Happy Birthday Max!

Favorite memory of Max's sixth birthday today: he asked for Cracker Barrel pancakes for his birthday breakfast.  When we got seated and the server came to take our order, he said: 

"Um, I have noticed that sometimes, in other restaurants, that you sing when it is people's birthday.  Can you sing?... Are you going to sing?"

This kid wanted the whole center-of-attention-celebrate-me thing very badly (in direct opposition to his godfather, who once gave me the silent treatment for weeks because I dared to inform waitstaff that it was his birthday).

He was thrilled, and just beamed with joy when the entire serving staff paraded to our table, singing loudly and carrying pancakes aloft, serenading him by name and basically making his day.

That was a great moment.  Happy birthday, my sweet boy.

Birthday Wrap-Up

Max's 6th birthday party was Saturday, and it was a huge success.  For a six-year-old at least. The adults were rather uncomfortable because our air conditioning didn't really come through with a cold house, but since we've been keeping it at 80 degrees, and probably didn't start lowering it soon enough, and since we had a LOT of people in the house, and since we opened the blinds in our living room to let in the lovely hot sun, we shouldn't blame the AC.  I don't want to AC to take anything personally and decide to punish us.  I love you AC.

The party theme was robots.  We made robot costumes, built robots out of Legos, ate a robot cake, gave out robot keychain favors, and played pin the button on Super Mario (what?)  What's Mario got to do with the robot theme, you ask?  Well, I guess Max would have to answer that question, but somehow it all worked.

It was a madhouse, as usual, but all of the kids seemed to have fun, and all of our friends and family were creative and generous in their gift-giving.  On the invitation, we explained that we have lots of toys already, and that Max didn't expect gifts, but if guests wish to give them, we would love recycled/handmade/re-gifted items.  We were amazed at the variety and creativity Max's friends displayed!  

He received hand-drawn pictures and sculpted clay pieces, including a very cute drawing of himself and a friend as pirates walking the plank and saying "R".  He got an awesome crocheted robot, a handmade beaded necklace with the cutest fishy beads, a homemade toolbox complete with a wrench glued to the top and rocks and sage inside.  More beautiful artwork in cards and signs, some fantastic books and games, a couple of remote-controlled vehicles, the movie Robots and his very own headlamp.   Then there was Mario.  

Have I mentioned the Mario obsession?  I need to post some photos of the evidence, but suffice it to say that the boy is on Mario time all the time.  So, we clearly had winners with the three Super Mario brothers t-shirts he received, and the two Mario DVDs.  Boy, am I grateful for the blessing of magical mother's patience.  We've watched the DVDs three times already.  They are... (annoying!) awesome!  :)

Mommy and Daddy even got gifts, though they weren't meant for us.  :)  The Lego book was read cover-to-cover by Daddy after the party, with lots of sighs and exclamations about moving to Sweden.  Mommy, meanwhile, can't stop playing with the Harry Potter Twenty Questions (that thing is amazing - it hasn't missed one, and I've come up with some pretty insignificant items!) And Emma keeps stealing Max's RC Jeep to give her little dollies a ride. (Note to self: Emma needs a big vehicle.)

A good time was had by all!

Remembering and Reaching Out

I experienced a tingly moment of meaning today. For some reason, a thought came to me, unbidden, as I drove this morning: "I should really call Anna."

Anna is the mother of my childhood friend, Katherine. Katherine and I were very close friends - we lived in the same neighborhood (they actually had block parties there - I've never experienced another place like it) in Orlando, and went to Lakemont Elementary together, until the end of fifth grade. Then, my parents separated and we moved to Seminole County, so I changed schools right before the all-important sixth grade (back then, elementary in Orange County was K-6). It was a very difficult move for me, but I pledged to maintain my friendships, especially my friendship with Katherine.

