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Facing An Old Foe

So we’ve been out of school for one full week and change, and it’s like we never left summer at all. We’re staying up late, we’re sleeping in, we’re eating when we feel like it and making a lunch out of smoothies (with spinach and avocado, don’t freak out) and tortilla chips (organic, but still, you got me on that one).

Then, after one glorious week out of school, we turn the corner into a couple weeks of back-to-back camps. Yesterday Maddie started her Invention Camp, one week of 9-4 daily geeking out with other friends who like to make rubber duck-launchers out of taken-apart coffee-makers. My kid LOVES her some Invention Camp, so she was signed up and ready to go.

My Girl Has Good Taste

The other day Maddie and I were listening to music in the car, jamming out and singing along. “Mommy?” Maddie said. “I like singing pop music.”

“I do too, honey!” I replied, smiling. “What are some of your favorite pop songs to sing, and why?”

“Well,” she said pensively, “There’s that Justin Beaver, of course. He has a lot of popular songs. Unfortunately,” she continued, “they’re not very good.”

“Well,” she amended, “a couple of them are well-written and would be nice to listen to if someone else sang them.”

And this? Is why I love my daughter.

Getting Up With The Baby

3:30 a.m. last night, there was a knock on our bedroom door. “Come in,” Brian groggily said.

Cora came tiptoeing through the door. “Mommy, I . . .” but I was already out of bed and stumbling towards the door before she even finished her sentence, knowing from the past four nights what was going on.

We’ve got a new baby in the house, and no one’s sleeping.

Cora adopted a four-month-old kitten the day after school got out; it was her promised sixth birthday gift, and we’d made her wait until school was over so she’d be home to bond with it. And as fun as that kitten is, around 3:30 a.m. we all wish (just a teensy bit) that Kitten was back at the animal shelter.

Marking the Wrong Milestones?

I just read an interesting piece on the Huffington Post from the end of May – yes, I’m behind – on parents in America versus other cultures, and how we mark different sorts of milestones than parents in, say, Sweden.

The article points out that while we as a culture raise spectacularly verbal kids – children here can bargain and negotiate like trial-room lawyers while still in kindergarten – we sometimes lose sight of other values that would be worthwhile to foster.

A Letter To Maddie

Dear Maddie:

This weekend we celebrated your eighth birthday for what seemed like days: we spent a fun morning with friends horseback riding and eating ice cream at the stables; we went for a huge long family swim with more friends; we at ice cream and cake and pizza and your favorite meal: smoked ham, baked beans, and steamed broccoli. And of course we took lots of breaks for opening gifts.

The weekend was a revolving door of friends and family stopping by to drop off a birthday present, and I can’t help but rejoice at what a close community you’ve got in your own right here. Friends came by with a book of poetry about animals (how well does she know you???), or with gift cards to a favorite store, or even an original poem written by a sick friend when she had to miss your birthday party. You, my friend, are well loved.

Don't Mention The "S" Word

Yes, today is the last day of school, and everyone in the world is rejoicing.

Except Cora.

Every time we talk about the “summer” or the last day of school, she growls at us. Sometimes she cries. She can’t believe her teacher won’t be her teacher any more, and there’s no WAY she can imagine first grade will be anywhere near as good as kindergarten.

My poor kiddo.

Yesterday all her workbooks were sent home from school, and at bedtime she gleefully got out her mathbook and did math problems before lights out.

Yeah, there’s no hope for her.

Tired. So Very, Very Tired.

Yesterday was Cora’s kindergarten revue, followed by her end-of-year party, then Maddie’s end-of-year party – for which I am a party mom.

What does that mean?

It means that we spent an hour being assaulted by ridiculously sweet kindergarteners singing “What A Wonderful World” (I DARE you not to cry at that!), followed by 80 kindergarteners eating pizza and playing games in the Texas sun, followed by me being partially responsible for 80 second-graders playing games and eating ice cream in the Texas sun.

Followed by me going to teach for several hours.

I? Am tired.

Just keep swimming . . . just keep swimming . . .