mothers, fathers, grandparents and siblings who are slavishly devoted to their children's achievement of a black belt.  They have lost their own identities and are known as "Kayla's Mom," "Brandon's Mom," "Michael's Mom," and, of course, "Cassie's Mom."  The Taekwondo Moms sit patiently on wooden benches, watching class after class through large windows.  They launder uniforms and sew on patches.  They oversee healthy eating and the multitude of exercises that their children must complete outside of class.  They have entrusted the care of their homes and other children to their spouses.  If there was a reality series for Taekwondo Moms, it might go something like this.

Tuesday:  This week is especially crazy.  There are double Taekwondo classes scheduled to help the kids get ready for black belt testing.  For the first time ever, we skip a violin lesson because we simply can't do everything.  The first class is at 6:15.  Les and Lacey head for ballet as Cassie and I head for the "dojang."  

 The Taekwondo Moms are present.  I am feeling energetic and begin grading the stack of papers that I've brought along. We discuss the myriad of requirements that the kids must complete as we whip out the "orange books."  These books, officially known as "Candidate Packets," contain charts for all the exercises the kids must complete:  3000 push-ups; 3000 sit-ups; 6000 jumping jacks; run 30 miles; 300 minutes of punching; 300 repetitions of the forms; 1200 repetitions each of 8 different kicks for a total of 9600 kicks.  We compare notes.  I'm proud to see that Cassie is the farthest ahead because this Taekwondo Mom has been doing the exercises with her every day.

"That was 20 Front Snap Kicks," says one Mom, "Everybody got that?"

We nod as we scribble  to record these kicks in the books.

"Anybody recognize this kick?" asks one Mom.

"Crescent kick," I reply.  "Page 15."

One Mom asks if the other kids have scheduled their "demos."  This topic provokes a lot of stress.  The kids have to schedule a public demonstration and arrange for a Taekwondo instructor to observe.  Another Mom asks if other parents are taking time off from work for this.  It seems that most of us have successfully scheduled after school presentations.  One Mom says that she's still waiting for an email confirming that an instructor will be present.  She's worked so hard to schedule her child's demo and doesn't have the energy to find a new date.  One Mom complains that although she attended the parent orientation session twice, she still can't understand all the black belt requirements.  Another Mom stresses because her child's uniform is too small.  A new one will cost $50.  I commiserate - I just had to replace Cassie's helmet and now her sparring boots are too small.  

We turn our attention to the class. The kids are working on their forms.  None of them seem ready.  A senior instructor walks by and the Taekwondo Moms seize the opportunity to vent.  How are we going to get our kids ready?  After all the time we've spent here, why don't they know their form?  I glance at Cassie and hold my breath.  Is she going to execute each kick, punch, low front stance and back stance correctly?  Will the private lessons we've been paying for pay off?  "Come on, Cassie," I mutter.  I wince as she falters.  The three inch stack of papers I've been grading slides to the floor.  The toddler who's been running back and forth in front of us slips and falls on the papers, and begins drooling on top of them.  I bite my tongue.  After all, this toddler belongs to a tired, over-stressed Taekwondo Mom.  I glance back at Cassie to see that the class has moved on to something else.  

There is a break between classes.  The Moms shove snacks at their kids and try to squeeze in a few minutes of homework before the next class.  "Okay," I coach Cassie for tomorrow's Spanish test, "Repeat after me. .. Yo soy.  Tu eres."  

"Bo blacks, let's go!!!" an instructor yells.  The class moves to the back room where the temperature is about 55 degrees.  None of the Moms are prepared for this.  We huddle together trying to decide what to do.  Should we sit and shiver or wait out front?  We decide to stay.  After all, we need to continue recording exercises in the orange books.  As the evening wears on, parents of the younger children head for home.  Finally, the class is coming to an end.  The instructor seats the students on the floor and begins lecturing them about how they must practice if they want to be ready for graduation.  The weary Moms complain that there isn't any time left in the day for practicing.  We call, "See you tomorrow," and head for home.

9:00 p.m. finds me clinging to the kitchen counter doing kicks with Cassie.  "Okay, Cass," I pant, "100 knee highs, 100 back situps and 20 jumping front snap kicks and we will be finished!"