Katherine died not long afterwards. She died in her sleep, and I still don't know exactly why, or of what. All of my memories of the event are blurred and steeped with the mysticism of an 11-year-old trying to understand and deal with her first confrontation with death. All of us, friends and family, were trying to explain the unexplainable; dull the shock and pain. I have random, chopped pieces of significant memory. She had studied the symbolism of butterflies drawn by children in concentration camps during the Holocaust, and she'd apparently been drawing butterflies a lot. I missed the funeral service because we were running late and my mom couldn't find the church.

At any rate, I still think of Katherine often, and the gentle, loving spirit I remember her having. It inspired me then, and still does. In fact, I named my daughter Emma Katherine after her. And that brings me back to Anna.

I've been meaning to call Anna to tell her about Emma Katherine for the last two years, but have never done it. But, today, the impulse to call her was strong. Problem was, I didn't have any contact information for her. I ran into her a few years ago at the downtown Orlando Orthodox Church, but haven't heard of her since then. OK, not a problem, there's this great invention called The Internet, right? So, I finally tracked down her son, Alex (Katherine's little brother) who happens to be a local realtor (and, incidentally, no longer little), and call the work number listed for him.

He answers. I stammer. "Uh, this is Jenny Spiliotis. Wadley. I lived in your neighborhood growing up. I was...." He saves me from further communication embarrassment by saying "I remember you Jenny." Whew. I continue, "Well, I was actually trying to get in touch with your mom." "Oh. She's right here, would you like to talk to her?"

Wow. Just like that. Okay.

And so, I had a lovely conversation with Anna, during which I found out that she and Alex have just returned from her mother's funeral, and that they are, right at this minute, showing a house in our old neighborhood. How funny that I should call just as they're in that house, in that neighborhood, and together.

Funny.

She's touched that I honored Katherine by giving my daughter her name. She tells me lots of little things she remembers about me ("I remember you eating M&Ms for breakfast. You used to float in the pool all by yourself, off in dreamland.") It was so amazing, and wonderful to have these little glimpses into the me of the past, the me as a child. It is the little bits of myself, and my history, that I have no conscience memory of... but that feels familiar, feels like me. And that me was such good friends with the beautiful, kind and gentle Katherine. It feels good to remember, and be grateful.

The Odyssey Begins

We attended our first meeting of a new homeschool group today. Well, sort of. We joined an Odyssey of the Mind team as a part of Seminole Learning Community, our local homeschooling group.

Odyssey of the Mind is an educational program that revolves around a creative problem-solving competition. Students of all ages form teams to work on an assigned problem for months, without input from any adults. The teams can then present their creative solutions in a skit at a regional competition, with winners going on to state, and even national level. For the K-2 level, there is only one problem, but the other levels have several problems from which to choose. Also, our level (K-2) is not judged, but the teams can present their solutions in front of the other teams.

I'm still learning about the program, but, as I said, our first team meeting was today, and it was AWESOME! The kids played, did some teambuilding and communication exercises, and did a spontaneous problem-solving activity. I couldn't believe how much Max got out of it - and he was so excited to tell Daddy all about it ("An odyssey is like a quest, Daddy, but in the minds!")

There were some issues, of course, including a melt-down by our favorite boy because he didn't feel listened to, but it was enlightening to just let the kids work things out on their own, without any guidance or direction or interference from the moms. I'll admit, it was much harder than I thought it would be NOT to step in and try to solve Max's challenges for him. But, in the end, he learned so much more than he would have, had I "helped".

Kudos to Naomi, who got our team going and is a fantastic facilitator! I can't wait to see where all of this goes!

Irrational Fears and Frustration

You know when you have a project idea that you think is great, and you work really hard on it, but it doesn't turn out exactly like you'd hoped? And maybe you spent seven or eight hours on it at your monthly crop, instead of scrapbooking? And, just perhaps, something caught on fire in the process?

