The Letter

It's Christmas morning! The kids are happily and quietly playing with "everything they asked for," according to James. I am syncing music to Abby's MP3 player, which is harder than it sounds since every time I put a CD in, iTunes automatically takes over and iTunes does not play well with others......It's a long process, so I have a minute to put in the text of James's Christmas letter (see post below.)

Dear Mom, dad, Josh and Abby,

have a good Christmas mom and dad. I hope you like my gift. I can not what til Christmas day. I can not wait to see whet you gat me. have a fun Christmas. merry Christmas.

to my faimly
from James

I love that guy.

James

I know that I have been writing about this boy a lot. A lot. It's just that I am so thrilled about what is happening with him!



As school was starting this year, I was worried. Like not sleeping worried. We had been working hard for over a year (interventions at school, working at home, private tutor) but he was still behind. He started saying he didn't want to go to school. His writing was pretty much unintelligible, and getting him to do it was like pulling teeth. Or worse. His confidence was very low, and I was in panic mode. Nana Pam (our tutor, extra Grandma, and friend) kept assuring me that he was fine, that his time would come, and though I wanted to believe her, I just wasn't sure. As a middle school teacher, I see a lot of kids who just never really catch up. Sure, they read and write, but they just aren't ever where they are supposed to be. I don't need him to be gifted, but I just really, REALLY don't want him to be a struggler.



It has been nearly four months, and he is quite simply a different kid. Through hard work at home, school (thanks Paige!), and tutoring (thanks Nana Pam!), he is making real progress. Because of his success at school (and wrestling too!) his confidence is just through the roof. He is reading his stories in front of the class, reading the menu at restaurants, asking me what signs mean after he reads the words, and writing up a storm. Best of all, every day when he gets out of the car in the morning, he smiles and says "Love you, mom!" and runs toward school. He is just a happy boy this year, and I love it.



On Friday night, he was heading to bed and we had this conversation....



James: Hey Mom? Can I write a letter in my bed?

Me: Sure, I guess. Who are you writing to?

James: I don't know, I just want to write. I'm a writer now.



I immediately teared up and texted his teacher through my tears. He is a writer now because he believes he is a writer. Pretty soon, he called me back to his room. He handed me a letter and told me to promise not to look at it, but just put it under the tree. I crossed my fingers and promised. I didn't open it, but I did glance at the front:



To my faimly

Merry Christmas

Love James.



I cannot wait to see inside.

Swimming

I have no pictures or video of this. I had no idea it was coming, so we were all in the pool together with no cameras anywhere nearby, but Abby started swimming this weekend! We swam in the hotel pool twice. The first time, she kept asking to "swim to me" which really meant kind of hop through the shallow end toward me. So on the second day, I didn't really even pay attention when she was "swimming" to me again. She kept saying "Mom, I'm swimming!" and I kept giving her the non-committal, Mom response "Mmm-hmmm" while I kept an eye on James (who has only been swimming a few times since he learned to swim this summer and is now doing cannonballs into the deep end and spinning somersaults--yikes!)



Pretty soon, she became really insistent. "MOM! Watch!! I'm swimming!" And she was. Doggie-paddling, but staying up in the water all by herself! We worked on it for a while, and soon, she was able to make her way almost all the way across the pool.



We got a trip to Great Wolf Lodge for Christmas from my mom, so I'll sign her up for lessons before that and she'll have a lot more fun there! Sometimes I just can't believe how much faster the third child does everything!

Perfection

I have this problem.....I expect perfection. Not from people (or housework or my organizational skills) but from situations. I try not to, but I always build up an outing or a vacation in my mind as a perfect family moment, and then I am sad (and a little--or a lot--grouchy) when something doesn't go as planned. I have really great memories from when I was little, and I so want my kids to have them too! In my childhood memories, our vacations and outings were perfect. Happy family, happy kids, happy parents, making the memories to last a lifetime. I am sure that my mother is laughing right now. I know that sometimes places were closed, the rain poured down, children (ahem) were bratty, and parents were miserable.

