The Big Day

The big first day of kindergarten finally arrived. Who is this darling little girl you ask? Why, it's me. 34 years ago. On my first day of kindergarten. My mom almost started to cry when she saw this picture today. Note my lovely garment, which I believed is called a smock, and my flood bell bottoms. Especially groovin' are my combo white patent leather and blue suede shoes. Incidentally, I showed this picture to Elaine and asked, "Who is this?" She looked at it closely and said, "Me!" Also, 1974 was the last time my hair was long.



Flash forward 34 years to my own little kindergartner. Her shoes, which you can't see very well, are just as cool--black patent leather and grey tweed combo. We're all about the footwear here.



She was so excited this morning. We had her favorite cinnamon bread, because everyone who reads Betsy-Tacy knows that you have a special breakfast every year on the first day of school. Then we took pictures out on the front step, then drove over to school. I got out of the car and went around to her side. I put my arms around her in her seat and prayed with her: that she would have a wonderful year, learn a lot, have a lot of fun, make a lot of friends, obey Mrs. Blevins, and most of all, honor Jesus. When I finished she asked, "And can we pray the prayer Jesus taught us to pray?" so we said the Lord's Prayer together in the parking lot and headed in.

The place was a madhouse of course, but Mrs. Blevins was at her door, welcoming everyone. Here are a couple pictures of the room that Darren took last Friday during the kindergarten open house.

Lucy putting away her supplies...



The rainforest...



Mrs. Blevins also had a care package for each student with a note that said: Dear Rain Forest Kids: Welcome to Rain Forest Country. I am so happy that you are in our class! You are now officially a new member of our Kindergarten family! this is a special care package that I made just for you. This is what each item means: Starburst--You are a star in our class. Eraser--Remember that it's ok to make mistakes. Even grownups learn from mistakes. Smarties--You're going to get even smarter this year! Hug--If you ever need a hug at school, we have one for you. Sticker--In our class, we will always stick together. Cottonball--The Rain Forest is a warm, cozy place. Tissue--We will dry your tears if you need us to. Ribbon--Friendship will tie us together. Gummy Bears--Kindergarten is just like you: 'Beary' nice! Special pencil--Just because I'm glad you're here! Love, Mrs. Blevins. Doesn't she sound so sweet and kind? I'm thrilled for Lucy because, and not that I'm holding any 34-year-old grudges but it must be said, my kindergarten teacher was a cranky old battleaxe.

Here she is with Lucy...(note the GREAT hair; Luce is right!)



It looks like they've hit it off already. After everyone arrived, Mrs. Blevins gathered all the kids on the mat and read them "The Kissing Hand." Then all the parents kissed their own kindergartners goodbye, and we left. I only teared up a little bit, just because she looked so small, and grave, and self-possessed sitting there on the mat, while the other children just seemed so out of control (sorry, but they really did. I came home and told Darren good thing it was me who went instead of him; he would have been beside himself over some of the behavior I saw).

I picked her up when the morning was over, and Mrs. Blevins said, "Lucy fell down the steps on the way to the library, but she says she's fine and she never even cried!" Isn't that the kind of thing you'll remember your whole life long? Yeah, I fell down the library steps on the first day of kindergarten. But she really did seem fine, and when we got in the car she told me that she had a great day and that kindergarten was "excellent."

So...that was it. The first day of school. I survived and Lucy thrived. I'm guessing 34 years down the road when I look at her picture from today, I'll still get tears in my eyes.

Last Celebration of Summer

Thanks for everyone who's been asking how Elaine's doing. We're not too sure about her--we may have to take her to a urologist. Her sample came back negative for an infection, but she is still having all the same problems. I'll keep you posted.

In the meantime, we've been trying to distract her. On Saturday morning, we got up early and headed over to my parents'. Their neighbor Sarah has a little shih-tzu named Lilo who just had her second litter of puppies. Her first litter was three puppies; this time she had six. It made me glad the number of children didn't double each time I was pregnant.

Lilo is the sweetest, most gentle, mellow dog you'd ever want to meet. She takes wonderful care of her puppies, but she didn't mind us petting and picking them up at all. Here is the proud little mother:


Currently, all the puppies are named after rivers since Sarah and her husband are into kayaking. They'll be sold eventually, but they need names right now to distinguish them. I can't remember what they all are, but Lucy loved a little brown and white one and my mom and I loved the little black runt ("Just like Wilbur!" Lucy exclaimed).



Elaine loved the puppies too, but then she got in trouble because I told her no, she couldn't have a Tic-tac (since she never wants to stop eating them once she starts) and she threw the box angrily into my purse. She had to go sit out on the front porch. We eventually bid Lilo and her puppies good-bye. I felt my heart tugging to get a dog, but I ignored it.

In the afternoon, we went with our friends to a local mini-golf course and arcade to celebrate the last weekend before school starts. Here are two cute little golfers, Isabella and Lucy:


Daddy showing Lucy the proper way to swing...



Again, Elaine had a rough time. In addition to her bladder troubles, she fell down and scraped her knee on the blacktop. Then she got upset because she couldn't run around and pick up all our pretty colored golf balls. Then she fell again on some of the rocks in the golf course and scraped her other knee. I finally took her inside to the arcade. We sat at a table and shared a pink lemonade and some popcorn. Then we got some tokens, and I let her pick whatever she wanted to do.

This is what she picked--over and over and over and over:



Afterward, we all went to Giordano's. The kids had a blast, giggling and then giggling some more. After we ate, Lucy needed to go to the restroom. On the way back, she wanted to grab one of the after-dinner mints at the front. She told me, "See, I get kind of wild? And these mints really calm me down." I'll take her word for it.

During the night, at around 2:30, Elaine made us one of her nocturnal visits that she's been doing ever since she started feeling bad. She crawled into our bed and wiggled and wiggled uncomfortably and fussed until she finally fell back asleep again. I think we have some sort of dubious record: she went to the bathroom (in the bathtub) at 7:30 p.m. on Saturday night. The next time she went was Sunday afternoon at 1:00.

It's just not been her week. I'm not looking forward to a trek to the urologist. This is someone who didn't even want the doctor to look in her ears. I can't imagine how she's going to react to a visit like this. Maybe I better bring some of those Giordano's mints along to calm everyone down...either that or a puppy.

The U.S. economy is still afloat because of me...

Today was a very busy one-of-the-last-days-before-school-starts-especially-one-when-Mom-is-not-working. First thing we had Lucy's last swimming lesson for the summer session. I reminded her before we left that she needed to go to the bathroom because too often she has to get out of the pool, bang on the glass, and get me to take her in the middle of her lesson.

"I promise I just went right after breakfast, Mom," she said. However, as I was deep into an issue of Good Housekeeping finding out why Jennifer Aniston is such a happy, happy human being and all her happiness secrets to share, another mother said, "I think someone needs you." There was Lucy, tapping on the window and mouthing, "I have to go potteeeeee." I took her into the locker room where she told me, "I was sure I didn't have to go, but sometimes my kidneys just play tricks on me." That's a line I totally want to submit to an ad agency for incontinence products.

After swimming, we went to (where else?) Target for school shoes. Lucy got two pairs, and Elaine got one. Elaine can still wear Lucy's hand-me-downs (if I can find them), but every girl still needs a new pair to kick off fall. Hers were brown leather with a little ladybug on each one with pink sparkles on their wings. She loved them so much she took her nap with them on.

Then we headed to OfficeMax to buy a chore chart. If you're looking for a cute Mickey Mouse chore chart with coordinating magnets, there's the place. They're $13.99--I've been looking for one for ages, but I think they just stock them with the back-to-school stuff.

After rest time, we headed two towns over to our friend Ms. Robin for haircuts. Lucy especially was very excited about her potential haircut. Here is how they both looked this morning:

Before....





During....





Ta da!!!



When Lucy was done, she was thrilled with her new look. She said excitedly, "Elaine, do you recognized me?!" On the way home, she said, "Do you know why I decided I wanted bangs, Mom? Because I just knew it would put me in a better mood!" I promise I didn't teach her this. It's innate, I tell you.