And then, you know, you go home, and maybe there are giant frogs on your door, waiting to attack you? And your husband doesn't answer your cries (and cell-phone calls and door pounds...) for help? And then you finally face your froggie fears and run inside screaming like a baby only to have one of the mutant frogs follow you inside the house and jump onto your chandelier? And then, just maybe, your husband doesn't respond with enthusiasm when you wake him from a deep sleep with "Help! Help! There's a giant frog in the house!"?

You know how that is, right?

Yes, I had that kind of day yesterday. Frustrating. At least I got to spend time chatting with friends, surrounded by creative energy. And, I won a zip-lock bag full of silk flowers.

Thank goodness for wonderful friends, powerful air conditioning, and the most delicious ham & swiss quiche I've ever tasted. Oh, and Psych. And the Tooth Fairy. And, a darling husband who apologized for mocking my fear and held me while I cried.

Calling the tooth fairy: You have a pick-up!

Yes, Max has lost his first tooth.  He is absolutely thrilled, and can't stop smiling and hugging everyone.  What an awesome little guy!

I'm running away for the day.

Every second Saturday of the month, I attend a big crop with a local scrapbooking group, Sunshine Scrappers.  It is my guaranteed time-for-me, and I protect it ferociously.  :)

Of course, by the end of the night, I miss the kiddos and hubby like crazy.  How am I going to survive our retreat in a couple of weeks? (Three nights away!  Yikes!  I'm only left Emma overnight twice, and both times I was at my friend Jenny's house, "practicing" for said upcoming retreat.)

Well, I'll leave the worrying about that for later - hope everyone everywhere has a wonderful Saturday!

Don't You Hate It When...

...you fall asleep while putting the children to bed?  There went all of my plans for the night.  Oh well... at least I got up early, something usually unheard-of around here.

Birthday party plans are in full swing for Max's sixth, so today is a doozy.  Here's hoping I don't fall asleep!

Happiness Is...

...receiving my new ATG 714 adhesive gun on my doorstep. Yay! I love early birthday presents! Thanks, Jen!

...attending a fantastic "Fancy Nancy" birthday party dressed "fancy" head to toe and having your son tell you, "You look fantastic, darling!"

Great day!

"Go Away! I Doin' Something!"

Yes, that's what my two-year-old Emma shouted at me this afternoon. I am amazed at the things that come out of that girls mouth! I love it!

She also picked up a little pink briefcase-looking thing I have, shouted "I just a second!" and demanded that I open the front door for her, then she walked out of the house. So there she was, wearing only her cloth diaper, covered by a pair of her brother's frog underpants, and carrying this bright pink briefcase, walking around the house and shouting "I just a second!" every few feet.

Her Daddy and I often find ourselves silently laughing our butts off, and sharing a look over our kids' heads, like wow, aren't they amazing and hilarious?

My Son The Drama Queen

Max is a very sensitive kiddo. I've been told he gets that from his mother.

Tonight the weather was pretty nice, comfortable even, so we ate dinner out on the porch. Actually, that isn't crucial to this tale, I'm just glad it was nice enough to eat outside.

Back to Max. He was playing out back while I was making dinner, and he caught a little green frog. He held it and stroked it and put it on his head and let it jump around in his hair (I know, ewww!) He was actually very gentle with it, and talked very lovingly to it. But, as we prepared to eat, we encouraged him to let it go.

(We've had one prior incident with "keeping frog in container in kitchen" that did not end well.)

So, we explained that the frog needed to be free and go back to its family, yada yada. At first all was well. And then the sobbing began. Apparently "Froggie" was his "best friend" and he just "couldn't take it", he "had to have Froggie." I can't really do justice to the emotional trauma that was displayed. It went on for an hour. He was so sad. He understood that he had done the right thing by releasing the frog, but couldn't stop his devastation. Is this all almost-six-year-olds, or do I have a future Academy Award Winning Therapy Patient?

The best part? At one point, I told him that he could come back out tomorrow and look for Froggie, and maybe Froggie would come back and visit him. And my sweet boy said, "Mommy, no he won't. Frogs don't understand love."

