Breaking Tradition

I don't like to be so wound up in traditions that the universe will become totally unbalanced if life throws me a curve ball and plans are altered. I like traditions. I like familiarity, and I like knowing what to expect. In the pre-Christmas hoopla this year, though, we've done a few things differently...well, we've not done them at all.

Each year, for as long as I can remember, we've gone to see the bank choir sing Christmas carols downtown. It was the Texas Commerce Bank choir, then something else I think, and since the last corporate merger, it has been the Chase Bank Choir. Their music is magical. It will fill the achiest heart with pounding delight. I loved watching and listening to them as a child, and I think I love it even more now that I am a grown up! We usually don't call it a day until we've dined at Treebeards at the Church downtown for lunch. Chili, no onions, but yes on the cheese and rice...and bread...and a peanut butter cookie with a Hershey kiss topper. I do like familiarity.

This year, no choir. No chili. No cookie.

My mom says that this has been going on since I was in a baby buggy, but I am not sure when exactly it began. My dad and I shop, every Christmas Eve, together. We've bought my mom countless nightgowns (it's quite hilarious when store workers see my father and I perusing the nightclothes), a crystal lamp (that was a good one, but we crisscrossed town so many times that we both got in trouble when we got home so late), various things from Specs, and complete outfits from Talbots, Chicos, and other establishments. We used to have lunch at the Chinese restaurant in the Galleria until it closed. We moved to the LaMadeleine for a few years, sushi one year, I think, and then the crepe place last year. We'd sum up the goings-on from the year that would soon be coming to a close. Mom would USUALLY return all of her gifts. Even in the hustle and bustle of our marathon trips home when we lived in Lubbock, we'd block off the time and go together.

This year, we didn't. Work was overly hectic for dad, and as it turned out, Michael was running a fever. Life stepped in our way. It was just as well, though. Neither one of us would have enjoyed it much this year--he being burdened by client catastrophes, and me being worried about my baby. I guess this will be the year that wasn't. I can't say that I am angry or upset with my dad because I am not. I am sad that life did find a way to stomp on both of our plans, but it would ruin the spirit of the trip's meaning if I were angry.

This evening, we all crossed paths at Nathan's school/church for his second performance as a Wise Man. He yawned a lot up there, but he was the cutest wise man I've ever known. I am glad that all of his grandparents were able to come and cheer him on. That was great.

So, as of thirty seconds ago, all of my ducklings are tucked into bed. We've learned to downplay Santa's coming on Christmas Eve because Nathan got REALLY worked up one year and the more we tried to get him to sleep, the more stressed out and worried he became. It was when he was really little, and we had never before (in his memory) let some stranger into our home in the middle of the night. How could we be so trusting?

Soon the Christmas lights will come down, and the ornaments will be packed up for another 11 month hybernation in the attic. My boys make this time of the year just MAGIC! It is such a gift to just have each other happy and healthy, and together. I know there are so many people whose holidays are less than perfect. People struggle with loss, they struggle with burdens, they struggle with pain. I hope they may find peace and a glimmer of hope tonight.

Merry Christmas.