After that I went alone to the library to pick up books I had on hold and then headed to Bed, Bath, and Beyond to pick up....drum roll please.... the final things we need for our extreme makeover on the guest bedroom! You know, the one you probably don't even remember anymore because it was MARCH when we started. I'm going to stage the room tonight (isn't that professional sounding?) I should have pictures up within the next few days.

One more thing...isn't this the cutest little ready-for-kindergarten person you've ever seen?! She puts me in a better mood.

Kindergarten Open House

Last night I went to the parents' open house to meet Lucy's kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Blubbers/Blevins. I seriously do not remember kindergarten being nearly as fun as it's all set to be for Luce. The whole room was set up like a rainforest, complete with a tiki hut in one corner.

Each parent found their child's place and sat in one of the teeny tiny chairs. From my early impressions, Mrs. Blevins is enthusiastic, funny, creative, and fast-paced. She seems a perfect fit for Lucy. Earlier this month, a friend of mine was asking Lucy all about going to kindergarten. Lucy was excitedly telling her about Mrs. Blevins and how she'd wanted her for ages to be her teacher. My friend asked, "What was it about her that made you want her to be your teacher?" Lucy answered (without skipping a beat), "She has GREAT hair." So in addition to those qualities I listed above, yes indeed, Mrs. Blevins also has great hair.

One of the things I'm most excited about for this year will be the focus on science. Neither Darren nor I are that into science, so Lucy hasn't been exposed to it much. In kindergarten they'll be observing a caterpillar turn into a butterfly first thing, then they'll be conducting various experiments. In fact, each of them will get to be the star scientist for the week, do an experiment at home, then bring it in and demonstrate to the rest of the class.

We also met Bananas, the class monkey, who will get the chance to spend the week with each child. He brings his journal with him, then the student writes down all his or her experiences with Bananas and shares them with the class. Mrs. Blevins also showed us a new technique she's been using since last year that has really skyrocketed the kids' success in writing. We also got to see what the reading program would be for the year and learned that the children would be doing a play of Eric Carle's "The Lonely Firefly" in September.

It was the discipline system that really got me though. In one part of the room there is a large paper tree. On the tree are many colorful parrots, one for each child with his or her name on it. After their first warning about behavior, the child has to pull their parrot off the tree and put it in a basket. Then they lose 5 minutes of recess. The second time, parrot comes off and 10 minutes of recess is lost. Third time your parrot gets pulled, a call home; fourth time a trip to the principal's office. Mrs. Blevins assured us that had never happened with any of her students. Then she said the line of the night, "Of course, I'm sure all your children are perfect and always listen and always obey. Sometimes though...you just have to pull your parrot." Somehow we'll be working that phrase into our family lexicon.

All in all, the whole setup just seemed an ideal place for Lucy to learn and bloom and grow. I can't wait to see everything she's going to do.

After her presentation, we each had to fill out a learning style questionnaire. Please forgive me for a moment. But I've just got to get this out. One parent asked, "Should we fill out our learning style or our child's?" It reminded me of a story my friend Julie told me when she was teaching. She was taking her kids on a field trip to Moccasin Lake. One parent asked, "Is Moccasin Lake a lake?" After receiving an affirmative answer she asked, "Do you think there will be bugs there?" Track with me, people, track with me.

OK, I've dealt with that.

Anyway, as I was leaving, Mrs. Blevins collected my paper and saw I was holding Lucy's folder. She beamed and said, "Lucy's mom! I'm so excited Lucy is going to be in my class! I just can't wait!" I told her the feeling was mutual, and she asked, "Does she know how to say my name yet?" Just wait until I tell her why Lucy likes her so much.

By the time I got home, I discovered that, by some amazing turn of events, Darren actually had obtained a sample from Elaine in one of the sterile plastic cups. We will now be referring to him as Annie Sullivan.

I'm still spending today however in a frustrating loop of doctor phone calls and trying to figure out where to take the sample so that I don't have to make the 3-hour round trip drive back to the pediatrician's office if we could just use a lab that is local. It's 2:00 p.m., and I still don't know what I'm doing, and I've got a 2-year-old in excruciating pain.

I think it's time to pull somebody's parrot.

Poor Little Girl

[Preliminary note: I really really try to keep any issues that might be embarrassing to the girls later on off this blog. However, this post may blur the lines a bit. I'll try to keep it somewhat vague.]

Yesterday I dropped Elaine off at daycare and headed on to work. I'd only be there about an hour and a half when her teacher called. She said that Elaine just wasn't like herself. She was overly sensitive and cried and wanted to be held. She also was holding on to herself and kept saying she had to go peepee and crying some more. Uh-oh. We've been down that road several horrific times with Lucy, so I called the pediatrician right away to see if I could get her in. They gave me an appointment, so I left work to pick up Elaine.

When I got there, she was in the bathroom again and had had an accident in her clothes. I'm supposed to provide a clean set of clothes to keep in her cubby at school, but that's yet another thing I've fallen down on and the only thing available was a pair of winter pants that fit 6-9 months (she's between 2 and 3T now). It now looked like she was wearing fleece knickers or something. We got in the car, and she plucked at them and said, "I don' like dese pants, Mom." I then made the stupid, stupid amateur mistake of telling her I was going to take her to the doctor. Immediately her lip jutted out, and she began to bawl. "I don' want da doctor! I want Daaaaaddddddyyyyyy!" (meaning Daddy would be much nicer to me than this mean mother)

In the meantime, there's no way I'm taking my child to the doctor wearing a ladybug t-shirt w/ pants 4 sizes too small, so we detoured by Vanity Fair, I mean Target, on the way there. She picked out a very cute navy sundress with hot pink hearts, so I slipped that on her in the car. She was happy about that but then continued to inquire, "Where we goin', Mom?" all the way while I said cheerfully, "We're going home to see Daddy!" and mumbling, "After we go to the doctor" under my breath. She fell asleep about five minutes before we got there.

She seemed resigned when we got in. By the way, we have the absolute nicest, kindest, sweetest, friendliest, most patient pediatrician in the world. His name is Dr. Sroka. Elaine hates him. When he came in the room, she deigned to show him her bracelet but then spent the rest of the time hiding her face in the crook of her arm, looking for all the world like a baby bird tucking its head under its wing. We talked about her symptoms, then he tried to examine her, operative word being "tried."

He wasn't sure if she has a bladder infection or some sort of other diaper-area infection so he was going to treat for the latter first. He then asked if I thought I could get her to give a sample in a cup. Why yes, I sure do. About as much chance as I would getting a black ink-shooting octopus into a Sunday dress, lace tights, and Mary Janes. He said unfortunately if I couldn't get that done and the medicines for the other infection didn't work, he'd have to catheterize her. Oy. Just the thought of that ordeal will make me take my chances with wrangling the little octopus first.

He gave me some sterile cups to try with and told me that some parents come in with samples in Tupperware and then want the Tupperware back. He said once someone came in with a sample in a glass jar. He tested it, and it came back with the sugar level in the thousands. He was all set to do further diabetes testing on the poor child when he noticed a little bit of jelly left in the jar. He said, "The kid didn't have diabetes! He had Smuckers!" See? Isn't he nice? Yeah, try telling that to Elaine.

On the way out she bellowed, "I don' like Dr. 'Roka. He look in my ears, and I am SHY!" Then she added darkly, "Dr. 'Roka is the Purple Pieman." The Purple Pieman, if you don't know, is the villain from Strawberry Shortcake. Apparently that was the worst epithet she could think of. On the way home, she ate almost an entire pack of Starburst. (I supply special treats to both girls for surviving doctor visits.)

The poor little girl was just miserable the rest of the day. She cried and fussed and clung to me. I felt so sorry for her. I pumped her full of cranberry juice and changed her diaper about 18 times. Finally as I was layering medicine on her yet again she said softly, "Thank you for my medicine, Mom. Thank you for taking me to the doctor."

Awww...

Must-Read

If you haven't been keeping up with Angie's blog lately, you must read this and this today.

When Toddlers Attack

OK, blog break is officially over. I am back. I had nothing nothing nothing for all of August, but now I find three or four posts cooking in my head so I can tell I'm ready to get back in the swing of things. Some of the blogs I read, when they've got writers' block or they're taking a break, they re-run some of their classic posts. Frankly, that seems a little presumptuous to me, and I would never do it. It's not like I'm Bill Cosby or someone and you can listen to my routines again and again. My readership is probably down to two, one of them being me, but whatever.

