Thankful

This post copies nearly every other blog in the world. And every kindergarten class too. But, really, how can I not post a "things I'm thankful for blog"?? My sister and I were talking about my blog the other day, and she was telling me that she thought that I did a good job of being humorous about my life without being mean. (Because she's awesome. And she's my sister, so she has to lie to make me feel good. It's in the sister rule book, I think.) But just to warn you, this post probably won't be funny. It'll be super sappy and corny. Because I genuinely do feel thankful this year. And with that disclaimer, off I go. . . .

Things I am Thankful For

by Allison

My husband. For so many reasons. Here is a (not so) quick example: last Saturday, we were rushing around (shocking, I know) heading to basketball pictures and a game early in the morning. Everyone else had found a few minutes to scarf down some food, but not me. Because it's really important that one's hair be flat-ironed before going to the elementary school gym. I figured that I wouldn't actually die of starvation before lunch. Probably. But then, as we ran out the door, I grumpily "asked" John, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING? LET'S GO." And then he handed me a foil-wrapped, homemade breakfast sandwich. On Great Harvest bread. Not only did he think to make it, but he still gave it to me after I yelled at him. He puts up with me, he makes me laugh (don't tell him I said that!), he cares about me, and he is the greatest dad. What's not to be thankful for?

My children. I honestly never knew how great having kids would be. Sometimes they make me want to pull my hair out, but they make me happy, fulfill me, and give me purpose. I love them more than I can explain. I am so lucky to have them--three happy, healthy, smart, incredible children.

My job. Teaching genuinely makes me happy. Time flies by when I'm in front of the class, and I feel good about what I do. Are there bad days? Definitely. But the good always outweighs the bad. Not everyone gets to have a job they love, a job that makes a difference, a job that makes them laugh every single day. And I have to mention that I am thankful for a principal who has made it possible for me to work half time. I get to have the best of both worlds!

My family. My dad, who changes my oil, who fixes things for me, who drives out here to be with the kids EVERY Wednesday. My mom, who listens to my long stories about my day, who takes me out to lunch, who always has good advice. My sister, who gave me a nephew, who makes me laugh, who calls just to check in. My cousins, who have been a constant in my life always, who meet me for lunch to eat and laugh and talk, who love my kids. My grandparents, my aunts, my uncles, who are there for me, who do thoughtful things for my family. I could write forever about my family (and it seems as though I just about have. . . ) and I worry that I am slighting someone. I am thankful for them all. People have always been jealous of my family because we are close and happy and we spend tons of time together. There are 24 people in what I consider to be my immediate family--24 things to be thankful for.

My in-laws. They get their own category because they finally moved here (where they belong.) They live twenty minutes away, eat dinner with us regularly, come to every sporting event and babysit the kids whenever I need them. Abby and James already can't remember what it was like when they didn't live here. And that's just the way it should be.

My friends. I love my friends. I have mom friends, friends from work, from old jobs, from high school, junior high and even elementary school. I have friends who bring me hot chocolate, who call to wish me luck before a presentation, who watch my kids at the drop of a hat, who I can count on for anything. I'd love to write everything I love about each of them, but I think Blogger actually does have a word limit, and I know that everyone reading this is already sick of it. So, everyone, I am thankful for you, for all that you do. I will say a special "I am thankful for. . ." about Teresa. How different my life would have been without her. She loves my kids, lets me love hers, and makes my half-mom/half teacher life possible. Plus, she is a lot of fun!

My house. We just took off the market, and I wasn't sad about that. At all. We know that it's small. And it only has one bathroom. And it has zonal heat. But it holds nearly all of our memories as a family. I like the way it smells when we come home from vacation. I like that I can see the whole house from the front room. I like that it has a huge backyard for the kids to run in. It's where I brought my babies home. It's where we have celebrated and cried. This house is our home.

Vincristine, Dexamethasone, Methotrexate, Mercaptopurine (and it's cousins), Sulfatrim, Aspariginase, antibiotics, probably some other drugs that I have forgotten, and children's oncologists. Without these, a Thanksgiving post written six years after a leukemia diagnosis would be very different.

My kids' teachers. My kids love school and love learning. What more could I want for them?

