wordless wednesday

saturday morning found us with a cold, nasty rain and the fire turned on in the fireplace.  (every time i describe the fire as "on", i cringe a little inside, because honestly, how much more fake can i sound?  but the fire wasn't "roaring" and we weren't "throwing on more logs" or "stoking the flames" ... we just turned that little dial and whoosh!  fire.)

anyway, after our sleepyhead susanna finished her breakfast at 10:00 a.m. and surmised that there was no fun to be had outside and no school to attend, so she took matters into her own hands.  "i'm going to go upstairs now," she informed us as she headed out of the kitchen.  "i think i'm going to go build disneyworld." chris and i exchanged looks -- "build disneyworld"?  what does that mean? -- but an hour later, we were invited for a tour, and then we understood.  there, on liam's floor, sat susanna's version of disneyworld.

she had rummaged through liam's blocks and had unearthed every disney-related figurine in her bedroom, closet, and playroom combined, and had set out to recreate the highlights of our disneyworld trip.  while she proudly showed off her work, chris and i shook our heads in disbelief.  her memory ... the attention to detail ... her creativity.  i daresay she succeeded.  here are just a few features of disneyworld, susanna-style:

surely this needs no caption -- it's the teacup ride

the five princesses mill about the castle where we dined for the Most Expensive Lunch Ever. "cinderella is in the middle and high up because it's her castle," susanna informed us. "and that's the cake they gave daddy for his birthday that i ate because i didn't like that pudding stuff." (note to self: do not waste effort in the future making creme brulee.)

belle, the beast, and a stand-in perform just like they did live on stage at hollywood studios. (she explained, "i don't have a gaston doll, so i had to use that jafar person from aladdin instead. i think the mean guys are all pretty much the same, though.") note the chairs for the audience, which seem to be more comfortable than the bleachers we had to use

this might be my favorite. concentric circles of animals, some with people sitting on their backs ... it's the carousel! and if you look closely, the little red dude in the foreground is presenting a little white piece of paper to the attendant. it's his Fast Pass, of course.

 

forget-me-not

recently it seems i'm becoming even more forgetful than i normally am.  for example, the other night right before i left to tutor, chris reminded me that i'd placed my extra set of car keys on the windshield .  of course, that little tidbit of information promptly left my brain until ten minutes later, when i was barreling down the interstate and caught a glare through my dashboard.  there were my keys, hanging on for dear life below the wipers.  somehow they held fast and i retrieved them at the first traffic light.

and last night, i forgot to help liam choose today's outfit.  (we always consult the weather forecast and decide together what clothes he'd like to wear, which makes our mornings run so much more smoothly.)  so after breakfast, i sent him up to his room to dress himself.  and this is how he returned:

navy and bright yellow striped polo, brown and green plaid shorts.  i suppose he could have started a new fashion trend, if only i had allowed him to leave the house like that.

the one consolation to my early-onset alzheimer's is that i'm apparently in good company: the tooth fairy forgot to visit last night as well.  after liam's initial disappointment (and a few tears -- i bet that tooth fairy felt awful) he did find a note she left, which explained how there were a ton of kids in france who also lost their teeth yesterday and her visit to north carolina was delayed a bit.  a note which, incidentally, he came across when he went back upstairs to change his shirt.

so i guess everything worked out quite well in the end ... if i'm remembering it all correctly.

spelling and napkins and love

i know i've mentioned this before, but i still am amazed at how, well, nice my children are to each other.  they have their low points, don't get me wrong -- but a good 95% of the time they really do like each other.  (and sorry for the italics; i'm just trying to emphasize what a surprise this still is to me.)

i guess my pessimistic self keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop; i've convinced myself that this stage of sibling bliss can be temporary at best.  but when i flip through our old blog books, i realize i've been thinking these thoughts for years -- and yet, nothing has changed.  the other shoe hasn't dropped; no trouble has emerged.  they've just always been friends.

this afternoon as we were driving to an impromptu cookout, susanna announced, "guess what, everybody?  i know how to spell 'stop' and 'go'!  wanna hear?" and without waiting for an answer, she continued, "S-T-O-P and G-O," obviously quite proud of her new accomplishment.

i braced for liam's reaction.  i've been around enough kindergartners recently to know that once you hit elementary school, you are a Big Shot Who Knows Everything and All Younger Children Are So Babyish.  i sort of expected a haughty sigh accompanied by a "that's sooo easy, susanna.  everyone knows that."

but why do i expect that, when i've witnessed the compassion that emanates from my elder child?  why don't i give our son more credit?  for instead of disdain, this was his response: "wow, susanna!  you are so smart.  i can't believe you know how to spell those words!"  i glanced in the rearview mirror at her, and was struck by the image i saw.  she was beaming, basking in the glow of praise that only an older sibling could give.  kids learn at an early age that their parents will always think they're amazing.  but to hear it from her big brother?  susanna's face made it clear: nothing could mean more.

