Last night was the final day of summer. It was also the first day of school for Morgan and Bailey. I am now the mother of fifth and second graders. I’m not sure exactly how that happened, but it did anyway.
Last night was one of those magical evenings. The kind that only seem to happen in the summer. 15 random family members and a few random friends all gathered at a Frozen yogurt place at dusk. Where I’d normally have been getting my kids ready for bed, I was letting them choose their own flavors and add toppings. We all sat outside on the curb and ate frozen yogurt and watched lightening in the distance. For and hour and a half, time stopped. For that hour and a half, it was still summer. Bedtimes didn’t matter, crazy toddlers doing break dancing on concrete didn’t matter. There was no homework to do or baths to take. No one was sad about the two going off to college the following morning. We all got lost in that moment. It was magical.
On the way home, the kids and I tried to list all the great things we did this summer. Movies we saw, trips we took, small fun activities that made it fun. It was a long list. They added things I’d forgotten I’d done. Having it given back to me in list form was neat. It made me realize that my goal of doing this summer right, happened. Even though I had to work all summer and the kids were in daycare/camp all summer, we still had a great summer. I made it happen.
We’ve been to the mountains twice. I painted the inside of my house. The kids have been camping in Wyoming and seen half of Chicago. We’ve bought cupcakes and made cupcakes on many occasions. We’ve been to the park late in the evening and been the only ones playing on swings. We’ve had movie dates and movie parties at the house. We’ve gone to cosmic bowling and black light mini golf. We’ve been to amusement parks and museums. I went to BlogHer and to LA for a BFF trip. I’ve cooked on the grill all summer and my house has been full of summer fruit and ice cream for months. For the first time in years, I hosted the 4th of July. We’ve had ice cream for dinner on more than one occasion and made breakfast for dinner a regular occurrence. We’ve played with glow in the dark sidewalk chalk and I’ve perfected cherry pie. This past weekend, we even went to our first Rockies Game.
This has been a great summer. I’ve had a good time and my kids have had an even better time. This may have been the best summer in years. So Fall? Bring it. We’re ready. Summer is in our bones. We’ve enjoyed every second and we’re ready for whatever’s next.
I used to have a few of those Guinness records books when I was a kid. My brother and I thought it was the coolest thing ever. We marveled over the strongest man and the woman with the most children ever. We wondered if tree mans mom had done it with an oak tree somehow and we talked about how weird it would be to be short enough to walk under peoples chairs. The lady with the longest hair always made me cringe. Can you imagine having to brush that?
Hours were spent pouring over this book. Medical marvels. Greatest feats. Scientifically odd. Facts.
I always did like facts.
After a time, I stopped looking in that book. I knew all of it. I never really thought about it again. Until last weekend, when Morgan saw it and wanted it at Barnes & Noble. Of course it’s the newest version. The 2011 version with “thousands” of new facts. Not some weird 1989 copy that I’d had for years. I wasn’t going to buy it for her. It seemed like a waste of money. But then…I remembered sitting with my brother for hours in the backseat of a car, giggling over the weirdness. Who am I to not give that to my children?
Last night as they laughed at the woman with the longest nails and discussed the largest star, I thought, hey this is kinda cool. I am passing on something good. Something besides a love for cooking and design shows. They are learning something and having a good time. What could possibly be wrong with that?
Then Bailey got mad at Harrison and smacked him with the book. But hey, things happen right?
Am I the only one who loved this crazy stuff? I can’t be, right? Not with the amount of shows on TLC and Discovery channel.
ps. I wrote a post over HERE, if you are interested.
Is she always like this? Her words vibrated through my brain for weeks afterwords. It wasn’t the words themselves. It was the meaning behind it. This, being crazy. This, meaning disruptive and impulsive. Being crazy screaming tantrum girl. Truth was, yes. She was always like that. Pretty much the entire year she was two. It could change in a moment. It often did. Her words floated through my head, because they matched some of my own words. I felt like a failure as her mother. I couldn’t stop the behavior anymore than a daycare teacher could.
