BFFs

Nora went to a birthday party on Sunday.  The party was for Meredith, her BFF.

Apparently, having a BFF is very important in second grade.  So important,  that you have to note it on your  birthday card.

Nora has loved Meredith since the day they met, which was the first day of kindergarten.  And what's not to love?  Meredith is silly, outgoing, loud, bouncy, happy;  everything a little girl would love in a best friend.  Especially, if said little girl is, by nature, more quiet and reserved.  At school, that is.   

So these two girls clicked from day one.

First Grade Field Trip to the zoo

The problem, at least to a second grader, is where to "rank" her other friends; some of whom she has known even longer.   Take Mel, for instance.  Nora has known Mel since preschool.  They have had play dates, sleepovers, and they LOVE each other.  So much, in fact, that Nora felt compelled to remind Meredith of this.   Remember that birthday card?  Well, look closer:  

CLOSER:  

This TOTALLY cracked me up!

Could it be?  TWO BFFs?  

Does this make Melanie BFF #2?  Or, should I totally shake things up and delcare them Co-BFFs? 

Apparently, I'm not the only mom dealing with this phenomenon lately.  At a recent soccer game, Meredith's mom said that Meredith wanted to know if it was okay to have more than one best friend.  Of course, her mom assured her that it was.  It is.

So when another mom called me yesterday to ask if I knew anything about the "fight" between her daughter and Nora,  I wasn't surprised.    Even though Nora hadn't mentioned anything.  

Nora and this girl are also very good friends.  Although, admittedly, when she comes to play at our house,  there does seem to be A LOT of arguing.  I don't know why that is.   Perhaps she and Nora are just too much alike; too stubborn,  too spoiled?  I don't know.  I just know that compared to other play dates at my house, these require much more interference on my part.  

This mom, said that Nora told her daughter she wouldn't play with her at recess, because she was playing with someone else.  And I'm sure that's exactly what happened.  Having gone through all of this before with Anna, I know that girls can be choosy selective about how they spend their free time.  Even in grade school.  But, honestly, I think it's okay.  I think that's how they learn.  They explore new people, new friends, and make new relationships.

I tried to convince this mom that things will be fine.  The girls will be friends again by tomorrow, if not sooner.  She asked if the girls could have a play date this weekend.  I guess to ensure their friendship really is secure.  And I think she wanted me to talk to Nora, to encourage her to use "nicer words" when telling her friends why she won't play with them.  That simply stating NO can be upsetting, especially to the sensitive hearted.  

So I did.  Later that night, I mentioned how her friend was feeling.  And Nora responded that she DID tell her she'd play with her the next day only to be told that her friend would be busy that day playing with someone else.  Ugh!  Girls!  

So why do these little people place so much emphasis on being at the top of the social ladder when, really, they love all their friends?    Right now, Meredith may hold the coveted spot, with Melanie being a close second.  But that could change tomorrow.  And then again next week:  that's life with girls.

For now, I am encouraging Nora to be friends with everyone.  Because they are all wonderful.  Really!  I get such a kick out of all of them.  More importantly, though, I am thankful for the way they have opened up Nora.  When she is with them, she is goofy, loud, rambunctious, even bossy sometimes.

And then they go home.  And I get my other girl back.  The quiet one who likes to watch movies and snuggle on the new couch she made for herself--for reading.

The At Home Nora

Goodbye Mickey

Big Mick

Our cat, Mickey, died last summer.  He was fourteen years old and one of two brothers.   Cooper, is still with us.  Actually, he's right next to me on the desk, watching as I type.  The boys, as they came to be known, were a gift from my husband many anniversaries ago.

From the day they arrived, though, Mickey was different-odd somehow.   He was lanky and skinny, where his brother was round.  He was vocal (and I mean meowy to the point of annoying), where his brother was quiet.  He was demanding; running to the pantry FIRST thing in the morning, after I let him back into the house, because he knew his  treats were kept in there. And he'd howl whenever I was in the kitchen preparing food, begging for his own.  Cooper was none of these things.  

And until about a year ago, he slept on my head  EVERY NIGHT.  And not just on my pillow, but literally on top of my head.  And he wouldn't just sleep on my head. He'd claw and scratch my head, pulling my hair and, occasionally, draw blood.   Of course, I could have put him out, but that was his spot.  So I tolerated it.  Some nights more than others.   I thought he needed that comfort.  I thought he was taken away from his mother too early and, therefore, I  filled the mama void.

Over the years, he was basically a good cat.  He loved us.  We loved him.  We played with him.  He made us laugh.  He sat on our laps and snuggled up to us on the couch.