this experience reminded me of something that had happened just a few days ago.  right before liam skipped out to our neighbor's car to ride to school one morning, he brought me a napkin.  "i made this for susanna last night," he told me.  "make sure you put it in her snack bag!"  (note: this is the only time in the hundreds -- literally -- of sports drawings liam has made where he has ever been on the losing side.  no higher compliment could be paid.)

my initial intent for this post was to capture these sweet moments, so that when they're teenagers and fighting like cats and dogs, i can look back at this tangible evidence that they once did actually get along.  but upon reflection, i've decided that i have to train myself to stop thinking this way.  as they've grown, i've watched their relationship also grow, and i know it will keep on growing and changing and reforming itself.  but i really am starting to believe that they might will actually be friends a decade from now. 

and maybe our future blog books will be filled with similar stories.  ones that i write not to prove to ourselves that they once got along, but ones that i write to remind ourselves of how much they've loved and enjoyed each other, constantly, from the very beginning.

groundhog day

back in early february, liam's kindergarten class was asked to write about Groundhog Day.  i'm not exactly sure, but i suspect that his teacher was expecting a few sentences about the groundhog, whether he saw his shadow, and what that might mean about winter.  imagine her surprise when liam turned in this stream-of-consciousness, run-on-sentence, but oh-so-creative gem ...

Groundhog Day by Liam Mann

Once upon a time in 1892 there was a groundhog named Gail.  Gail had a friend.  Gail's friend's name was Pam.  Gail and Pam loved to play soccer.  In 1900 when they were 8 years old they moved to Moscow, Russia.  They had to go under the dirt when they were traveling something happened they saw a burrow that said Mac.  They chose to knock on the door when they knocked on the door Mac opened the door Mac said hey, do you two want to watch the groundhog soccer world cup groundhog Russia vs. groundhog Spain and it turned out that groundhog Russia won the world cup for their 1st time and the score was 2 to 0.  Yay!  said Gail.  After that Mac turned off the tv then they played some games then they brushed their teeth they all went to bed then turned off the light then they went to sleep.  Mac set his alarm clock for 7:35 a.m. then in the morning Mac was the first one to wake up then Gail and Pam woke up then Mac and Gail and Pam went downstairs for breakfast.  Mac cooked oatmeal after that Gail and Pam decided to live at Mac's house then Mac, and Pam, and Gail played cards.  The End.

wordless wednesday

you couldn't possibly have thought that i was done posting pictures of our disneyworld trip, right?

today i'm including some from the resort where we stayed.  i'm not going to even attempt to explain all the nuances of timeshares -- chris and i sat through a (surprisingly interesting) salespitch while we were down there to get $75 disney bucks and i think i left more confused than i was when i began -- but suffice it to say that my parents invited us down for week to florida FOR FREE.  we chose a place close to the parks that catered to young families, with two incredible pools, a miniature golf course, and more activities than anyone could possibly do in a day.  (karaoke!  volleyball!  campfire!  bingo!  movie night!  you get the idea.)

i'm glad we chose wisely.  because whenever liam is asked what his most favorite part of our trip was, he doesn't hesitate.  it wasn't the rides or the shows or the fireworks or the parades.  it was playing putt-putt.  (note to self: next year, buy him a pass to the local miniature golf place and save yourself a few thousand bucks.)

a huge thank you to my mom and dad for such a fantastic place to stay.  we loved every minute of it.

eating breakfast on the porch overlooking one of the pools -- not a bad way to start a february morning



if you look closely, the small blond head coming around the bend is liam, careening down the waterslide

this was more susanna's speed

the sign next to hole #1: "welcome to Putt of Course"

on every hole, our competitive son would ask chris what the par was. and on every hole, since no par was posted, chris would totally make one up. he has his Putt of Course scorecard displayed prominently in his bedroom to this day

we thought there would be no way they'd both finish the heaping mounds of ice cream dished out at the sundae party. somehow they managed to lick the bowls clean



i guess susanna wanted to work off some of those calories?



heaven

truth be told

as many similarities our children share, there's one area where they could not be more different -- and never has it been more painfully obvious than this week.  it was one of those times when you think, surely there is a happy medium out there somewhere, but Lord knows it ain't in our offspring.