Honestly, the girls didn't do or say anything that funny or memorable in August. It was a slow month for them too. When they were good, they were very, very good, and when they were bad, they were horrid. Frankly, they got on my nerves a bit what with their requesting food and then not eating it; taking all my kitchen utensils outside and leaving them on the patio; and sitting in the bathtub with one end of my washcloth in each of their mouths, growling and pretending to be dogs. And I was just a big broken record of annoying mom-ness myself, saying, "Keep your hands to yourself." "Cut it out." "Try and act like ladies." "Keep to your own space."

This weekend I went out to buy school supplies for Lucy. Wow, apparently kindergartners go through a lot of glue sticks and Kleenex. I also bought her a new backpack. "I thought she had a backpack from last year," said Darren. "She did," I answered. "But a) that was last year--it's all ratty now and b) it was too big and had the school logo on it." "I thought it was supposed to have the school logo on it," he said. "Noooooo," I replied. "Apparently only clueless newbies like me thought that because most of the other kids had cool backpacks while we forced our child to be a school spirit dork." It's a wonder she made it through Pre-K 4 without a Kick Me sign on her back.

Anyway, I got her the cutest backpack at Target. It's black with red apples all over that have little Hello Kitty faces in them. Then there's a big Hello Kitty in the center with a rhinestone in her bow. And, attached to the zipper, is a Hello Kitty change purse. She went crazy over it.

Elaine has been feeling a little left out of all the kindergarten hoopla, so before I left Target I swung by the dollar spot where fortunately they were also selling Hello Kitty merchandise. I bought her a purple purse, an HK backpack clip, stickers, and a notebook. At home I whispered to Lucy that I had bought Elaine some special supplies too because she's been feeling bad that she's not going to kindergarten, so Lucy went through the appropriate enthusiastic motions as Elaine opened her stuff. She was thrilled too and carried around her Hello Kitty purse and accoutrements all morning.

Everything was great. I was downstairs in the kitchen, and the girls were upstairs. I started to hear some squabbling, but that's really nothing new. Then I heard a piercing scream. I ran up to investigate. "Elaine bit me!" Lucy shrieked. This is unusual. Borderline shocking. I know the most common toddler misbehaviors are hitting and biting, but both girls have really always been more in the hitting camp. Lucy bit a little bit before she was even two and had to wear a sign on her back in the church nursery that said, "Watch me; I like to nibble," but that was more because she was testing her teeth than from any malice.

"Where did she bite you?" I asked. "Right here," she sobbed and pointed to her flower-covered bottom. I gingerly pulled back her shorts, and sure enough, there was a bite mark on her sitter. Due to the severity of the crime, Elaine not only sat in the naughty chair, I took away her Hello Kitty purse. There was much screaming and wailing and gnashing of teeth, but I stood firm. She needed to sit there until she was ready to get down and tell Lucy she was sorry and would never bite again. "You help me say it," she wailed. "You are perfectly capable of uttering those words," I said firmly. I left the room so she could think it over. She finally did it. (I have no idea where she gets that stubborn streak from.)

Later in the kitchen, we talked about biting and how awful it is and how it could really hurt someone. I told them both about how a dog bit me when I was little. They wanted to hear all about that. Afterward, Lucy eventually went back upstairs, but Elaine stayed close by. "I sorry I bit Lucy, Mom," she said. "I get my Hello Kitty purse now?" "No," I answered. "You need to think about how wicked it was to bite someone. You could have seriously hurt your best sister. You can have your purse back tomorrow." She puckered her lip and started to cry again. "That doggie who bit me got punished too," I added. "He didn't get any treats or toys?" she asked. "No treats or toys for biters," I said.

She thought it over and stayed close to me while I worked in the kitchen. We went about our business together, side-by-side. Finally, she looked up at me with big, serious blue eyes and said softly, "Mama?"

I swept the hair away from her face and waited to hear her sweet, childish confidence. "Yes, Boo?" I said.

"I went pee-pee when I was in da naughty chair."

Oh.

The Summer is Winding Down

I haven't been blogging much lately because, well, I guess I haven't had that much to say. I'd love to tell you that we've been having long lazy days at the pool this summer and walks around the neighborhood in the twilight or chasing fireflies on the lawn. For some reason, there's been precious little of that this year. For one thing, both Darren and I have had a heavy workload this summer, especially Darren. For the past couple of weeks, he has worked between 15-18 hours a day. Fall is actually looking restful (possibly) for us.

My mind was occupied by my mom's party for the last month as well. However, for months I've known that the beginning of August held our church's family camp. Anyone who knows me knows I have a number of rules to live by (no, this list is not where "Mark Harmon should be on TV at all times" appears. Though actually, that could just be a universal rule.) Here are some of the rules that do appear: 1) A bathroom should not be in a separate building from a bedroom. 2) Before going to sleep at night, I should not have to scan the room (or worse yet, the bed) for bugs. 3) I should not have to wear shoes while taking a shower. Those are just a few. As well, being a private person, I'm not really crazy about sharing living space with anyone other than my family either.

But....ahoy, family camp. (When I was sick previously and lying in bed, I prayed repeatedly, "please let family camp be cancelled please let family camp be cancelled." Apparently, God had other plans--possibly my continuing sanctification.) We packed up and left on Thursday afternoon, arriving in Amish country close to 7 in the evening.

The girls were somewhat charmed with the novelty of driving from our cabin to a separate bathroom to shower--though I squelched a scream when the lights went on, and some roaches went scurrying under the garbage can. After they were all clean, we tucked them in their beds and went across the hall to play card games with our friends.

I was awakened in the early morning by Elaine climbing in my sleeping bag and singing me one of her medleys. "Dis is my Fodder's world and to my listening ears, all nature rings and round me sings da music in my ears. Dis is my Mama's woooorrrrrldddd...Walk, walk, in the the Word dis is da waaayyy!"

After breakfast and chapel, we all headed down an incredibly steep, winding road to the lake. Someone I will not name told me it was pretty and that there were places to sit. Maybe I misheard and this person actually said "It is muddy, and you will get bit." Here are a few pictures of the lake--the only pictures I managed to take at camp:

Darren and Lucy on a precarious looking dock, helping some friends into a canoe...



A group of people in a paddle boat. This is right after all of us on land told them they were sinking. I'm not sure if it has sunk in yet....



Lucy's one wish for camp was to ride in a boat with Daddy. Here are two dads, paddling...



...and two friends riding....



In the afternoon, I took the girls swimming (in a pool, of course, I've not completely taken leave of my senses), and that was Elaine's favorite thing. There was also a softball game and game time on top of the hill in the evening. My friend Sarah and I were tailgating during this portion, while the dads played some form of soccer with a gigantic ball with the kids. Eventually Sarah's Isabella (little girl in the boat next to Lucy) came over. "They keep hitting me, " she said. "Who is hitting you?" we asked, outraged. "The adults," she reported. I guess Darren and Lucho (Isabella's dad) got a little intense. Darren came back with tales of uber-competitive moves from Lucho, and Lucho said that Darren elbowed some 4-year-old girl.

By that night, both girls were crying on the way to the shower. "This is disgusting, Mom!" sobbed Lucy. "I wanna go hooooooommmmmmeeee!" wailed Elaine. Good thing we were leaving in the morning. We rolled out of camp around 11:00 a.m. on Saturday and got home around 2:30. Reports that I kissed the top step of my home are patently untrue. Or at least there is no photo evidence to prove it.

As soon as we got in, Darren and I each crashed on a couch and fell asleep while the girls inexplicably found a box of Saltines and crumbled them all around the downstairs. After Darren got them bathed and in bed, he picked us up a pizza, which we ate while watching the final installment of Foyle's War. Ahhh, civilization.

Later on when I checked my email, I found one from my friend Jennie. She was writing from the airport where she was flying out on her way to Paris for the week. Somehow the directions for my life went missing because spending one of the final weeks of August in France should have been on my agenda for sure.

