a way with words

one cannot overstate how much my family loves scrabble.  my sister and i even incorporated this fact into our toast to my brother and his bride at their reception -- we warned laura that in the atkins bunch, no scrabble amateurs are tolerated.  learn your Q-without-a-U words, missy, or don't bother showing up to the table.  my parents have been meticulously recording their scores against each other in tiny print on the inside of the lid to their scrabble box, and when we looked at it this week, we realized that the list dates all the way back to 1974.  with a mother and father like that, we kids had no other option but to become scrabble enthusiasts ourselves.

of course, with modern technology, chris and i no longer drag out our box and plastic racks and bag of tiles.  instead, we wage war on each other over our iPhones, which has its distinct advantages.  for one, it allows us to play at our own pace (some games have taken us three weeks to finish.)  there's also a nifty chat log where you can talk smack to each other and boast of your scrabble prowess.  it calculates your scores automatically and tells you how many tiles are remaining.  but the best part is that you don't ever run the risk of playing a non-word and being challenged by your opponent.  if you're not sure, you just go for it -- if it's not valid, you simply receive a kind message that says "sorry, that is not an acceptable word."  (how nice the software developers were to design it to apologize to you.  what it really should say is, "all right, airhead.  i know it's almost the end of the game and you're just trying to get rid of your tiles, but surely you know that no word in the english language starts with JW.")

as with many things we do, liam has taken an interest in this pastime of ours and has now become obsessed.  as soon as he hears the chime on my phone alerting me that it's now my turn, he will race over, begging to see what word chris played, and then musing over my letters to help me find the Most Awesome Word Ever.  [side note, just because it's my blog and i can: in a game against my sister last week, i played a word that was worth 167 points.  yes, you read that right.  after you pick up your chin off the floor, feel free to resume reading.]  he's learned which letters carry the highest value, what a bingo is, and how you should always hold onto an S until you can use it to form two words.  and even though he understands that one does not have to know the meaning of every word one plays, he's become familiar with "xi" and "za" and all the other random two-letter combinations that every scrabble diehard must have in their pocket.  this whole endeavor has increased his vocabulary tenfold, which i'm especially grateful for after spending most of my summer listening to him howl with laughter whenever he says "poop", "underwear", and "hiney".

all was well and good until liam did the unthinkable.  he came running into the kitchen one day last week, pleased as punch with himself.  "i played HAZE!" he exclaimed.

"what do you mean, 'i played haze'?" i asked, fearful of where this might be going.

"on your game with daddy!  i spelled out the word h-a-z-e."

please, i thought.  please let him at least have put it on a double word.  or the Z on a double letter.  anything, please.

but no.  i stared morosely at the screen, forlorn to learn that the one and only Z of the game, which i had great hopes and dreams for, sat on a regular old space on a regular old row and earned me a very underwhelming 15 points.

and that's when i decided that liam needed to play his own game with chris, one that he could take pride and ownership in -- and thereby leave my games alone.  so chris started one.  back and forth they'll go, chris playing three- and four-digit words from work, and liam doing the same from home.  i've had to help him from time to time, but mostly, i just let him figure it out.  one syllable nouns are the most popular; their board is filled with "dog", "book", "car", and the like.

but occasionally, something new and different will be thrown into the mix.  like this morning.  i was drying my hair and liam burst into the bathroom, literally jumping up and down.  "i made a new word!" he said.  "i don't know what it means, but i put it on a triple word spot!"

"great job!"  i replied.  "what is it?"

and -- i kid you not -- he responded, "T-U-R-D."

amazing.  despite all the new words he's recently learned and all the letter combinations he could have come up with ... my five-year old boy somehow still manages to talk about poop.

the wedding!

my little brother (well, little in terms of age; he's four years younger but seven inches taller) got MARRIED last saturday.  it was 6:30 in the evening on the beach, with a coast guard ship floating in the distance.  he was dressed in his coast guard blues, and we stood barefoot in the sand, enjoying a cool breeze.  with the waves crashing in the background, no music was necessary.

and then laura, his bride, descended the 42 steps (i counted) from the beach house to the ceremony on the arm of her father, kicked off her shoes at the foot of the steps, and walked up to ben in one of the most gorgeous cream-colored wedding dresses i've ever seen.  which she bought off the rack a few weeks prior, because this whole thing came together in a matter of less than a month.  it really made me look back and wonder why in the world we dragged our engagement out for over a year -- because from start to finish, it was perfect.

liam and susanna were beside themselves with excitement.  liam made a "COUNTDOWN TO THE WEDDING" (see above) and would methodically cross off each number before breakfast each morning before announcing how many days remained until the big event.  susanna was given her own miniature tiara and bouquet of peach and pinkish red roses.  they stood quietly, reverently, while they listened to the readings and the vows, and clapped when the groom kissed the bride. 