She’s so needy. There are 15 other kids in this class. I shouldn’t have to spend all my time on your daughter. Maybe she doesn’t belong in daycare. Yes, that’s the answer to all of our problems. She doesn’t belong in school. I wanted to bang my head against a wall. Instead, I changed her to a different school. A better school. Didn’t change the issues. The teacher just happened to be a bit easier to deal with. The idea that a three year old would be better suited to stay home all day would have been funny. Except it wasn’t. Yet…her words stayed with me too. Because I felt the same way a lot of the time. I had this bubbly, happy, mellow six month old, who was getting the shaft in a lot of ways. Because her big sisters HUGE personality always came first.
The impulsiveness is our biggest issue. That and that she constantly gets the entire class going. I understand, I said. I did. She did that at home too. She constantly was at odds with her sister. With me. With her father. Yes, I know the impulsiveness is an issue. I’m doing the best I can. She’s four, I told the teacher. I’m doing everything I can and she’s fighting me on all of it. Because she can and because well…she’s four.
She’s so smart. How do I teach a child this smart? How can I keep her busy, if she already knows it all? What? How can I tell you how to teach? I am not a teacher. I don’t know how to teach small people. I only know how to mother them. I am her mother. You are her teacher. Figure it out. I know she is smart. I know she is ahead of all these kids. Intellectually only though. However? She’s five. She needs to be with these kids. Her emotional stability depends on it. Hell, mine does as well. She was doing so much better by then, yet here was a teacher intimidated because she was ahead. Intimidated by my child. Awesome.
She can’t sit still. She’s constantly making noises. I just can’t handle the constant clicking. Sigh. Here we go again was my thought. It’s a pen. She clicks a pen, right? Yes. I can’t handle it. Okay. I will find something else for her to mess with. You have to understand that she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it. I do, I really do. But that clicking makes me crazy. Okay. Yet again, I will find another way for my child to not be herself. To change who she is, to fit the mold. I don’t say that. I just think it. Because you can’t change a child’s second grade teacher, halfway through the year. You just have to find a way for everyone to get along. The answer that time was Adderall. It made a world of difference. In Morgan at least. The teacher never forgave her or me for the pen clicking and other miscellaneous ticks. The ticks Morgan had from trying too hard to sit still. From trying too hard to be like everyone else.
Issa wait. Wait up. I have something to tell you. She ran up to me in the parking lot of the school this morning. I’d just dropped the girls off. Hey S, what’s up? I got her. I am so happy. I got her. She’s mine. What? I’m confused. Morgan. I get to teach her next year. You aren’t supposed to know, but I just had to tell you. I am beyond thrilled. She was my first pick and I got her. I feel the tears but I blink them back. Thank you S. Thank you for telling me. I’m so glad she got you. I wanted her to get you. She hugs me and runs back into the school.
All these years, there have been teacher issues. Even at times this year, despite the teachers understanding and liking her. Because my kid, she’s amazing. She’s sweet, caring, funny and bright. She’s a challenge though, even on her best day. She’s highly intelligent and she gets bored easily. She’s opinionated and articulate and in all honesty, she’s smarter than me. She has ADHD and though she is medicated for it, it causes other issues. All these years and this is the first teacher who fully understands. She is a semi-friend of mine and she adores Morgan. She also understands her, because she is just like her.
Finally. Someone wants my daughter in her class. Finally.
I write these down, because I want to remember. I want to remember a peaceful, easy weekend away with my kids.
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Harrison sitting in the backseat of the car on the way into the mountains. He had a half hour, non-stop animated conversion with the Cinnamon Teddy Grahams he was eating. “No eat me. I eat you. You yummy. No pwease, no eat me. Okay you safe. I keep you safe. Hahaha. Now I eat you. No, no, I no bad guy. Yummy ears. Nom nom nom.”
(If he’s a cannibal later, at least I’ll know when it started.)
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Bailey: Mommy, you know what my favorite-ist part of this weekend was?
Me: No love, what was it?
Bailey: Getting to eat all the gummies. (I have an I don’t care attitude about candy/snacks on holidays and road trips.)
Me: Out of the whole weekend, out of everything we did, your favorite part was eating gummy candies the whole car ride up there?
Bailey: Yes.
Me: Well good to know. Next time I want to go on vacation, I’ll just buy you some gummies and call it good.