I have to say though while being at a camp is not my idea of a good time, it was a lot of fun just being with friends, eating, talking, playing games, as well as hearing a great speaker during chapel time. When we got home, Darren asked "Wasn't it worth being at camp just to hear that guy?" I said, "Maybe we could just invite him to do a seminar or something, and then we could all stay in the comfort of our own homes where we belong."

This week is really our final week of summer without much of anything on our schedule. Next week is filled with....gasp....open houses for Lucy's kindergarten. I'm sure I'll have plenty of material once the dog days of August have passed and school begins again.

If nothing else, family camp provided blog material, right? Right?!?

Project Successful!

I love tea parties. Anyone who knows me knows that. When I turned 30, my mom gave a tea party for me in her home. It was so beautiful; I'll never forget it. What I remember most from the day though was coming into the kitchen after the party where she was cleaning up, only to find her lying on the floor. She had wanted to give me a birthday party even though she had just finished chemo, was in the middle of radiation, and had another round of chemo to look forward to right after. Planning and executing the party was so exhausting to her that when it was over, she couldn't even make it to the next room to lie down on the couch. I got her up and up to bed to lie down and finished the clean-up. That's my mom though. That's what she'll do for her daughter.

Now it was time for turnaround. My mom is turning 75 on Tuesday (oh, if she read this blog she'd just be so thrilled that now her age is posted on the Internet). I was dying to do something big for her. Time for a tea party, and this one would be a complete surprise. For the last month I've been planning and scheming and sending invitations to her friends. I decided to limit the guest list to a number of her friends from our old hometown, rather than mixing her new friends or relatives in. I prayed that every person would RSVP yes, and all but three did. There would be about 20 of us total. Since it's a fair distance from where I live now, I've spent a lot of time on the phone coordinating rides for people. I had a cover story ready for her--the girls and I were going to take her to the Japanese gardens and for tea there for her birthday.

Everything was set to go. Then on Tuesday, Lucy got some horrible stomach virus. She was up with her little bucket in hand, all night long. Time to pray again, this time that neither Mom nor I would get sick. Well, the crucial 50% of that prayer was answered--Mom stayed well. By 2 a.m. Thursday morning, I was sicker than I think I've been in my life. I thought the pearly gates were in my very near future for sure, and I was actually glad about it. The best thing (??) about the virus was that it was pretty much over within 24 hours. I was as weak as a dishrag, but the party was still on. I worked frantically Friday night and Saturday morning. By 2:30 p.m. everyone was here, we were all dressed (very important), and all waiting for Mom. She had no clue.

When she walked into our living room and saw all her friends cheering for her and singing Happy Birthday...everything was worth it for that moment. She was totally overwhelmed and thrilled. She got to see and talk to all her friends. They seemed to definitely all enjoy the tea food. After everyone had gotten to eat and chat for awhile, we all sat around the living room. I had sent a pink card in each invitation and asked the ladies to write a friendship memory, Bible verse, or wish for the future for Mom. They shared what was on their cards, and I told them about the tribute I had written for my mom for Mother's Day. I knew there was no way I could read that in front of everyone without completely losing my chili, so I had copies printed out for everyone. I did mention the part about how much she loved hymns and the hymn that is her legacy to me: "'Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus," which we then sang together. Then I had one of her friends pray for her.

After that, there was a lot more gabbing, and I think everyone was finally gone around 8 p.m.! Mom gave me a big hug and thanked me and said she'd remember that day for the rest of her life. I'm planning to do a scrapbook with pictures from the party and the cards as the rest of her birthday gift.

Oh, and here was the menu: Scones (vanilla & cranberry) with strawberry jam and clotted cream; cucumber sandwiches; chicken salad sandwiches; fruit tarts; poppyseed bread; cranberry bars; lemon bars; high tea lemon cookies; fairy bonbon cookies (Lucy's choice); chocolate pistachio bundt cake; tea, of course, and raspberry cordial. My sister-in-law Rome also made some delicious hot hors d'oeuvres.

I'm going to have to rely mostly on pictures my dad and other people took because I believe my camera and I have finally reached a parting of the ways. It has let me down on too many occasions. The still shots are ok, but all of the ones with any people in them are completely blurry.

Some pics of the table...








Lucy entertaining some guests...



Mom talking to some friends...




Here are a few of the leftover favors. I put some lemon cookies and bonbons in each box. Tied to each is a different quote about mothers from "Stepping Heavenward."



Today I am absolutely exhausted--probably more tired than I've ever been except the two times I've given birth, if that's any indication. There were many times throughout the last couple days when I didn't know if I could go on. I popped Tylenol like they were raisins. I still don't feel 100% after that virus. But it was all completely worth it. It was the most wonderful day. I didn't lie down on the kitchen floor (and Rome and my dad helped me clean the kitchen!), but I am typing this while lying in bed.

It's definitely OK though because that's what daughters do for their mothers. Happy (75th!) birthday, Mom! I love you!

Scraps of Things

My blogging is going to be sporadic this week. I'm working on a huge project, and it's occupying a lot of my time and the majority of space in my head. I'll reveal it all next week.

This weekend I spent a lot of time working on it, plus deep cleaning my house. If you have little kids, you know you can only deep clean in phases--which, of course, by the time you're done with one phase and ready to move to the next, that one's messed up again. Saturday I tackled the upstairs--cleaning the floors and especially the upstairs bathroom.

As I was on my hands and knees underneath the sinks (apparently I haven't cleaned under the sinks since we moved in three years ago), Elaine came in. In the afternoon, we were scheduled to go to her friend Izzy's 2nd birthday party. She announced, "I tell Izzy about the pieces."

"What pieces?" I asked.

"The broken pieces. I tell Izzy about them."

"Well, why don't you tell Mom about the broken pieces too?"

"Ok, Mama, I show you."

So she took me by the hand and led me into her and Lucy's room where she had dropped a Mickey Mouse snowglobe on the floor. Tiny shards of broken glass were everywhere (and of course we were both barefoot) as well as water, the contents of the globe, and glitter snow. Then I noticed glitter all around Elaine's mouth.

"I drink some of the water there, Mom."

I'm not completely sure what I said at that point, but it was something along the lines of why why why why oh for crying in a bucket why would you do something like that?

"I sorry." (not particularly repentantly)

Later in the evening, after I had given both girls their bath and put their pajamas on, I settled them in my bed to watch an episode of the Waltons and just to wind down. They seemed very content to lie there. It had been a long day, cleaning, a birthday party, no naps, so everyone was glad to settle and I went into another room to read a book. Darren was at the side of the house, talking to a guy about weeding our yard for us.

All of a sudden, the guy looked up and said, "Ummm, oh no, honey, I don't think you should do that." Darren looked to see what he was talking about, and there was Elaine, in the front yard by herself, lifting up the guy's bike. We don't know when or how she got outside or why she felt compelled to lift up a man's bike.

Darren came in and told me that little story, and then I shared the shattered Mickey Mouse globe vignette with him. He said, "I'm probably better off not knowing these things. I'm sure she's a normal 2-year-old for anyone else? Just not for us."

That was pretty much the essence of our weekend, trying to get work done while wrangling Elaine. There were other moments with her in there too, but I'm sort of too tired to write about them.

Also here's an update: you know how miserable Lucy's been at daycare? Well, Alysa read my post on that and promptly invited Lucy to spend the day with her and Maddie and Jackson today so she wouldn't have to go to daycare. And this would have been her last day there, so she's kissed that place goodbye. She was so ecstatic when I told her and has been packing her suitcase full of Polly Pockets all weekend. She kept asking, "I don't have to go back any more ever?" and in her prayers at night she said, "Dear Jesus, thank you that I don't have to go back to daycare EVER AGAIN."

Oh and one last thing. All summer Lucy and I have been anxiously awaiting to receive the packet from school and find out who her new kindergarten teacher will be. Remember the story of Mrs. Blubbers? Anyway, when we got home from the birthday party on Saturday, the packet was sitting on the counter, unopened. (Hello? Does Darren feel absolutely no anticipation at all? Did he not want to see this all-important question settled?)