The first step is to admit you have a problem, right? OK. I have a problem. I know that my kids will have great memories even if I don't plan the right dinner or if we are late somewhere, and yet I plan and I plan, trying to make things just right; a magical family moment. I can feel myself doing it, building things up to the point where nothing could ever satisfy me. I have gotten much better at controlling the grouchiness when something isn't going perfectly, but inside, I still want it. Things got worse for a while after Josh starting getting better....I felt like we had been given this second chance, and it was up to me to make sure that EVERYTHING WAS PERFECT. I am working on this, and don't ask John to agree, but I think it's getting better.

Still, this weekend I tried for a magical Christmas memory. And honestly, I got it. Our weekend was perfect (or at least as close as it gets with three kids!)

Pretty perfect, right?

On Saturday, we left a clean house, on time. This alone was a true Christmas miracle. First stop: John's company lunch. It was at a beautiful golf clubhouse, and the kids were amazing. We stayed at our table for over two hours, and the kids were well-behaved and polite and ate the food without complaint. The food was really good, the decorations were beautiful, the boys won gift cards in the raffle (and Abby didn't cry when she didn't), and John won a Starbucks card in the grown up raffle. We sat right by the big picture window and talked and laughed and enjoyed ourselves.

Then we went to our hotel and got there right at check-in time. No waiting! The kids did an excellent job of gasping at the atrium, and oohing and aahing over the decorations. They were so excited that it was actually worth the cost of the hotel just for that moment. We went swimming for an hour, got ready and then headed downtown. From there, my plan went EXACTLY as I had planned it. Dinner by the "river" in the food court, no line for Santa (and the best Santa ever who sat and talked with the kids for over three minutes!), snow inside the mall (I had to tear up just a little to watch the little kids spinning and laughing with the "snow" falling on their faces), Santaland at Macy's, the big tree downtown, no rain, and then we finished off with cheese and chocolate at the Melting Pot. Then we headed home to snuggle up in bed. We had a huge (free!) breakfast buffet and more swimming in the morning.

Sweet Santa. It was the REAL Santa. I'm sure of it. He even had "real white stuff on his face," according to Abby.

Snow!!

Letters to Santa!

I don't know why they were leaning over so much. That is not a weird camera angle, just weird kids.

After we checked out, we stopped by to get my new phone (which I LOVE) and then headed to my mom's for our family Christmas. And believe it or not, that was perfect too! The fires were crackling, the kids were happy, everyone loved their presents, and then we finished it off with a big yummy dinner. My mom had even made a little scavenger hunt for the kids with even more gifts to find.

Annual Christmas photo at my parents' house. Unless my mom's are a LOT better, we may need to try for a re-take this week.

There were a lot of opportunities for everything to fall apart this weekend. A LOT. But it they didn't. There were little moments over the entire 36 hours when I thought my heart might burst. When James wrote his Make a Wish letter to Santa at Macy's and didn't ask for anything, just wished Santa a safe trip and a Merry Christmas. When I looked over at Josh's face at the Melting Pot and his eyes were just lit up at doing something so grown-up. When Abby suddenly learned to swim independently in the pool. When my whole family sat in the living room at my mom's opening gift after gift, and I realized just how lucky we are.

Everything doesn't need to be perfect, but I sure love it when it is!

Memories

Today, I heard about a good friend of my good friend whose child was diagnosed with leukemia this past weekend. In all honesty, the first thing that I did was cry a little. I don't know them, but it doesn't matter. I know what they are feeling right now--it's one of the worst moments of their lives.

Since Josh was diagnosed on Halloween, we were right in the thick of the worst of it for the holidays. To this day, I can barely stand to think about Thanksgiving 2002. But my Christmas memories are better. We went to the Emanuel Christmas party, Josh ballooned to twice his normal size and in his back brace, and had a really good time. We have adorable, hilarious Christmas pictures from that year. We decorated the tree, made cookies, and smiled more that month.

Back brace, steroids, and a smile!

