1m2aSandbox

I spent yesterday morning making
individual muffin-sized breakfast casseroles for school mornings.
Somewhat time-consuming, but a good use of some leftover ham and
extra white bread slices, so I knew it was time to buckle down and
knock them out.


More importantly, though, we’ve hit that wall of
school-morning breakfast ennui. Maddie takes a good ten minutes
coming up with something she’s willing to eat for breakfast:
cereal rarely interests her any more, and yogurt-and-granola is hit
or miss right now. I have a big batch of breakfast cookies in the
freezer and I’ll happily defrost one for her, which works a
couple times a week; but many mornings she just doesn’t seem
interested in breakfast.

Maddie has a vivid imagination. And I
don’t mean that in the “Oh, I just made up a whole
pretend kingdom replete with its own monetary system and
multi-tiered governing body” kind of way. No, I mean it in a
“Give me a thumbnail sketch of a natural disaster and I can
inflate it into a play-by-play in graphic, unending detail in my
head” kind of way. Mix that quirk of her personality with her
penchant for worry over things she cannot control, and you’ve
got a recipe for some long nights.

Maddie's been cast in her very first
production of "The Nutcracker", as a Sugar Plum Fairy Attendant.
She plays a tiny fairy who never leaves the Sugar Plums side,
wearing a tiny little tutu with tiny little flowers in her hair and
lots of glitter sprayed all over her.


Translation: A way to sell a dozen more tickets.


I can't help but realize that the very first time I was in a
ballet of any kind - Christmas or otherwise - was when I was ten.
Yes, ten. I can't quite believe they start them this young these
days. Saying "no" was, of course, an option; but not a very
palatable one, since she's got this pesky habit called "reading"
and read the casting call for herself, seeing that girls age 6 and
up could audition. It's not going to be too bad at this age - a
few Saturday afternoon rehearsals and four shows. Plus I've got my
ace up my sleeve - my mom plays the grandmother in the ballet every
year, so I have a built-in carpooler and backstage babysitter (hi
mom! Love you!) for this thing.


And who am I kidding - I'm going to take more photos that day than
the papparazzi on Oscar night.

Brian and I were supposed to go away
Saturday night as a sort of anniversary celebration/hide-from-Sept
11 sort of thing. But with the credible threat going on in NYC and
all the tenth anniversary footage I couldn’t seem to get away
from, I found myself short of breath as I contemplated leaving my
mom and girls home by themselves on Sunday.


So we changed our plans.

Sixteen years ago today, I married the boy
I'd been chasing since high school.


One of the best days of my life.


Ten years ago on Sunday, my husband unexpectedly came home early
from work. If he'd lingered longer in his office after the planes
hit - if he'd made a different decision as he was walking away
from the World Trade Center - but he showed up exhausted on our
front door step after no phone calls on his side and too much news
watching on my side.


Also one of the best days of my life.

Last night I lay snuggling with Cora in
her bed when she rolled towards me, her face troubled.
“Mommy,” she said, “I don’t want to go to
preschool any more.”


What?

Last spring I mentioned that Maddie and a
couple friends had started the Green Team – a group of
environmentally “aware” kindergarteners who spent their
recesses combing the playground for trash and pushed to get
recycling cans in different parts of the school. The movement was
cute and, I thought, came out of the whole Earth Day teaching time
in April.


Then last week Maddie told me that the Green Team had been
resurrected, and they needed t-shirts. So she’d invited the
team over to our house to make shirts.


Okey dokey.