Mocha. She pees on the rug. She chews everything up. She jumps on us. And snags clothing with her ever sharp claws. She traumatizes the cat. And did I mention that she pees on the rug? But, she somehow made Josh's nightmares go away. I don't care how she did it. I will love that dog (potty accidents and all) for the rest of her life.

I could go on and on because I am thankful for a lot of things too (like Starbucks and The Office and my comfy couches and boots and those soft squishy socks and chocolate.) But since most people skipped the list to get to this paragraph, I'll just say that I am thankful for my life. There's a line on Jon and Kate Plus 8 that I love (oops, I just admitted that I not only watch it, but that I watch it enough to know the line from the opening): "It might be a crazy life, but it's our life." And that's just how I feel.

Now, that's professional.

I have parent/teacher conferences this week. (To hear from someone who is not grumpy about it, skip the next few sentences and go read Paige's thoughts) I want to hold off on the complaining. I do, I swear. Except that we have them for 16 total hours. And that's a lot of hours over a 42 hour period. And in middle school, we don't schedule, so I have no idea whether I'll have two or twenty-two. And because we don't schedule them, the people who I really need to talk to usually don't come. But I digress. . .

Every year at conferences, John brings the kids to visit in the last hour of the first night (when we rarely have anyone.) He comes bearing Peppermint Hot Chocolate and I get to see the smiling faces of my family. The smiling faces that I haven't seen in just about forever, it seems. It's a fun tradition.

Last night, they showed up just a minute before the family of one of my students. So I shooed them all away and began to conference with the family. The girl is a great kid, so mostly I just sang her praises. Pretty soon, I felt a linebacker-style tackle from behind. Oompf! And heard with a giggle, "I wuv you, mommy!" Abby had snuck away from John--have I mentioned how stealthy that girl is?--and come to "greet" me. And have I mentioned that she was wearing the classic little girl ballet outfit (pink leotard and pink tights with some awful print underwear hanging out of the bottom) with tennis shoes? And that at some point, she had taken out her ballet bun and was left with Abby's own special puffy lion mane style? Luckily the family thought it was really funny and wanted to know all about her ballet classes. It seems that Abby at least had the sense to interrupt the conference with the family of a girl who has been dancing for 8 years. Which gave me a minute of meaningless conversation to collect myself and John a minute to retrieve little Miss NaughtyPants.

I may be a professional woman, but apparently Abby hasn't gotten that memo. . . .

Nine Random Things

1) Anybody see me on Grey's Anatomy last night? Talk about a cautionary tale directed right at me! (There was this lady who was always worried about having some horrible disease--yep, that would be me--and she self-diagnosed herself--me again--and she ordered antibiotics from Canada or something--I would never go that far. Probably. Maybe.--and she ended up killing off all her healthy bacteria and needed a fecal transplant through her nose into her stomach. Hmm. Thanks Grey's. Message received.)

2) I get to go to TWILIGHT tomorrow. Yes, I know that it's anti-feminism and probably a secret method of conversion to the Mormon church. I know that it's silly and written for eighth grade girls. And probaly immature ones at that. But here's the thing. I really, REALLY loved the books. They didn't require any deep thought and made me just want to read, read, read. There are worse things than Twilight. Ever seen any show produced by VH1? Or the E!network?

3) Carter made a little present for Abby and brought it to her this morning. My favorite thing is that he made one for himself and wrapped it up too. And was totally delighted to open the present he had made for himself. Sooooo cute. A cute conversation:

Carter (whispering): Allison, I make Abby a tootie.
Me: A cookie?
Carter: A TOOTIE.
Abby: You made me a tootie?
Carter: Yes. It's a surprise.
Me: When did you make them?
Carter: With Nana. Nana and Tarter make tooties.
Abby: I LOVE surprise tooties!
Carter: Shhh. It's a surprise.
(At home, opening them)
Me: Are you ready to open your surprise cookies?
Carter: There are tookies?
Me: In the bags?
Carter: What bag?
Me: The present bags?
Carter: No, that surprise TOOTIE.
Me (more than a little confused): Oh, well open them up!
Abby: Look at my surprise tootie mommy!
Me: Oh, it's a turkey.
Abby, shaking her head at me: Oh, mommy.
Translation: You are a moron. We have been saying that they're turkeys for the last ten minutes. Weren't you even paying attention??
Carter: Where the tookies??
Nice work, me.

