My love runneth over

I'm getting sick. Moms aren't supposed to be sick. Everyone else in this house has had it lately. I have Lysol wiped to death and I've sucked down Vitamin C drops like water - but it finally got me. If it were just me, I'd probably be passed out on the couch right now - perhaps permanently - but since I have a family and a house to take care of, well.... I have a family and house to take care of. So even if I want to be sick, I can’t be.

Last night, I asked Joe if he could make dinner. He looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language.

After dinner, I started cleaning the kitchen and Joe offered to do it. I of course said yes and then I went and laid on the couch.

Well, no cleaning got done and instead the 3 of them wrestled – very loudly – right next to my couch. They could’ve gone downstairs – or found something quiet to do. Nope. And the kitchen didn’t clean itself. Can’t it be about me just for one second?!?!?

And then Emma decided she needed to draw a picture on a very small piece of paper on the kitchen table with a Sharpie. Nevermind her 1000 washable markers. Oh no. She knows she’s not supposed to use that one. And no matter where I put the one permanent marker, her radar is able to find it. Every time.

She innocently approached the couch and said, “Uh, mommy? I know I’m not supposed to use it but I also know you always say if we tell you the truth we won’t be in trouble and I don’t want to be in trouble so I’m telling you the truth. You know that marker I’m not supposed to use? Well I used it and it got all over the kitchen table.”

So up I get and I go to investigate. I’m not calm. She’s saying, “But I told you the truth! Why are you mad?” All bets are off at this point. I’m mad because I can’t be sick and I’m mad because she did something she knows she’s not supposed to and is now turning my words against me to avoid getting in trouble!

I spray kitchen spray and scrub. Nothing. Not even a bit of a fade. I grumble.

So I get out the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. All I can say is – pure love. Pure. Love. It wiped up like it was a spill of water.

Now if I could just get that Magic Eraser to do even more magic and get it to do the dishes and cook and feed the dogs and quiet the kids and the husband so I can lay on the couch when I am sick. Hum.

I'm itchy all over again

It has been almost 8 months since the foster kids were here. Wow. On one hand, it seems like a lifetime ago. On the other hand that time has really flown by. Proof that life goes on I guess.

The logical side of me tells me that we beat the lice that those kids brought here. Thankfully, we never had it. We stayed on top of monitoring it - and being completely CRAZY to prevent the spread of it to us or our things. And I know there is no way that we missed one or two of those bugs. Because if we had, they would have multiplied into the millions by now.

But the emotional side of me still checks. I still look in the mirror at my hair. I ruffle through my kids' heads every once in awhile. The emotional side of me tricks me into thinking that maybe we did miss one. And somehow that one hasn't multiplied. But it's just hiding. Waiting for an opportune time to pounce.

Crazy thoughts of mine. I wonder if any part of this is considered "normal" after co-habitating with kids infected with lice... Whatever normal is, though, who really knows...

Anyway. I went to the school today for a little bit and ran into Luke's teacher. She told me that the lice letter is being sent home today. "What??!!" I say - admittedly in a panic. "Oh, I think Luke will be okay", she soothes me, "He was nowhere near the infected kid."

Oh. Good. Grief.

My head is insanely itchy. All over again.

I pushed for gymnastics. Emma's idea won.

Emma has been wanting to do something with her spare time. We talked a lot about gymnastics. She wasn't quite sure. A lot of her friends take gymnastics and she thought she wanted to try it. Then she got a better idea.



I tried every excuse under the sun - even, "But hockey is for boys!" I have no shame in being completely sexist. But it didn't work, she shot back with, "Girls play hockey!" Truth be told, Luke's hockey teams have been mostly boys but occassionally there is a girl.

She stuck with the idea long enough - she wouldn't budge, actually - and we (okay, Joe!) finally agreed to let her play. I'm still not sure I'm okay with it.

The kids usually put their names on their helmets so the coaches know who they are. In case anyone was wondering, we've got a new hockey player in town.



The Mean Meow Meow has started her career.



Alright, I admit it. She was kind of fun to watch. She wasn't afraid of the boys. She got right in there and - well, played. It probably helps that this league is for 4-6 year olds and most of them ran the wrong way or had no clue what was going on.

There was 1 kid on the other team who actually played hockey. Just one. The rest of them were too cute for words.

Emma's team scored 1 goal. Drum roll.... it was her goal! Well. Kind of. She shot and missed - but somehow the goalie hit it, spun around and put it right in the goal. So since she was the last one who touched it before it went in, GOAL for Emma!

She's already counting the days until her next game. I'm trying to decide if it is okay for my pretty girl to be rough around the edges just a bit. Maybe it will be okay. Maybe, just maybe.

We are the Champions!

Okay, we're not the champions, Luke's team is the champions... but you know, I kind of feel a little bit of ownership in the whole win thing. ha ha.

This is all we parents see. We have no idea what these kids really look like under these helmets and masks.



This is the first time Joe coached the little ones. He's helped out before - but this was the first time he was fully responsible. He used to say he could never coach young kids (being a varsity football coach!) but I think he might admit that he enjoyed it. I know Luke loved having Dad so close!