"Getting To Know You" Christmas Edition

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags?
Wrapping paper. I love to make bows, too, but never do for some reason.
2. Real tree or Artificial?
Artificial. No pesky little pine needles, and I can modify and fluff the stems, branches (whatever they are) as needed.
3. When do you put up the tree?
We put it up over the weekend before Thanksgiving this year. I think early-decorators are a little wound up and bizarre, but I chocked it up to having youngsters around and wanting to savor the special little things.
4. When do you take the tree down?
Shortly after Christmas. I don't want to mess with the clutter RIGHT before starting back to school.
5. Do you like eggnog?
Yes--especially at Nick's old boss's company Christmas parties at his incredible home. Some memories just stick. Wassail and cocoa are warm and cozy and yummy. Tonight, not so much. I think it's like 80 degrees outside.
6. Favorite gift received as a child?
I guess it would be dolls or a bicycle with streamers on the handles, and a basket for the front. (I guess that was for Toto. I'm not sure what I ever did with the basket, but it was COOL!)
7. Hardest person to buy for?
Our parents.
8. Easiest person to buy for?
The boys. At least Nathan knows exactly what he "wants." Commercials start conditioning the 2 to 12 year olds aaaaabout January 15 for the next Christmas. It's sort of like elections. I believe I am hearing about somebody jumping into a race that is...maybe...two years from now? Seriously?
9. Do you have a nativity scene?
An incomplete set. The same old boss would give a Waterford nativity piece each year to Nick. We have Mary, Joseph, Baby Jesus, annnnd...let me go see...a donkey. I thought about starting a willow tree nativity collection, but I'd rather wait and add to this set later. Not now. They're expensive, but oh so beautiful.
10. Mail or email Christmas cards?
Mail. This was our first year for photocards. I always put photos IN the cards, but this year we graduated to the others. I'm not sure which one I like better.
11.Worst Christmas gift you ever received?
Oooh, being in town in Houston and at the hospital two days after Christmas. THAT was the start to a rough year.
12. Favorite Christmas Movie?
The Santa Claus movie where, I think, Martin Short was an elf.
Miracle on 34th Street is pretty good too.
13. When do you start shopping for Christmas?
Probably October. But I am a HUGE procrastinator. I'll THINK and THINK about gifts, but won't settle upon something right away.
14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present?
I don't think I have.
15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas?
Wassail and homemade cranberry bread.
16. Favorite Christmas song?
Oh Holy Night, Silver Bells--the downtown bank choir and Christmas Eve church choirs never disappoint me. I love the familiarity of the songs and the power of the voices coming together.
17. Travel at Christmas or stay home?
Stay home. We paid our dues. We would truck it from Lubbock each year (often missing the GOOD snow), complete with dogs, a baby, and a BIG SUV crammed with baby gear. Oh, it was a exhausting marathon. It wasn't restful, but it was worth it to see family and be together. I am so fortunate that my babies can wake up in their own houses on Christmas morning. That is priceless.
18. Missed this question. So say anything that comes to mind..........................
Nathan will be a wise man tomorrow in the kindergarten Christmas program...at 8:00AM...on the last day of school before the holiday...and I have to work. I'm totally guilt-ridden and bummed out about that. Thankfully the same program will present on Christmas Eve. I'll be there!
19. Angel on the tree top or a star?
Star. A new one. It used to be an angel (We still have her stored away...I think there is some bad voodoo karma energy associated with disposing of an angel.) but she is way too big (originally for our older tree) for our tree now. Feng shui faux pau.
20. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning?
I've learned that opening something on Christmas Eve makes Christmas morning a little anticlimatic. I prefer waiting. Nick, however, got his new phone a week ago. Oh well. It'll be underwear and socks for him! HA! I'd put coal or sticks in a sack, but I think that would totally freak out Nathan.
21. Most annoying thing about this time of the year?
One of my radio stations plays ONLY Christmas music. If a country station is playing a holiday song, I'll flip to the other station, and there will be another one. I love Christmas music, but "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer" is only funny for the first or second go around.
22. Favorite ornament theme or color?
These are a few of my favorite things...
An ornament we got from Venice that is SO not conducive to a house with a two-year-old.
We have two glass blueberry clump ornaments from our honeymoon to Maine.
A gingerbread ceramic ornament that my cousin made when she was little.
My Brookwood ornaments.
My snowman ornaments. They make it feel more like Christmas when it's 80 degrees outside.
We have new bows on the tree this year!
23. Favorite for Christmas dinner?
Thanksgiving encore. I love preparing the food. As an added bonus, the food always tastes great, but it represents having everyone together, healthy, and celebrating.
24. What do you want for Christmas this year?
If I could have anything for Christmas, I'd choose a vacation with Nick for our 10th anniversary coming up in June. It's really NOT what we need to be spending money on, but I'd love to splurge and commemorate the milestone in a special way. But, what can I say? I am so fortunate. I am healthy. My family means the world to me. I have the world by the tail. I'm certainly not boastful about it, but rather humbled by my existence.

