Updates

At least for awhile, I'm not going to have the luxury of composing well thought-out blog posts. I'm going to have to rely on the handy numbered list to record my life's current goings on:

1. Grace LOVES Kindergarten so far. I make it a point of going around the table at suppertime, or if we're not all together then at tuck-in time, to ask everyone what their favorite part of their day was. If we forget to ask, the kids don't, so we hear a lot of, "What was your favorite part about today?" David and I play too. Just as "Spanish for Fun Academy" was shortened to "Spanish for Fun Dot Com" and again to "Spanish For Dot Com," the question of the day has been shortened in our house to, "What was your favorite day?" When I asked Grace what her favorite day was on Monday, she said, "eating in the cafeteria." What made me so happy is that she has struck up a friendship with the Hispanic little girl named Saira, and Grace has been talking to her in Spanish!!!! Love it!! The adults are butchering the pronunciation of Saira's name. It should sound like : saa-EEE-dah, and Grace says it perfectly. I heard one of the teachers call her SY-ra, and it brought back bad flashbacks of my 5th grade teacher who insisted on calling me SAY-ra.

2. Johnny thinks I'm going to jail, and I'm not doing a whole lot to assure him otherwise. Over a week ago, the kids and I were at the Southern Village Weaver Street after work/school. Some lady left a shopping cart out in the wrong place and Johnny ended up playing on it. Absentmindedly, I told him at least three times to get down from the cart and not to play on it. When he finally got off, the cart started rolling toward a line of parked cars as it was on a slope. It all happened quickly but as if in slow motion, and as I saw the cart heading for a brand-new Honda Odessey, I ran to grab it and screamed, "OH MY GOD!" at the top of my lungs. The cart dented the passenger side door while the three kids of the car's owner looked on. I scolded Johnny and waited for the car owner to come out. I did the right thing by giving her my numbers, and she was very nice about it. It was kind of an accident, but not really, because it took 3 times for Johnny to get down from the cart. I was upset and he got upset. I told him it was going to cost me a lot of money to pay for his mistake and that I might pay for it out of his remaining birthday money. He balked at that and I had to admit that $4.00 wouldn't put a dent in what it's going to cost to fix the dent. Ever since the incident, Johnny keeps asking if I'm going to jail.

3. I like my two Social Work classes and I like the reading. I haven't gotten used to reading 200+ pages in a week, though. That part is kicking my butt.

Kindergarten Tears

I took Grace to Kindergarten for the first time today and neither one of us cried. There were some Kindergarten tears, however, but they were shed last night at tuck-in-time. All day yesterday, but especially last night, was like Christmas Eve to Grace. She could barely contain her unbridled excitement upon beginning this new thing called Kindergarten. We went back-to-school-shopping yesterday and last night packed her backpack and lunch and picked out the clothes she was going to wear. She was screaming and squealing at the top of her lungs at the notion that the first day of Kindergarten at Perry Harrison was right around the corner. All she had to do was to go to sleep and it would all begin when she woke up. After several stories and a delayed but eventual emphatic lights-out and no-more talking, Grace began to cry. Between sobs, I barely made out that she couldn't fall asleep and she wanted it to be time to go to Kindergarten. The emotional build-up was weighing on Johnny too and from across the bed he asked Grace tenderly, "Grace? Why are you crying? Are you crying because you're sad that you won't see me tomorrow?" I shot a wide-eyed look his way, and he said to me, "I'm talking to Grace, Mommy." I whispered to Johnny, "Are you sad that you won't see Grace at Spanish For Fun tomorrow?" And he whispered back "yes." That's when I began to tear up.

The whole exchange for some reason reminded me of a story my mom used to tell about Daniel when he was a little boy and witnessed a car running over a dog on my grandmother's street one time when we were visiting her. Later that evening when she was tucking him into bed, Daniel said, "Mama, I'm not still thinking about that little dog." Of course he was thinking about that little dog, and of course Johnny was sad about not seeing Grace today at school.

Happy Birthday, Grace!