He threw up all over the car on the way to Christmas at my mom's. We were still learning then how to handle our new reality and didn't have the necessary car supplies. (Need an emesis basin? Wet wipes? An extra towel? Come to my car, even today!) But that day is one of my best memories. He played and smiled and laughed. He was walking again by then, and we were surrounded by the people who loved us the most. I remember that day being warm and happy and relaxing and full of gratitude. (It was also the day that we let everyone know that James was on his way.) I can still see Josh clearly in my mind, playing Santa, passing out the gifts. He was so puffy that his rosy cheeks shone and his smile was a big as his head. Watching him, I felt positive for the first time in 55 days. There were still plenty more tough times to come.... We were on Day 55 of 916, but I could finally see that there would be a lot of good mixed with the bad.

Snuggly Jammies that could fit OVER the back brace!

I wish that I could tell that family that better times are coming. That someday, they'll be in my spot, with good memories interspersed with the horrible ones. Someday, they'll know that, but for now, if you have prayers, good thoughts, or positive energy to spare, send it their way.

(I had to put aside my pride to post this picture. Let's just say that a month of bad morning sickness coupled with the stress of Josh's diagnosis did not agree with me. But. See? Happiness and good memories!)

"He was so sweaty, Mom!"

James loves wrestling so much that Josh wanted to try it out. I was really proud of him because he generally steers clear of unknown things. I really encouraged him to try it out, even though I knew that he probably wouldn't love it. I told him it takes courage to try something new, and we asked the coaches if he could try it out. As I have mentioned before, wrestling people are pretty intense, and they L.O.V.E. wrestling, so they were thrilled to have a new potential wrestler. They told him to come try a few practices, and that we wouldn't actually pay and sign him up unless he liked it.

As his first practice got closer, he got more and more nervous. We talked about how it was OK if he didn't like it, but that it wouldn't hurt to try something out. To be honest, I wasn't sure if I was making a mistake to encourage him. It could be a disaster. Josh doesn't handle feeling like he has disappointed someone very well. And that is an understatement! He also doesn't like not being good at something. So we were both nervous when the day arrived.

When he got home, I asked how it went.

Josh: Um....
Me: Did you like it?
Josh: NO!
Me: Oh? How come?
Josh: I wrestled the same kid all practice.
Me: And?
Josh: He was so sweaty, Mom. I kept having to put my hand in his armpit, and he was so sweaty! It was SO gross.
Me: So do you think you'll go back?
Josh: NO!

And that was that. We haven't had any angst about it. He hasn't been agonizing over making someone mad or disappointing the coach. If you ask about it, he just says that it wasn't for him, and he prefers basketball. I am always so proud of him, but I am especially proud of him on this one. Since he is so much like me, I know first hand how hard it can be to just let go of something. But he did it. He tried something new and accepted that it just wasn't his thing. Maybe I should take some lessons from him......

Shoes

James refuses to learn to tie his shoes. He doesn't want to, and he got a double dose of extreme stubbornness from both parents, so I have been waiting for peer pressure to kick in. Except that somehow, Sketchers have made velcro shoes cool, so that peer pressure has been a long time coming.

On Saturday, we were getting ready to leave and the boys were wearing their nicer shoes to go with their button up shirts. We have issues with James and shoes (issues like he loses them everywhere we go, never can find then, and never has them on, even after we've asked 27 times) and he has been trying to do a better job. I have been trying to not to kill him over shoes since I really would miss that shoe-challenged boy, so I was steering clear of the whole shoe process. Josh, who would also miss him if I killed him, had offered to tie his shoes for him.

Pretty soon, I heard "Mom! Mom! James tied his shoe! He did it!" Sure enough, he had tied one of his shoes perfectly. I praised him a ton, and we were all so excited.


James: I did it! Now I can wear tie shoes!
Me: I am so proud of you!! (etc) Why don't you put the other one on now?
I walk away at this point.
James (from the other room): Mom? Never mind. I just got lucky with the one shoe. I guess I'll wear Sketchers forever.
I hurried back in to offer encouragement.
Me: If you did it once, you can do it again!
James: (with a big smile) That's OK. I like Velcro shoes!