My sweet boy. He amazes me.

Help! I'm buried in children's clothes!

SO, last night we discovered a very LOUD cricket in our bedroom. My dear husband put on his "insect slayer" hat and prepared for a quick catch and release operation.

Forty minutes later, he emerged with a broom in one hand and sweat on his brow, and informed me that he could say with certainty that the cricket was no longer under the bed, but that is all.

As a result of the cricket hunt, the generally well-preserved dust layer in our bedroom was disturbed, so we had no choice but to make today "Clean the Bedroom" day. Yay!

And now I sit here, exhuasted, and overwhelmed. The bedroom is cleaner, not definitely not clean. I am truly confused - when and how did we get all of these clothes? I guess we've put off sorting and boxes up the kids' clothes, because there are literally large piles of tiny clothes in our bedroom now - sorted by size, and whether they will be given to my sister (top brands, no characters, no denim on babies - she has some definite opinions on what she wants passed on to her), or sold on eBay (just a few like-new outfits my sis won't want), or donated (most of it, I think).

How did they grow out of this stuff so fast? Thank goodness we have generous friends and family members who gift us with new and used clothes. I think we have clothes for Emma up to size 5, mostly from one friend who has great taste, two older girls, and a shopping addiction.

And Max? He's been wearing the same outfit all week: denim overalls and a red shirt, a la Mario. You know, of Super Mario Bros. fame? I guess that obsession is good for our clothing budget.

This Is Not a Happy Post

During the past year, my husband the computer geek discovered his green thumb. Gardening started as a small interest, then grew into a full-fledged hobby, even an obsession, albeit with delicious results.

He grew us tomatoes, okra, peppers, carrots, eggplant, watermelon and cantaloupe, and all kinds of herbs. He built beautiful square-foot garden beds, and involved Max in planning, if not so much in execution. He proudly took his basket and clippers out to the garden, and came back with arms and basket laden with goodies, then looked up recipes to show off his cultivations.

He gardened for stress relief and the pleasure of working with the earth. Life was good. Homemade tomato sauce and fried okra were incredible.

Then, the reality of modern-day suburban living hit our little garden like a Florida hurricane. I won't go into all of the messy details, as you can read them on Aaron's blog if you like that kind of drama.

End result is that we were forced to remove our vegetable garden. Aaron spent Labor Day systematically taking apart the garden he had so lovingly and carefully built and tended. It was depressing, discouraging. But, I didn't understand exactly how much it affected him until he put it this way:

"Imagine how you'd feel if someone said you could never scrapbook again, and you had to tear up all of the scrapbooks you'd already created."

I'd be devastated. He is. I'm so sorry Aaron.

Holy Crop

I am a scrapbooker.

I love each step involved - taking photos, sorting photos (well, okay, maybe that's not my favorite step), working with supplies, designing the layout and journaling the memories or thoughts - just the whole creative process.

Did I mention buying scrapbooking supplies? I used to enjoy that, but I'm now on a 12-step program.

Scrapbooking is my centering activity, and my stress relief. It makes me blissfully happy and serenely calm. Somehow, looking at photos of my beautiful, funny children and my loving, intelligent husband let me appreciate them anew. Even when they've been beastly and I'm full of anger and resentment (more often than any mother wants to admit), scrapbooking allows my heart to open, and return to place of adoration, patience and above all, gratitude.

This is a big scrapbooking month for me. Let the bliss begin.

Big Mistake, Buddy

I got to do something wonderful today. I got to schedule an OB/GYN appointment. Yay.

Anyway, I called to make the appointment, and they scheduled me with Dr. Fu. Dr. Fu and I go way back, and when I initially saw him, several years ago, I wasn't impressed by his bedside manner. So, when the dear husband got home, I shared this little tidbit of news with him. The conversation then progressed like this:

Dear Husband: "Well, he did a fantastic job of giving birth to our daughter."

Jenny: "What?!"