Knock, Knock!

Living with a five-and-a-half year old, we often become audience-by-default to cheesy kindergarten-style jokes.

How do porcupies play Leap Frog?
Verrrrrry carefully!

It makes traffic interesting. Okay, it makes traffic a tad more annoying than traffic would be sans the comedy skit. I've gotten to where when I hear, "knock, knock," there's an instant, "NO!" response. Maybe I'm cold hearted.

Today I CRACKED up laughing, though. We were coming home from an after school run to Walmart, and I silently basked in the moment of victory that the traffic on the other side of the freeway was at a standstill, and I was finally the one whooshing along. Small thrills, I know.

Nathan was. . . quiet. Shocking!
Michael's comedic engines rumbled. He is usually a silent bystander to the jokes. Here's how the next minute played out:

M: Knock, knock.
N: Who's there?
M: Knock, knock.
N: Who's there?
M: Knock, knock.
N: Who's THERE?
M: Knock, knock.
N: WHO'S THERE, Michael? You gotta say who's there.
M: Who's there!
N: No, say who's there, Michael?
M: Who's there Michael?
N: MOM!
M: Knock, knock.

Michael made a joke, I was hysterically cracking up, Nathan was dumbfounded yet perplexed at whether or not it was actually a joke or just Michael being a little brother again, and Michael just chuckled once at Nathan's frustration. He either got the intended reaction of his older brother, or he actually understood that he was incredibly funny at that moment. These moments never happen in idle traffic.

Michael Doesn't Like Dinner

My sweet, yet rugged little boy doesn't like our family dinners. He pitches bonafide, raging fits when we all sit down for a "family meal." The researchers say blah blah blah about how family meals are key to the cohesion of the family unit. I agree. There is nothing I enjoy more than just BEING with my Nick and the two youngsters while we feast on a lovingly prepared meal. We talk about the latest events in kindergarten, hear about Nick's latest test or practical, and--I am ashamed and embarrassed to say--watch Michael cringe and squawk and squeal...not in a nice way. He's extremely dramatic, will NOT, under ANY circumstances take a bite of food without the drama elevating to exponential levels. It makes me sad. I'm a good mom. I love my kids. I painstakingly cook for them. And all I get is a BIG FAT fit. Ugh.

Motherly Mayhem over Marshmallows

I'd like to think that I am not a neurotic mother, but perhaps I am. For my weekly grocery shopping experience, I chose Nathan as my date this afternoon. He woke up from his Sunday snooze (after reminding us in a very NON-five-and-a-half-year-old voice how he didn't NEED a nap because he was five and a half now [as of Saturday]--he was overly whiny and fatigued from who knows what) and his mood had improved immensely. Being parents of a NOW 5 1/2 year old, we are bathed in the realization that said child has a littttttle bit snippier of a mouth, reminds us quite often indeed that said child is now 5 1/2, and naps are SOOOOO for two year olds (probably a direct projection on said 5 1/2 year old's younger sibling...yep...he's 2). I happened to REALLY enjoy my nap today. I think I'm still playing catch up from Monday night's concert. Back to the store.

We meandered through the HEB quite happily despite the fact that it was crazy crowded. We wound our way up and down the aisles like ribbon candy. I forgot marshmallows. They were only two aisles behind us. A flash of an idea plopped right into my brain. I could be like the NYC mom who left her child at the store to adventurously find his way home--it was a responsibility thing; she took many precautions, and it was a pretty interesting scenario to read about. EXCEPT, I wasn't going to leave Nathan. I was going to give him an ounce of responsibility, maybe a half an ounce. Nathan could get the marshmallows! I was proud of myself for broadening my neurotic horizons. I gave him clear, neurotically precise instructions:

Go to aisle 5. Do you see the triangles above each aisle with the numbers? Do you see the 5?