As usual:  on a lap

As he grew older, however, his quirkiness became more and more annoying.  He started begging for food, hopping onto the counters when he thought we weren't looking.  He'd jump on our laps, pawing at our plates and cups.  He'd pee in things, like purses.  But really, I think it all started back at our old house, where he was involved in "the accident."   I wasn't home at the time, but the story goes like this:   

Unbeknownst to Dave, who had been out working in the garage, Mickey was sitting on top of the garage door, which was in the open position.  Well, when Dave was finished,  he pushed the button to shut the door, lowering it to its closed position, and walked into the house.  Now you would THINK that, at this point, Mickey would have jumped OFF of the door.  But no!  A few minutes later Dave heard a terrible howling sound.  Upon returning to the garage, he saw Mickey's back legs and tail at the top of the garage door!  The rest of him was hanging over the top--on the other side of the door!  Not knowing how to deal with the situation, he hit the button to reopen the door and Mickey simply hopped down.  He didn't seem hurt at all:  no cuts, scrapes, broken bones, swelling--NOTHING!  He simply ran off, as if he was mad.  Like it was Dave's fault for trapping him, embarrassing him for all the neighborhood cats to see!  

But, really, after that, he was never the same.  He became much more demanding; howling EVERY time you went into the kitchen.  And he moved from sleeping with me, to sleeping with Anna.  In fact, he really became Anna's Cat.  So much so, that she was afraid we were going to "do something" to him when she went away to college.  That's how crazy he was making us!  But, of course, we didn't.   We wouldn't.  

So when Dave found him all curled up on the grass, in the back yard, TWO WEEKS after Anna went to school, not only were we devastated, but we feared telling Anna.  

And she was upset.   "It's because you make him sleep outside!"  Even though he practically lived his entire life outside.  As a matter-of-fact, we tried to cage him once, about four years ago, because, for some odd reason, he liked to go to the bathroom on our neighbor's lawn.  And not just any neighbor.  The neighbor with the nicest, greenest grass on the block!  And they didn't like it.  So, after an embarrassingly, uncomfortable "talk" with me, I promised her I would keep him inside.  And we did, for about three weeks.  But, finally, I let him go.  He couldn't take it.  We couldn't take it.  My house couldn't take it.  He was ripping up doors, pulling up carpet.  So, out he went.  

After a few weeks, I saw her out doing yardwork and pulled my car up alongside her driveway.  I felt enough time had been spent avoiding her.  I mean I have to live practically next door to her.  So, I bravely asked how they were doing and  if Mickey was leaving them alone.  And she said, "I don't know what you did, but it worked!"  Hooray!  We could be friends again.  Honestly, I don't know if Mickey actually stopped using their grass as a toilet, I hope so.  Or maybe she just took my advice and brought the hose out every time he came creeping their way.  Whatever we all did, it seemed to work out.  

We don't know what actually happened to Mickey.  We only know he was laying on the ground in the back yard when we got up one morning.   He had no wounds, no blood, and there were no signs of distress or struggle.  It was as if he simply went to sleep and didn't get up.

So I cried some farewell tears, hugged Nora, called Anna, and then dug a hole alongside the fence.  I wanted to bury him below Anna's window.  That night we held a little ceremony for him and for Nora.  It was her first loss.  "To keep him company in heaven," Nora also buried Mickey's toys, an entire bag of  cat treats, and a card.  Oh the card!  She picked it out herself and it still makes me cry just thinking about it.  Basically, it said "you were put on this earth to be our friend and so we could love you."  And then she wrote:  "Mickey, you were a good cat.  We loved you and will miss you.  I hope you can use one of your nine lives now to see your mama in Heaven.  Love, Nora."  

Mickey had been a part of our family for a long time.  My girls grew up with him and my oldest daughter loved him dearly,  moreso, I think,  because she thought we didn't.   Which isn't true, of course.  We did.  We do.  But, yes, we did  complain about him.  Because he was annoying!  

But we still loved him. 

And we'll miss him too.

Goodbye Mick.

Mickey
9-21-97  to  8-29-11

Coffee with Dave

This morning I had coffee with Dave.  You're thinking BIG DEAL right?  But, it is!  We haven't had coffee together for THREE weeks!

And as anyone who has kids knows, finding quality mom and dad time is sometimes challenging.  So,  "getting coffee" has always been our thing.  It's when we catch up, talk about the kids, talk about the house, talk about our dreams.  You know, those crazy dreams,  like when we will go on vacation without our children?