liam has never once, in his six and a half years on this earth, told a lie.  i don't think he could do it if he tried -- it's almost as if his mouth can't form the words to utter a mistruth.  don't get me wrong; that's a good thing.  we can always trust him and that speaks volumes about his character.  but i've started to wonder if he's almost too honest.  i recently had a conference with his AG teacher, who pulls him out twice a week in a small group for math enrichment.  it is a true privilege and one that we know he's fortunate to have, as most elementary schools in our district don't even have an AG teacher for grades younger than third.  he does well and thoroughly enjoys it, but i was disappointed to hear at this conference that he goofs off from time to time.  the rest of the group are all first grade boys and i think it's a case of him trying to impress them in his immature kindergarten way, but who knows.  the reasoning doesn't even matter.  what does matter is that he's abusing this privilege and his behavior must improve.  so i had a heart-to-heart with him and he agreed that he could do better.

on wednesday afternoon, it was pouring down rain so i decided to surprise the kids with a visit to our club.  the children's activity room is open at 4 pm and i planned to work out while they enjoyed some downtime -- susanna always brings some art activity, and liam makes a beeline to the wii.  (and we all know how obsessed our son is with the wii.)  it's something they both request every day, but because of my recent back problems i've been forced to stay away from the treadmill and weights.  so when i informed them that we'd be going, liam quite literally started jumping up and down with glee.

and then, as we were shrugging on our raincoats to head out the door to the car, he looks at me with a dejected sort of look.  and before i could even ask him what was wrong, he blurts out, "i was so silly today in my math group and my teacher had to call on me three times and i just can't believe i did that."

whew.  honesty.  at that moment, i almost felt like it was overrated.  because i couldn't, in good conscience as a parent, be dealt that news and then reward him with a chance to play the wii for a half-hour.  we made a 180 degree turn back into the laundry room, shut the door behind us, removed our raincoats ... and wailing ensued.  sobbing to the point that he almost couldn't breathe.  i felt conflicted; how could i punish my son for being honest?  but it just didn't feel right to ignore his misbehavior just because he had done the right thing hours later.  another heart-to-heart followed, and then, a letter addressed to his teacher, apologizing and promising to do better.  and the whole time i'm watching my sensitive, regretful little boy labor over his note, i marveled at the fact that he didn't have to tell me.  i wouldn't have known otherwise.  but he felt such guilt and remorse that he felt he had no choice but to come clean. 

fairly promising story, right?  pat on the back for mom and dad, for obviously doing some mighty fine parenting to raise such an honest kid, right?  oh, sara.  not so fast.

on thursday, i picked up susanna at a friend's house, where she had gone for a playdate immediately after preschool.  i noticed that her cute black and white gingham top was paired not with the black leggings she had left our house in that morning, but some brown pants that weren't even hers.  i asked her why, and she gave me some dismissive answer about them getting wet on the playground.  it had rained the night before so it made sense.

and then i received an email from her teacher, letting me know that  -- oh, i hate to even document this -- our darling girl had decided it would be fun to drop her drawers behind the playhouse outside to relieve herself.  (i'll pause for a moment while that sinks in.)  apparently, she needs a bit more practice with her squatting technique.  ms. kathy said that susanna was so upset that she didn't press the matter, and just swapped out the bottom half of the outfit and left it at that.

it was time for another mother-and-child heart-to-heart.  but this one went far differently than the one i had with liam.  "tell me what happened on the playground on thursday when your leggings got wet," i asked her.

"oh, um, i splashed in a puddle," she replied, her eyes fixated on the dolls in her hand.

"hmm.  you'd told me earlier that the slide was wet."

her eyes remained downcast.  "oh.  well, actually ..." she trailed off.  "actually, i spilled water at snack time."

good gracious, i thought.  can i at least give her props for coming up with some viable explanations on the spot?  after it was obvious she wasn't going to come clean, i resorted to the age-old tactic: a threat.   "i guess i'm going to have to call ms. kathy right now and ask her," i said, and reached for the phone.

she finally looked up at me, eyes wide, and then she finally, finally, confessed.  i tried to make her see that what she had done wouldn't have been a big deal at all had she just told me the truth.  it was her dishonesty which was so troubling.  (it goes without saying that i'm already dreading her teenage years.)

in the end, i hope that all three of us learned our lessons this week.  i'm crossing my fingers that susanna learned it's best to tell the truth from the get-go.  for liam,if i'm realistic, i think that he probably learned that he needs to time his spontaneous confessions a bit better. 

and my lesson?  i learned that as soon as i'm feeling pretty good about how things are going in my child-rearing world, there's always something right around the corner to remind me that i have pretty much no clue what i'm doing.