I forgot marshmallows. If you're OK with going by yourself, I need you to go get them for me.

Five and a half year olds DO these kinds of things. Apparently. With the snippier mouth, I was reminded.

(I was halfway hoping that he'd remark about how many people were around, and maybe I could just go with him. Maybe Friday when he was just five.)

"I need a bag of little marshmallows," I told him. (I don't like off brand marshmallows, so I specified:) Jet-puffed. They'll say "jet-puffed" on the front. How do you spell jet? Remember, mom, that starts with a J. Am I hallucinating, or am I REMINDED of things way too often?

I told him that I would stay on aisle 7 until he got back. That would come back to bite me.

Oh, the sparkle in his eye, the spring in his step...he was adorable. He was forging into battle at HEB in search of the missing marshmallows. I wanted to remind him that 5 1/2 year olds walk in stores, but he wasn't really runningand but it dawned on me where he might be picking up all this reminding stuff.

I stayed on aisle 7. I waited. I needed coconut milk, but somebody was buggy hogging the exact space that I needed to get to. Didn't they know that I had a child who was more than an arm-stretch away...in this store...alone...looking for marshmallows? I bailed on the coconut milk. They OBVIOUSLY wanted something in the Asian food section MUCH more than I needed coconut milk. Then, I swear--I kid you not--that I heard a voice similar to that of a 5 1/2 year old shout, "Mommy!" That was it. Panic. My kid's picture was going to end up on Nancy Grace, and I'm going to be headlined as a psycho-mom who sent her child helplessly out into the aisles of HEB looking for marshmallows. One's mind can race with flashes of horrific scenarios. I teetered with whether or not that was Nathan's voice. I would definitely know if it WAS his voice, but it could very well have been another kid. AND, I was supposed to stay on aisle 7. That was from my own instructions. What felt like 10 or 15 minutes was probably only ten or 15 seconds. But I worried. I mentally calculated how long it would take the average 5 1/2 year old to scamper to aisle 5, study the selection of marshmallows, find the desired Jet-puffed (with a J), and scamper back to aisle 7. I knew he surely would be moving faster than the customers who STILL blocked my coconut milk. I waited a bit more. I chided myself: I should have never let him out of my sight, he's only 5 1/2, all of this worry over marshmallows?

That was it. I broke protocol. From what I knew of the marshmallows' location on aisle 5, he'd return down the original path. I made a run for it. Reminiscing and chuckling now, I can hear "Chariots of Fire" as the made-for-blogging soundtrack for my story. My buggy path was clear. Thank goodness. Aisle 6 contained no 5 1/2 year olds. That ruled out about 5 percent of the possibilities of why this was taking so long. I continued voraciously back to aisle 5. Maybe my mommy karma, or [hopefully not] the speed and assertiveness of my buggy-navigating made Nathan's eyes instantly meet with mine. In the instant that I knew he was there, I skimmed the fellow customers to make sure none of them had been an obstacle in the marshmallow mission. I tried to remain calm. He was fine. He obviously wasn't the child who had hollered, "Mommy." He did look a little distraught. My nerves and adrenaline were plummeting back to Earth. I wanted to look calm and collected, so I just asked him if he was fixing to come back to aisle 7. He said it was taking a little longer because of two things. [No kidding! It was like hours ago that I sent him on this expedition!] There weren't any small marshmallows, only the large ones. AND he thought jet was spelled J-A-T. Dern vowel sounds. Such an innocent little excuse. No harm done. I told him that I thought the large ones would be fine for what we were going to make.