Wednesday:  The Taekwondo Moms assemble at 5:15.  We welcome "Ella's Mom" to our group.  She laughs and tells us that her husband can no longer take the stress.  We count the jumping jacks that the kids are doing so we can record these in the orange book. 

"I hope they work on their one steps," I begin.  "Cassie still doesn't know these."

"Yeah," chimes in another Mom.  "My kid still can't do these either.  You'd think after all the time and money we've spent here this wouldn't be so hard."

"Well," pipes up another Mom.  "I heard that at the last blackbelt testing, only 60 percent of the kids who tested actually made it!"

"Seriously?!" the rest of us gasp.  "What happens then?"

"Well," the first Mom explains, "I've heard that the kids have to do the whole orange book over again!"

"I'm not turning in my orange book until I know for certain that my kid is going to pass the testing." says one Mom.

"Yeah," we all chorus.

One Mom jumps up and pounds on the glass window of the studio.  "Focus!!" she hisses at her child.

The Moms begin speculating about how much money we could make if we had the capital to open a coffee shop in the neighborhood.  Think of all the parents who are sitting through ballet and gymnastics classes right at this moment, not to mention all the Taekwondo Moms!

I laugh and tell the other Moms that for the past week my kids have been living out of the laundry basket because I haven't had time to fold the clothes.  The Moms share their own similar stories.  One Mom volunteers that her husband has been paying for a maid service to clean their home.

"Must be nice," we chorus.

Another Mom admits that she has begun taking Taekwondo classes at night.  "It's so great to have something to kick at the end of the day!" she says.

The class is supposed to end at 6:00.  The next class is not until 7:00.  My plan is to take Cassie home to finish homework and eat dinner.  But, the class runs over by about 15 minutes.  We finally make it home only to discover that Les' Masterpiece Mac & Cheese isn't quite ready.  Cassie knocks out a few math problems, shoves some food in her face and we are out the door again.  I am tired and swerve to avoid a jogging neighbor.  (Sorry, Kurt.  I'll wave next time.)  When did it get dark?

The 7:00 class is again in the back room.  The Taekwondo Moms are equipped with winter jackets.  This class is especially critical because tomorrow the kids have their first pre-test.  There are five pretests scheduled and more whispered stories are circulating.  Was it actually 60% pass rate last time or did 60% of the kids fail?  I finally duck out for a few minutes and go in search of an instructor.  I can't take the stress.

"Listen," I demand, "How do I know if my kid is going to pass?"

"Don't worry," he smiles. "There's nothing to worry about."

I report back to the Taekwondo Moms, explaining that I had been assured we have nothing to worry about. But, we realize, if we have nothing to worry about then why do we have to go through five pretests?  We listen to our kids practice their "questions."  Each has been given a question and answer about Taekwondo that must be memorized.  One Mom watches her kid struggle and finally blurts out, "I can't take this.  You know your question!  Just do it!"  We eventually drag our kids home and I try to figure out how I'm going to get Cassidy's uniform ready for tomorrow.

Thursday:  Cassie is in a very bad mood.  She forgot her math homework and believes that her teacher unfairly ridiculed her.  Stress is high tonight because this is the first pretest.  We are again in the back room because this is supposed to give a more private setting.  One Taekwondo Mom opens the conversation by suggesting that we take our girls for a pedicure before the Black Belt ceremony.  "They need to look nice," she says.  "You know they are always barefoot here."

"Pedicure," I chuckle. "Yes, I think we are the ones who deserve a pedicure."

First up for the pretest is, of course, "Miss Cassie."  Why is it that the kid who is clearly the most nervous gets called first?

"Miss Cassie," the instructor intones, "Your form is Taegeuk Chil Jang,"

I hold my breath.  Cassie begins her form and completes it almost error free.  Phew!  The instructor puts his arm around her back and tells her to breath so that she doesn't faint.

"Miss Cassie, " the instructor booms, "What is your question?"

"Sir," she says, "My question is, 'Can you explain what makes power,' Sir.  Power is made by weight and speed . . . together with . . . relaxation.......ummmm......concentration..... and......uhhhh........confidence, Sir!"

The Taekwondo Moms violate protocol and erupt into spontaneous applause and cheering. 