But since his work has been so busy lately,  Dave has been working seven days a week.  Admittedly, this really helps out when Anna's college housing (ouch!) is due.  AND, it allows me to stay home and be mommy, housekeeper (sort of), chauffeur, birthday present purchaser, dog walker, and recently, blogger.   Okay, you get the picture.  And, yes, I do see him every day after work, so it's not like I'm deprived or anything.  But, I still miss him;  or at least that time with him.  

So what happened 3 weeks ago?  Well, that was our 20th Anniversary Trip to Beautiful British Columbia.  At least that's what all the license plates say.  And I have to agree with them.  For the three days we visited, Victoria was just that.

And, remember those crazy vacation dreams--without our children--that I just mentioned?  Well,  it had been ten years, TEN YEARS, since Dave and I vacationed without our children.  So we felt we deserved it.  

So, off Nora Jane went to Grandma's house.  Thank you Grandma Garnet!  Off Jack went to Grandpa Dahl's house.  Thank you Dad!  And off we went.  

Our trip started off beautifully.  The drive to Port Angeles was sunny and cloudless,  and the ferry ride to Victoria was gorgeous!  Although, I was surprised to see The Coast Guard escorting us for the first half of the trip.  

Waiting to get off the boat in Victoria.  See how smiley I am?
The return ride was not so smiley.
The water was rough and I spent  half the trip on deck,
in the cold, trying NOT to throw up.

Speaking of National Security, while we were waiting to board the ferry, I got to talk to one of the bomb sniffing dog handlers and admire his BEAUTIFUL Visla.   And I know she was on duty, hard at work ensuring our safety, but I REALLY wanted to pet her.  I did not.  Her owner didn't offer, and I felt it was inappropriate to ask. 

Upon our arrival in Victoria, we quickly passed through customs, and found ourselves being entertained by a local street performer.   We watched for a few minutes, until the hat came out, and then off we went.    We had stuff to do, sights to see, food to eat!  I hadn't been to this city since my eighth grade field trip.   I had no children tugging at my purse,  and I was ready to go, go, go!

And for two and a half days that is exactly what we did NOT do!  Instead, we totally relaxed.  We went to dinner.  We had cocktails, which we don't really do too much, but what the hell, we were out of the country!  We had coffee--each morning!  We explored the city on foot, and when we got tired we hopped onto the city bus and rode out to Butchart Gardens;  which is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen.  And it totally makes my flower beds at home look so lame.  

This fuschia reminded me SO much of Nora Jane
and her love of fairies.

The Dahlia Garden at Butchart Gardens was INCREDIBLE.
This was one of my favorites.

After the garden tour, we tried to get hockey tickets to see the Victoria Royals in their season opener, but we weren't aggressive enough at making our wishes known, so we went to dinner at a local pub and then saw "Drive" at a nearby theater.  

I think I am trying to prove to Dave that his beer, the Harp,
was lighter and, therefore, less manly than my beer.
He didn't buy it either....

And I loved this movie.  David?  Not so much.  It was a dark film, for sure.  But the characters were so real and played off one another so well.  And Ryan Gosling?  Well, let's just say, he's one of my new favs.  He played the main character, and didn't really say much.  Nor were we given much information about his life up to the point in the movie, but his interaction with the other characters (and the toothpick!) was wonderful and real.

Then, in the blink of an eye, it was time to come home.  But for those three days, life was calm, easy, relaxing.   And, as I type this, I am amazed at how quickly real life just picks up, right where we left off, making even the most recent memories seem old.  

See how relaxed we looked? 

So I'm very grateful for the hour I had with him, all by myself, at Starbucks this morning.  I don't really even know what we talked about; nothing important really.  But since he left for his week long hunting trip right afterward, it'll hold me over until he comes home.  

Nora was also excited to find Daddy at home this morning.  So, they walked to school together-just the two of them.   

I HEART Thursdays

For the last three years, my kid has taken some form of peanut butter sandwich to school EVERY day.  It's either PB & Jelly, or PB & Honey, or, when she's feeling like a purist:  simply bread and peanut butter.

So, I love it, when EVERY THURSDAY she says, "Mom, I wanna buy lunch today!"

And I play along, "why is that Nora?"

"Because, MOM, (if she knew how to use the word DUH I'm sure she would insert it here :) it's Peanut Butter and Jelly Day!"

I love my kid:)

Helping With Homework

Lately, homework time at my house (which has ALWAYS been RIGHT after school)  has been filled with a lot of new behaviors:  frustration, tears, staring off into space, laying on the chair, playing with the cat.  Just about anything BUT doing homework.  Or more specifically,  math homework.  I don't know what has caused this change, but it has been significant.  

