My firstborn has been snubbed by his first grade boy group. They have told him two days in a row that he is no longer welcome to play with them at recess. We find this out the same day we get a slumber party invitation to one of his favorite friends house for this Saturday. Sigh. I don’t mention the birthday invitation.

What to do; what to say?  The Dad and I confer. Don’t make a big deal, help him find a temporary solution, it’s likely this will blow over, kids are mean, but these are basically good kids and it’s likely they are just trying this out. We all go through this right?  This is what we say to each other in our grown-up wisdom.

To him, we say…What can you do tomorrow at recess? Some kids like to try out being mean sometimes, and it will likely be fine in a few days. You are a great kid and your Kindy friends are nice boys, so hang with them instead.  Don’t pester the group to get back in. Show them you can have fun without them…Some of this I think he hears, the rest is just rebounding off of a bruised heart.  I let him pick what to have for dinner. I love on him a bit more. I snuggle with him this morning, making sure to get in substantial hugs and a few tickles to get the good endorphins running before we get to school.  We’re going to make it, I think. Then he cries in the car because he can’t get his seatbelt buckled and his hands are cold. Then he says he has a sore throat. Then I think, maybe this has been going on longer than he says. My heart breaks a little for him, and I say we’ve got to be resilient, our carefully selected vocabulary word for the day. We rehearse the plan.  I finally get him to laugh on the ride to school.

Big Sigh. There’s been a lot of sighs between last night and this morning. I can’t navigate this for him. I can’t make it better. I can’t hand him a thick skin and say, 20 years from now this wont matter a lick, because I know it will matter, even if I don’t want it to. 

School: He plays with a favored Kindy boy before class. He is barely smiling. He’s trying to not fret about the other boys. I see this. His teacher gets mad at him for forgetting a project. I say, I’ll bring it, we didn’t know. (I’ve been gone for a week- things slip by.) I say to her, he had a rough day yesterday, we only made him do math homework. She tells me he cried in class last Tuesday. This I didn’t know. She said it was because he missed me. (Whammo! to my heart.)  I say, well, it might have been something else too. (I hadn’t planned on telling her anything.) She says, I need to know if something is going on.  So, I briefly tell what I know and say, we’re just trying to let it blow over and are encouraging expanding the friend network. She says, I have to talk about this a lot. It’s good for me to know as there is a fine line between being normal and being mean.  My eyes have watered up which makes me  realize I hurt more for him than I thought.  Oh kiddo. I’m sorry, my heart says…and he can’t hear it.

The Dad and I are not perfect parents. We can’t always protect him. He will have to navigate this one mostly on his own. I read advice columns for half and hour after dropping him off. I pick up a few tips. I know though, that the best thing I can do is be there to listen, to encourage problem solving, and to love on him. I’m not mad at the boys who have hurt him. They are navigating too. I don’t know their side, and like I told David, friendship can be complicated sometimes. Life is not always easy.  He’ll be okay. I know this. He is a sensitive kid. I know this too.  I am reminded of something I said at my grandfather’s memorial service last week: He loved by being present. That is perhaps the best of myself that I can give to David: to be present when he needs me, and to teach him that even when he doesn’t, I’m still there. Always and forever.

 ”To make honey you need young bee. Young bee needs young flower. Don’t make honey spending time with old prune.”  Mr. Miagi to Daniel-son.  It’s still a pretty good movie all things considered.

Woke up after a short night of sleep and shuffled into the kitchen. The coffee pot happens to be by the kitchen window and is the first thing I try to see clearly in the morning. I was interrupted in this pursuit when I heard myself yelling…NO! NO! AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGH!!!! Realizing too late that I was the one making that noise and the boys were looking at me funny, I had turned to explain. Before I could, David does the same thing. The snow got us. We are both ready to ride our bikes full-time.

Later, I start cleaning out the garage and organizing the 3ft pile of miscellany near the door. Well,  I’m vacuuming with my trusty shop vac and I turn to go over this spot I’d just cleared and there it was again: a classic horror movie scream coming out of my mouth. Then of course, I laugh at myself for being so silly. Lucas comes running to the door wondering what was up. I shoo him away.  It’s only a very large, very dead shrew on the ground. I knew I’d been smelling something the last few weeks and even hunted around for one and couldn’t locate, so thought I was just being weird. No. I muster up a piece of cardboard to flick it into the trash and its really dead. Like semi-solid dead. Oh, except when I turn it over and six little beetles crawl out of it’s mauled belly. Nice.  Good times.  I heart my shop vac though; sucked those beetles right up. Yeehaw!

So, one thing most folks don’t know about me is that I can be a bit obsessive and even a bit compulsive. I don’t believe I’m “clinical” in this regard, but it does affect my daily living to some degree.  I used to have a thing about my alarm clock: had to check it at least 4-5 times every night to make sure it was set correctly, and that the alarm was on. Some nights, because I knew, knew it was set, I’d hold myself back from checking one last time so Kiel could go to sleep. Not having a 9-5 job took that problem away, much to my relief. 

It’s unfortunately been replaced with the garage door. Most days, I start thinking about it about a block away from home. “Did I shut it? I can’t remember putting my hand on my visor? Did I see it go down; did the button work? What if something blocked the sensor after I looked away? I wont be home for three hours, I should go back and make sure….”  I’ve had that convo so many times in my head it’s not even funny. At least twice a week I turn the car around to make sure. One time in five years has it actually been open. One time! 