Beginning yesterday, my life just went from zero to sixty in three seconds. And there's no indication things will slow down in the next three years either.

A quick recap:

1. Yesterday was the end-of-the-year party at the kids' preschool, Spanish For Fun Academy. Not only was it Johnny's last day with one of his favorite teachers, it was her last day there ever, and Grace's last regular day too. But I can hardly call yesterday "regular." I pulled together snacks, cupcakes, and a Cinderella pinata for Grace's class of 20-something for a short private birthday party celebration for her before the school-wide end-of-year party started. But what I thought was going to be an intimate party of twenty turned into a free-for-all party of 33. By the grace of God I had enough cupcakes, treat bags, and candy for all 33 kids. That's how you do it at SFFA--if the teachers say they're going to combine two classes for the party (whether or not you'd planned for that), you run with it. It's characteristic chaos that we often find ourselves in at SFFA, but it's laced with lots of love an inclusion so who's complaining? I can't even believe it was Grace's last real day there after going for 5 years, but I haven't had time to process it and let it sink in.

2. After doing the pinata and singing Happy Birthday to Grace no fewer than 6 times, (3 in English and 3 in Spanish...because she's six and that's how they do it) I turned my attention to Johnny's end-of-the year party and cut a rug with him and his classmates, his two wonderful teachers and two of my favorite mom-friends. Celebrated with both kids' classes? Check. I could then go to work.

3. I drove to work to Cary, via the Hillsborough Wal Mart, in search of a Cinderella dress for Grace (whose actual birthday is today) because I'd already checked 2 Targets and another Triangle Wal Mart and nowhere else had the Cinderella dress. That's the main thing she wanted this year, and I found it! Made it to work and was able to focus just long enough to get a few things done before heading off to Kindergarten Orientation/Open House at Grace's new school, Perry Harrison Elem.

4. David and the kids beat me there and it was a complete zoo inside, but I quite liked the animals I saw. Grace's teacher and assistant seem wonderful, and I shined right up to the Hispanic parents of the little girl named Saira, gushing that Grace habla Espanol. We feel real good about Grace's placement in Kindergarten (which officially begins Monday) but I have lots of policies to read, papers to fill out, and procedures to memorize. Kindergarten Orientation is huge HUGE, but I had to swiftly leave Orientation for a church meeting and when I returned from the church meeting, my time was occupied thinking about Grace's birthday today and my first day of classes in the Social Work program.

5. David took today off to take the kids to a birthday party and then to Chuck-E-Cheeses (which I've learned was a big hit, and Johnny managed to entertain himself for hours playing the games without actually putting any coins in the machines while Grace entertained herself for 10 minutes by putting all of her coins in one game. Good times). We started her birthday yesterday in an unorthodox way by presenting her with her Cinderella dress, purse, and gloves last night (which she slept in) and wrapping up a few presents for her to open over cheerios.

6. Her "real" party is tomorrow is at Scrap Exchange, a cool place in Durham that allows kids to go crazy making craft projects with recycled items. When I finish this post, I'm going to put this ice cream cake together to freeze overnight and then crash for a long slumber until it all starts back in the morning.

I love my life.

Great Reading

Me: It's late and I'm really tired. Are you about ready to turn the light off?

David: Ok, ok, just a couple more minutes.

Me: Boy, you are really into that book. (Scar Tissue, the autobiography of Red Hot Chili Peppers' Anthony Kiedis)

David: Yeah, I can't seem to tear away from it. Just like you when you're into your Hormones and What They Do For Me phase.

Once in a Blue Moon Life Gives You a Second Chance

Have you ever lost something so dear to you that you wished you could have it back for one more day, for one more hour even, knowing that this wish would never come true? On Saturday, against all odds, my dad's wish came true. Lulu is our family's black lab that we got back in 1993 from my college roommate. Born on Halloween 1993, she was just a pup when my mom and I drove out to Asheboro to get her, then back to Chapel Hill where my mom spent the entire night at my apartment cradling Lulu in her arms. Lulu will turn 14 this Oct. 31, which makes her an old dog--98 if she were human (that is, if you believe in those things, not everyone does). So when my dad told me the sad news on Saturday, Aug. 11, that he believed Lulu walked off into the woods to die, I believed it too.