I don't pay much attention to the rest of the class.  I'm just relieved that we have made it this far.

Finally class is over.  There is just one last command from the instructor.  "Turn and bow to your parents, " he insists.  "They are the ones who brought you here tonight."

This is Cassie's public demonstration.  Lacey was helping Cassie show the audience how to do a "take down."  Lacey was a good sport!

Hoot Owls and Handcuffs

The girls love Halloween and this year, they began talking about their costumes in July.  When I protested, Cassie reminded me that last year I had waited so long to order the costume she wanted that it was out of stock.    Two years ago, for Lacey's first Halloween, we had ventured into a Halloween specialty store and exited quickly because she was terrified.  That was how we began the order-costumes-by-mail tradition.  Because Lacey never had the opportunity to make choices, she still struggles when presented with options.  For her first Halloween, we had chosen a fairy costume.  Last year, we turned her into Mary Had a Little Lamb.  I decided that this year Lacey should be allowed to select her own costume.

We sat down with the catalog.  From the next room Les hollered, "No wings!"

Ahh, the problem with wings.  The wings to Lacey's fairy costume had refused to stay in place.  She spent Halloween looking like a swatted fly.  Last year, Cassie was a Phoenix.  The red and orange glitter from her wings is still embedded in my car seats.  I agreed that costumes should be wingless.

The girls flipped through the catalog once together.  "I want to be an owl," Cassie declared.  

"What's an owl?" asked Lacey.

"You know," said Cassie, "Whooo, Whooo!"

"No wings!" reminded Les.

"But, Daddy," explained Cassie, "The owl costume has soft fabric wings that are attached to it."

"Okay," Les agreed, "You can be an owl."

Twenty minutes later, Lacey was still poring over the catalog and my patience was beginning to seep away.

"How about Dorothy?" Cassie suggested.

"Don't know who that is," answered Lacey.

"How about Miss Muffet?" Cassie tried.  "Look how pretty the costume is!"

"What's a mismuffet?" asked Lacey.

"Oooooohhh!"  Cassie squealed, "Lacey, you'd be an adorable Red Riding Hood!"

"And, the costume would be so warm!" I added.

"Who's Red Riding Hood?" asked Lacey.

We sighed and continued turning pages.

"There," smiled Lacey.  "I like that!"

"Oh," I groaned.  "The little gnome costume would be perfect.  But, it only comes in toddler sizes.  Too bad."

"What about a ladybug?"  asked Lacey.

"No wings," yelled Les.

"What about a mermaid, Lacey?" offered Cassie.  "You know what a mermaid is."

"She'd never be able to walk in that costume," I concluded.

"What about a cowgirl?"  Cassie ventured next.  "I loved my cowgirl costume."

"What's a cowgirl?" asked Lacey.

"Hmm.... maybe she'd look good as Marie Antoinette," Cassie said.

"Cassie," I replied.  "You would like to be Marie Antoinette because you know who she is.  There isn't enough time to explain all that to Lacey and get her to be excited about it.  Anyway, she'd never be able to hold her head up wearing that huge wig!"

"Maybe I would like to be a cat," ventured Lacey.

"Well...." I said as I examined the picture of the cat costume, "It's awfully skimpy.  And, before you ask what skimpy means, I will explain that you would freeze in that costume.  If it's cold, you would have to put a jacket over it and nobody would be able to see the costume."

"I kind of like this one," Lacey pointed.

"A watermelon fairy?" Cassie giggled.  "Lacey, if you ring doorbells dressed like that do you really think people will know what you're supposed to be?"

"No wings!" grumbled Les.

"This is kind of cool," Lacey pointed again.

"The same goes for 'galaxy princesses,'" Cassie explained.  "Lacey, part of the fun of a costume is when people recognize who or what you're supposed to be."

Lacey continued turning down our suggestions.  She had never heard of a go-go dancer or a Pink Lady.  She didn't see why Cassie though a poodle skirt was cute.  No to any food costumes, including the hotdog, popcorn, pizza slice and cupcake costumes. I said no to the cave girl, simply because I knew she'd freeze.  

Suddenly, Lacey's face lit up.  "I know what I want to be!" she exclaimed.  "A policeman."

"Oh my gosh, Lacey, that's perfect for you!" Cassie cheered.