Sigh.

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Trying out posting from my new phone.

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Christmas Recital

This summer, Josh's piano teacher decided to stop teaching lessons. She has four young boys, and it had just gotten to be too much. Josh really liked Liz and almost quit taking lessons because he didn't think he would like anyone else as much, but Liz had given us a recommendation for a new teacher, and I convinced Josh to go meet her. Luckily, he liked her, and we decided to start lessons with her once the school year started.

He has really enjoyed lessons with Karen, and he has made a lot of progress. For some reason, practicing has suddenly become his favorite thing, and his playing is really improving because of it. His recital was this past Sunday, and he did great! I am really proud of how hard he has been working.

Emanuel Christmas Party!

Hey look! I don't have to be in picture this time. Year 8 of the Christmas party was the magic year when no one was scared to see Santa!

A fun new addition this year was the photo booth.

The cousins working the food table. Henry and Abby did a little more play than work this year, but someday soon, they'll be official volunteers too!

Saturday was a great day; it really is one of my most favorite days of the year. The Emanuel Christmas Party is even better than my birthday! The party brings back the best of memories and lets us make new ones. In case you don't remember what this is all about, head back here to get caught up.

Just like I do every year, Santa's arrival made me cry. And not just a little. My sister was across from me as we watched, and she motioned to me that she was crying, and suddenly the volunteer beside me laughed. "I thought she was looking at me! I cry every year when Santa arrives, but I have no idea why!" So we cried and laughed together. I agree with her. I have no idea why it is so moving, but it is. The police motorcycle escorts, sirens flashing, followed by Santa waving from the train and then moving to hug every child he can get his arms around? It's awesome, plain and simple.

We were, as usual, in charge of the food table. We wear our official volunteer reindeer antlers and make sure that everyone gets their treats, assuring people "Yes, it's all free. Everything here is free" over and over and over again. James decided after a few minutes to make a sign and wrote "Free" on a sign to reassure people. Watching my two boys, working hard to restock food and helping people get what they need and taking it so very seriously made me tear up again. They are just such sweet boys. I just about had to force James to take a break to go see Santa! He was afraid to leave Grandpa alone to restock and greet party goers, but I finally convinced him to go.

Wendy, whose daughter is the reason for this party, runs the party, and she has always insisted that the kids participate in the party too. We all have the best time, making crafts, visiting Santa who gives out big toys (a Barbie for Abby, a Star Wars toy for James, and a LEGO set for Josh), getting piles of candy and tattoos from the policemen and firemen, and of course, doing our actual job at the food table.

I really like to sit back and watch the party goers. It really is the most eclectic mix of people you will ever see. There are families in matching, expensive Christmas clothes, families who might never own matching Christmas clothes, families with dark circles pulling their inpatient children in wagons, families speaking different languages (I heard at least seven today), families of every race, size, and type. But every family at the party has a child who has been an inpatient at the hospital or who has been out patient A LOT over the year. So, as much as they are different, they are just the same in a very important way.

There is always a gift raffle at the party. Every kid gets tickets (including mine) and they can choose a prize to try for with their tickets. Two years ago, both Josh and Abby won a raffle prize. James didn't. This year, Josh and Abby each won a raffle prize (a pedicure set for Abby and a hockey set for Josh.) James didn't. He was disappointed, but handled it with amazing grace. Later, I saw the boy who had won James's coveted prize. He was the older brother of a completely bald little guy with a port-a-cath in his scalp. The little brother was weak and tired and pale and getting every bit of his parents' attention. But the older brother was beaming, carrying his mini-fooseball table. I pointed it out to James, and I wasn't sure that it sunk in. But later, I heard him tell my dad that now the brother "would have something to do when he was lonely." Seriously, I just adore that boy, and I wouldn't be too surprised if a mini-fooseball table showed up under our tree this year.