4) I seem to have lost my camera. I guess I know where my Christmas money is going. . .

5) My house is being eaten by laundry. And toys. And a dog kennel. Soon, there will be nothing left except laundry. And toys. And a dog kennel. And, of course, the ever-present fall leaves that are magically transported into the house in disturbingly large amounts.

6) I asked Abby last night what she wants to ask Santa for last night. Her reply? Makeup. Lots of makeup. I told her that she could ask Santa for lipgloss and nail polish. She looked at me a long minute and then said, "No, Mommy. I want make-up. For my eyes." Great.

7) James knows his whole alphabet. (except, randomly, the letter V. But he did know that it went with volcano.) Plus also, he apparently knows the names of the letters in Spanish. Who knew. And also he knows the sounds the letter make. Finally. Thanks kindergarten. You're my hero.

8) This morning at breakfast, Josh and Diana were discussing a play they are in. They were practicing their lines (in Spanish, with really great accents!) and suddenly, Josh said: "Are you coming, Mom?" I asked when it would be performed. "At 12:15 and 1:00." That's when I am at work, but sometimes I can figure something out. I asked which day they would perform it. "Oh, today. Oops. Sorry, Mom." That boy. He kills me.

9) Only one week until the Christmas season officially begins!!!!

A friend!!

Abby and I have had many peaceful mornings this year. We run errands, take too many trips to Starbucks, hang out at home and play. However, it has been a bit of a hard adjustment for her--she has never, NEVER been by herself for more than a very short period of time. Born as the little sister to two big brothers and spending her mornings and afternoons with other "big kids" since birth, she doesn't quite know what to do with herself without other kids around.

When my friend Sarri decided to take a two month half time sub job, I offered to take her youngest while she works. Thankfully for Abby, she decided that would work for them too. We have had such a great time with little Carter (and Judy's Miss Molly on a few days too!)

Today, I needed to go get plates for a school function tonight (more on that later,) so I decided to go to Wal-Mart to get a few things after dropping the five big kids off at school. On the way, we had to drive past Starbucks. (OK, since I know most people who read here know that Starbucks in not exactly on the way from the school to Wal-Mart, I better tell the truth. . . I took a roundabout way to go past Starbucks.) So, of course since it was "on the way," we stopped. Milk boxes for the little ones and a Caramel Apple Spice for me. And yes, it did come in a Christmas cup. Abby said, "Hey Tarter! Do wanna sit in the poosy chairs?" I had to do a double take, but she did mean the poofy chairs, not some sort of adult video store creation. We sat at Starbuck's enjoying being there until the kids made a move to start jumping on the poosy chairs--obviously my cue to leave!

They were so good at Wal-Mart that we just wandered the aisles, looking at the "blah-blah-tween socks" (Lightening McQueen stocking--I never did hear exactly how Carter said that one!) and the "Hannah School Musical" stuff and the (OMG!!) Bawbie Dimon Tastle (Barbie Diamond Castle, which sadly Abby will NOT be receiving for Christmas. Anybody read that book? Blech.) We came home with two bottles of nail polish (a seriously ugly brown for Abby's fingers and a 'parkly green for Carter's toes) and the promise to paint as soon as we got home.

It is so fun for Abby to have a friend to hang out with. I can tell that she feels like the world is back on its axis to have kids(!) at our house in the morning. And don't tell Sarri and Judy, but I should probably be paying them for the all the fun that Abby is having!

ER should have a warning label. . . .

Or a special rating system. C= Cancer. CD=Child dies. PC=Pregnancy complications. SSOGV= Some sort of gun violence. LWTLMGD= Lady who talks just like my grandma dies. The list could go on and on. Then faithful viewers could be forewarned and prepare themselves for episodes that might hit home. Seriously, if my DVR is smart enough to record only the new Daily Shows, then I think it might even be possible to create a personalized warning system just for me.

I have seen every episode of ER. It's been on since color TV was invented. Well, maybe not, but it seems like it sometimes. Kind of the whole point of it is drama, drama, drama. Scary medical scene--some people live, some people die. Viewer beware. I get that.