And now Joe has a championship to add to his resume :)

I guess the kids don't know what they look like under those helmets and masks either. This little guy is one of Luke's good hockey friends. They have played together on several teams now. When Kyle took his helmet off after the game, he had a new haircut. Luke said, "Dude - you know we're not supposed to shave during the playoffs!" Too funny!



I'm so proud of Luke. He is doing really well with hockey and is one of the top scorers in the league. It sure is fun for me - I mean for him! - that he has found something that he loves and he is good at. It is a real boost to his confidence. He's still not wanting to play ice hockey yet, though... So unless Dek Hockey becomes a professional sport he might still have to keep his grades up in school! :)

Making it right

Emma felt badly that she hurt her friend's feelings yesterday. Not sure if she felt bad because the feelings were hurt - or because she didn't know she hurt feelings - or both. And so I told her it's always better to make things right. She agreed.



The answer was "yes" :)

Parenting books don't prepare you for this kind of stuff!

I’m exhausted today. Kind of like wired, not sure I could sleep but I need to kind of tired. Almost every night, somebody wakes me up. Joe is snoring or digging his elbow into my back. Baxter is barking at who-knows-what in the middle of the night. Emma needs a drink. Luke has a dream about spiders coming out of his ceiling. (Scary since he is about a foot from the ceiling in his loft bed!)

Last night, no one woke up. But I couldn't sleep. I finally had opportunity to - and I had a hard time sleeping. Go figure.

So I was cranky and tired. All day.

I had a conference with Luke’s teacher this afternoon. Just thought I'd check in. She said she has seen Luke mature leaps and bounds this year. She thought at the beginning of the year that he acted much younger than a typical 3rd grader but now he is pretty much on par. She said the girls are even noticing and saying things like, “Luke is actually nice and he doesn’t get in trouble anymore!” I think that was supposed to be a compliment. Oh goodness.

On the flip side, my other one must act much older than her age. I got a call from her kindergarten teacher tonight – from her home phone number on the caller ID! – to tell me that Emma made a “child” (she didn’t tell me who) cry so much that this child had a belly ache so bad that this child didn’t want to go to school and this child was calling this child’s mom at work to beg her not to make this child go to school.

Of course I am mortified and I said, “Oh my gosh, what did she say?” and the teacher said, “She said – little.”

Dead silence.

Me: “Excuse me?”

“She said little. She called this child little and then the child’s name.”

Me: “Like little Amy?”

“Yes.”

“Did she say it in a derogatory way?”

“Well, not really... but the mom and the child are very upset and I just got off the phone with the mom and I wanted to call you. This is just so out of character for Emma, is anything going on?”

I mistakenly say, “No, nothing is different, we are not getting divorced, no one has died...” as I am still trying to process what Emma even said.

“Oh”, said the teacher, “Well do you think your divorce is affecting her in a negative way or in a way that you didn’t even realize?”

Me: “Huh?”

Her: “Your divorce, is it affecting her?”

I’m so confused and say: “I’m not getting divorced!”

“Oh, I thought you said you were, I’m glad you’re not!” as she laughs.

“No, I said we weren’t and that no one died. Nevermind. I’m sorry she said that, we certainly don’t want her to be the mean girl!”

“Oh she’s not, I said this is out of character for her, but I didn’t know if something was going on or if this was a cultural thing for her, I mean I’ve never singled her out, and you know I have a very culturally diverse class this year...."

She does, she has Emma, 2 from China and 1 from Bangladesh in a very "blond hair blue eyes" corner of America – but WHAT?!?!

Me: “Um, no, Emma doesn’t worry about that. Actually, my other one does more than her...”

WAIT, WHAT AM I SAYING TO THE TEACHER?!? I stop myself. “Sorry, I’ll talk with Emma.”

“Thank you,” she says, “Please let me know if you find anything out.”

Oh good grief. CHILD!

So I talk with Emma. She tells me it was Riley – a boy – and she just said little Riley like no big deal, like we call her little Emma or how we say little Baxter. I never noticed we said that. But earlier today we were talking about Lilly and Emma said, “Who is Lilly?” and I said, “Lilly, down the street, she rides your bus.” and she said, “Big Lilly or little Lilly?” and I answered, assuming there must be 2 Lillies on her bus or remembering she has a friend Lilly whose brother plays hockey with Luke, “Big Lilly, she is older than Luke.” “Oh yeah, I know who you mean, she has black hair and is tan like me.”

Anyway. I reminded her he is no littler than her and she said she just said it and didn’t mean anything by it – but he did tell her to stop and she didn’t. I asked her when this happened and she told me it was yesterday. I asked, “Was Riley in school today?” and she said, “No.” Oh great. So I talk to her (calmly) about how sometimes you can hurt someone by the things you say, you’ve got to stop when they say stop and how she needs to apologize to him. Then she says, “I wish I was never born because I am so stupid!”

My mouth drops. Holy. Cow. “EMMA! I didn’t say that, you aren’t stupid. Everyone makes mistakes. You just need to fix the mistake, honey. Mommy loves you!” as I reach to give her a hug.

“But I FEEL stupid! And don't touch me! I don't want a hug!” Cry cry cry. It’s all about Emma now. Cry cry cry. Riley who?

I give up. Can I go on strike?!?!? Or maybe I'll just take a really long nap.