Formerly Dear Husband: "I said he did a great job of giving birth to Emma."

Jenny: (long pause, during which "the look" is administered)

Husband: (nervously) "Didn't he?"

Jenny: "I kind of thought I had given birth to our daughter."

Man who lives with Jenny: "...Oh..., right, I meant... he delivered her."

Jenny: "Your wife did all of the giving birth and delivering. I would say that he caught her."

Man: "Well, he did more than that...."

(Violent look from Jenny, Man wisely decides not to press the point.)

*****
Disclaimer: I had excellent care from Dr. Fu and all of my doctors at Partners in Women's Healthcare, especially during my extended labor with Emma. Dr. Fu was really wonderful with her birth, and his bedside manner is worlds better than it was when I initially saw him. And, yes, he did more than "catch", but during the above-referenced conversation, no way was I admitting that.

The Tooth Fairy Cometh, Soon

It is official - Max has his first loose tooth!

We were dining at "Chez Meemaw et Poppy" on Labor Day, enjoying an eclectic assortment of hot dogs, spaghetti and turkey sandwiches, when I hear a howl of panic from the living room. Max is sobbing, and grabbing his mouth. I hold him, and manage (eventually) to decode the hysterical ramblings: my tooth (sob) is loose and wiggling (sob) and it is all my fault (sob). I ask him if I can feel the allegedly loose tooth, figuring that he knocked his mouth somehow and it is fine. Then I touch the tooth and it moves! I quickly cover my shock/repulsion and tell him that it is probably just time for him to lose his first tooth! How awesome! He then informs me, between louder sobs, that it is NOT time, he MADE his tooth loose by pushing his teeth together really hard!

Poor guy. He was really freaked out. After we calmed him down, I called Daddy in a quasi-panic to have him verify via The Internet that indeed, the bottom teeth fall out first. Whew.

Minivan on Mute

When I find myself alone in the minivan, I feel inexplicably lonely. The quiet consumes me, and I don't know what to do with myself or my thoughts. The silence is overpowering.

I know I should enjoy this time to myself - there is no Magic Tree House audio CD playing for the fourteenth time. There is no XM Kids Kenny Curtis Llama comedy going on, and no one is stuck in a real tall tree. No one is asking for Mommy's water cup or throwing toys on the floor or having an "emergency". No one is asking questions or telling me stories about how Mario knocked Bowser into the lava. No one is telling me not to sing because they can't hear the "real" singer. There is no Hamster Dance.

But, I guess those noises and annoyances are the sounds of my life, and as much as I throw my hands up and cry "Mommy has a headache!", most of the time I really love it, and I miss the noise, the auditory proof of my role as Mommy, when it isn't there.

Usually, when I find myself in this situation, I fill up the emptiness with:

• BBC news (world news sounds a whole lot better with a British accent, and I even find myself listening to the cricket report, though I don't understand a word), or
  
• International pop music, or iPod upbeat music, or
  
• Obsessive talking on the cell phone (using an ear piece).

Tonight, when I began to feel the loneliness, I started to panic a bit and reached for the phone, but I stopped, and just let myself drive in the quiet with my thoughts. Scary. Definitely shouldn't do that again.

Words of Wisdom

IF you let your son pee in an empty drink bottle when it is a "REAL EMERGENCY!" and you're not in a safe "pee next to the car" area... and IF this happens twice in two days... and IF you forget to throw the bottle away (or, to be more ecologically correct, empty it into the toilet or impatiens and recycle the bottle)...

PLEASE, take my advice...

do NOT use a sport-top water bottle that easily opens when a little sister inadvertently steps on it while climbing into the car. Because THEN, you will have to deal with the Moment of Horror, when your son has a third emergency the very next day and he says "Oh, Mommy, I could just go in this empty bottle here."

Next time: "stale pee versus baking soda in the minivan floor carpeting arena", or, "how to train your mother to visit the bathroom before you leave the store."