Nora has pretty much always been easily frustrated.  If she can't figure something out right away, it's either "dumb" or "the thing's fault."  So much like her sister.  Sigh!  This sometimes proves even more frustrating  to me, as a parent, because she likes to work fast.  She doesn't want to mess around, usually because she'd much rather be doing something else.  Several times last year, her first grade teacher reported that Nora always does a great job at school, but she needs to "slow down and make her work more neat."  Ya, that never happened.  She seems to be operating under the same "get it done as fast as I can" system again in second grade.  

The difference, though, is that she just REALLY doesn't seem to want to do the math.  Or the math in addition to the spelling and reading.  Honestly, I don't know.  She seems to understand all of her work, however she does ask for help sometimes with her math paper.  And, really, I think she does "get" that too, but lacks the confidence to believe in herself and her answers.  

Nora's Homework Folder.
Look Closely, you will see where she wrote Fun Folder
only to later  erase it.  

When I ask her about it, she says, "it's too hard.  I don't get it.  I don't like math!"  And I panic!  Because these are the same comments and sentiments I heard from her sister ALL THROUGH SCHOOL!  And, yet,  Nora seems to grasp mathematics a little better at this age than her sister did.  (Please don't be upset if you are reading this Anna...kids are just different :)

So last week I mentioned Nora's frustrations to her teacher, just to get her feedback.  I was curious:  Is Nora the only one in the class feeling this way?  Well, yesterday a letter came home from the teacher.  In it, she stated that she had "been thinking about homework the last few days."  (Gulp!)  And that she has decided to  "cut back a little on the math assignments."  (Gulp again!)  And this is when my overly worrisome, obsessive self felt "the blame" if you will.  What if the other students were all doing fine?  What if their parents are now wondering, "what's going on?"  

So, I emailed the teacher and thanked her so much for listening and respecting my concerns about Nora's homework experiences of late.  I told her I certainly didn't expect her to change what has always worked for her, especially if Nora was the only one feeling frustrated.  I told her I would have been happy to help her "work through it," if that's what we needed to.  I told her the most important thing to me right now,  is that Nora is in a safe, happy environment where she can learn comfortably and confidently.  

Well, last night, homework was SMOOTH SAILING at our house.  And all because Nora has a teacher who really listens to her students' parents.   So, Thank You Teacher for listening and making your student (and her mother) believe that my kid is right where she belongs.

Who knows, maybe there will come a day when Nora decides to add the "fun" back onto her homework label.

And to those families who were cruising along just fine in math:  I'm sorry.  But I had to speak up for my own child.  It's what we do, right?  

  

The Curse of the Low Rise Jeans

 I. Hate. Jeans.

Why? They don't fit!  Never.  Ever.  Regardless of the size, or brand, or cuteness factor.  

  

I didn't used to feel this way, but since the introduction of the Low Rise Jean, I have suffered with ill-fitting jeans and have a completely incurable case of  "Jeans Envy".   

Everywhere I go, I see other women in the cutest jeans!   And they appear to fit. They look comfortable.  But, more importantly, they do not seem to be CONSTANTLY falling down their backside!  These women can walk down the street, laden with children, purses, cell phones, coffee cups never once having to think about their pants. And never worrying about juggling said possessions so they can "adjust."

I, on the other hand, always need a free hand.  Heck, I could use a third hand, just for this purpose!  A hand ready to grab onto my belt loop and give a quick tug.  And I am always wondering, WHEN are they going to start to slip?  When is it going to appear that my crotch has dropped to my knees?    

  

And I wonder; am I the only woman who suffers from this syndrome?  Why is it I can't seem to find ONE pair that fits me?  

Some of my failed purchases :(

Before the Low Rise Revolution, I could easily walk into The Gap (oh how I miss their old Boot Cut Jean) and purchase a pair in size 4 and feel completely confident that they would fit--and look good.  I wouldn't even have to try them on.  We knew each other that well.     

Or, I could buy a pair of Levis 501s.  The Original.  (I realize I am dating myself by admitting this)  I didn't even mind all those buttons!  They could be ripped open pretty darn quick, if you needed them too.  You know, if you had to pee really bad or something :)     

So why is it these jeans from yesteryear worked so well for me, while today's trends do not?  I mean 501s were essentially, men's jeans, and, even they worked!  

Perhaps that's why:  I am not womanly enough.  Maybe it's not the jeans.  Maybe it's me; my stick-straight, built like a boy body.  Oh to have curves!  