[side note: after my cousin finished the reading of corinthians, i bent down to liam to emphasize the main message of the scripture.  "did you hear that, liam?" i whispered.  "isn't that wonderful?  the greatest of these is love."  he looked up at me and with total seriousness replied, "well, for me, the greatest of these is the wii."  nothing like a five year old to suck a little romanticism out of a ceremony.]

i'm so thrilled to welcome laura as my sister-in-law!  below are some snapshots my uncle took of the special day.

liam apparently has been studying the j. crew catalog.  we call this "casual beach" pose

from left: chris, daddy's bald head, me, laura, liam, ben, susanna, mom, and my sister leslie.  (i'm hoping the professional photographer had a better angle)

ben & laura with the kids and their second-cousins, reilly and baby laurel

wordless wednesday

there was a time in my life when i didn't think i wanted to have a girl.  the reasons are few and, i can admit now, totally irrational; i think i was mostly so head-over-heels in love with liam that i couldn't imagine having anything other than boys.  but then i gave birth on may 18, 2006 ... and every one of those stupid reasons went flying out the window as i stared into susanna's eyes.

i thought of all of this, briefly, last week at the nail salon while i treated myself to a pedicure, badly needed before heading down to the beach for my little brother's wedding.  because while liam was at home with chris, hitting golf balls in the back yard and discussing random sports trivia and undoubtedly doing boy things like sons and fathers do ... i was holding my daughter in front of me on the cushy seat, our four feet swirling together in the warm water of the basin, our hands intertwined.  such a simple activity, but one best shared by mother and daughter.  and i felt, again, immensely blessed to have a girl.  amazing how God has a plan for you and His plan is always right.

[it goes without saying that OF COURSE she chose bubblegum pink polish. and OF COURSE she requested painted white flowers on her big toes (which i find totally tacky on adults but for some reason so sweet on little girls).  and OF COURSE she now wants to do this on a regular basis.]

how many tissues can a backpack hold?

i stared at it, sitting on the kitchen counter after liam hauled in the mail once we returned home from our recent beach trip.  it was on the very top of the pile, covering a few party invitations, bills, and pizza coupons.  i tried to busy myself with other tasks ... but my eyes always wandered back.  and then finally, after fighting it for so long, i began to cry.

it was the pottery barn kids catalog, and the feature on the cover were school backpacks.

liam heads off into the shiny, bright world of kindergarten in 45 days.  he's excited -- no, the word "excited" doesn't cover it.  he's over-the-moon.  enraptured with the idea.  cannot stop talking about it.  cheering every time we drive past lacy elementary, soon to be our home-away-from-home for the next seven years.   mulling over important aspects of this new venture outloud, like, "i wonder if i have to eat all my food on my tray in the cafeteria before being excused."  and, "do you think i'll have the same chair in my classroom every day?"

and i sit there, desperately trying to put on a happy face and be excited for him.  but inside, i'm dying.  i never thought i'd be one of those moms, arms outstretched towards her baby as the school staff extracts him from her death grip... but i'm starting to understand those women.  i get it.  i'm not going to be surprised if that's exactly what happens on august 26. 

i don't quite know exactly what's going on in my head.  it's not that i fear he's not ready socially; our purpose in starting him a year late (he makes the cutoff by two weeks, and being a boy, we never really even considered sending him on time to be the very youngest in his class) was to give him that extra time to blossom into himself.  he's now confident, goes out of his way to meet new people, and will strike up a conversation with the bag boy at the grocery or the random beachcomber in the sand without a second thought.  yes, socially, he'll make new friends, get along with his tablemates, enjoy his bus seat partner -- he'll be fine.

i don't fear for him physically.  he's by no means the biggest kid -- despite being one of the oldest -- but he's not the smallest either.  he's comfortable in his own skin (often too comfortable with itches and stopped-up noses, if you get my drift) and extremely athletic.  i know he'll have ego boosts when playing team games at recess ... a far cry from my own childhood, when i was always the last chosen.  (i blame my parents for that one.  i skipped a grade and was not sports-inclined to begin with, so that was just a recipe for disaster.)  i believe that when the inevitable bullying occurs, whenever it may be down the road, he's got such a sense of who he is that he'll have no problem sticking up for himself.

i certainly don't fear that he's not ready academically.  he's this insatiable sponge of knowledge these days, constantly teaching chris and me facts that we either never knew or have long forgotten.  "did you know that the largest species of penguin in the world is the emperor penguin?"  (i did not.)  in the midst of staring up at the crystal clear sky off the back deck at the beach house, chris pointed and tried to introduce liam to the term milky way.  liam's response?  "yes, people of ancient times decided that their sky looked like a river of milk, so that's how the name started."  astronomy 101, with dr. william mann. 

so if it's not social or physical or academic concerns, then what am i worrying about, anyway?  why does my heart beat faster and the tears well up in my eyes as i think seven weeks down the road when i take him to his classroom on the first day?  it doesn't take a pricey shrink to figure this one out: it's not liam whom i worry about.  it's ME. 