(The rest of this post will only make sense if you have read the previous two posts. So, go ahead. Pause and go back and read them. You know you want to. . . .)

HOWEVER, did anyone see tonight's episode? Since I know that I may be the last person on earth who still watches it, here is a synopsis (Hey, Mom and Judy--spoiler alert): Some other stuff was going on, but there is this new mean chief of the ER and you can totally tell that she has some tragic back story. They have been unashamedly foreshadowing it for weeks. Her back story unfolded throughout the episode. Her five year old was acting strangely, and she thought it was nothing. They didn't take him to the doctor right away because she thought it was no big deal. Sound familiar? Then, finally, when he got to the hospital, guess what he had? A STROKE. Yep. And guess why? Because he had LEUKEMIA. No, I am not even kidding. Then, he died. Just like that.

So guess who will have puffy eyes at work tomorrow?

A warning system would only be fair to those people who have kept watching even after they have sobbed through the episode where Dr. Green totally killed that pregnant lady. And how about the one where Ray Liotta (even grosser and creepier than usual) dies? And the one where the totally healthy guy comes in for a headache or something and ends up with leukemia and dies before he can leave the hospital? Or the one where Dr. Green dies from brain cancer and they play that Somewhere Over the Rainbow song? Don't you think they owe me--I mean--those people something?? I should boycott that stupid show. Except that it's awesome. And I learn a lot of medical words from it.

Dr. Allison, MD

I may be neurotic, but I totally deserve a medical degree. Diagnosis (albeit via e-mail)? Night terror. Oh, and just so you know. You are totally not supposed to wake them up. Perhaps it makes them drool and slur their words. . . .

I need therapy. In a bad way.

I have always been a little neurotic. OK, a lot neurotic. I worry about crazy things, the things that are the most unlikely to be true. The fact that, occasionally, the most unlikely things have actually happened to us? That only fuels the already substantial fire that is my insanity.

This morning, before my alarm could even have the chance to go off, I heard screaming coming from the boys' room. At first, it didn't sink in. Then I heard Josh yell, "James! James!" He sounded really scared (not a particularly unusual happening) so I bolted out of bed. James was lying in his bed screaming--the "I'm really, really hurt, or at least I think I am" scream.

Try as I might, I could not get him to tell me what was wrong. He seemed really scared--something that is an unusual happening. He was lying face down, screaming. I kept asking him to move or talk. . . nothing. Finally, when he did start talking, I couldn't even understand him. The words were coming out all slurred. I sat him up and brought him a cup of water, which he basically dumped all over himself. And here is why I need a skilled therapist: I managed to convince myself he had had a stroke. To be fair, he was slurring his words and didn't seem to be able to drink, and he was drooling. A lot. (Hmmm. Isn't denial and justification of mental problems just another sign of mental problems?)

While I tried to remember if you are supposed to move stroke patients and how long you have to get them to the hospital (you know, so I could decide whether he needed an ambulance or just a car ride to the ER,) he kind of snapped out of it. He told me he was wet (um, duh, you just dumped an entire cup of water in your lap, buddy. Hey, and guess what? Since you were on my lap, I'm wet TOO) and stood up for me to help him change. He still seemed a bit disoriented, but after a few minutes, he was back to his old self. I don't think that happens when you have a stroke. Um, yeah. Because he didn't have a stroke. Because he is a healthy five year old.

Once my adrenaline stopped pumping, and I could see that he was OK, I realized that a nightmare seems a lot more likely. He was probably not all the way awake--maybe he even had a night terror. A stroke? The most unlikely possibility. So did I rush over to e-mail the doctor for reassurance? You better believe it!

PS I haven't heard back from the doctor. If it was a stroke, you are all going to feel bad for calling me a nut case in your minds. . . .

Hey goose---start eating already, would ya?

(Come on, that's a funny post title. Get it? Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat? Funny right? At least I amuse myself. . . .)

When I was little, we weren't allowed to listen to Christmas music until after Thanksgiving. Now that I'm all grown up, I sometimes sneak in some carols way before Thanksgiving. (Shhh. Don't tell my mom.) I just love Christmas music so much. I am helped along in my secret rule-breaking by the marketing people of our commercial world who seem to have no qualms about putting up Christmas decorations before we even trick or treat. I love those guys because I can never wait to get the season started!