We turned to press on with our shopping. I laughed out loud when the aisle 7 Asian food section was completely empty. I think Nathan was proud of his accomplishment. I was basking in the fact that he had been driven by the responsibility, and had remained calm and steadfast in his search for the marshmallows. Nathan ended the whole fiasco with, "Mommy, next time I will remember to ask you if big marshmallows would be OK, too." I guess that might be a good thing.

On My Mind

Two things are on my mind.
Well, three: school resumes tomorrow.

1. I had such a fun five days home with my family. I got to make a slew of pies, by myself, and I was fairly uninterrupted by little children. I've not gotten rusty either. I'm not boastful, just delighted to know that this ol' girl can still throw down a pie. The meal was filling and delicious.
We spent Black Friday (as the psycho-shoppers have coined it) internet shopping. It was spectacular! No lines, no pushing or shoving or elbowing, and definitely no hassles. We meandered through the virtual shopping windows, clicked on our choices, and zipped to the order confirmation page faster than you could yank the latest Elmo from another shopper's virtual cart. Just great.
Just being home with each other was comforting. While Michael was napping today, Nathan went to his grandparents' house today to help decorate for Christmas. Michael woke up, and there was no Nathan. I tossed a cardboard roll to Michael to play with (oh, they love too-toos). He named it "telescope" and went searching around the house for Nathan with his telescope. I can't describe really how precious it was for him to be searching for his brother (even though I told him where Nathan was).

2. Second thing on my mind...oh, what was it? Oh yeah. Nick's graduation party.
Yes, I know. He still has some years to go. BUT. We got an invitation to a law school graduation party for a dear dear family friend yesterday. Nick posed the question last night of how we might organize something for his graduation. OH, that was music to my ears. What a fun way to spend the next two years: planning a party! I'm not so particular that it'll TAKE 2 years, but just to have that event to look forward to, and the plans to be in the backs of our minds...it's fun and uplifting.
This journey has been pretty wild already. Do-able, sure, but trying at times. I'm just so thankful and fortunate that we've found a really decent balance along our way. I am so proud of Nick for his determination and skill. I am proud of our boys for being so resilient and for filling our lives with such sparkle. It has been a fine season for being thankful around this household. I am so fortunate.

Coming Back Down to Earth

Oh, my poor boys. I think an outsider could see many stellar college football programs in the state of Texas. Inside, however, we see heated rivalries with some teams soaring to greatness, some plummeting, and some ebbing and flowing from week to week. I like the Texas Tech program; not solely because I am a product of the school, but I like its character. Last night's game was hard to watch. I think every Texas Tech fan felt the team's momentum collapse. Perhaps it is fate. To keep a team genuinely good (in sports execution and sound character), perhaps it was meant to be that we were brought down a few notches. We appreciate our team. We support the programs. We hang a flag outside our classroom. But if we were to grow pompous of ourselves, we'd lose the spirit that is imbedded in our being. We'd look just like other cocky teams who taunt others with their stature. Losing hurts. Ohhh, I know we fans felt the loss. Our hearts burned for how the game's fate played out in front of us. OU played a strong (but sometimes dirty, dirty) game. The players were explosive. It keeps us humble. Congratulations to the team, the coaches, and all of the behind-the-seen participants. It has been a spectacular season. I just hope we don't project our loss too intensely upon Baylor next weekend. Looking at the polls and standings, I've become an overnight OSU fan. Go Cowboys! (What a difference a couple of weeks will make!) I send lots of positive karma to the Texas Tech organization. We're all sharing the sadness, but at the same time, we're all sharing the sweet success of a victorious season.