Bailey: Wait no mommy. I have one more favorite.
Me: Okay then, lemme hear it.
Bailey: Renaming stars with you in the hot tub.
Me: Much better babe. Much better.
Bailey: But the gummies tie.
Me: I’m so glad to know I so rank high next to sour gummy worms. It makes my heart feel all special.
Bailey: It should. They are so good mommy. Can I have more?
Me: No.
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Morgan: Mom what is this road called?
Me: I don’t know. It’s a number. I’m sure I should know, but I don’t.
Morgan: I am gonna rename this road.
Me: Oh yeah?
Morgan: Yeps. It’s now called mommy almost hit three deers road.
Me: Dude. I almost hit one deer. Not three.
Morgan: Those other two were in the road too.
Me: Like three football fields away. Doesn’t count. They ran off.
Morgan: Mom? I stand by my decision. You almost hit three innocent deer.
Me: They aren’t innocent. Did you see how they almost hit my poor sweet car?
Morgan: Mom, you are so wrong. The deer are the innocent ones. Your car was driving way too fast, like over the speed limit by 8 whole miles and if it hit one, they’d be toast.
Me: Well technically, they’d be more like deer kabobs.
Morgan: MOTHER!
Me: It’s true. They are a menace to society anyway. Freaking partying in the middle of the road deer.
Morgan: *eye roll* Whatever mom. This road has a new improved, very true name.
Me: I’ll be sure to let highway patrol know that.
Morgan: Okay good. It’s settled.
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We flew kites. Or well we attempted to fly kites. Ever try kite flying in 30mph winds? Yeah, I’m not sure I recommend it. They look like they are having a seizure up there.
The girls and I sat in a hot tub and renamed stars late on Saturday night. There is nothing better than sitting in a hot tub on a deck at night, in a mountain neighborhood without street lights. You can see everything.
We ate ice cream on a bench in the sunshine. Harrison ate his on a cone for the first time ever.
We sang all the way home in the car.
On Mother’s day, we went out to breakfast. Best breakfast spot in all of Colorado. Too bad it’s four hour drive from my house.
This weekend, the fighting was pretty much non-existent. This weekend, there was next to no whining. This weekend, there was no housework, no dog barking and no errands to run. It was a good weekend. No, it was a great weekend. One I hope to remember.
Morgan is working on a project for school right now. It’s simple enough, except she seems to be lacking in data. (Possibly since she keeps forgetting to ask kids at school.) She’s making a graph…but went a little crazy on her questions. Too many choices if you ask me, which she didn’t. Ahem.
Anyway, so the questions are: which was your favorite Harry Potter novel? And which was your favorite Harry Potter movie? I keep reminding her that there is going to be another movie, but she claims it’s okay that it’s not there, as it will make her graph un-even. We can’t have that. *cough* Perfectionist *cough*
So? If you’ve seen them all and or read them all, which were your favorites? If you’ve seen all movies or read all books and not the other, just let me know that too. Please and thank you. 
ps. Anyone else find it odd that our childrens homework becomes our problem? HI TEACHER LADY, I ALREADY WENT TO SCHOOL!!!!
Mommy, I have a joke for you. You will laugh so hard.
Okay Noodle, give it your best shot.
How do you wake up Lady Gaga?
I have no idea babe.
Poke her face.
I laugh for a good five minutes. My girl, such a little comedian. I love six. Six is a great age.
Last night, she got up three times and each time turned the hall light on. Each time, I’d wait a bit and shut it back off. I wanted to be grouchy. I really did. Yet, she’s six. When she gets up and leaves her room for any reason, she gets scared and needs tons of light. Nightlights in her room and the hall aren’t enough. She won’t be this small forever. She won’t be afraid of the hallway at night forever. She won’t come in at 6am and crawl into bed with me for long. Someday she won’t want to hold my hand in public at all times, lacing her fingers in mine. A day will come when I will embarrass her. Probably a day soon.
Not yet. Today she is six. Six is lovely.
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Bubbie you have to slow down. Say that again. Mama can’t understand. He sighs at me. My two year old sighs at me. Something he learned from his big sisters. I am exasperating him.