On Wednesday, I went to the Starbucks drive-thru (which, as a side note, is an idea that should seriously win the Nobel Peace Prize in the category of Most Helpful Invention for the Mothers of the World, Especially the Mothers Who Live In Oregon Where is Drizzles for Six Months of Every Year. What? That's not a category? It totally should be.) and when they handed me the cups, they were CHRISTMAS cups! I know they are just paper products, produced by a huge company, which I'm sure exploits workers somewhere, but I really love them.

Then today, I heard a Christmas carol on the news. Some story about something--I wasn't really paying attention, but still. Christmas music. Hooray! We are only two weeks away from the Christmas season. In true Allison fashion, I am looking forward to my Christmas season unfolding in exactly the same way as last year. And the year before that. And so on. We'll volunteer at the Emanuel Hospital Christmas Party. And I'll cry when Santa arrives, escorted by a fleet of police officers, just like I have for the last six years. We'll go to Zoo Lights and after trooping through the cold, dark, rainy night with thousands of strangers, we'll wonder exactly why we went. Just like every year prior to this one. We'll argue about outside Christmas lights until finally, John will give in and put them up. We'll pack into a crowded gym with kajillions of people to watch our kids perform in their Christmas programs. At least one of the kids will have a terrible cough and fever for pretty much the whole season, so we can feel nice and guilty every time we take them somewhere. We'll drive around town, looking at all the Christmas lights while drinking hot chocolate from beautiful red Starbucks cups. We'll buy gifts for the giving tree. We'll make cookies for Santa and then open up new jammies on Christmas Eve (If you are reading this Amy, we did steal this idea from your mom and dad---what can I say? Bernie was a genius!) And, we'll all be thrilled to add in a new tradition this year--Christmas with Grandma and Grandpa 'Sota (Abby's name for them--her own version of Grandma and Grandpa from Minnesota--just stuck. I can't wait!!!!

Ah, young love

We were trick or treating on Halloween and out of the darkness, I heard an unfamiliar voice shout "Hey Mom! There's James! He's Kendal's boyfriend!" He had run into an old preschool friend at the latest door, and she definitely remembered him. It was a funny coincidence because we had been counting down the days, hours, and minutes until a visit with his beloved Kendal. A visit that was to occur 3 days, 21 hours and 20 minutes after the shouted reminder of his love for Kendal. Just in case you were wondering.

James and Kendal love each other. A lot. James was really excited about kindergarten until he learned that Kendal's birthday (and address) meant that they would not be going to kindergarten together. He misses her, and Kendal, left behind at preschool this year, really misses him. I contacted her mom a few weeks ago to arrange a playdate, and on Tuesday, the day had finally arrived! Kendal! At our house! Eating dinner here! And playing house! OMG!

We picked Kendal up at school, and after two minutes of silent awkward shyness, they started talking. And they never stopped. They played house, babies, and the ever-popular run around the house game. We all ate dinner together--tacos, picked by James because they are Kendal's favorite. They played Wii, held the hamster and they giggled. A lot. It was so sweet, and they really had a great time. They have been the greatest of friends since the day they met; in fact, they had a fairly involved wedding plan mapped out last year. When Kendal's mom came to get her, obviously they didn't want to say goodbye. It took several minutes for Kendal to get out the door. As they left the following conversation took place--it must be recorded for blackmailing purposes!

Me: James, you should give Kendal a hug. I don't know when you'll see each other again.

(Quick hug)

Kendal's mom: Come on Kendal, say good-bye.

(Kendal walks over for one more hug; James blushes, for the first time in his life)

John, laughing: Wow! Buddy, you are turning so red. You're face is so hot it's burning my hands!

James: Kendal is the one who is hot! She is the one who made me so hot!

(At this point, all the parents are totally cracking up and James is embarrassed)

James, shouting: It's true--Kendal is so hot! She's the one who is hot!

First of all, it was totally hysterical to hear a five year old shouting that a girl is "so hot!" The kids didn't get it at all and just stared at each other smiling while we all cracked up. And second of all, seriously, how cute is that Mr. Tough Guy James blushed? I love that kid.

Happy together!