Every year, I feel a little guilty when I get my volunteer thank you e-mail after the party. We are the ones who should be thanking them for one of the most wonderful days of the year.

Junie

Our family, apparently, doesn't believe in mourning periods. Frankie died early Thursday morning. Little Frankie Junior (who we will be calling Junie in an effort to remember that she is a girl) was snuggled into her cage by 8 pm on Thursday night. It was the best 35 dollars I ever spent. Josh adores her, and I saw a real smile for the first time in 24 hours. That alone was worth at least 1000 dollars! Maybe more. And this? This is priceless....

(from James--I got an e-mail with this typed text on Friday. I think it will become a book, and I, for one, cannot WAIT to see the illustrations for this one.)

My brother and I got a guinea pig. My brother Josh named her after a TV show.

About five months later, on 12-8-10, we came home. We looked in the cage. My brother's guinea pig was lying down. She looked dead, but she was breathing a little. We put a towel in the box then we put her in the box. We tried to feed her and give her water, but she didn't want it.

She survived about five hours.

When I went to bed, she died. It was very sad.

An hour later, I was coming back from wrestling. My dad got a text saying my brother got a new guinea pig! He named it Frankie Jr.

My brother was holding her. I got to hold her. When we got home, we put her in the cage. It was a baby guinea pig--a very nice baby.

I will always remember Frankie when I go to lay with Frankie Jr. I really loved Frankie. Maybe Frankie Jr will grow up like Frankie. I am excited to play with Frankie Jr.

His grasp of time is a little suspect, but he sure is the sweetest boy.

Christmas Program

When Josh was in third grade, we let him skip his Christmas program to go to a basketball game. I blogged about how much happier he was at basketball here. So this year, when James had wrestling practice at the same time as his program, I realized that fair is fair and let him go to practice. He had a weekend tournament coming up and needed to practice. Josh wanted to skip it too. But. Since he is a fifth grader, this would be his last program, and he didn't have a good reason not to go, so I forced him into going. Fifteen minutes before we needed to leave, he announced that he was supposed to wear black pants and a white shirt. He does not OWN a white shirt. So we found the closest thing, and he went to the program wearing dress pants and thermal Tony Hawk shirt. Sigh.


This is the thing about Josh. He REALLY, REALLY doesn't like to perform. He pretty much hates everything about it. And even more than he hates to perform, he hates to perform unprepared. And apparently, something had been added at the last minute. So he was grouchy and surly and hormonal-y the whole way there. He didn't want to stand with us before it was time to go back, but WAIT! WHY ARE YOU GUYS WALKING AWAY FROM ME?!

He was so nervous. I always tell him to stop being so conceited and realize that NO ONE IS LOOKING AT HIM! I mean, we are, but everyone else is watching their kid, not him. Surprisingly, that isn't very helpful.


The programs are all the same. Slightly off-key singing, hand motions, songs that touch on several holiday traditions (no Hanukkah song this year, though!) And just like every year, I tear up and just about boo-hoo out loud as soon as the singing starts. This year was no different. Except. This one had giant sombreros! Olé!

I took this picture because Josh's face is hysterical! But once I was home, I just about fell over laughing when I looked at all the rest of them! This is fun! We LOVE singing and dancing! To be fair, they are listening to the music teacher, but still. Hilarious.

Blogger WILL NOT let me upload the two short video clips that I took. It's frustrating me, but I think that Josh will thank Blogger for that bit of mercy later in life.

Frankie

So, the guinea pig died in the night last night. Josh left her wrapped in a blanket in a box by the Christmas tree (so she could see it) and headed to bed late, and by the time we got up this morning, she had died. He had a little visitation with her body before I carefully wrapped her up with her Christmas stocking and prepared her for burial later today. It didn't seem silly; it felt just right.