She was absolutely over the moon to discover that yes indeed, Mrs. Blubbers aka Blevens is going to be her kindergarten teacher. She called my parents right away and shouted to them, "Mrs. Blevens is going to be my new teacher! Mrs. Blevens who I've been wanting with all my heart!"

So I'll check in whenever I can here and I'll be sure to have a big reveal next week...

Update from Tuesday

If you want to see pictures from the birthday party on Tuesday, you can check them out here.

...including one of Lucy and me with our hairnets on. That was the initial stumbling block of the day for her. Maddie came up and sweetly offered to put Lucy's on her. Lucy said quietly, "No, thank you," like it was some optional party hat or something. She had a similar problem when she went to a tearoom for a birthday, and they were required to pick a hat off the wall and wear it. I thanked Maddie for wanting to help and leaned down and whispered to Lucy, "You will put the hairnet on because that is the RULE." She whispered back, "I want you to put yours on first, Mom." I said, "Welllllll, not yet. As soon as we go in the room where we pack the food."

Another case of: apple, meet tree.

Birthday Party Experience

Since starting pre-school, Lucy has been on the birthday party circuit. She's been to all sorts of parties--gym parties, tea parties, parties with clowns, her own fairy party of course--and they've all been great. Birthday parties in America is a whole other topic that I won't get into here, at least not today. But yesterday's was unique and wonderful.

About 40 of us met at an organization called Feed My Starving Children. There were two other groups there that day as well, one from a Presbyterian church and then another youth mission group, so there might have been 85 of us all together. We first met in a room where a worker from the organization showed us a video. Any time you talk about children starving to death, you know that's going to be compelling. But you really could not fail to be moved by this.

One story that really stuck out to me was that of a missionary walking down the road and hearing a tiny cry from an outhouse. A woman had apparently given birth over a toilet and left the baby in there to die. The missionary tied a rope around his waist and went all the way down to retrieve the baby from the sewage. They showed a picture of the baby, and he was pretty much the definition of bones covered over with skin. He was brought to the orphanage, where the workers there named him Moses. Now he's about three years old, thriving on food and love, and is about the cutest little chocolate drop you've ever seen. The rest of the video showed the difference even a few weeks of healthy food can make in the life of a child. The great thing about this particular organization is that 95% of the money goes into the food. It goes straight to missionaries and orphanages--no politicians involved.

After the video, the woman described the food we would be packing for children just like Moses. It's a mixture of chicken-flavored powder, dried vegetables, soy, and rice with all necessary vitamins added. We all herded in, washed our hands, put on our hairnets, and began to work together.

We set up assembly lines around the tables, someone cranked up the 80s music (which I am completely convinced motivates everyone to work faster AND happier), and got going. It was so fantastic to see a room full of people, especially little kids, working together to bag up this food. Lucy and three other little girls at our table manned all the ingredients while one mom supervised them, one mom held the bags, I weighed them, and another mom sealed them. Every time a group filled a box with food, they would yell out a chosen phrase or word, and FMSC workers would take the box to the warehouse. One group yelled out "Donation!" every time, but ours yelled out "Happy Birthday, Maddie!" each time.

After about an hour and a half, we cleaned up and all went into the warehouse where all our boxes were stacked on a pallet. Each person laid their hand somewhere on the boxes and we prayed over the food. Then we went back into the "debriefing" room and found out our stats. In under two hours, we had packed over 23,000 packages of food, each of which will feed a child for a day. So with the food we packed, 60+ kids will have food for one year! Then we got to taste a sample of the food we packed. I was surprised: it was very good; it tasted kind of like Rice-a-roni.

One of the coolest things for me was that Maddie's mom (my friend Alysa) did not pick this option out instead of the usual kid party just because she's a groovy mission chick from Moody (though of course she is!) Maddie herself wanted to do this. Alysa and Maddie have volunteered at FMSC before, and Maddie, who turned 6 yesterday, was so moved by the fact that 18,000 children die each and every day because they don't have enough food to eat that she wanted to do something. She's been thinking of ways to earn money and wanted to have her birthday party there. And in lieu of presents, we each made a donation.

My own Lucy left a different person as well. Midway through she told me, "I LOVE Feed My Starving Children, Mom!" She was so appalled when she found out that the children would sometimes eat dirt and rocks because they were so hungry. That was the one thing from the day that jumped out at her. She kept saying, "They eat the dirt? On the ground?" She spent the entire ride home, detailing all the things that we could send kids around the world so they wouldn't be hungry anymore.

Don't get me wrong--I love fun birthday parties for kids, and I think everyone should get the chance to play pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey and hit a pinata or whatever. But here in the land of we-have-to-do-everything-completely-over-the-top-and-compete-with-each-other-even-in-our-children's-birthday-celebrations, yesterday was an awesome experience. Because Maddie's heart was touched by the plight of children without food, my own little girl has caught the missions fever as well.

So, happy birthday, Maddie!

Perseverance

This morning on the way to daycare, Lucy was happy for the first few minutes because I had downloaded a Meredith Andrews album on the iPod as a surprise for her. We listened to that, then Elaine demanded, not very graciously I might add, to listen to HER music, which is currently Vivaldi's "Gloria" and "Laudamus Te"--yes, that is a little surreal--and then sang along to it in her basso profundo voice while Lucy stared out the window the rest of the way.

Lucy does not want to go to daycare on Mondays. She loathes it. She's been going to the same daycare facility ever since she was 11 weeks old. Don't get me wrong; it's been a good place for us--nice teachers, wonderful director, clean facilities. I can still feel the stress of that first day though when I left a baby so small in the care of strangers that they had to put her bouncy seat in a crib. That was so she could still see around, but the bigger babies wouldn't maul her. Yeah, note to self: do not wear mascara on first day of work after maternity leave. No worries though, she quickly adapted and adjusted and absolutely loved it. In fact, when she was one of the bigger babies, she used to crawl around to the others and tap on the side of their cribs so that they would wake up and play with her.

Last summer, I gently broke it to her that she'd be going to a different school in the fall. Whenever she thought about it, she'd cry and ask if she could stay where she was or even just stay home with Elaine and me. But then she went to school, took to it like a duck to water, and went on her easy way as she always does. This summer she was looking forward to going back to daycare and seeing her teachers and friends. She couldn't wait for summer to start.

It hasn't turned out that way. She hates it. HATES it. Did I mention that? Hates it. The other children are mean to her. She doesn't have friends. Apparently no one wants to play with her. The boys are particularly brutal. Remember the infamous Anthony who hit her with a book and spit on her? There's another boy who tells her repeatedly he doesn't like her. Last week he said, "Hey, come here, I'll tell you a secret." You know how she loves secrets, so she went right over and leaned in. He said, "Guess what? You're stupid." She said that at the end of the day, the other kids were sticking out their tongues at her, even the little girl she thought was her friend.

Hey, wanna know the absolute worst part about being a parent? Yeah, this is pretty much right up there. Last week she was up 2 1/2 hours past her bedtime, crying. I held her while she sobbed and said, "I want to stop thinking about it, but I just can't." I talked to her about how I was her friend forever and Daddy and her dear sister and remember all her wonderful friends she made this year at school and church. Then I reminded her of Jesus, how He's always our friend and never changes and never leaves. She cried and said, "I want to smile at you, Mama. But these feelings in my heart hurt so, and it pours everything else out so that I forget I have any friends." I know what that feels like.

Today I watched her in the backseat, her yellow headband in place and her big yellow sunglasses with rhinestones, a la Jackie O., juxtaposed with Rabbie and her thumb in her mouth. I knew how much she was dreading getting to daycare. I tried to ask her questions like, "Does your class play outside on the playground? Do you play anything special?" She took her thumb out and said, "No, we just play. And no one will play with me, so I play by myself."

OK, I almost started to cry when I just typed that. I could probably write a whole impassioned post about bullying and how we always are teaching kids to handle being bullied rather than teaching kids not to be bullies. Or whatever, but Ann-Marie's done a much better job at her blog (check out her "Bully Chronicles"). The whole thing just makes me miserable though. And mad. I'm so torn between the "turn the other cheek" principle and just wanting to dropkick these hellions into oblivion. (Just keepin' it real, people!) I would a million times more rather have someone hurt my feelings than Lucy's. Elaine's either, but man, she is different. That is a girl who vociferously demands to sing Laudamus Te in the car. Future bullies of that little girl: beware.