Playing house. I think it was actually going grocery shopping--note the coat.

Do you think they were tired of me bugging them? I think this is a good glimpse into the teenage years, when the expression clearly say "You are a dork. Stop embarrassing me!"

November 4, 2008

I had just put the kids to bed. I called my mom to celebrate over the phone lines, and we quickly realized that Obama was about to speak. After hanging up, I thought to myself--this is history in the making. In fifty years, my kids will remember this day as a famous day. It will be in the text books that my successors in the teaching profession will use to teach the newest generations. "Josh? Are you still awake? Then come in here!" Confused at being summoned from bed, Josh came out squinting at the lights. "Sit here by me. I want you to see this."
As Obama took the stage, Josh, still not sure what was going on, asked "Why are we watching this?" Over the background noise of the crowd of thousands in Chicago, I answered, "Because this is a piece of history." He smiled and said "Yeah, I guess it is." When Obama took the stage and began to speak, I glanced at his face to see his reaction. He was beaming at the TV. Snuggled together on the couch, we watched to the end, until both the Biden and Obama families swarmed the stage in celebration. As he headed off to bed, I said "Thanks for watching with me, buddy." "Thanks for letting me watch history, mom."

Watch history indeed. No matter what your politics, who you voted for or what will happen over the next 4-8 years, no one can deny that it was a magical moment. The students at Spelman college sobbing. The celebrations in the streets of every major city in America. The crowd at Grant Park cheering. And a nine year old boy who asked just as he got to his room, "Are things going to be different now?" Yes, I think so.

Dance Class, Three Year Old Style

Abby loves her dance class. She counts down the days until Monday when she finally gets to go back for her "ba-yay" class with Teacher "Bwin." Because Teresa takes her and picks her up, I had never even seen the teacher or the set-up of the studio, let alone what the class is like. Yesterday was Parent Watch Day. At this studio, parents do not get to watch the classes, which is different than the studio where I took, but I do understand the philosophy behind it.

I have to admit that I had visions of grandeur. In the back of mind, the part which ignores reality, I could just see her class. I could see the tiny ballerinas, effortlessly performing the steps. I could envision the teacher beaming over her little dance prodigies, well on their way to dance greatness.

As the class started, I remembered that oh, that's right, this is a class for 4-6 year olds. Who a) don't really know anything about dance and b) have a hard time just standing quietly, let alone performing ballet steps. But it was so cute. The teacher was upbeat and patient. The class was well suited to little ones--a friendship circle, simple steps performed across the floor, and freeze dancing at the end where the dancers twirl around and freeze in their "favorite" ballet positions; Abby's favorite? Flopped on the floor. Abby was, well, excited to be in class. There was a lot of hopping in line and clutching the other dancers in excitement. But not actually that much dancing. She beamed the whole time though, and so did I. I'm really glad that she is a "dancer" now. I hope that she loves it as much as I did!

These pictures are terrible! With my crummy camera and the dark lighting of the studio, it took a lot of editing to even make them viewable!

Warming up! I think they were making rainbows at this point. The color of Abby's rainbow? Sparkly. I'm pretty sure that's not an actual color. . .

Waiting for floor exercises


Yikes, little ballerina! Point that toe!


Oh, that's better. Nice toe pointing (and check out that cute little calf muscle) but you seem to be on your own program here.


Teacher Brynn is so patient!

Lou, lou, skip to my lou!

Still on her own program, but so cute with her little ringlet escaping from her bun and her little outfit!

After class- pretty proud of herself. Daddy even brought her a flower, just like a real ballerina!

It's 11:00. What is your three year old doing?

When we got home from the soccer extravaganza that was today, we decided to make chili and watch the Nebraska-Oklahoma game (shhh. We don't want to talk about it.) Actually, John and his parents decided on that plan, while I decided that a few hours at school sounded good. Heavenly, actually. Peace and quiet. Stuff to organize. To-do lists to make and cross off. Teacher nirvana. Seriously. So I left at about 4.

I got home about 6:45. We sat down to dinner, and Abby seemed unusually happy.

Me: Abby, were you a good girl?

Abby: Yes, I taked a nap.

Me: A nap?

Grandma: She really did. She hasn't been up for long.