He is so animated. He talks with his whole body. He speaks in complete sentences and his entire self moves. At times though, he speaks too fast. When you are missing key letters in your vocabulary, you need to slow it down a bit. Ha. He has a very large personality. We have intense conversations about everything. Cars. Toy Story. His blue cup. The moon. Why dogs can’t be ridden. Why my iPhone isn’t his, because he’s pretty sure it is. Why he “no use big boy potty yet. My big mama, but not dat big.” Why his bed at daddies house isn’t acceptable for sleeping in. “My Twain bed make me cry mama. Wah. Wah. I cry wike dat.”
He looks older and speaks as well as most three year olds, so people assume he is three. He tantrums like a not yet two and a half year old though.
I like this stage. He’s so tiring, yet so very fun. Two is entertaining.
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Morgan it does. It has red in it. I remember the red.
Mother? You need new eyes. You need to go to the doctor and say, my eyes are defective, I need new ones. Please and thank you very much kind doctor. There has never been red in that couch. Promise.
I laugh and laugh. We are at Kohls attempting to use my Kohls cash before I forget I have it and find it three minutes after it expires. We came for pillows for the futon couch in the basement. I am convinced it has red in it and well, she’s convinced I’m a lunatic.
We go back and forth on it for twenty minutes in the store. She tries to convince me to buy black or light tan pillows. It has both of these colors mom. Just those. NO RED. I want the red. I’m convinced it has red. In the end, we don’t buy any because she convinces me I will be grouchy if I come home and they are wrong.
I am wrong. There is no red. Red pillows would look weird on that futon. She only gloats for a minute.
Nine years old and full of opinions. I take her shopping with me for clothes, because she always tells me the truth. She is my memory at the grocery store, remembering that we needed Lysol wipes and Kleenex, where I’d surely have forgotten.
She is funny and opinionated and makes sure her thoughts are always known. I’ve noticed lately how she is nicer though. She has started thinking before she speaks. She listens to everything I am trying to say, before working on her rebuttal. She has started taking a few deep breaths or asking to be excused to her room for a minute before she blows up at nothing. My baby is getting big.
I like nine. Nine is a great age.
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A Sunday full of normal. A movie in bed in the morning. Blueberry pancakes. Errands. Lunch out. Video games. Laundry. Reading more chapters in books. Dinner at home. Nothing out of the ordinary.
It’s my favorite type of day. I’d really love another one. Today, I wish for a second Sunday.
1. Last night, I went into the kids bathroom to turn off the light that my six year old always gets up and turns on, once my nine year old is asleep. (Side story: One needs complete darkness to sleep, but falls asleep in seconds. One wants light and takes a bit to fall asleep. It’s taken till now to find a compromise.) When I walk in the room though, I realize the toilet wasn’t flushed. Again. I flushed it and it started to fill up. Because yes, what I want to do is unclog a toilet at 10pm. I thank the bathroom gods that it doesn’t over flow and go locate the plunger and unclog the toilet. Then I curse my children in my head…and in email to my bff’s, for not bothering to say, hey mom, the toilet is clogged.
This morning, when questioned why it’s so hard to just tell me, they both swear to god that it wasn’t them. One blamed the boy. Which in future years will likely be true. However at the present time? He wears DIAPERS! He does all his bid-ness in diapers. The other child? Swore it was me and I just forgot. Yeah. It was me. I forgot clogging the toilet. I forgot to flush the toilet. Because I knew the toilet fairy would take care of it for me. Sheesh. Really? Come on now, someone fess up.
2. Same children who woke me up by 6:45am every single morning that that they were home and with me over Christmas break? Have been late to school the last two mornings. Because they won’t wake up. (The first morning, was my fault. I set my alarm wrong. But still, when I woke up an entire hour late? They were all still asleep.) This morning, they were dragging. They had to basically be dragged out of bed. I just don’t understand. Is it a kid thing? Parent germ warfare? Sleep in during the week, be wide awake and talking and needing nourishment and crap at the butt crack of dawn on Sunday?