Two Sick-ish Kids and A Worn Out Momma

I stayed home today with Nathan (who puked yesterday) and Michael (who has been feverish, fussy, and claiming that his foot hurts for the last couple of days). We're thinking that something else hurts him, but he's only limited to communicate what he knows. He knows foot, and he is learning "hurt". I think it might be his throat or his sinuses which are nowhere near his foot, but I'm grabbing at things to make sense of. Most recently, it has changed from "foot hurts" to "mouth hurts," which makes more sense, but then he jams it shut with such force that I can't see anything that might be bothering him. This morning has consisted of him wanting things, then sooo NOT wanting them, playing with Nathan then decking him right on the head or something, wanting down and then sooo wanting to be held, but then wanting down again IMMEDIATELY. Ugh. All I want to do is nuzzle and cuddle and love on them when they're feeling badly, and he just wants to fuss. Nathan, I think, could've gone to school, but I felt it better to let whatever bug he had get out of his system completely. I'm glad he didn't have any recurring problems. He was spared some of the symptoms that his fellow kindergartners were sharing. But my baby...he just doesn't seem happy AT ALL today.
Let's keep our well sanitized fingers crossed that they'll be back to normal soon.

10 Reasons Why the Children's Program Would've Been a Good Thing

10. Dancing is a healthy exercise.
9. Children love to sing. Even with their teacher. And it makes them smile.
8. Texas has its own distinct cultural elements. Texans should know about Texas.
7. Performing in front of a crowd builds self-confidence.
6. Grandmas could croon over their superstars.
5. We could've had a second try at making a decent fake campfire.
4. The kids actually learned new vocabulary from song lyrics.
3. Songs teach rhythm, tone, pitch, and pattern: all literary elements, too!
2. Listening, speaking, reading, producing dramatic representation, and knowledge of state symbols are all state mandated objectives.
1. For all of us, school was REALLY fun for two days.
I am very sorry that your children won't be participating in our grade level production. I share their disappointment.

I CAN'T VOTE?

After spending the last month convincing the young, impressionable fourth grade minds that voting should be of utmost importance, I learned today that I CAN'T VOTE. At least not today, or in the next 30 days either ("In case there is a run-off," the voter registration information hotline lady offered as a snippy condolence prize.--ugly sneer soon followed). WHAT? I now am part of the can't-vote club: felons (yay. Martha and me [or is it Martha and I?]), those under age, non-citizens, and the mentally incompetent. But my entrance into the club is definitely something I am NOT proud of. I didn't know that voter registration cards EXPIRED. The confusion is not that simple, though. Nick's card expired, but somehow it magically renewed itself (and forgot to slip the cheat sheet for that to MY card). The same happy-snippy lady from the voting hotline cleared things up perfectly well by stating firmly that the cards DON'T RENEW THEMSELVES. OK. But it did. And mine DIDN'T. I'm having voter registration card envy. Ms. Snippy also informed me that I WAS registered in Lubbock County. Why, then, have I already voted in HARRIS county before, and why then, does my voter registration say HOUSTON? I moved from Lubbock over 3 years ago. And a heck of a lot of good THAT does me. Maybe this talk of moving BACK to Lubbock has somehow made my registration card renew itseld IN Lubbock. Oh, but according to snippy-operator, that isn't possible. Maybe the voter registration karma is trying to send me some subliminal message. I just can't quite grasp it. AAAAAH.
This IS a big deal. I've spent the last 3.9 years listening to both candidates yakking about saving the world, dissecting each other's syntax and semantics with scalpels, and I really put a chunk of emotional energy into being a vigilant voter. Except, apparently, renewing my card.
Maybe I am projecting my anger onto snippy pants. (But didn't she realize that I nearly rotted on hold while waiting to hear her give me the bad news?) I do realize that some of the blame stems from my own ignorance. I guess I just don't sit around perusing my voter registration card all that often. Like, never. It sits in a drawer, and I didn't even use it last time I voted (maybe THAT was the problem)--I used my driver's license. Maybe I should have been more watchful. I'm still jealous that Nick's card got some blast of magical power that mine didn't. And now it's 7:01. The Texas precincts are closed. I feel like less of a patriotic citizen. I do hope my candidate prevails. I even thought of sending him a card saying, "I'm sorry that I didn't vote, but I wanted to, but my blasted card was in exile because it didn't get laser-zapped like my husband's" but then I'd probably come across as being weird and get put on some watch list, and I'd never get to enter Walmart or something, much less vote EVER AGAIN.
I hope you voted. Everything happens for a reason, and I hope that no matter which candidate ultimately becomes our president, our country solidifies in its strength, and that we move strongly into the future.