As I got ready to place the order, I asked Lacey why she had chosen to be a police officer.

"I can put the handcuffs on Cassie," she grinned and ran off.

Well, Lacey still has a lot to learn about American culture.  And, she still has trouble making decisions.  But, this Halloween promises to be exciting.

A Short History of Heinz

Two weeks ago, on a beautiful, late summer afternoon, the girls were in the backyard when a little bundle of fur arrived from out of nowhere.  It came leaping and bounding and squirming and purring.  It wrapped itself around the girls' legs and attached itself to their hearts.  I must have heard, "OH, MOMMY!" a thousand times.  And, although I must have agreed a thousand times that the kitten was adorable and lovable and precious and everything that a kitten is supposed to be, I said that we could not keep the kitten.  First, a kitten this cute had to have come from somewhere.  We would have to find its owner.  Then, we already had two cats of our own.  I wasn't willing to take on the expense and work of a third.  Maybe if we left the kitten alone, it would wander back home.  Cassie contacted the animal shelter.  It was closed on Sundays.

Evening arrived and the kitten was purring outside our backdoor.   I concurred that it couldn't stay outside all night.  So, the girls made a bed in an old shoebox and fixed a spot for the kitten in the garage.  Come Monday, the kitten was still in the garage and Cassie promised to call the shelter in the afternoon.  Guess what?  The shelter is closed on Mondays too.  I fired off an email to the shelter with a description of the cat.

By Tuesday, the kitten was getting quite comfortable in the garage and I'm sure it was already gaining weight.  On Wednesday, I heard back from the animal shelter.  They needed a more detailed description.  Were the tips of its ears pointed or curved?  How long was the tail? I sent a photo and tried to answer the questions.  By Thursday, the kitten knew that even though it was spending time outdoors every day, it was welcome back in the garage.  On Friday, the kids and I drove for miles in the surrounding communities, sure that by now someone would have put up posters with pictures of the lost kitten.  We found nothing.

On Saturday, I went to New York City with Mirela to celebrate my birthday.  Before I left, I reminded Les that we needed to either find the kitten's owner or find a good home for it.  Then, thoughts of the kitten were out of my head for a day.  Sunday, while riding home on the bus, I exchanged a series of text messages with Cassie that went like this:

Cassie:    She has flea medicine, litter box and food.  Daddy says now what?
Me:  I guess a name.  You should check Craig's list, though.
Cassie:  I checked Craig's list.  Daddy named her Nancy and we call her Fancy Nancy.  Daddy wants to know if we are going 2 keep kitten
Me to Myself:  (THEN WHY DOESN'T DADDY ASK ME HIMSELF?!!)
Me to Cassie:  Do I really have a choice?

Cassie:  (With the following photo)  I love u thank u for letting me stay

Me:  This is a trial.  I love u too.  But if u don't learn how to use the litter box we will have a problem.  Also, if u want to live in my house, Cassie needs to clean her bedroom.  If u go up there, we might lose u for good.  Or, u might sharpen your claws on one of her good scarves.
Cassie:  Ok.
Me:  That can't be all you have to say.
Cassie:  I will start cleaning now.

"Nancy" continued living in our garage for the next few days.  On Thursday, while the girls and I were at ballet, the same person who had decided the girls could keep the cat, let it outside.  When the girls and I got home, the kitten had wandered off.  The kids were hysterical.  Les' reasoning was that if the cat was going to wander away, it was better to find out now.  The girls and I searched the neighborhood until dark, knocking on doors and wandering through the woods calling for Nancy.  Cassie and I made "Lost Kitten" posters and hung them up and down the block.  Suddenly, a neighbor appeared with Nancy in a cat carrier, apologizing profusely for having "put Cassie through this."  It seems that his child had locked the kitten up earlier in the evening.  So, we could have called all night and Nancy wouldn't have been able to return. 

I then had a short talk with the kitten. "All right, cat, you win.  You have clearly earned the family's love and devotion.  I will allow you in the house.  But, you still have to learn how to use the litter box!"

The next day we took Nancy to the vet.  "Good news," the vet said.  "Your kitten is very healthy.  But, it is a boy!"  So, Nancy became "Heinz," and Heinz has progressed from taking over everyone's hearts to taking over the house.