Lucy is my tenderhearted little one, the girl who never wants to hurt anyone's feelings. The girl who, last week at swimming class, knelt down by the side of the pool to help another little girl who had trouble getting out. Who makes sure her dolls and animals are all tucked in at night and never wants anyone to feel lonely. Who, when we play Candyland, makes me move my gingerbread man up by hers, even if it's a lot of spaces, so that we'll be together. This is my girl who loved the dead bird.

So, Darren and I have been talking it over. Oh, and if you think I'm enraged on our daughter's behalf...heh. Watch out. Daddy's ready to gas up the truck. I'm not sure exactly all that entails, but it doesn't sound good.

One thing we didn't want to do though was fight all her battles for her. We've been talking about the book of James, how the first few verses say, "Count it all joy my brothers when you encounter various trials because you know the testing of your faith produces perseverance." We were talking about Kent Hughes' commentary on it and how he went through a very similar situation when his daughter was 6. We can't go out and mow everyone down and smooth her path all the way through life. She has to do some of it herself. We want Lucy to know how to be joyful during trials and how to have perseverance.

However, there are still five weeks left until school starts. Five long Mondays for her to endure, and she's only five years old. So we've decided on a compromise. She'll finish out July, the next two Mondays, at daycare. Then we've asked her dear beloved Mrs. Pope, who watches her on Mondays during the school year if she would mind starting in August rather than September. And we're not going to tell Lucy the plan until that last Monday is over. I can't wait for it.

I really hope we're doing the right thing. We think we are.

A Recent Quote Collection

The setup: I made Lucy a very ordinary peanut butter and jelly sandwich...low fat peanut butter, grape jelly, whole wheat bread (with extra fiber!)

Lucy: Mom, you make the best sandwiches in the whole world. I bet you could win a prize at the fair for your sandwiches.

-----
The setup: I set the girls' lunch down in front of them and before you could blink an eye, Elaine started sampling hers.

Me: Hey, little missy. We usually thank God for our food before we just dive into it.

She gives me a naughty grin.

Me: Elaine, why don't you go ahead and pray first?

Lucy (accusingly): Yeah, especially since you ATE first.

-----
The setup: I had possibly the largest zit ever, in the history of the world, on my chin. One of those dreadful red undergrounders. It was like, a cyst. I searched the Internet for some home remedies. I pressed a cold teabag against it at night and slathered it with plain white Colgate. Hello? Did everyone know about this but me? By morning it was almost gone. Anyway, while I was still sleeping, as usual, Elaine came in and woke me up.

Elaine: What dat on your face, Mom?

Me: I've got a sore on my chin.

She touches the dried toothpaste gingerly.

Elaine (in horrified voice): Oh.my.stars. Da doctor tell you do dat?

-----
The setup: The girls were in the bathtub, playing with all of their Polly Pockets. I was sitting there, reading a magazine. I looked up to see them using the shampoo and conditioner on their dolls.

Lucy: We’re putting conditioner in the dolls' hair. They really need it. But we’re not wasting it all, so you don’t need to lose your chili, Mom.

-----
The setup: I was rocking Elaine before bedtime. Her stuffed cat, aptly named Catty, was lying discarded under her bed.

Me: I see Catty under your bed. Actually I think I hear her crying. Don't you think you should go get her?

Lucy: I hear her crying too. I'll go get her for you.

Lucy retrieves the cat.

Me: Elaine, wasn't that nice of Lucy to get you Catty? She's so caring, isn't she? (I'm always trying to highlight their strengths).

Lucy: Yeah, Elaine. Definitely more caring than you are.

-----
The setup: I'm rocking Elaine after her naptime. Are you seeing any sort of pattern here? This kid loves to be rocked. She loves to just rock in the glider, listening to music. I have no idea where she gets it from. Lucy was in my room, watching a Waltons episode.

Lucy: Elaine, come watch John-boy with me.

Lucy: Elaine, come in here, I'm watching the Waltons.

Lucy: ELAINE, you are missing this! Come in here!

Elaine (roaring): I didn't miss anything! I am having my Mommy Time!

-----
The setup: Darren came upstairs from his office. He was wearing a white t-shirt (fine), denim shorts (fine), and black socks (sound of screeching brakes. Sorry, babe!)

Me: Oh my goodness. WHAT are you wearing? Why do you have those socks on?

Darren: Listen to that, Lucy. Mom doesn't like what I have on. I think maybe she doesn't love me.

Lucy: She does love you, Dad, I promise. She just wants you to dress right.

-----

Happy weekend to all! Remember, dress right and don't lose your chili!

The Good Doctor

Yesterday was my annual hope-I-don't-have-cancer checkup. That's really all we need to say here in the blogosphere, right? No other information necessary. I used to dread that day every year. I went to a nice doctor from Northwestern and then I would reward myself with something from the Fannie May store on Michigan Avenue, but still. It was awful.

Then I changed doctors, to one closer to my house. Dr. Mills and I hit it off right away. Then I got pregnant, and she was possibly as excited as I was. She is part of a practice, you know, where you see a different doctor each time so you get used to them all before delivery because who knows which one will be on call when your baby arrives. But not in my case. She was there for all my appointments (unless she had to run off and deliver a baby). She gave me her pager number in case of emergencies and said when the time came, she would definitely be the doctor who delivered my baby--so be sure and page her. She would run the mini-sonogram machine during my check-ups and say, "Hello in there little baby! It's Auntie Dr. Mills!"

When the time did come, she was in the room much of the time. Then, she was right up on the table with her six-month pregnant self, bringing Lucy into the world and saying, "It's a girl!"

Same thing when Elaine came, except by this time we had moved again, so I drove 75 miles one way just to see my favorite doctor. Lucy was born on a busy Saturday, but Elaine was born in the middle of the night so Dr. Mills just hung out in our room during labor and we laughed and chatted and showed her videos of Lucy going trick-or-treating (OK, Darren did that part because I was just a little bit busy). She told me later that when she went out to the nurses' station they asked her, "Why are you spending so much time in that room?" I guess they figured it was the happenin' room because by the time the baby was ready to be born, I don't know how many nurses had come in there to cheer us on.

And of course, I'll never forget hearing her say, "It's Elaine!"

So, now when it's my annual hope-I-don't-have-cancer checkup, I actually look forward to it. I bring pictures of the girls, and we hug, and then we both get tears in our eyes remembering what two awesome, happy days we have shared together. Yeah. My ob/gyn tears up when she remembers delivering the girls. Is that not cool? She told me that the male doctor in her practice asked her scathingly, "Are you sure you're an OB?"

This time we talked again about how we have to get together outside of her office, and she invited us to spend the day at her lake house (heh, yeah, she's a doctor) in August. We talked about how much our girls love American Girl--her daughter has five of them and loads of outfits, which she brings to the lake--and how they could all play together. So hopefully, that will work out.

Whenever I would ask Lucy what she wants to be when she grows up, she would say, "I want to be a doctor and help babies get out of their moms' tummy, just like Dr. Mills." Now she wants to be a chef, just like Rachael Ray, so...maybe she'll be some sort of combination OB/gourmet cook, right?

Anyway, here is Doctor Mills, the greatest doctor ever, with Lucy...


And here she is with Elaine...

Cooking School #4

Edited to add: Pictures now available!

This is odd. I continually try to upload pictures today, and each time I get the box with the red X through it. Hmm. So, no pictures of the cooking school today. Hopefully this is only a temporary condition.

We haven't had cooking school in awhile because of my birthday and 4th of July and whatnot, but we did last night. Lucy made sloppy joes, cheese fries, and banana pudding. Her sloppy joes were fantastic, and after much study and taste testing, I am here to tell you that the definitive BBQ sauce, the absolute best, in our opinion, is Corky's. Corky's is a Memphis BBQ place, but I am thrilled to discover that they now sell their sauce in the Midwest. We also like Famous Dave's (but only cooked, not as a dipping sauce) and Jack Daniels (what?!), but Corky's is our favorite.