3. I can’t find my TV remote. I can turn my TV on without it, because I have the cable remote. I also have the DVD player remote. But not the actual TV remote. I’ve looked for it for the last hour. The boy, he hides it. He finds things hiding places. Of course today is his dad’s night too. Which sucks. Because I won’t be able to find the dam thing. He will, when I ask him tomorrow. But me? Not a chance. I have spend way to much of his very short two years and three months of life, trying to find the things that he hides.
I think this is a first. Generally if ‘m going to do a, ask the Internet for help, it’s for me. This time though? It’s for my girls. Although they don’t know, because well…they don’t know about this blog. Anyway, that’s a whole other story. Moving on.
My girls are readers. Big readers. I am frankly running out of ideas of books for them to read. That is where you, my lovely and amazing readers come in. One of the things we do at night, (after dinner, baths and once Harrison is in bed) is read three chapters before bed. Out loud. Morgan reads one, Bailey reads one and then I read one to them. We read from three different books. Which would confuse and annoy some people, but it works okay for us.
Problem is, I’m running out of books.
Morgan can read and comprehend, at a 9th grade level. However, at just turned nine years old, she can’t really handle the 9th grade reading level content.
Bailey is six and can mostly read level 3 on the I Can Read books, but none of those really interest her any more. They are and I quote “so baby boring mom.” She for some reason can’t stand Junie B. Jones books, although a few years ago, Morgan loved them.
We have read all of the Percy Jackson series. Twice. We have just started book 7 of Harry Potter. We’ve read most, if not all of the Ronald Dahl books. We’ve read the Bunnicula series. For some reason, we all like series. I think it’s because we like hearing about the characters. Not that we haven’t read some great stand alone books. But series tend to win out. We have read The Secret Garden, The Little Princess and finished the Narnia series in the past month and a half.
I just downloaded the Boxcar books to my Kindle, in hopes that they like them. But after that? I’m not sure where to go. My mom gave me the complete works of Hans Christian Anderson, which I’m going to start reading to them tonight.
I have no problem buying older books. I’m just frankly drawing a bit fat blank when it comes to ideas. I look at Amazon and I get overwhelmed. We look in bookstores and wind up leaving with nothing, because the shelves and shelves of books overwhelms Morgan and I, while Bailey just wants to buy toys.
We need help.
What are your kids favorites? What were your favorite books at my girls ages? What say you, Internet?
Because sometimes, one needs two titles.
This morning, I told my kids that we would go to see zoo lights tonight, which I will regret because it’s cold as feck. But whatever. We’re going and we will have fun dammit! This is part of my attempt at doing fun things, even though, I have to work 8 of the 10 weekdays my girls have off of school. Also? My ex and his parents will have the kids all of next week and they will ski and have a blast. I get tired of them only doing fun things with him, so yeah…I’m making new traditions.
Anyway.
For your enjoyment and because well hi, it’s my blog, I thought I’d share the supreme difference in my girls with you tonight.
Bailey, who has spent all effing day with me (because her play date got canceled on account of vomit…thankfully not vomit here) and who had already made me want to sell her on eBay. I could have not told her until we pulled up to the zoo that we were going and she’d of been fine. She’d of said, oh the zoo, cool. But she’s known all day. And now? She has now spent the last hour saying the following non-stop: mom are we going now? What about now? Why though? Oh yeah, it’s not dark. Okay when will it be dark. We go after dinner? When’s dinner? Why are we having that? When can it be dinner? You know, dinner sounds lovely right now. I am very starving. Are you sure I had a snack? I don’t feel like I had a snack? I hear you saying, it’s not dinner yet. But when will it be? Yes mommy, I have my listening ears in. They just don’t like what they hear. Can we go now? Look outside, it’s almost dark. Mommy, did you know there are zebras at the zoo? Will we see them? Wouldn’t it be cool if one talked like on Madagascar? Are we going now? Will we ever go?