magic

ever since returning from disneyworld, i've wondered how i could possibly do justice to our trip on our blog.  i've needed the ten days it took me to find our digital camera (which turned out to be stuck in a hidden interior pocket of our pool bag) to process the whole experience.  even in the midst of it all as it was happening, i'd try to hold onto images in my mind, desperate to remember the sights and sounds so i could recreate them with words later.  i'll have to write about their reaction to this ride! i'd think.  or, i'll definitely have to use this picture.  or, i can't wait to look back at this post and re-live these moments.  because, as much as i enjoy sharing our escapades with family and friends and whomever might somehow stumble upon this site, the reason i blog is to document our lives for our future selves.  i've mentioned before how at the end of every year, i print our blog as a hardbound book with dozens of added photos, and each sits on our coffee table in the family room in a slowly-growing stack.  nothing makes me happier than to find one or both of my children quietly poring over one of the albums as they re-live memories of years past.  the blog is our time capsule.  so now i'm faced with the daunting task of how to even attempt encapsulating our first-ever big family trip so that, when time has passed and our memories have begun to fade around the edges, we can turn to these few pages and remember.

i probably shouldn't admit this, but neither chris nor i were terribly excited about our upcoming adventure in the weeks leading up to our departure.  don't get me wrong -- we were looking forward to being down there, and knew that the kids were going to enjoy it.  but there are just so many details to take care of when it comes to packing up a family of four (and facing twenty hours round-trip in our car), especially for weather that necessitates a wardrobe that is stored away in the attic, that we got a little bogged down with the preparations.  i had to create a week's worth of lesson plans for my classes, make sure i had gathered up all of liam's make-up work from his multiple teachers, and find friends to substitute for me in my volunteer positions.  chris had to line up whatever he had to line up for work, coordinate petsitting for super, and make sure that our eight-year old SUV was ready to get us down there safely.  you know, all the mundane details that you have to take care of just to make sure the world doesn't stop spinning while you frolick and play in the sunshine three states away.

and on top of all of the normal necessities, our destination was disneyworld -- which, as every friend of ours warned us, requires extensive planning like no other trip does.  when i first brought home "the unofficial guide to disneyworld 2011" from the library back in november, chris's eyes grew wide as i read out some of the many pieces of advice contained in the tome's 800+ pages.  regarding securing a reservation for a character meal, you might find this as mind-boggling as we did:  " to get a table, you must dial at almost exactly 7 a.m. EST 90 days prior to the day you wish to dine.  we conducted synchronizing tests and determined that disney reservation-system clocks are accurate to within one to three seconds of the U.S. naval observatory clock.  as soon as a live agent comes on the line, interrupt immediately and don't engage in 'good mornings'. time is of the essence. "  (somehow the stars aligned, for i called only three months ahead of time and somehow secured a table for four in cinderella's castle on chris's birthday.  which is, incidentally, exactly what every man desires when he turns 36.)  i printed out touring guides of every park, which included step-by-step instructions of which rides to hit first, which ones to use fastpasses on, when to take breaks, and which exhibits were must-sees.  i even downloaded an app to my phone that kept up-to-the-minute reports on the lengths of lines.  i researched which parks were labeled Must Avoid on which days and when the parades were.  planning for disneyworld, suffice it to say, is not for the faint of heart.  (or a non-type A personality.)

but let me tell you something.  you know those disneyworld commercials that showcase the happiest families on earth with the biggest smiles on earth at the most magical place on earth?  the ones that, if you haven't ever been, you see and think that there's no way a place can actually be like that?  well ... we were those people.  we were the happiest family on earth and our smiles were the biggest smiles on earth.  and we are now sure that it really is the most magical place on earth. 

i'm convinced that disneyworld was designed for a four- and six-year old.  they're old enough to remember it, yet young enough to be awestruck.  their faces lit up each time they caught sight of one of the characters, whomever it might be.  susanna -- our quiet, reserved susanna -- would stalk the princesses, insisting on meeting them and introducing herself and posing for a picture.  liam engulfed pinocchio in a bear hug, and laughed the entire time while he and donald duck danced a jig. 

they were tall enough for every ride (well, susanna squeaked by with the assistance of her heeled cowgirl boots -- yet another detail to remember while packing) and loved each one.  they strapped on the safety belts in "mission: space" and to this day firmly believe that our ship might have crashed had it not been for their quick hands on the control pad.  they flew like birds in "soarin", giddy to find tinkerbell alongside of them for a moment or two.  they kept their hands on the triggers on toy story mania, sang along to the songs they knew at the little mermaid experience, and, as seen below, got throroughly soaked in splash mountain.

they sat on the curb of main street as they eagerly waited for the electrical parade to begin, and they beamed as they soaked in the lights and waved at the characters who walked past and waved back.  on our final night, they stood hand-in-hand with their little necks bent up towards the sky as they witnessed the most spectacular fireworks show they'd ever seen.  and as overly-sentimental as this sounds, i stood behind them with chris and became teary.  i felt so blessed to be able to give this gift to them.  and humbled to be a part of an experience that i know they will remember for the rest of their lives.

so the planning, the drive, the expense -- it was all worth it.  our trip was joy and discovery and love and laughter, all rolled into one.

it was magic.

wishin' upon a star