Firsts

This was the first week of school for both the girls and me.  I'm happy to say that, although we are adapting to a number of changes, we survived.  We also experienced a number of "firsts."  When our sitter informed us that she couldn't return this year, Les and I weighed our options.  We decided that Lacey might enjoy the on-site daycare at her school.  And, if Cassie participated in after-school Taekwondo, it would free up some of our evenings.  So now, for the first time in several years, I don't have to make the bed before I leave for work.  I don't have to worry about leaving personal mail on the kitchen table.  I don't have to stress about being late for work because the sitter was late.  I don't have to worry that the house might be left open.  I don't have to come home to a kitchen full of dirty dishes!

Tuesday, the first day of school, all went well.  I was worried that I might have to coax Lacey through the early morning routine.  But, she was up at 5:30, moving at full speed.  I actually had time to treat myself to a dose of Sally Hansen hand lotion, which promised to soften my hands and strengthen my cuticles.  I even allowed myself to fantasize about how nice my hands might look by the end of the week if Lacey continued to cooperate. . .

Les had stayed home to make sure that all went well for Cassie on her first day.  Armed with a hair brush, lip gloss, mirror and other school essentials, Cassie confronted her first day of middle school.

After work, I sped home, anxious to pick up the girls.  Traffic was light and I realized that I was actually going to be too early.  I didn't want to pick Cassie up right after she arrived at the Taekwondo studio.  And, I wanted to give Lacey time enough to enjoy an after-school snack.  So, I stopped to fuel up my car.  I even had time to use the restroom at the gas station.  You can see that I was really enjoying myself.

Cassie was exuberant.  She flung a pile of paperwork at me, exclaiming that the white form needed to be returned tomorrow; the pink form on Thursday; and if the blue form wasn't completed tomorrow as well, she wouldn't be able to get a locker.  Cassie continued explaining that she has P.E. and lunch with Claira; math with Amanda; orchestra with Allison; language arts with Lauren; Spanish with Sydney; and she and Julia almost got trampled on the way out of school; and it took forever for her to find the Taekwondo bus and she was so tired that she almost sat on the ground and "it goes on and on."  Yes, those were her actual words.

We headed over to the elementary school and found Lacey happily having a snack.  She too had a pile of papers that needed to be returned the next day.  After serving more snacks; scurrying off to a violin lesson with Cassie; having dinner and overseeing showers, I decided to tackle the paperwork.  I'll spare you every fun detail.  But, I just have to share the school's expectation that Lacey sign a document acknowledging that she has read and understands the Code of Behavior.

Wednesday, Day 2, got off to another smooth start.  Cassie had stuffed her backpack with supplies in anticipation of receiving her first locker!  Then, around 9:30 a.m., I received a text from her stating that because I had forgotten to sign both sides of the blue form, she would not be given a locker.  The text included a little crying face symbol.  Great, my kid was now being forced to act as a pack mule, simply because I forgot one signature!! I called Les and asked if he could go to the school at lunchtime and sign the form.  When he got there, Cassie was called to the office and chastised for using her cell phone at school.  (I later gave Les instructions regarding the fine art of omission.  He could have said, "My wife called me because she realized she forgot to sign."  Or, how about, "On the way to school, Cassie texted my wife.") But, Cassie got that locker.  I let Les do the after school pickups because we had all agreed that he needed to learn the routine.  I spent the evening wading through more school-related paperwork - an orchestra handbook; a P.E. handbook.  The stack was endless.

By Thursday, we were settling into our new routine and the flow of paperwork was slowing.   And, on Friday, we were rejoicing with the arrival of the weekend.  I picked up Cassie and chatted with the supervisor.  A couple of parents had asked if an older student could read to their children and help with homework.  Yes, I agreed, Cassie was an excellent candidate and would be happy to work with the younger kids.  Beaming with parental pride, I went to retrieve Lacey.  She was happy, as usual.  As I thanked the daycare providers for a good first week, the senior employee asked if we could speak in privacy.  "Oh," I asked, "Has Lacey been forgetting to use her inside voice?  We do remind her of that."  The woman shook her head.  "Was she hogging the Legos again?" I continued.  Wrong again.  It seems that Lacey has been entertaining her classmates by popping out her eye and laying it on the table for them to examine.  Naturally, the other kids have been fascinated by this!!