Or perhaps it is BECAUSE I am a woman, that I suffer so?  I mean, honestly, low rise jeans really only work on women girls who have not yet reached puberty or gained an ounce of post-pregnancy baby fat. Right?   

I admit I am considered thin.  However,  I have given birth to two children and, subsequently, have a slight layer of fat around my middle.  Just below my belly button and just above the tops of my pants; which the low rise jeans do absolutely nothing to minimize.  Instead, they seem to provide a shelf, if you will, for said layer to rest upon.  Or droop over, when I no longer have the energy to "suck it in."  

Despite my condition, inevitably, I try again. I carry my haul into the dressing room and try on every pair in my size.  Okay, not true;  not the expensive ones.  I am frugal in the clothing department.  I mean,  I'm not going to pay $75 dollars OR MORE for a pair of pants that aren't even going to stay up!

Then I go through the motions:  

I check them out from all sides and angles.  

I bend over.

I squat down.

I twist.  

Then I Thank God no one can see me.

And, once in a while, I hit gold!   

My New Pair!

Then, glowing with pride, I take my purchase to the cash register.  And I smile all the way home, where I wear them around the house;  making dinner, vacuuming, just to prove to myself that they really do fit.  And they do!

Until the next day.  By then, they have stretched out JUST ENOUGH.  And as I bend over, to sweep up the day's worth of dirt and dog hair from my kitchen floor, I feel that all too familiar cool breeze blowing down yonder.  And I  realize, yet again, I have failed.

Oh just put on a belt you say.  You do not know me.  Just as I hate jeans.  I DO NOT accessorize.  I do not have drawers filled with scarves, jewelry boxes overflowing with coordinating pieces, and I ABSOLUTELY DO NOT wear hats (unless I'm running).  

I have one belt in my possession.  But I don't wear it.  The buckle is too big and I have to go into the third hole, to make it tight enough,  which leaves a big flappy piece waving out from underneath my shirt.

So, instead, I carry on;  constantly tugging, pulling, and shifting.  Wearing long tops and praying for the day that belly button jeans become fashionable once again.

It's either that or I suck it up and get a low back tatt.

Hockey Night in Seattle (Make that Kent)

This is the time of year that Hockey Night in Canada starts to show up consistently on our television.  Since Dave grew up playing hockey, he can't help it.  But last night we decided to make our own hockey night.  So we took Nora Jane to her first hockey game.  Our team, (at least the closest team to Tacoma) The Seattle Thunderbirds, was playing a home game (in Kent) against the Victoria Royals.  I really don't know why a Seattle team doesn't play at a venue IN Seattle; I'm sure it has something to do with money.  But it was a hockey game, and it was Saturday night, so there you go.  


And it was Glow Night.  So, in honor of Breast Cancer Awareness Month, Valley Medical Center was hosting Pink the Rink.  And pink it was!  We all got Pink Hats, Pink Glow Sticks, and some of the lucky ones even got pink feather boas.  We were not those people.  But we wore our pink hats proudly (even Dave--and he's NOT one to wear pink) as we cheered the boys.  And I do mean boys, some of these kids are still in high school! 

Ah....crazy fans

I didn't even plan this! 

photo taken by jr.... a little too up close :)

And they played well, scoring the victory for all Seattle and Western Washington Hockey Fans. They even managed to throw in a few minor scuffs for the fans to get excited about.  I was not one of them.  Sorry, but I still cannot understand how Fighting can be allowed in a professional sport.  Dave argues, "It's part of the game. It's tradition!"  And that I do understand. But traditions can change right?  Especially when you see a young Victoria Player get rammed from behind  checked into the glass headfirst by a Thunderbird.  This, then, led to the throwing off of the gloves; which made me worry about, oh, their brains, and their necks, and their bones.  But that is a whole other post.  However, in case you are wondering:  the T-bird earned himself a ten minute misconduct and Victoria took revenge in the last period by a pretty good shove check of their own.  

Despite the fighting, Dave and I had a great time.  Even though Dave's burger was cold (probably because it had to wait for my Philly Cheese Steak to cook) and our beers were eight bucks!  But it was just fun to be a part of a crowd, all cheering together for the same victory.  I didn't know these kids' names, their numbers, or where their families call home, but if they were wearing a blue and green jersey then they were mine for the night.  

Nora, on the other hand, wasn't equally impressed.  She didn't understand why she was being told to 

Reading the reader board for "instructions" 

And the post goal cheer took some training.  It was just a simple four count cheer:  clap, clap, clap, fist pump accompanied by a loud HEY!   But it was new to Nora, who is not the "cheery" type and it required  serious thought :) 

I wish I could have captured her lips counting but, alas, I'm not that good at photography

She did, however, enjoy the trike racing competition after the first period.  Seeing grown ups race around on little kids' bikes is always good for a laugh.