I used to not worry about it-the turning around part. Now, with two sets of eyes on me, and two impressionable brains attached to those eyes, I’ve started to check myself more.  It’s hard.  I need the satisfaction of seeing the door closed.  It makes me feel better. I can go through the day without worry.  If I resist, I think about it for about an hour. It’s so hard to not turn around. I have a point on my route when I pass, then I absolutely will not go back home. That point makes it seem absurd. A block away, well, that’s just being responsible, right?  The problem is that the boys have noticed. I’ve had to talk about it with them. Mommy’s problem.  It goes something like this:

David groaning: “Mom, why are we turning around?”

“Um, well, you know, your mom, she just wants to make sure that she closed the garage door.”

“I think you did.”  or  “Again?”

“Yes, again. Mom just needs to know. She didn’t look. We’ll be gone for a long time and the pipes will freeze. Or: People will take our stuff. Or: I just need to make sure.” 

“Okay, Mom.”  or sometimes if I’m lucky, “Okay mom, you’re silly!”

“Yeah, I know. I’m silly.”

The thing is, I don’t want them thinking that it’s normal to always be checking, to be anxious like that. I also don’t want them thinking their mom is seriously loony either.  I worry about the example I’m setting.  I’ve admitted to them that my behavior isn’t quite normal and that it’s something I’m working on.  I’ve tried all kinds of things: like waiting in the driveway, or resisting the urge, or even faking that I forgot something, (yes, that’s really bad, I know). They all work for a while. I’m not consistent enough to break the cycle. Recently, I’ve begun saying:  “I’m shutting the garage door!”  This makes the kids laugh and settles my head that it has been done.  This one seems to work the best.  I’m going to stick with it.  I didn’t today and was a bit embarrassed as the mailman, who I know, watched me do my car jig. He even waived. That was soooo nice of him.  I’m hoping writing about it will flip something in my head as well.  It seems so ridiculous and time-consuming.   I’ll let you know how it goes, cuz it’s really got to go….

Afterwards, we went upstairs to make dinner.  For the first time in a long time when I asked them to help put dishes away, there were no complaints. They helped, and did a great job. Then, I even got them to pick up Lego’s and trains before bringing out the bingo game, which they played just the two of them, without arguing over anything. It was a good reminder that a half an hour of my undivided attention pays huge dividends in their temperament, and mine.  I needed their help (and their soft bodies cuddled next to mine). They needed me to be with them. We all came out ahead in heart and house matters. Yay!

You see, applying chapstick has become one of Lucas’ focal points of interest these days. He loves it. I mean really loves it,  like a cherished friend, a favorite confidant, a secret treasure.   There is one stashed in my bathroom drawer which keeps him occupied while I get a quick shower,  and he has another one stashed in the car by his seat.  Both locations provide  ready access in case of emergency lip dryness, boredom, or the need to spread red waxy goo around his mouth for the sheer joy of it.  And, believe me, there is joy written all over his face many times a day.  

Kiel tried to borrow some today in the car, and just as he was applying it to his top lip, up from the back seat comes Lucas’ sternest voice,  ”That’s enough dad, that’s enough.”  (Mind you, this tube has gouges off the top from fingernails trying to get the small cap back on, so it’s hardly smooth enough to spread on one’s lips anyway…and he’s two years old.) However, this simple token is one of the few things Lucas gets full ownership of and naming rights too, and it is a Big Deal. 

 I love that he’s claimed these little red tubes for himself. It brings on his biggest grins,  fosters his self-confidence and lets him have that one thing he can always control.  Who knew something so small could bring so many wonderful gifts?  In a world of being bossed around by parents and a big brother, I’m sure it fills a need for him that goes beyond having ultra smooth and kissable lips. I adore it, and hope it lasts.  Plus, I just love his cherry scented kisses.  They are a Yum in a life that gets overly complicated. Yum, yum, yum.

AKA: Mom's Ultimate Workout

Arctic Valley Field Trip Sunnies

We had a glorious fall day on the mountain with David’s k/1 class.  We climbed back into the creek valley and the kids crossed via the rocks while the adults stuck to the bridge. The kids made forts and hunted for berries and made leaf bouquets. I think it was one of the best field trips I’ve ever been on.

David Crosses the CreekA Happy Ending

The Very LAST Day for this Backpack!

 

Two Fine Boys

 

Kucinic is now Palin, played ever so graciously by moi.

Here’s a brief rundown of events: 

Palin shot out of the gate with a high roll of six. Then followed up with a fiver.

Obama started his game slow fielding only ones and twos.

Palin lead until the fourth turn when she had to slide a chute for reading a comic book instead of history. (Or was that Geography?)

Obama quietly picked up his game by mowing a lawn, advancing two levels.

They both plodded along for awhile until Palin made a risky play by skating on thin ice. Twice. Down, down she went, leaving her to wonder where she put that Bridge to Nowhere…

Obama was on the sure and steady path. He quite suddenly decided to sweep up the trash and was rewarded with a movie,  (I suspect and Indie film myself), which landed him in the 70′s. Keeping his forward momentum going, within three moves, he was at the top of the board headed for a win. 

Not to be outdone, Palin scored big by saving a wayward kitten and shot up into the 80′s, only to be cut right back down on the next turn for breaking into the cookie jar.  With approval in the mid-twenties she had no hope. Her last Hail Mary play was uneventful, missing the kitten this time, which allowed Obama the chance to spin a one to win, which he did. 

Yes, it was a fine day for a perilous game, and as usual, the big man came out the winner…..You betcha!

Thank you Liz for your generosity of heart and friendship towards me; and for the sweet, sweet, macadamia and coffee filled treat box from Hawaii. You rock!