In the car on the way home, I struggled about what to do with this bit of knowledge.  We had instructed Lacey not to remove her eye at school.  It could so easily be lost or damaged.  To replace it would require a series of appointments.  I didn't want to scold her because I don't want to associate anything negative with her eye.  Other than a therapeutic blog entry, what was I to do?  Then, the ever helpful Cassie came to the rescue.

"Hey, Lacey," Cassie volunteered.  "Do you know what teachers do at lunchtime?  They go to the teacher's lounge and tell stories about kids like you! " 

The girls enjoying the last weekend of freedom at an outdoor concert.

Lacey ready for the first day of school.

Cassie dressed for the first day.

48 Pencils and 36 Crayons

The bittersweet end of summer is rapidly approaching.  I feel refreshed from not having worked for two months and I'm full of new memories of time spent with the girls.  While I realize that summer can't last forever, I want to hang onto the peacefulness for as long as possible.  So, I decided to make a list of fall chores and try to get them done before school starts.  

At the top of my list was "school supplies."  This is always one of my favorites and I've blogged about it before.  I enlisted help from the girls.  The girls had already received new backpacks from their grandmother, so they were willing to recycle other supplies.  We went through our box of leftover supplies and pulled out as much as possible.  Then, we began with Lacey's Second Grade List.  Each second grader is expected to produce 48 #2 pencils (sharpened.)  Even if we weren't raising kids in the age of technology, doesn't 48 sound a little excessive?  Can you imagine how many hours a day a kid would have to write in order to consume 48 pencils during the year?  And, all 48 must be sharpened in advance.  According to Cassie, teachers don't like kids to sharpen pencils during class.  Oh, now I get it.  A kid uses a pencil until it has no point left, then grabs another pencil.  I'm a teacher too.  I know that kids sharpen pencils to interrupt, to distract, to entertain, and to stall.  That's why we have a few minutes designated at the beginning of class for pencil sharpening.  The invention of the electric pencil sharpener has really simplified the task.  48 sharpened pencils!!  Picture this - it's the first day of school and there's a busload of second graders, armed with 48 sharpened pencils apiece! 

Next on the list, "1 Box of Crayons (No more than 36)."  This is another one of my all-time favorites.  When this was first a requirement for Cassie, we gallantly headed to Target, list in hand.  We discovered that crayons come in boxes of 8, 16, 24, 48, 64 and 96.  We could not find a box of 36.  Of course, I recommended we go with the 24-count box.  But, knowing that she could have up to 36, Cassie wouldn't agree.  If you were a kid, wouldn't you hold out for the extra 12 colors?  Every day, when you had to reach in your desk and pull out that box of crayons to do another boring assignment, wouldn't 36 be much more exciting than 24?  Back then, I ambitiously visited several other stores, in search of a box of 36 crayons.  At sometime, somewhere, crayons must have come in boxes of 36.  I've yet to discover where that is.  Yet teachers continue to tantalize kids with that "No more than 36."  It just isn't fair.  And, poor Lacey doesn't have the English or the background knowledge to understand why I won't buy her a box of 36 crayons.  Look below to see what happened.

Cassie helping Lacey search for the box of 36 crayons.

Butterbeer

In my life, resilience usually trumps perfection.  But, yesterday's visit to Universal's Islands of Adventure Park  had been nearly perfect.  The only things that the kids really wanted to do were to see our friend Miss Laura, and to visit The Harry Potter theme park.   So, by 9:00 a.m., all goals had been met.  We found Miss Laura and her granddaughters in time to experience Hogwarts Castle with them.  And, even though Cassie had kept her eyes shut for most of the ride, she had sat next to Miss Laura while doing so!  

By mid-afternoon, the kids were getting weary.  We decided to go back to the hotel, let the kids swim, and return to Universal to have dinner at Margaritaville.  Yes, this part of the day would be for me.  I'd only been listening to Radio Margaritaville  for the past month in anticipation of our visit. On our way to the park's exit, we stopped at the restaurant to make a 6:45 p.m. dinner reservation.  We could probably avoid the expected thunderstorm and still have a little time to site see after dinner .