And she liked the "Chuck the Puck" competition after the second period. 

This involved fans chucking foam pucks from the stands down into the sun roof of a Volkswagen Jetta.  Not that they won the Jetta for making their shot, but they did get some free tickets to an upcoming game.  

So midway through the third period, she became "bored."  Honestly, I'm surprised she made it that long.  So she pulled her library book out of my bag (we NEVER go anywhere without it) and read to the end (of the book and the game).  

And then it was time to go home.  

And I had a GREAT time!

I didn't even realize the players had pink tape on their sticks until I got home!
But I love it!  

Final Score:  Seattle (5) Victoria (4) 

A Random Act of Giving

Usually when I go to the store, I spend money.  And in my experience this is true for most people.  Not for my kid though.  She actually earns money!

Case in point:

After school yesterday, Nora and I ran to the Metropolitan Market to pick up a few groceries. Why, you ask,  did I drag a seven year old to the grocery store after sitting all day at school when I had six hours by myself to go shopping?  Good question--I'm not usually so foolish. However, as she unpacked her backpack and started arranging her homework projects, I realized that I did not have all the ingredients I needed for dinner.  Ugh!  So much for preparation.  Nora, however, was all too happy to put her homework on hold for a bit and go with me.

So, as is her custom, she grabbed her book and hopped into the van.  She read said library book on the way to the store.  As we shopped through the store.  And, while we stood waiting our turn in the check out line.  And this, my friends, is where the "incident" occurred.

When it came time to pay for our groceries, Roxanne, the cashier, started talking to Nora.  She asked her how her day was.  How she is liking school. And she even remembered that Nora was reading a Junie B. Jones book the last time we visited the store!  Wow!  What a memory!

Now I should preface this by stating that Roxanne is,  in my experience, THE NICEST grocery store checker in the store.  In the world!  And I have family members, whom I love, who are grocery checkers.  But this woman tops them all.  She is kind.  She always has a smile on her face and she never rushes you--even asking about your day and your family.  She genuinely seems happy to see you EVERYTIME you go through her line.   In short, she makes you feel like a friend.

Now in the past, Roxanne has given Nora stickers for the usual reasons; holidays, or simply for "being a nice girl."  And I'm sure she does this for every kid who comes through her line.  So, when Nora got her usual two stickers (one for her and one to share with a friend), she quietly smiled and said thank you. But then, she was bequeathed an even greater gift:   a two dollar bill!   Yep, Roxanne pulled it right out of her pants pocket.

The Gift

Nora and I were both stunned.  She looked at me.  I looked at Roxanne, and immediately said, "Oh, we can't take that!"  But she insisted:  "it's for keeping up with her reading.  Because kids who keep reading grow up to be smart," she said.   And she's proud of Nora.  (A kid she barely even knows!)  Yet, still I hesitated.  I didn't know what to do in this situation.  Sensing that I was feeling uncomfortable, she informed me that she does this all the time.  She keeps these bills in her pocket and passes them out whenever she catches a kid doing something good.  Wow!  She has that many two dollar bills?  I rarely see them!

Thankfully, she also told Nora that usually a kid cannot accept money from a stranger, but that it was okay for her to take this money since I was with her.  Is it?  Really?   Again she insisted. And then the woman waiting behind me smiled, which somehow indicated to me that it was appropriate.  Or she just wanted me to hurry up and take the money so she, too, could get out of the store.

So, Nora took the money, smiled her thanks, and put the bill inside her book for save keeping.  "Cool! A bookmark," said Roxanne.

The Lucky Beneficiary 

All the way home I smiled.  While I cooked dinner I smiled.  What a nice thing this woman had done for my child.  I told Nora she needs to write her a thank you note....I am a firm believer in The Thank You Note.

So, until you receive your note from junior,  Thank you Roxanne.   Thank you for being kind to my daughter.  I am not sure if Nora fully understands the kindness of your gesture, but I certainly do.

Oh, and by the way, did I mention that Roxanne also always wears cool glasses?  Yep.  She's nice AND cool!

The First Visit

My last post was about Anna heading off to college.  I actually started writing it a couple of months ago.  However, with the craziness of summer and my denial about her actually leaving, it got shelfed.  In real time, she started college on August 22nd.  However, we took her to WSU on August 14th.  After helping her unload her stuff,  get her internet connected, and kiss her goodbye as she went in search of "A Tech Guy," we drove to the hotel where I cried myself to sleep.  Here is the update:

Last weekend Anna came home from school for the first time.  And in typical Anna fashion, there was much speculation about whether or not she would actually arrive.  Of course, there were factors to consider; would she get a ride?  Would they be able to depart WSU when they wanted? Where would she get dropped off/picked up?  So much to think about.