She was just a guinea pig, but Josh really loved her. And since my heart is broken for him, I can barely write this without crying. Actually, I can't write this without crying He sat with her all evening last night, watching her breathe. At one point, he said that he felt so bad for her that he wished she would just stop breathing. It was a selfless thought, and I think it surprised him that he felt that way. But that is just a part of being human. Compassion and grief and dealing with death and dying...all just part of being human. So even though I don't care much about a guinea pig (even a really sweet one,) I am grieving for my sweet boy today.

*#$@*% %$#

(If I hadn't just shown my entire class my blog yesterday while introducing them to blogging, I might use the real words that I'd like to right now for the title of this post. Just kidding, sixth graders! I NVER use those words.)

Josh's guinea pig is dying. We knew she was sick, but we were hoping for a Christmas miracle. More specifically, a Christmas miracle that does not in any way involve a vet bill four times the price of the original guinea pig. Or more likely ten times the price, since I'm sure it would need blood work and X-rays if we actually found a vet who even sees guinea pigs. Plus! Bonus! It was after hours by the time we realized that she was really in bad shape. Awesome. The moral of this merry story is that we are letting nature take its course. Unfortunately, that means my most sensitive child is now sitting on his bed with a nearly dead guinea pig watching it take its last breaths. He is devastated to say the least.

We picked guinea pigs for pets because 1) they have no creepy tails 2) they live for five years 3) they are cute and cuddly and 4) they live in a cage and require very little beyond food and water. Reason #1 and #3 and #4 are definitely true.

Dear Reason #2, You are stupid and we hate you. You are also a big, fat liar. The end.

This is a life lesson that I would really rather him not have to learn, but here we are. Learning a stupid, blankety-blank life lesson.

Whoops!

Abby and I were out looking around stores yesterday, and when we left, we saw a Santa coming out of Petco. We were in the car already, so I ignored her pleas to "Stop! Mommy! Stop! Moooommmmmy!" I assured her we'd see Santa another time.

Abby: Mommy, how does Santa get to all the different places? (CLASSIC question)
Me: Well, some of the Santas that we see are just Santa's helpers.
Abby: Why?
Me: Well, Santa is so busy at the North Pole, but he still wants kids to be able to make a Christmas wish, so he sends helpers to dress up like him and talk to the kids for him.
Abby: Oh. But when we saw Santa last year, that was the real Santa, right?
Me: Oh, I'm sure of it. He knew all about you (he really did--it was a little on the creepy side, to be honest) and he looked just like Santa! I think sometimes Santa gets lonely at the North Pole and comes to talk to kids for just a little while.
Abby: Yeah. That was definitely really Santa.

Several minutes later, I heard a sniffle from the backseat. Then the sniffle became a little moan. And then, in true Abby fashion, that moan became a sobbing wail.

Me: Abby! What's wrong?
Abby: Mommy--I think that was him!
Me: Who?
Abby: SANTA!! That was the real Santa at Petco, and we MISSED HIM! THAT WAS OUR ONLY CHANCE!! (Boo-hoo, sob, sniffle, moan, etc)

Whoops! It seemed like such a harmless, simple way to answer her question........ I did manage to convince her over the next TWENTY minutes that the real Santa was not at Petco, and that the real Santa would be the one we see later. (When we have her brothers and the camera.)

Seven Year Old Logic (or Possible Mental Disturbance)

James: Hey Mom? What if you married the food that you loved the best?
Me: Ummmm....
James: Like what if I married candy? I would want to eat her! Like, all the time!
Me: Uhhhhh....
James: I guess if I ate her, it would be like a divorce, right?
Me: Well, not exactly. I don't think there are many divorced people who eat each other.
James: So there are some?
Me: NO!
James: Oh, well, if I was married to candy, we would get divorced. You know why?
Me: I can't wait to hear this one...
James: BECAUSE candy can't talk, so she would never be able to answer a question! AND, candy can't even do the dishes! I mean, I'd have to do everything by myself! So, we'd get divorced, and then I'd eat her. And I wouldn't even feel bad about eating her!
Me: Oh. My. God. (OK, that was in my head--I really said, Hmmmmm.... and came immediately to type it out so I wouldn't forget.)