And then it happened.  Cassie touched my arm and quietly asked, "Are we still going to have time to get some Butterbeer?"  For anyone who doesn't know, Butterbeer is what Harry Potter and his friends drink.  For days, Cassie and her friends had been exchanging text messages about Butterbeer. Had she tasted it yet?  Was it as good as everyone claimed?  Did she get a picture of it?  Could she buy any to bring home for them to taste?

I inhaled, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. "I thought you and Daddy were going to get Butterbeer while I was taking Lacey to the bathroom?"

"Daddy said the line was too long," she replied.

The line was too long??!!  It took me nearly 20 minutes to respond to Lacey's emergency alert.  I had to weave my way all the way through Harry Potter's World and stop twice for directions.  I had to wait in line to get into the bathroom, wait for Lacey and then push my way back through the throngs enjoying Harry's world.  So, I don't think the line at the Butterbeer cart could have been TOO LONG!!   But, of course, I didn't say any of that.

"Let's see if there's somewhere else we can buy it," I smiled.  No, I'm not stupid. I knew the answer already.  But, I at least wanted to show my kid that I was willing to try.

After consulting with two characters on stilts, we backtracked to Guest Services and learned that the absolute only place to purchase Butter Beer was with Harry.  I knew there was no way we were going to walk all the way back there.  I tried another approach. We had purchased two-day passes to the parks.  What options did we have?  Well, the happy park employee explained, we could come and go as many times as we wanted each day as long as we visited the same park. However, we could only visit one park. That meant that if we didn't get Butterbeer today, we either wouldn't get any, or we would have to visit the same park both days.

"Don't worry," I assured Cassie. We'll get some Butterbeer when we come back for dinner. "

Around 5:30 p.m., a horizontal wind began moving the curtains in our hotel room and thunderclouds rolled past. I called the restaurant and changed our reservation to 7:45 p.m.   We checked the weather channel on TV and online as Cassie paced.

Eventually, I began Googling "Butterbeer."  Surely there had to be some other place to buy the stuff.  "Hey," I called to Cassie.  "I found a receipe for Butterbee.  We could make it at home!"

"How would we know if the recipe was right unless we tasted the real thing first?" she wisely asked.

Meanwhile, Les and I debated whether we really needed this Butterbeer.  Hadn't the kids had enough excitement?  As the rain continued and the sky got darker I suggested that we could drive to Universal and Les and Lacey could wait while Cassie and I ran through the park.  It was too windy for umbrellas, but we did have the ponchos. . . Les agreed, without pointing out that I was insane.  Having him wait in the restaurant wasn't even an option because all members of the party must be present for the reservation to be honored.   I saw Margaritaville slipping away.

We called the kids into the room and explained the plan.  It occurred to me that maybe I should turn this into some kind of lesson.  "You know," I started, "Someday you guys will be grown up with kids of your own.  And, you'll probably remember this day.  And, ah, well, . . . I hope you remember how much fun we had."

We ran to the car with our jackets covering our heads.  En route to the park, we saw a gorgeous double rainbow as the sun reappeared.  We parked and made our way through Dr. Seuss' world and back to Harry's, as a light rain fell.  Lacey struggled to keep up and understand what was happening, while Cassie beamed with excitement.  And, finally, we were in line at the Butterbeer cart, purchasing two souvenir mugs in spite of Lacey's doubts.   

 A quick time check revealed 12 minutes until our dinner reservation.  And, believe it or not, we did make it to Margaritaville.  Our table was about 10 feet from the Radio Margaritaville DJ and about eight feet from the stage.  And, although I really wanted to stay for the music, when everyone was finished eating I suggested we go back to the hotel. 

"Not yet, Mom," Cassie said.  "We want to stay and hear some music."

"Aren't you too tired?" I asked.

"Sure, I'm tired," Cassie said, "But, you got us Butterbeer."  Lacey nodded.

The girls didn't need to have a lesson.  And, they will remember. They'll remember the same way I remember how my Mom drove into Chicago to have my favorite doll repaired. And, they'll remember the same way I remember how my Mom drove me to Denver during an ice storm when I had a photography job.  In fact, why was I worried about what the kids will remember when they grow up?  They already understand.