Our house in Boone sits up on four acres and is completely buffered by trees. In fourteen years, Lulu has not once ever ventured out to the nearby Highway 421. That is, until Friday, Aug. 10. Lulu is old and now deaf, but she still gets freaked out by loud thunder storms. My dad knows this and went out to call for her on Aug. 10 when a fierce and loud thunder storm blew through Boone. He called and called but Lulu never came. He called and called on Saturday, but Lulu never came. There's an old wives tale that suggests that old animals often know when it's their time to die and sometimes walk off into the wildnerness to rest in final peace. My dad was convinced this is what happened to Lulu when I saw him on Aug. 11 at SwillFest. My dad and I decided then and there not to tell Daniel that Lulu was missing until after the party. Daniel would surely be deeply affected by this news and why ruin a very good time? My dad didn't tell him on Sunday but finally broke the news to Daniel on Monday, that, by then, Lulu had not come home for four days.

Daniel has always been the one of the three of us that has gotten most attached to our three family pets. He and Sheila had only days earlier taken Lulu on a long walk at Boone's greenway and he just couldn't believe that she was ready to die. Had anyone searched the four acres in case Lulu was trapped or, what no one wanted to face, dead? Yes, my dad called and called for her, but she's deaf and he just couldn't stand the thought of her out there on her own needing help. He and Sheila did search the property last Tuesday without any luck. But then something happened on Daniel and Sheila's street that changed the course of the search and rescue efforts. A neighbor was posting his own missing dog sign when Sheila mentioned that her boyfriend's dad recently lost an old black lab. A black lab? He had just seen a black lab at Animal Control. A black lab with a red collar? No, Lulu didn't have a red collar, she didn't have any collar, but Animal Control--Daniel would go there as soon as he got a chance. By the time he got to Animal Control on Friday, they were closed so he made sure he got there as soon as he could this past Saturday, 8 days after Lulu had gone missing.

Sure enough, Lulu was there, wagging her tail, even looking a few pounds heavier. What a happy reunion! She had walked all the way to the ASU football stadium from my dad's house--probably about 2.5 miles or so--and had been picked up by Animal Control. Since she had been there for so many days, it was almost time for her to be turned over to the Humane Society to be put up for adoption! But let's face it--how often does a fourteen-year old dog get adopted? And we know what happens eventually to dogs that don't get adopted.

Lulu was rescued because Daniel (and Sheila) refused to accept the fact that she'd gone off to die. My dad said that in a case like that, where a loved one disappears, there's never one exact moment when the grief begins but it intensifies day after day. It had definitely begun, however, and he'd decided to keep only one of her favorite squeak toys. He lay in his bed last Saturday morning imagining how much Lulu loved getting treats and how he loved to squeeze her ears and hear her start to rumble. He thought, "If I could just sqeeze her ears one more time." Once, for a change, he got his wish.

Let's Swill

I didn’t know what to expect last year when I pulled up to SwillFest IV (#1 for me) and was pleasantly surprised with the friendly, laid-back, down-home, mid-sized, summer mountain music party and the relaxed conversation bouncing off the 40 or so guests. SwillFest V was last weekend, and what a difference a year makes. Make no mistake, SwillFest V was just as welcoming and down-t0-earth--I don't think it could be any other way with Ben and Cherie as hosts--but it had decidedly grown into a quasi mini music festival, replete with multiple bands from different genres, more food, lots of kids, lots of dogs, lots of tents, a homemade swimming pool in the back of a pick up truck, frisbee golf, a port-o-john, private party pockets sprinkled up the hill toward the Christmas trees, and a literal game of "grab ass" that Jane and I apparently lost. (But a small price to pay and one to expect when you join the party over twelve hours into it). The party was so big this year--I counted well over a hundred people, and more spread out--that by sundown, if you hadn't mingled with everyone you didn't know but wanted to, you'd almost missed your chance, unless they were sitting close by to you and your group. Or unless you were really drunk and just didn't care. I was ok with that, however, because I was really enjoying the group I was with--even the ones who got really drunk and just didn't care. My friend Jane went with me again this year, and we met my brother and his long-time friend Pat. Even though there weren't many people I actually knew well at this party, I knew I'd stumbled upon a fine tradition when instead of asking myself, "Did I got to High School with her?", Jane and I would ask together, "Wasn't he here last year?"