As for the cheese fries, instead of putting the cheese sauce on top we served it as a dipping sauce. (On a side note, did you know that the worst appetizer--for your health, not taste-wise--in the entire United States is the Aussie cheese fries with ranch dressing from Outback Steakhouse? They have 2,900 calories and 182 grams of fat. So yeah, we served our cheese on the side.) Anyway, 50% of our family--members whose names begin with "A" and "E"--loved the cheese sauce. The other 50% pronounced it, in a word, "strange."



The banana pudding, however, was a hit with everyone except Elaine who wasn't allowed to have any because she didn't eat her sloppy joes (she has some meat issues). We used Paula Deen's "Not Yo Mama's Banana Pudding" recipe with just a slight tweak: we use cheesecake pudding instead of vanilla. No disrespect to anyone's mama, but it is the best banana pudding ever. It's Darren's favorite dessert, so he was very happy. He's been asking for some all summer. And yeah, that is a LOT for four people, two of whom are quite small. And yet...it's usually gone within 48 hours.



This post doesn't have the same impact as it would with pictures, but maybe it'll be working later today. It's very, very hot here now, and there's a good picture of Lucy standing next to the meal she cooked. Her hair is all wet from playing in the pool, yet she's wearing a faux velvet Sleeping Beauty dress and a heavy red fleece cape from when she was Little Red Riding Hood for Halloween three years ago. Wardrobe is very important in cooking, dontcha know...



And I just added this picture because she's so cute, I could eat her up...

Naughty or Nice

On Sunday, the girls and I stayed home from church since we'd gotten home from Mississippi at around 1:30 a.m. Since their schedules had been so jerked around, I just wanted them to have a nice quiet day before jumping into the week. We got ready at a leisurely pace, and the girls were playing dolls in their room.

I walked in, and Elaine was sitting on her bed with her favorite doll, Elena.

"Elena is naughty," she announced. "I pull out her ponytails. Then I spank her," she said. "Yeah, spank her!" Lucy chimed in. She began bouncing around, telling me all about the naughtiness of her dolls, too.

Time for a Mother lecture. I explained to Lucy (again, sigh) about leading by example. How if she acts like it's fun and cool and hilarious to be naughty, so will Elaine. "Why don't you play something nice with the dolls?" I asked. "Why don't you put on your hymn CD and get your Bible story book and have Sunday School with them?" They were both all over that idea and were excitedly making plans and lining up the dolls as I went to take my shower. I heard them sweetly singing "Holy, Holy, Holy." That's more like it.

When I got out, I overheard them talking about how naughty all the dolls had been in Sunday School. Jack had slapped Shelley. Shirley Temple had stolen money from the collection plate. Raggedy Ann had peed in her pants, even though she is 8 years old and had to be sent to the toddler nursery. As Lucy explained it, "We didn't make the dolls be brats, Mama, they just WERE."

Here is Shirley's fate:



Poor Shirley. One week she's Queen of England, then she's in jail for stealing from the church. Maybe next week she'll be in rehab.

An End and A Beginning

What a weekend. On Wednesday, July 9, Darren's aunt Fran died. She died on the exact date her daughter Betsy died last year.

We had a lot of figuring out to do--which of us was going to the funeral, we needed to get the day off work, would we get someone to take care of the girls or would we all go, compounded by the fact that it is a 9-hour drive to Mississippi, and we are just operating with a small rental car right now. So Darren got a larger rental car and DVD players (did I mention it was nine hours?), and the four of us piled in on Friday morning to head down South.

The girls were so so so so exceedingly good. Not one fight or fuss the whole trip. They were complete angels. This was especially helpful around about the time we hit St. Louis, and food poisoning hit Darren and me. We spent significant time in a number of gas stations and finally headed back down the road. I attempted to lie down in an upright seat, draping myself across the console. I vaguely remember Darren on his phone and him asking me about flowers for the funeral and me muttering, "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..."

We finally rolled in around 7 p.m. and headed to the hotel where we all did a quick change and teeth brush and headed over for the last 20 minutes of the wake. After that we were feeling well enough to take the girls swimming at the hotel, which I was glad about because that's what they had been looking forward to. We were in an outdoor pool at around 9:30 p.m., and it felt like bathwater so that probably gives you an idea of what the temperature was down there (the next day at the internment, it was 100 degrees in the shade).

Saturday was the funeral. Darren played "Amazing Grace" on his trombone, and his little girls were so proud of him (me too!) Darren's mom said some words (Fran was her sister) and sang as well as Darren's sister. Fran's brother gave the eulogy. It was truly a family event. One of the neatest parts for us was Darren introducing Elaine during the service since she is named Elaine Frances after her great aunt.

Aunt Fran was such a sweet little lady. I'm sorry both girls, but especially Elaine, won't get to know her as they grow up. She had a pronounced Southern accent and called everybody "honey." When Darren was born, she went to help out Darren's mom with the new baby. She took a look at him and said, "Meg honey, now that's the prettiest baby you ever had!" She was also known to go through the Corky's drive-through and announce her order as, "Oh honey, just give me what I had last time!"

She loved to help people, and she was a snazzy dresser. Her brother said during her eulogy how happy Fran would be to see what a nice outfit she had on for her funeral (and she had her nails polished too!)

The only time she was ever able to come and visit us was two years ago--she came up for Elaine Frances's baptism, and we bought her a corsage for the service. I sat next to her at the luncheon afterward, and we had a good chat. She asked me if I was working again, and I said kind of apologetically that I was. With a lot of people, I feel like I need to defend that position, but not Aunt Fran. She said warmly, "Of course you are! You paid a lot of money for that education. And honey, let me tell you. When you've got those little ones? You just need to get out of the house sometimes!"

She brought Elaine a little purple dress and $100 savings bond. She also gave her a baptism card that started out, "Dear little one...," in which she crossed out "one" and put "Elaine." Then inside she wrote, "This is the greatest honor I have ever had in my lifetime. One day I want you to know how much I love you. Love forever, Aunt Fran."

Before we left for Mississippi on Friday, I quickly opened up my email. Remember our friends I asked prayer for a few weeks ago, Brian and Warrie Blackburn? They were the ones who wanted to adopt the twin baby girls but were now facing a lengthy court battle for them. Last week we got an email from Brian saying that the birth mother decided to withdraw both fostering and adoption for the babies. They were devastated; it was the end of their dream. They had already grown to know and love those girls.

Then in an amazing turn of events basically overnight, both biological parents decided to terminate their rights and let the adoption go through. In the email I opened on Friday, there was a picture of a beaming Brian and Warrie, each holding a baby girl with one word in capital letters underneath: "HOME!"

So, it's been a happy-sad weekend. We're going to miss Aunt Fran. A lot. We know we'll see her in heaven someday, but it was hard to say goodbye here on Earth. And then we're so thrilled for the Blackburns, starting out a whole new life with two beautiful daughters. At the risk of breaking into a rendition of "Circle of Life" or something, I'll just say that's how life is. I am so thankful for all of it.

Job 1:21 "The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord."

Knock, knock

Lucy discovered knock, knock jokes. I hate puns and think they're absolutely the lowest form of humor, but she loves knock, knock jokes and I love her so I listen to dozens of them a day. Here's the funny part though, she has no idea what they are. I told her the classic one first:

Knock, knock
Who's there?
Orange.
Orange who?
Orange you glad I didn't say banana?

Well, she thought that was the height of hilarity, so the next morning she excitedly told me she had a knock, knock joke for me. Here's how it went:

Knock, knock
Who's there?
Banana
Banana who?
Banana you glad I didn't say grapes?

I thought that was so funny on so many levels so I burst into laughter. I have created a monster. Now throughout the day, she'll say, "Can I tell you a knock, knock joke, Mom?" "Yeah, hit me with it!" I'll say, and I'll hear something like:

Knock, knock
Who's there?
Toothbrush.
Toothbrush who?
Toothbrush you glad I didn't say horse rover?

The whole concept that she absolutely doesn't get it is funny, until the 4th or 5th or 32nd knock, knock joke that makes no sense. And she's very hurt if I don't laugh. She tries them out on her dad who almost never laughs at them because maybe he's teaching her that real life just isn't fair.