But, after texting me on several occasions, to tell me she was coming home, or wasn't coming home, on Thursday evening THERE SHE WAS!  Live, and in person, at the  U-Village Starbucks.


Her ride, aka her Great Grandma Sierra, who is all of 20 years old, (it's a sorority thing) kindly drove her west and took her back.  Thank you SO much Sierra!


And when Nora Jane and I found her in the midst of all the students and laptops and coffee drinkers, Anna stood up, smiled, and hugged me like I have never been hugged before.  And I have to say, that brief second in time will probably go down in my history as one of my best ever mother/daughter moments.  Then she hugged her sister, REALLY hugged her!


Oh it was good to see her!  She looked the same, yet different.  Older maybe?  It had only been six weeks since I left her on the other side of the state.  But ya, she's different.


She spent the weekend at home happy.  She saw her friends.  She ate meals with us.  She even helped cook one night!  Egads!  And then she helped with the dishes afterward!  Egads again!  I think I like college!   


She went to her sister's soccer game.  She PLAYED with her sister!  

Playing with little

My Weird Family :)

LOVE LOVE LOVE these girlies

She and I went to the movies.  And she told me about school and her sorority.  It was heaven!


On Sunday, when it was time to return her to Seattle to meet up with Sierra, she seemed hesitant, quiet.  Her bags were packed.  A few more pictures were removed from her wall to be transplanted in her dorm room.  She hugged her Dad goodbye, because he had to go to work, and got into the car.  As we pulled out of the driveway, she turned and looked at her Dad to wave one more time.  And that's when I realized it:  She does miss us!


Quickly, I switched from my driving glasses to my sunglasses, even though it was hardly sunny outside, to hide the tears which were beginning to well up in the corners of my eyes. 


We were both quiet for a while, Nora was already deep into her Ramona book.  And then a few miles down the road a song came on the radio which reminded her of her Sorority Recruitment Week and things were okay again.


As I helped her put her things into the back of Sierra's car, I realized that I, too, really had missed her.  I didn't want to and I certainly hadn't expected it.  I was still exhausted from high school, from being the parent of a teenager.  And yet there I was.  Fighting the tears once again, and grateful the sunglasses were still on.  (The sun had actually come out by this point)


I hugged her tight, kissed her cheek, thanked her Great Grandma for driving and asked her to PLEASE text me when she got back to school.  Then she got in the front seat, buckled up, waved goodbye, and was off!  It's funny.  Only a few months ago, I would have panicked at the mere thought of her hitting I-5 and driving to Seattle.  NOW, she is commuting back and forth across the state.  Somehow, it feels alright now.  Okay, she's only a passenger, but still!  My, how I've grown!  She's grown!  


Luckily, Nora and I were right next to a garden store complete with a chicken coop and a garden shed to amuse Nora while I sipped my coffee, wiped my eyes and tried to recompose myself.  After a bit, we got frozen yogurt and headed home.  By the time I was out of the city, I was fine.  I think.

Checking on Nora before I went to sleep last night, I passed Anna's bedroom.   Her door was closed, but she had left the light on.   It looked just like it had on so many other nights.  Nights when Anna was in her room on Facebook studying, or listening to music, or just trying to be anywhere other than where we were.


It made me happy and sad to see that light glow under her door.  I know she is exactly where she needs to be right now.  But I miss her not being here.

Who knew?

Prom, Graduation, Hawaii Oh MY!

Well, another school year is about to start and I have barely gotten over the last one.  For it really was The. Last. One.  Anna graduated from High School.  The moment I had been dreaming of and working toward for almost eighteen years had finally arrived.

She. Was. Done.

Before she could walk down that aisle, however, smiling and glowing in her accomplishment,  there was Prom.  And I should have known that there would be drama.  Because after four years of buying dresses, and getting hair done, and finding just the right shoes, I should have known that this time would be no different.  And it wasn't!  The makeup that was "expertly applied" at the mall "wasn't right." The text I received while she was still in the beauty chair read, "she didn't even wash my hair!" And the boutonniere she bought for her date,  got left behind in the downstairs fridge.