A sign of a great party to me, is when it's so happening and fun that you want to enhance your experience by sharing it with someone who's not there, so you call them up on the fly to talk them into coming over. That's what happened when Jane and Pat suddenly insisted that we call my dad and invite him to the party. At first Daniel and I looked around and were like, uh, are you sure you think we should call him? But I guess that's another sign of a great party: for people to be in a state of mind to think that my dad could make it more fun and not the exact opposite. My dad and his friend Jim did finally show up, about an hour before we left for the evening, just around the time I'd given up on them. But it was fun having Jim and my dad join us. After all, it was a family affair with both of Ben's parents there, his elderly aunt, his sister, his nephews, and like I've already mentioned, lots of kids and dogs. My dad likes to talk about all sorts of things, and luckily, what he was talking about this night were things that people wanted to hear. Like how, yes, Upright and Breathin' (Ben's band) was playing real bluegrass (and real good bluegrass at that) and how their heart is in the right place by not scrimping their musical integrity by using anything less than a stand-up bass. Somehow we got off on a lively discussion of 1967, the Summer of Love, and the Monterey Pop Music Festival. And at that moment, it was so wonderful to be sitting there in the dark, with friends and family, in the slightly breezy summer mountain air that I had been desperate for during our NC piedmont heat wave, having this great music conversation while some of the most riveting guitar and mandolin pickin' and vocal harmonizing were serenading us fifteen feet up ahead.

And that perhaps was the best indicator of just how great a party it really was. It was difficult to qualify whether SwillFest V was primarily a killer music event that happened to have a kick-ass party accompany it, or a killer party with a kick-ass live soundtrack. It was both, and I'm already looking forward to next year.

JUMPing at the Chance to see Van Halen Live

David and I are both excited by the announcement that Van Halen will be performing in G'Boro on Sept. 29 with David Lee Roth. I couldn't get David excited about going to SwillFest 2007 with me last Saturday to hear my friend's bluegrass band play live, but I've witnessed a glimmer of enthusiasm for VH, so I'm going to do what it takes to make it happen. I mean, who in their mid-30's didn't grow up loving VH, both the Roth years and the Hagar years?? It helped that I have an older brother and was influenced by what he listened to (and he was a huge VH fan) but I've liked them all along in my own right.

I've mentioned once about the great neighborhood I grew up in, but none of our tight group was prepared for the coolness that was Ben H., the neighbor that moved in next door to me in the early 80's. The neighbor with a synthesizer. Until Ben H. moved in, Ben W. was the leader, the stud, the one that girls dreamt about. But Ben H. trumped Ben W., with his long hair and single dangling earring (in his left ear) and I'll never forget the parade of kids that Ben H. led through his house back to his room where his synthesizer was, to show us just how much he deserved to be the new King of New River Heights, when he belted out the first eight bars to "Jump" soon after it was released. It was hands down, the absolute coolest thing that blew over our flip flops that summer, and it is singularly how I will forever remember Ben H.

For some reason, I never mastered the chords to "Jump," but I learned how to play on the piano every song from 5150 when Daniel got the sheet music, and I can still play the intro to "Dreams" and "Best of Both Worlds" without looking. It really would be the best of both worlds to see a live show with half David Lee Roth hits and half Sammy Hagar hits, but if I had to choose , I'd pick Diamond Dave. It's one of the most anticipated tours in rock-n-roll history. Ev'rybody wants some Van Halen love. I want some too.