Morgan is the reason I said anything this morning. I’d of been better off telling her last night. She needs 24 hours notice at least to plan her life. If I’d told her when she got home, she’d be in her room screaming at me about her socks not matching or that the wind blew the wrong direction a week ago or something. Because yeah, change does that to her. I had to tell her this morning, there was no other choice. So this is her, since she got home half an hour ago from an all day play date: Mom, you know it’s cold right? Will we be warm enough? It’s only going to get colder. What if it snows? You shouldn’t have bought those snow boots. That’s why it hasn’t snowed. Yes mother, I will watch my attitude now. I do hear you. You know bubs (we call Harrison, bubs) is a very small boy. What if we loose him? What if he gets too cold? What if they won’t let us take the stroller in? What happens if I drop a glove over the lion gate? But then my one hand would freeze and fall off and I’d go through life with only one hand mother. FINE, I won’t lean over any gates. What if our hot chocolate thermos gets cold? Or runs out? Are you sure there are heat lamps through the zoo? Do you have a map of the zoo? Maybe we can get a map on Google? Well can’t you look to make sure? They should have it. You know, lions here. Snakes there. Well someone should add it. Can you email Google and tell them? Have you driven to the zoo before? But have you driven there at night? Mom? Did you realize how cold it would be tonight when you decided this? What time does it open? What time does it close? What will we do if they close and we are still in there? Are you sure we will be warm enough?
Someone shoot me.
You were the one we planned down to a T. The one we read to in utero. You were the one who’s name was picked out three months before birth. The one we read parenting books about before hand, to make sure we did it all right.
You were the one who was the exact opposite of all the books. The one who came early and not on my plan. The one who taught me that nothing would ever again be by my plan. I could probably write a book or two about parenting you.
You were the first. The one I made all the mistakes on. Let’s be honest, the one I’m still making all the mistakes on. You are paving the way for them. Making it easier for them. As a first born, that is sorta your job. As a first born myself though, I know it’s okay. Because you are okay.
In fact, you are amazing.
Today you are nine. Nine years old. I have said that to myself about 20 times today already and it doesn’t seem real. You said it to me at least that many times in-between the butt crack of dawn when you woke me up to tell me (seriously kid, it could have waited one more hour) and 8:35am when I dropped you off for school.
10:43pm. I know you don’t want to hear it, but that is the actual time of your birth. Basically you are still eight right now. I told you that this morning and all I got was an eye roll and a heavy sigh. I guess I’m not that funny anymore. In your mind, I may never have been. Thankfully for me, your siblings are in the, mommy is very funny camp. I like them best.
You were the one that changed my life. The one that made my life not about me anymore. Each day, I am grateful for you. You and your siblings make life worth living.
You ruined maple syrup for me forever. You did. Really.
You were the one who taught me to think before I spoke harsh words, because you take everything personally. You are sensitive, caring, sweet and smarter than me. From you, I’ve learned that being a mother means having infinite patience and that eventually, I will run out of it.
This year, you’ve grown up so much. I wish I could go back and un-do some of that, but I can’t. I can’t un-d0 anything that’s happened this year. It’s forced you to be more responsible. It’s forced you to be a little more mature and helpful than you should have had to be. You’ve risen to the occasion time and time again. I could not be more proud of the way you have been this year.
You were hit by the dancing bug this year. You are a phenomenal dancer. When I close my eyes, I can still picture you on that stage. Not a single miss-step. Not even one.
You were the one that made me a mother. You are the one that makes me strive to be a better mother. To be better for you, as well as your siblings.
Last night, you and Mackenzie and I went to an amazing Fondue Restaurant. That was a first for all of us. We had an absolute blast. I can’t even being to tell you how much fun I had with the two of you. At one point though, we were talking about Harrison and you said, you know mom, he was very annoying this morning. I wish you could put him back. Oh dude, owie. Have you looked at him? He’s a huge monster boy baby. I am not putting him back. Remember how we talked about how babies are born? You really think that shoving him back in there is something I’m going to do?
Oh Em Gee MOTHER. EWWWWWWWW. We are never talking about this again. REMEMBER!!!! Never mention this subject again. Let’s talk about something pretty.
Yeah, that was your actual response. I cracked up. As did the table next to us. Nice people. Young. Newly married looking. Possibly might have kept them from ever wanting kids. Ha.
You never stop making me laugh. Even if you think I’m the strangest, most annoying, non-funny mother in the entire world.
Happy ninth birthday Morgan.
Mommy loves you.
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