The Gift

My little man. Oh, this sweet boy has a gift...The Gift of Gab! By the second week of school, I was on the telephone with Max's teacher. She says he won't stop talking in class. Hmmm, sounds familiar. Why? Because Max spent half of his kindergarten year sitting at a table in the back of the room by himself. Why? Because Max's first grade teacher hopped him around the room constantly desperately hoping she'd plop him next to someone he wouldn't be interested in chatting with.

This is not news. This is Max. Let me be clear. He DOES NOT get this from me. I struggled with shyness for years and, in some ways, still do. So, while I don't want him disrupting the learning in his classroom, I am secretly a little pleased that Max is so friendly and social!

Cal's Birthday Party

Cal's 5th birthday party at Bounce U
More Superheroes than a boy could ever imagine!

Cousin Hannah! (are those eyes gorgeous?)

Cousin Cade and Big Bro

A Lunch for Brunch Kind of Day...

I woke up

in tears this morning.

I had a dream about my mom.

This anniversary is

really getting to me.

Get the oldest off to school

and load the monkey and the ellebelle in the car.

Head to the ASU bookstore to get a t-shirt

for my brother-in-law's birthday.

Carefully pull my big, bad Tahoe

into the made-for-mini coupe space and

start scavenging through my seats for change

for the parking meter. 35 cents...great. I've got 13 minutes.

On our way in, an 18-ish looking guy (probably a psych major)

with purple shoes, carrying one of those really big skateboards,

calls me "Mam."

Ok...not happy about this!

Wasn't it not that long ago that I was napping in the MU between classes?

NO! It was 13 years ago! Dang...I'm older than I thought!

Thanks, cool dude with the long board, for reminding me I really am OLD.

14 minutes later,

with a bag full of Sparky this and Sparky that

(I didn't have time to argue with the kiddos. I'm on the clock here.),

I head back to the car.

Cal, afraid of "The Police,"

spies a security guy checking out my meter.

He starts to cry, turn tail, and run.

Quick as I am, I snatch the monkey before he escapes,

grab the ellebelle, scoop them up,

along with my Sparky paraphernalia,

and run toward the parking meter.

After five minutes of convincing this power hungry

"security (seriously who's he kidding)" guy that my meter JUST ran out,

I got off scot-free!

Thank goodness I put on makeup and wore the tight jeans...

apparently not TOO old!

On my way home,

I call my sis to double-check if the size XXL Tshirt I got Casey will fit.

"Uh-no way!" Crap, back to the bookstore tomorrow for an exchange!

Am I the only woman on earth terrible at sizing up men?

Exhausted, I get home, fall to the couch,

and flip on MSNBC for a little convention coverage.

Ring, Ring...I hate it when my home phone rings...

It is never good,

nor anyone I care to talk to.

"This is the nurse at school."

Oh, great...can't be good.

"It is Brunch for Lunch day today."

She laughs.

"Max has managed to get syrup on his clothes and needs a change."

Well, I couldn't have guessed this.

"What does he need? A shirt?"

"Max, do you need your mom to bring you socks and shoes, too?"

Is she kidding?

"He just needs a shirt and shorts."

Ok. Wake the ellebelle and throw her back into the car.

I walk through the door and see Max sitting in the hallway,

eating french toast sticks,

grinning from ear to ear.

Behind him, also smiling, the nurse and principal.

Apparently, he has them under his spell.

He is covered from chest to knees in syrup.

The nurse swears is was an accident,

but I know better.

I have inside information into this little boy

and this was, in no way,

an accident.

I hand Max his clothes, give him my look.

You know the one, Moms.

The one that says, we will deal with this at home later...

later, when I will say things to you that,

when I come to my senses, I will feel guilty about.

Yeah...I'll see you at home little man.

Finally, I get home. It is 1:00. It is just one of those days...

Why write?

Just the other day I found myself, once again, explaining to someone why I blog. The truth is, before I started, I hadn't really realized that something that had always been part of my life had been absent for quite some time. When I started this page- started typing away and letting friends, as well as strangers, into some intimate parts of my life, I felt a little renewed.

I used to be an avid scrapbooker...you know, the late-nighters, the tubs upon tubs of supplies, and of course the $$...all to document my kids' lives forever. Well, it all became too much, too overwhelming. But, a big part of my scrapbooking was journaling. I loved to write long, detailed stories about our lives. I guess those scrapbooks became my writing outlet. I missed it.

Blogging has brought me back. I love to let the world know what goes on in my little world. Sharing the silly, cute kid stories allows me to be a little indulgent and celebrate my little kiddos. And...writing about the struggles and tragedies allow me to move forward, a little bit at a time. Sharing details about my mom frees me to let go of the sadness. I want the world to know who she was.

My mom was an amazing writer. She loved language and she had even penned the first line of the novel she would one day write. Some of the most beautiful, enlightened poetry flowed out of her. Everything was exquisite, from the carefully chosen words to the absolute perfect handwriting. She had the most beautiful handwriting I have ever seen! She was, in every sense...a WRITER. I don't have quite the gift she had, but I surely have the desire and innate need to put pen to paper. Thanks, Mom.

We drank

expresso

in our coffee-house days

and listened to Ginsberg and Ferlinghetti

confirm

what we already knew.

We boycotted

college classes and grapes

and

followed

Jack Kerouac

down

an unchartered highway.

And now,

(stuffed to middle-class perfection)

we search

the eyes of strangers

for the

soul of a revolutionary.

~written by my mom (the forever hippie)

Dentist Trip #2

One more extraction later...
One more crown later...
One more appointment next week...

poor little guy!

Happy birthday, my little monkey!

My little monkey turns 5! Cal is a strong minded little boy. He came into the world that way. Labor with him was hard and fast. He popped out weighing 9 1/2 lbs., holding his head up as if to say, "What took so long...I'm here...let's go!" In some ways, Cal is just like me...introspective, thoughtful, analytical. In other ways, he couldn't be less like me...the way he stands his ground, never to fall to peer pressure...in no way a "people pleaser!" I will never worry about Cal's judgement. He WILL be a leader! Happy Birthday, Calvin! I love you!

Meet Stephanie and Christian Nielson.
I don't know them personally, but feel like Stephanie is a friend. For the last year, I have been an avid reader of her blog, checking it everyday, looking forward to a new post of her lovely life. She is beautiful, funny, and has the sweetest, purest style. She is mommy to four adorable little ones and hopelessly in love with her husband, Christian. Sadly, on Saturday, they were in a serious small-plane crash in eastern az. The flight instructor on board passed away and Stephanie and Christian are very seriously injured and recovering at the burn center at Maricopa County Medical Center. Desperately feeling the need to do something, I have added a "Donate To NieNie" button to the right that her family has provided. Please make a donation to go toward the costly medical bills that will await this family. The financial burden that accompanies an accident or illness is a sad reality and any little bit can help.
If you'd like to learn more about Stephanie, visit her blog (click the "I read NieNie" button) and I am sure you will fall in love with her and her family just as I have!

Dancing Queen

Yesterday was Elle's first day at dance. She got dressed early in the morning, carried her dance bag around her neck all day, and even napped in her tap shoes. When the time finally arrived, Elle was elated. I was a bit worried because she can freeze up sometimes around strangers, but Elle took to dance like a pro. She followed the teacher's instructions so well and did it with a huge grin on her face. When it was over, Elle told me, "The teacher told me to shake my bootie and I did and nobody laughted at me!"