WHAT? It was almost seven o'clock! Apparently, at some point, the grown-ups noticed it had gotten quiet and someone went to find Abby. Usually quiet means that she is painting her room with my lipstick or eating a flouride tablet. Or worse. But this time, they found her curled up in her bed asleep. Poor thing. She was so tired that she had to put herself to sleep!

If I had been home, I would have probably woken her up and faced the grumpy bear who awakened. But I wasn't, and they let her sleep. Probably because when she is awake, she does the previously mentioned things. Anyway, I put her to bed at 9:30 thinking that she wouldn't be tired at her normal bed time. Just now, as I typed the six million posts I am behind on (PS please see below this post for the six million posts which get me caught up. I think), I heard her little voice. When I went to check on her (at 11 PM!!) this is what I found.

Please note: A) I wasn't kidding about the painting on the walls with lipstick. Look right above Dora. B) She has on satin pajama bottoms. Hello teenage years. C) The light was not on when I left her room an hour and a half ago. And now it is. Hmmmm. D) From the looks of her hand, there is a blue marker hidden somewhere in that room. And E) Isn't her new little daybed the cutest? It will be even cuter when she has a bed skirt and a window covering made from something other than an old sheet!

I heart soccer!

I do. I really, really do. I love the way the fields look as you drop down into the park--all green grass and changing fall leaves. I love cheering my boys on from the sidelines and seeing them give it their all. And when we have an entire season with no rain (well, almost no rain) I love it even more. This fall has been soccer, soccer, soccer at the Eitzen house. Most weeks, we have had some form of soccer six of the seven days. It has been so fun for all of us. Josh has really blossomed this season, and he really enjoyed his team and his coaches. By his count, he made 18 goals. James loved, loved, loved soccer. He was totally in his element, darting around the field, tongue hanging out of his mouth. And by Josh's count (he clearly doesn't get the whole 'just play to have fun and try your best' thing) he had 21 goals. Abby loved the entire season because her friends are the younger siblings of the boys' teammates. I loved the entire season because no matter which team we were watching, my friends' are the parents of the boys' teammates. And John loved it because he loves soccer. And it doesn't hurt that his boys scored a total of 39 goals between them! I am more than a little sad that the season ended today. Josh is sad, but he starts basketball in a few weeks, so he has that to look forward to. James, on the other hand? This is the conversation we had today. Please keep in mind that I have mentioned that the season is ending about two million times this week. . . .

Me: Can you believe that this is your last game of the season?
James: WHAT??!!?
Me: Remember we talked about this? Soccer ends today.
James: NOOOOOO! But I LOVE soccer!
Me: Well, you can play again in the spring.
James: What does that mean?
Me: Well, there is another season of soccer in a few months.
James: In a few days?
Me: No. In a few months. After Christmas and Valentine's Day.
James: WHAT??!!??
Me: Sorry buddy, that's just the way it is.
James: Geez. By the time that I can play soccer again, I'll be old.

Awwww. Poor James.

Because I was more worried about getting my yogurt parfait from the McDonald's drive thru in time than picking up my camera from where I specifically left it out on the counter, still no pictures. So, please visit the blog of good-mom-who-remembered-her-camera-and-already-has-the-pictures-posted-Judy!

A great Halloween night

If you read my Halloween post, you know that Halloween doesn't have the greatest memories at our house. For the first couple Halloweens after the diagnosis day, we went through the motions as quickly as possible, came home and made Josh sleep in our bed. (Hello future therapy bills) The past few years have been super fun though, and we are so busy with our little goblins that we hardly have time to think about the past. This year was no exception. We had the perfect night.

We spent the evening with the Denney girls as the lone Denney "boy" was working at the football game on Friday and the oldest Denney girl didn't think Halloween alone as the only grown-up sounded like much fun! John brought Chinese food from one of our favorite places, and we quickly devoured four huge entrees and two orders of BBQ pork. Then it was into costumes and off for an early session of trick or treating. We walked and walked, and the kids hardly seemed to notice how few of the houses we actually stopped at because they were so happy to be walking together. No rain, fairly warm temperatures, the smell of wood smoke and burnt pumpkin mingling together, leaf piles to kick and jump over, some stops at friends' houses--the makings of a perfect Halloween night. All the kids came home with full candy bags and tired feet. Perfect. Halloween just may make it back into my good graces after all!