My New BFFs

I have 22 new best friends. I went to the first of two Social Work orientations yesterday and met the 22 fellow students I will get to know intimately over the next three years. I can't remember if I mentioned it here that I'm enrolled in the part-time or "Distance Education" program, which means it will take my cohort and me three years to earn our MSWs as opposed to two. For the first two years of our program, we will attend classes only on Fridays on the campus of North Carolina Central University in Durham. The third year we will be on UNC's campus in Chapel Hill for full-time study. I will complete two field placements (or internships) and am looking into a summer Study Abroad class in Costa Rica. It's all so very exciting! We did kind of a "speed-dating" exercise yesterday where we had four minutes to chat up our partners before time was called and the next partner moved over. It was the kind of thing I love (and the kind of thing David hates), and during the exercise I found out who also had small children, who went to UNC as an undergraduate, who also majored in English and minored in Women's Studies, and who did VISTA and AmeriCorps after college. (At least one woman and I share all of the above). When I walked into the restroom during a break and saw a fellow student/new mother pumping breast milk, I knew I was in the right place. We'll all be facing the delicate balance between work, family, school, and fun and we'll be helping each other figure it all out.

Buzzworthy Book

There's a new book out that has caught my attention, The Political Brain, which examines brain research and political campaigns over the last forty to fifty years and reveals how emotion, not reason, drives people to vote the way they do.

From publicaffairsbooks.com:

The idea of the mind as a cool calculator that makes decisions by weighing the evidence bears no relation to how the brain actually works. When political candidates assume voters dispassionately make decisions based on "the issues," they lose. That's why only one Democrat has been re-elected to the presidency since Franklin Roosevelt—and only one Republican has failed in that quest.

And a book exerpt from a Review at Daily Kos:

... the left has no brand, no counterbrand, no master narrative, no counternarrative. It has no shared terms or "talking points" for its leaders to repeat until they are part of our political lexicon. Instead, every Democrat who runs for office, every Democrat who offers commentaries on television or radio, every Democrat who even talks with friends at the water cooler, has to reinvent what it means to be a Democrat, using his or her own words and concepts, as if the party had no history. If this is how Coke marketed itself, we would all be drinking Pepsi.

What two prominent Democrats have to say about the book:

Bill Clinton
"This is the most interesting, informative book on politics I've read in many years...you have to read this book."

Howard Dean
" ...a must read...we will win the Presidency if our candidate reads and acts on this book."

All of this is, of course, very timely and interesting to me in its own right.

BUT, what makes the book even more interesting to me is that I know the author. Remember when I posted about visiting Emory last August and having this great dinner with chatty professors and holding my own and even making the whole table laugh? The author of this book was at the table, and yes, he laughed.

Yearly Letter #4, JLC

Dear Johnny,

Yesterday, August 5, 2007, exactly 5 days after you turned four, will go down in history as the day you officially learned how to ride a bike without training wheels. I got back from an hour-long yoga class, and there you were, in our street, with Daddy starting you off and Grace cheering you on, riding your bike, all by yourself, without training wheels. When I saw you, when I actually saw you riding and concentrating and your face just beaming at your accomplishment, I screamed. I screamed just like I did when Grace's first tooth came out, because, I mean, this was huge. Huge. I told you I was soooo proud of you and you asked over and over, "Are you super proud of me, Mommy?" Yes, Johnny. I'm super proud of you. I don't know what made yesterday the magic day, but I think it had something to do with your new skateboard and your motivation to go ahead and get the bike thing down so you could move on to skateboarding then skiing, then snowboarding and then surfing. Yeah, at the tender age of four you're already an extreme sports little guy, our little J-Dog.

