Party of Five

The afternoon was fairly typical...I picked up my youngest two from school and the usual afterschool hullabaloo commenced.  Backpacks dumped, coats shed, and both of them fighting hard to be heard over one another as they told me the excitement of their day.  My daughter, being the intellectual of the family, usually tells me which multiplication family she mastered that day, or how close she was to knowing all of her spelling words for the week, or Typically I'll be half-listening to all of this while cleaning something, cooking something, or handling the stress of her brother when he can't get a word in. Today her words stopped me in my tracks. "Today in math we got a big packet full of practice problems to help us with our state tests!" My response was to simply breathe deeply and count to 10.  I would not show my emotion in front of my innocent 8 year old who has yet to experience State Assessments.  We are opting out our 12 year old, but I "compromis...

My son just came into the room while I sit here writing, and I asked him if he had ever studied Pearl Harbor in school yet. He hasn't - he's working through the Revolution and Civil War this year - so I motioned for him to sit down - insert tween eye roll accompanied by a sarcastic, "Mom! It's Friday! Do I have to learn now?" Sit down kid. I began to briefly...oh so briefly...explain the events of Pearl Harbor to my 12 year old, accompanied by the old photos I had found, noticed he wasn't impressed (seriously, do you see this ship on fire and sinking?), and quickly brought up an aerial image of the memorial where you can actually see the USS Arizona underneath the surface of the water. THAT impressed him. Oy. 12 year olds. "...December 7, 1941—a date which will live in infamy—the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan. The United States was at peace with that nation, and, at the soli...

It's finally happened...and now that it has, the pressure is on - in a really big way! In case you don't know my history of contributing / helping with the family Thanksgiving dinner, let me briefly fill you in. (Most are chronicled on this blog if you'd like to read for yourself.)  I get to be the "responsible" one who brings the cool whip, the napkins, the 2 liters of soda, or the dinner rolls.  That pretty much sums it up each year.  Not that I have minded, it takes a lot of pressure off to not have to come up with something completely amazing and perfect that would fit in with the delicious feast prepared for us each year.  Still, it makes me wonder about my own cooking abilities sometimes. A few weeks ago, it hit me that I really needed to take lessons from Momma D. on her mastery in cooking her fantastically fabulous Thanksgiving dinner.  I may have mentioned on here before that she did attempt this with me...once.  But it's what she does with tho...

I survived.   It was my daughter's first slumber party, and I survived it.  Beyond that, it was an "American Girl" themed birthday slumber party, so it was ultra-girly...and I survived it.   Girls showed up with overnight bags, sleeping bags, their special doll friends, and their special doll friends' clothes.   There was A LOT of pink and purple, flowers, butterflies, and stars.  A LOT of stars seemed to be surrounding us everywhere!  I wanted this party to not only celebrate this beautiful girl turning eight, but also to celebrate her girl friends - to encourage these wonderful girls in a time when they are so often pushed to grow up before they are ready.  That's not to say I was going to treat them to an evening of Dora the Explorer to keep them young for as long as possible, but I did want them to walk away from this party knowing how incredibly special they are. Where there weren't pretty things decorating the house, there were 8 year...

I've been called cold and heartless.  I call MYSELF cold and heartless.  I received this notation on my persona when it was discovered that I don't turn into a blubbering fool at movies like "Old Yeller".  Who doesn't cry over the death of dog!  I don't.  I never cry in public, or at least that anyone will see.  I suppose this makes people think I'm cold and heartless. I asked Mr. D. last night if I was heartless.  The conversation streamed from a general "annoyance" that I was beginning to feel with the numerous references to September 11, 2001 that were beginning to pop up on TV, my facebook & twitter feeds, and in general conversation.  Photos of the towers with the words "Never Forget" and "We will always remember"...I was getting annoyed. You're beginning to agree with the heartless description, aren't you? Before you begin leaving ugly comments, let me explain myself. On September 11, 2001, I (as many...

I'm having one of those mornings. It feels like it could turn into one of those days.  But I refuse to believe that this feeling is going to last all day.  I think it's just hitting me hard because I'm sitting here in a quiet house with nothing to do but think about what it was that put me in this mood. (And no, it's not sentimentality over my kids going off to school.  Don't you all know me better then that by now?) I'll survive.  Tomorrow I'll (probably) be fine.  But for today, my mind wants to shut the world out, shed a tear (or two or three), eat a pan of brownies and have a big ol' pity party. I think I'll just eat the pan of brownies. And then I will go indulge myself in the love of a new baby girl who one day, when she's old enough to talk, may very well call me "Aunt Candy" And for now that's enough to make me smile. Okay, that AND the pan of brownies.

The past few days, my girlfriend has been going through the joys of "early labor"...but when you're bringing a baby into this world, labor is labor, and it doesn't matter at what stage of it you're in.  It's the craziest, worst, and most anxious feeling all wrapped into one anticipated moment - that moment when you introduce your child to the rest of the world. The past few days, my girlfriend (not the same one) has been packing up her son's bedroom in preparation of his leave for college.  Her "little boy" was born just 6 months before Mr. D. and I were married, so I've seen this boy as a newborn, and all the way through including his graduation party last summer.  I can't believe he's grown up enough to be living on his own.  And didn't he learn that he's breaking his momma's heart by leaving home? Both of my momma friends are having life-changing weekends. My momma friends keep me humble.  It doesn't matter ho...