But then, when the magic hour struck, like always, everything was fine.  Those much sought after shoes,  sparkly silver Toms, arrived via UPS just in the nick of time.  (4:00 p.m. the day before!)  Emily, the wonder with a makeup brush, fixed her face;  which really needed no fixing, in my opinion.   Her hair turned out beautifully, and the forgotten boutonniere was discovered by moi, before heading over to her friend's house for the pre-dance photo shoot.

The 3 Amigos: Rachael, Anna, and Athena

Following the Prom was, of course, the Post Prom Party, which I tried very hard not to think about.  Not that I'm in denial about my kid's social life, but I try to believe that she knows how to be as responsible as any seventeen year old should be?  Right?  I mean we have had the talk. Talks.  Many talks.


Then there was the Senior Sleep Out.  Basically, a party at a local campground.  Without parents.  Obviously,  I have no photos.  

Anna (Left) beginning her walk with her friend Rachael.
That's Victoria peeking upward in the front.

And then it was here:  Graduation!  The big moment!   Finally, I could breathe again.  And as I sat in the stands trying to zoom my little camera's lens in close enough to see her face, and listen to the speeches of her fellow graduates talk in depth about how they will never forget one another, or "The Woodrow,"  I tried desperately to remember my own graduation.  I know it was on the football field at my high school.  It was sunny.  My parents were there.  But that's it!  Things have come and gone in my life since that all important day,  leaving it only a vague memory.  Things like Dave, and Anna and Nora Jane.  But I didn't share that with Anna.  Because this was her moment.  Her time to shine.  And shine she did!  She had on her new dress (which, of course, no one could see and the aforementioned silver sparkly Toms), her hair was normal, no fuss, no muss.  Her smile was HUGE and she was ready!

The Grandmas and Grandpas were there, minus one.  And he was truly missed.  But walking much of a distance is just too much for my dad these days, so he got the benefit of my cell phone.  "She's on stage."  "She got her diploma!"  "She's smiling!"  "I'm STILL NOT crying!"  Text after text.  Thank God for cell phones!

The VERY Proud Family

And after a few more pictures, again she was gone.  To another party.  I went home and tried to sleep.  

THEN came the trip we had all been waiting for:  Hawaii.  A time to rest, relax, and relish in being together.  And it was all I hoped it would be.  Fourteen days in Maui was exactly what we all needed;  sun, surf, sand, and nothing to do but remember how good we are together.  We laughed, we swam, we sunburned (okay that was me), sunbathed (that was Anna).  We ate good food, we read, we watched movies,  we reconnected.  

Father's Day in Maui:  Beautiful!  

Beautiful Anna

Beautiful Nora Jane

Those fourteen days were magical for me, fairy tale like.  Everyone got along. There were no arguments.  My children laughed, really laughed, and played together.  

See--Happy Girls:
They were really like this the whole trip!  

There were no responsibilities, other than feeding ourselves.  Heaven!  I couldn't have asked for a better ending to high school, which was not at all fairy tale like.

My Bad Ass Baby:
Yes:  This IS the same girl as above
and HOPEFULLY not a sign of what's to come for me! Ha!

So it has been a crazy hectic time;  filled with drama, conflict, and tension.  Followed by hugs, tears, and reconciliation.  God what a pattern!  But we all survived.  Anna is happy and now looking forward to her future whilst (don't you love getting to use words like whilst?)  I am faced with one of my life's biggest changes:  moving my baby   daughter to college.  Okay, obviously she is no longer a baby.  But ya--to me--she totally still is.  

So here we are now.  Four days to go.  And I'm holding it together pretty well.  Even the dorm shopping didn't bring me down.  Instead,  it gave me a purpose.  She still needs me.  At least she needs my money.  So we have bought bedding, and hot pots, and dishes, and laundry soap, and cable locks for computers.  And through it all, I was fine.

And then I went to the grocery store.  Where I saw a group of girls, about twelve or thirteen years old, laughing in their daisy dukes and training bras, texting-- one another probably.  And I thought, where did my girl go?  So I turned my cart away.  Away from their laughter, their smallness, their youth, and headed into the produce section, where it hit me:  The Vegetable Tray.  The Vegetable Tray that Anna ALWAYS brought to her yearbook parties.  The Vegetable Tray that I was ALWAYS delivering to the school at the last minute, because she forgot it at home, or more likely, at the store.  And I panicked; is she going to eat her vegies?  Is she going to be alright?  Is she going to study hard and avoid the pressures of college life?  And my eyes started to tear up!  Right there in front of all the shoppers, and watermelons, and ranch dips. 

I don't know how long I stood there staring in that vegetable case.  Probably not long.  But long enough to make me realize that this is it.  She has grown up.  And I wheeled my cart away.

A little wave to Mom