The thing about you and being four is that no one really can believe that you're only four. When you were one you looked two, when you were two you looked three, three, four, and, well, you get the idea. It's like ever since you came out, you've been racing to grow up and get big. I remember nursing you at, like, only 6 weeks, and I could not get over just how strong you were. I think that's why I hold on to those times in the day when you want me to sit beside you on the couch and watch "SpongeBob" and give in to the requests to sleep beside Daddy and me so you can pinch my arm and I can rub your back. And your pleads not to trap you, because when you ask me not to trap you, you're really begging me to roll around on the floor with you and trap and tickle and laugh with you, and as long as you keep asking me to do that, I'm going to do it.

I don't know exactly when it happened--somewhere between the daily routine of morning juice and cereal and just one more story at night--but somewhere along the line you got old enough to ask about the cute things you did and said when you were a baby. Or you'll pick up a toy and ask, "Is this one of my two-year old toys?" I just can't believe how fast you're growing up, but I'm loving it all the while. I love how your mind works literally, like mine, and that when I suggest that we work on "handwriting," you assume that I mean writing, or tracing, over your hand. I mean, why wouldn't I mean that? And when I say that I'm afraid "People Falling Down" isn't on tonight, you ask why I'm afraid. You want to understand everything and figure everything out--even down to why one of the wild things in Where the Wild Things Are has people toes rather than monster toes.

You have an incredible mind, and you amaze Daddy and me daily with the things you reveal. Not long ago, you, Grace and Daddy were at Weaver Street and you met a rock-n-roll guy that had a cool dog. On the way home, no one could remember the dog's name. You couldn't remember the dog's name, but you remembered something you saw on a Wiggles show earlier. You began describing a game they were playing with a paddle and a ball, kind of like golf, but with a flat paddle. Daddy instantly got it: Cricket. Cricket! Yes, Cricket was the name of the rocker's dog. We will be telling that story for years to come.

I know that as a just-minted four-year old it's not always easy to share and that you get really cranky still when you don't have a nap. And even though I look back daily and miss something you've outgrown, I won't miss the day you outgrow your whining, impatience and insistence that we buy you a toy every time we go into a store. I feel your strong personality, strong body and strong mind will eventually take you far in life. It's your heart, however, that I want to be strongest of all. And it's already getting a good workout. That's evident when you tell grown-ups that are helping Grace take a band-aid off to "do it fast so it won't hurt as much" and when you made the connection that the reason I screamed when Grace's tooth came out (and now when I saw you riding a bike for the first time) is the same reason that the parents are crying on the first day of school in the book, The Night Before Kindergarten. And that is "because the kids are growing up, right, Mommy?" Right, Johnny. Because my kids are growing up.

Love,
Mommy

Takin' Care of Bizness

It all worked out. My residency status is all resolved and my $2,900 tuition bill was slashed to $1,492. Grace went with me to pay my bill and it was weird holding her hand walking on the campus that holds so many secrets of my past, taking care of current school-related business. When David found out how much we were going to "save" now that I'm a local, he asked me if he could buy an Xbox. I told him no...but that I would let him buy a new dress if he wanted.

Bird and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

They've been working on replacing the 12 air-handling units in the building where I work. The work started on July 18, and on that day, all the A/C units were disconnected. Slowly over the past 2 1/2 weeks, the A/C units have been coming back on-line. There's one remaining unit to fix. Guess whose office that last remaining unit cools? That's right--I personally haven't had A/C at work since July 17. I got home today and David had the air set on 80. It felt like the North Pole.

I think I accidentally washed my hair with conditioner this morning. So, I "shampooed" it with conditioner, and then I conditioned it with conditioner. I'm having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad hair day.

My tuition bill is due tomorrow and for the last several weeks I've been seeking out various loans that will aid me in paying the $3,000 bill. For one semester. I re-read some of my MSW materials today and saw that the estimate for tuition and fees for first-year, distance-ed (meaning Part-Time), in-state students is roughly $2,700 for the year. When I inquired about this, I received an e-mail back saying they think I'm an out-of-state student.

Now I have to get that straightened out, pay my tuition bill, do a little music and storytime session at the kids' school and take Grace to 2 therapy sessions tomorrow. (It would have been 3 sessions, but one was canceled, thank God).

I think I'll move to Australia.