the main way i have described myself to others (and, yes, to myself too) for the past six years is that i am a Mother.  sure, i'm lots of other things -- teacher, tennis player, wife, friend, volunteer -- but those all take a back seat to what i deem most important in my life.  i am a Mother.  i have had the privilege of spending the vast majority of my children's days with them, often chauffeuring them from activities and playdates and to the grocery for a few quick things and for all the other mundane tasks that they have no choice but to be on the ride for.  but more often than that and far more importantly than that, i'm engaged with them.  we play soccer in the back yard and swat at mosquitoes while liam, somehow, always beats me.  i play dress-up with susanna when she's wearing her winter coat, a belle gown, and rainboots as she travels with her prince to the north pole.  we set up an complex marble tower and watch with glee as it works exactly the way it's supposed to.  we make elaborate artwork on the easel outside.  the kids stand on stools in the kitchen with little aprons tied around their bodies and help me bake cookies and cheesy spinach treats.  we make a point to meet our mailman at the end of our driveway, offering him a bottle of cold water and an inquiry as to how his day is going.  there's just no shortage of amazingly fun activities you can do with preschoolers.

and i think that's what i'm struggling with.  sure, he's still my baby boy; he'll still be home every afternoon with time to keep up some of these activities.  but not all, and not nearly long enough.  he'll be at school for 6 1/2 hours (7 if you count transportation) which is easily the majority of his waking hours.  he'll be with other adults more than he'll be with me. 

i already know that the hardest specific point in this process for me will be leaving the school building on the first day.  because as i make my way down the shiny, gleaming hallways with signs of upcoming PTA events and kids' artwork adorning the walls, i will be very conscious of the fact that although i walked into the building holding hands with my first-born and only son, i am walking out of the building alone.  my liam, my precious liam who has been separated from me for less than ten days total in his six years on this earth, will not really be MY liam anymore.  we're sending him off into the big bright world, praying that we have done what we needed to do to adequately prepare him for being on his own. 

so i turn back to the evil tangible reminder that sits inches away from me -- that catalog showcasing all sorts of backpack choices -- and i wish that pottery barn kids had had the foresight to print it on waterproof pages.  because i have a feeling i'm not the only mom in america crying as she tries to select a backpack and coordinating lunch box for her little boy through a cloud of tears.

wordless wednesday

we're down at the beach for most of july and having a ball.  chris comes in on the weekends, and during the week we've been to wilmington a few times for visits with friends, free matinees, and a trip to the children's museum.  but the kids' favorite time is simply out in the ocean, splashing around in the waves, entertained for hours.  if only we could be this carefree and unproductive all the time ...

l

 liam's favorite thing to do is boogie boarding, but he'll occasionally stop for long enough to jump the waves with susanna 

 

blue and yellow make green!  mixing paint colors at the children's museum

 

it's a tough life.  sometimes you just need to relax

 

we often say our nighttime prayers on the deck as we watch the sun go down over the water -- pure bliss

dumbfounded

any way you slice it, liam just didn't have the best day yesterday.  it didn't help matters that i was totally preoccupied, throwing almost every last thing we own into the back of our car for an eleven-day trip down to the beach.  i had made the wise decision to pack our cooler first -- with the milk, eggs, orange juice -- and it was a visual reminder of how long it was taking me to get the rest of our act in gear.  there it sat, in the middle of the kitchen floor, while i gathered board games, swimsuits, toiletries, and other miscellaneous items that i could have totally packed the night before but had instead played scrabble on my iphone with chris who was sitting five feet away from me on the other couch.  but i digress.

kids have a funny way of picking up on their parents' distraction, and my children jumped at the chance to entertain themselves in ways i normally would not tolerate, especially since chris was at work all day and i had no back-up disciplinarian anywhere around me.  as it turns out, i had sent susanna into the bathroom to brush her teeth, and while she did so, she asked liam to hop around her while keeping his eyes closed.  brilliant, right?  as any loving brother would do, he obliged, and in doing so, stumbled and crashed into her, sending them both into a heap of tangled arms and legs.  i rushed to the scene to find her wailing on the tile floor with her toothbrush flung halfway down the hall and a nice trail of blue toothpaste on our light tan carpet.

as i scrubbed the stain with a rag and carpet cleaner and just a tinge of frustration, i asked liam if what he had done was smart.  "no," he admitted.  "i won't do it again.  i promise."

a mere five minutes later, i sent him out to put a few things in the mailbox.  no sooner did the front door close that i heard more wailing.  this time, i rushed to the scene to find him sprawled across the brick steps, rubbing his skinned-up knees.  after i kissed his boo-boos and patched them up with a few lightning mcqueen band-aids, he explained that he had jumped as high as he could to see if he could clear all three steps down to the sidewalk.  so i, again, asked him if what he had done was smart.  "no," he admitted.  "i won't do it again.  i promise."

miraculously, we finally did get on the road.  about an hour into our trip, he was rummaging through his vacation bible school goody bag and found a bottle of bubbles. "how do you get this open?" he wanted to know.  i was about to explain to him the whole righty-tighty-lefty-loosey thing before i came to my senses.  "honey, you really don't need to be playing with that in the car.  if it's opened it might spill all over --"

"oops," he said.  wordlessly, i handed him a tissue to clean it up.

i sat there in driver's seat, headed down I-40 at 75 miles per hour, my thoughts racing as fast as the mile markers flew past me.  without even realizing i was speaking out loud, i said, "i wonder how many times i have to remind you to be smart."

and then, from the back seat: "it's looking like more than three."