Still didn't have my camera at this point. For the cutest slide show ever, please visit Teresa's blog today.

And we dance, cha-cha-cha.

There aren't many drawbacks to my half time schedule. But one big one pops up every now and then: all school parties and most school assemblies occur in the afternoon. And I work in the afternoon. I have missed most of the "occasions" at Josh's school. And despite the fact that I am at the school in the mornings more than I am at home some weeks, I still have missed out on some things that Josh wishes I hadn't.

So when Josh came home and announced "Mom, today my teacher asked who had someone coming to watch our tampico, and I was the ONLY ONE who didn't raise my hand," I knew that I had to work something out. See, in lieu of a Halloween celebration, the third graders have a fiesta to honor Hispanic heritage month. Which is apparently October. They learned two dances and performed them in the gym at the beginning of the party. A tampico, if I understood things right, is a Costa Rican dance, and they also did the Mexican hat dance.

It was really cool. Nearly fifty kids, all dancing together, the girls in flouncy skirts, the boys with handkerchiefs in each hand. I was so happy I made it.

In order to see the performance, I had to 1) get permission from my principal to leave, 2) find someone to be my student teacher's "substitute" supervisor for the period I would be gone, 3) go to work for the first hour of my day, 4) put on my Halloween costume (all the sixth grade teachers wore our eighth grade football team's uniforms, shoulder pads and all) for a group picture, 5) scarf down some lunch, 6) get my class settled and ready for my student teacher, 7) change out of my costume, 8) rush to the elementary school and park--in the farthest possible spot from the front door, 9) watch the performance, 10) rush back to my car and drive back to my school, 11) wrestle myself back into my costume, and 12) make it back into my class at the exact moment the next period began. Needless to say, I was totally sweating and so HOT by the end of this. I was pretty proud of myself until after school. The first thing my charming child said to me? If you are guessing "Thanks for coming to my performance, Mom!" you would be way wrong. He said, "Mom, I can't believe you missed the singing! That was what I really wanted you to see!" Nice. It's a good thing the dancing was so fun to see, or I might have to cancel Christmas for a certain third grader at my house!

Oh, and one more thing. I didn't bring my camera. Or my camera phone. When one of my fellow mommy bloggers get their posts about this up, I'll edit to add a link. The video Teresa took of Josh dancing is worth a second visit. Such enthusiasm that boy has.

The pumpkin patch. . . again.

On Thursday, we headed out to the pumpkin patch with James's class. This was an instant replay of last year when James and Abby and I went with Mary and Laura's class. Same hay ride, same hay maze, same video about growing pumpkins, same teacher. Every single detail was the same, and the kids had a great time once again. He had one of his new friends from kindergarten in his group, and he was pretty excited to ride on the bus with all of his friends. I still have one more go at the pumpkin patch in a few years when Abby finally gets to kindergarten, but I imagine not much will have changed!

Waiting for the bus. Younger siblings aren't allowed on the bus, much to her disappointment.

Hayride with a good friend!

Corn maze. They weren't pleased about having to stop for this picture. At all.

A super cute donkey.

Hey mom, why does he have a number on his ear? Is he for sale? Ummm. Somebody please tell me that he isn't for sale. Because a) he is too cute to become veal parmesan and b) at the rate we are going, I might buy him to bring home as a pet.

Carving Pumpkins

I am so behind. What with the police action and all, my blog is woefully behind on all things fall! Last Sunday, I decided that we better go ahead and carve those pumpkins we got before Halloween passed us by, leaving us with embarrassingly faceless pumpkins on our porch! We invited John's parents, had a delicious, warm cheesy casserole for dinner and a caramel apple crisp made from fresh, local apples, and then carved away. Josh was able to do his whole pumpkin on his own this (although he did insist that his pumpkin was much harder than everyone else's to carve) and James and Abby got into the spirit of things too. No one cried or got in trouble and there were smiles all around--a successful evening for sure!

Cutie patootie!

She really was having fun. I don't know why it looks like she is in pain.

Blackmail picture. . . .

Have I mentioned that I really, REALLY want a new camera? What is up with this shot?