This morning she asked me, "Mom, will you get me a knock, knock joke book sometime?" so maybe that will help. I think I'll miss these very random ones though, and then I really will have to start listening to and laughing at puns. Hey, at least she isn't telling dead baby or cross-the-road jokes, so I can count my blessings on that one.

Update: I went into the living room just now and said:

Knock, knock
Who's there?
Lucy
Lucy who?
Lucy lastic lets your pants fall down!

She did not laugh AT ALL. Then she said this:

Knock, knock
Who's there?
Alice
Alice who?
Alice you glad I didn't say banana?

Then I said:
Knock, knock
Who's there?
Marsh.
Marsh who?
Marshmallow!

She looked at me gravely and said, "Mom, that's not really funny. If you said, 'Marsh I didn't say banana,' then it would be."

HELP!!!!!

It's a mystery to me...

Lucy loves mysteries, secrets, and surprises. Every since she was a baby, I would say, "Let me tell you a secret," and then whisper something in her ear. Most of the stuff she does (and wants me to know about) she'll usually lead me to and say, "Close your eyes first!" and will then do a big reveal.

She loves the Boxcar Children mysteries and the Strawberry Shortcake Sea mystery movie (say that three times fast). [Side note: Here is yet another difference between boys and girls. Once we were visiting my in-laws, and our three nephews were there also. Lucy wanted me to read from the Strawberry Shortcake Treasury, and since the boys love books too they wanted to get in on the story. The mystery builds--well, as much as a Strawberry Shortcake mystery can--who is stealing the seaberries from Coco Calypso? The friends keep catching a glimpse of a mysterious figure in the water. "It's a SHARK!" yelled Ryne, my 5-year-old nephew. "Nooooo," said Lucy reprovingly. "It's a little mermaid named Seaberry Delight." Yeah, those boys totally lost interest after that.]

When Lucy was still in school the class learned about pirates, made secret maps, and had a treasure hunt. That really set her off. Since then, she busily gets out paper and markers and makes secret surprise pictures for me and hides them on my pillow or writes out secret soup recipes and painstakingly wraps them up for my mom.

One day she sat down with her supplies and made a treasure map for Darren. I helped her with some of the words. "X Marks the Spot" it said (and then was covered with Xs). Then she wrote a note and slipped it under the door to his basement office. "I have taken your treasure box. Elaine did it. You will need this map." I ran down to whisper what was going on. "I have a treasure box?" he asked. "Just go with it," I hissed. He then got the map covered with Xs, followed it with her guidance through the house, and finally found the surprise she had hidden for him--a paper cone with silk flowers hung behind our bedroom door.

It's a funny little quirk she has, and it's actually very fun to indulge (usually). Her imagination is always running away with her, which is what everyone used to say about me when I was little so I get that. It can, however, occasionally be a little disconcerting as I discovered the other night. It was dark, and I walked around the bed to my bedside table to turn on the light. This is what was waiting for me. Let me tell you first, it's 90% less alarming in the light, in a photo, when you're expecting it:


Yes. That's Shirley Temple, barefoot, wearing a Cinderella crown and waving at me. In the dark. I'm not sure why. It pretty much scared the pants off me. Darren found it absolutely hilarious. "You have to take a picture of that for the blog," he said.

So there it is. There hasn't been any explanation of why or how she got there either. I will let you know whatever I find out.

Edited to add: This afternoon I asked Lucy why Shirley was on my bedside table. "Because she is the Queen of England." "Well, what is the Queen of England doing on my bedside table?" "She's overseeing things in the prison." Alrighty then.

I think this technically counts as a missions trip...

Since this weekend was a holiday, Darren somehow extracted the promise from me that we would all sleep in the tent one night. We got up Friday morning and went out to my parents who live in the country. Darren set up the tent and the air mattress while my mom and dad snickered (at me).

Then we left and went to a church picnic. I hadn't had much sleep the night before, so I was really tired by the time we got back to my parents'. So were the girls. Lucy was sort of whimpering, and I washed her face and brushed her teeth for her, put her in her pajamas, and she went out and flopped in her bed in the tent where she slept until morning like the awesome little trooper that she is. Elaine? Not so much. She was in full Princess Puff mode. (Princess Puff was my grandma's toy poodle, one of the snippiest little dogs ever to roam the earth. She's in dog heaven now, rest assured on some pink silk pillow.) Elaine wanted to be rocked. "Daddy, wock me!" she wailed. She wanted to sleep in her regular bed. She wanted more pillows and toys and stuffed animals. This girl takes after her mother.

Darren finally got her settled down. I sat inside, reading a mystery about an abusive husband who was killed by his wife because he made her sleep in a tent. Well, all except for that last part. By 9:30 I was done and didn't want the girls out there by themselves anyway, so I went out and got settled.

The next part was the longest night of my life. Possibly Fourth of July is not the night to sleep out in the open. Firecrackers and M-80s went off all around us. Dogs barked. Big dogs, little dogs, dogs on skates and dogs on skis. Go dogs go. Plus all around were people drag racing or something. Who knew so much went on in the middle of the night in Pump Handle, Midwest? Then the arthritis in my hip was killing me. Please don't laugh. It's true. And it was freezing. Freezing, I tell you. It was like lying on a mattress filled with dry ice. And everything was clammy. And oh, the crickets. They were deafening. It was like the Chinese water torture in chirp form. Another huge firecracker boom, and Elaine started to cry. Basically, my life passed before my eyes at that point. I was like, "I am so out of here. It has to be at least 4 o'clock in the morning by now. I have fulfilled my commitment of sleeping in the tent."

I carefully unzipped the opening so as not to wake the girls, but the cover over the tent was so firmly in place that I had to try and squeeze through until I just fell out onto the ground, losing one of my flip-flops in the process so I had to hunt around for that in the pitch black. I made my way back to the house where my dad had thoughtfully left the door unlocked. (He knows me well.)

I looked at the clock to confirm that it was indeed 4:00 a.m., and lo and behold it was 12:30. I'd made it three hours in the tent. I went upstairs, fell into a real (warm, blissfully quiet) bed and slept until 8:00 the next morning.

That was my tent experience. Darren claims it's not all bad and that he's bringing the tent to family camp in August. We'll see exactly who ends up sleeping in it.

Here was the best thing about this weekend though...

Welcome, July!

Yesterday our neighbor Ms. Jan came over for her annual 4th of July visit. (In case you're wondering, she also has an annual Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, Easter, May Day, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas visit too.) Here she is in her groovy Statue of Liberty glasses.



She brought homemade sugar cookies and snickerdoodles, plus gift bags for the girls. This year the gift bags had water bottles, stickers, pinwheels, star necklaces, straws, and little battery-operated hand-held fans that light up red, white, and blue. I'll of course take pictures on Friday, but here are Lucy and Elaine all kitted out from Ms. Jan last year.



I am not uber-patriotic, but my concession to this holiday has been playing Aaron Copland's music non-stop.

In addition, yesterday my mom brought over summer dresses she had made (patterned with Suzy's Zoo--I finally remembered, Melanie!) After I finished work, the three of us went for a long walk and smelled the summer scents of clover and linden trees.

To celebrate the first day of July, in the evening we had these (I had to take two pictures because the first shot had someone's hand grabbing for one):



We ate them on the front porch and enjoyed the warm summer evening...

Miss Malaprop

When I was talking about Elaine singing yesterday, I did not mention that, in addition to some standards, she has her own unusual repertoire of songs. A few months ago, I wrote about overhearing her sing, "Jingle bells, jingle bells, for the Bible tells me so!"

Recently I have heard, "The B-I-B-L-E, yes, that's the book for me, I stand alone on the word of God, and Bingo was his name-oh!"

Then Friday Darren called me at work to tell me her latest. She and Lucy have been watching "Mary Poppins" this summer. Not much else. Just "Mary Poppins." That morning, Darren heard Elaine singing: "I sing the mighty power of God, who made the mountains rise...Up through the atmosphere, up where the air is clear, oh let's gooooooooo, fly a kite!"

I'm starting to see her as some sort of lounge singer now, like in "The Fabulous Baker Boys" minus Jeff Bridges and the piano.