13

Nick and I officially started dating 13 years ago today. We talked about it over the weeked, since it was coming up. As it turned out, we both thought about it several times today but we were both so busy that we never brought it to the other's attention until about 5 this evening. We had a 40th birthday party for my dad at the Tiki house, and Nick and I had gone out on the paddleboat. We talked about how we really enjoyed each other's company and we'd been spending a lot of time together. It was official--we were boyfriend and girlfriend. That night, I called Jennifer and made her swear not to let me get too serious, or MARRY this guy! HA! Funny how things turn out. Here's to 13!

Homecoming Date

My, how times have changed. I guess it was 13 years ago that Nick and I went to the senior prom together. We tried to remember where we went before the football game those twelve years ago as we sat at our kitchen table for our homecoming dinner date. I picked the boys up on Friday and saw the homecoming banner on the high school fence as I drove by. The girls with flowing mums also gave away the secret. It blasted me to the past. I know it was a big deal. I made Nick's boy-mum, and the one he gave me had been just perfect. It's a toss up to whether or not I still have it. In all the moves, I would imagine that it went by the wayside, but there ARE a couple of nostalgic boxes up in the attic.

Last night, while Nick went to pick up the take-out, I fed the boys. Thus, we could enjoy a dinner for two together. Romantic. I should have lit a candle for ambiance, but I don't really like candles so I don't have any real ones. I could have put one of the battery flicker candles out. HA! Our dinner entertainment included one son leaping through the house in spiderman pajamas, firing peew-peew-laser-spider-web beams. The other son was tired and was lulling himself (and us) with the ABC song on repeat mode. We decided he was too tired for a encore when he drunkenly bumped into a wall for no apparent reason besides exhaustion. And it is a wonder why I can't remember what we did for homecoming? My mind is in such mommy-mode. I just laughed about how times have changed. We wouldn't change anything for the world because living this journey and coming home each night together has so much more meaning than a high school homecoming.

A Day Off

I got to drop the boys off at school today. I wonder if other mothers find that to be such a sacred thing to do. It's not because I am basking with excitement to have the day off, it's just that I never get to do that. I got to meet Ms. Margarita who, beforehand I've only heard, loves on Michael each morning as he arrives and before each departure at school. I'm glad that he just walks in and enjoys his routine. He loves Ms. Vivi, his teacher, but has a special bond with Ms. Margarita. Even though they barely know me, and I them, I am fortunate to have them love and care for Michael. Nathan was going to walk down the hallway all by himself to his classroom, which made my heart sink a little, but turned around after about 10 steps and wanted me to come with him.
I got back in the car and started to drive. No one told me to go anywhere, I had no schedule AT ALL, and I sort of meandered through the roads. Since it is close to the school, I drove by my grandparents' old photography studio and home, and except for a run down mini van in the front, it looks abandoned. Ike took one of the big trees out near the studio. No one has bothered to clean it up. I wondered for a while what the place looks like inside, and in a blink of a moment, thought about knocking on the door. Naah. I think I'd rather keep the mental images that I have from the past. I can close my eyes and picture just about everything. From there, and from my other grandparents' home. It is sort of like driving through a nostalgic, shabby town knowing that at one time it was a hoppin' place. That building had 30 or so employees, customers were coming in and out, brides and families and professionals would come in for portrait appointments, and grandchildren were almost ALWAYS somewhere. The shelves of silk bridal bouquets, the grandeur of the staircase, the storage closets, the placement of bedrooms and living areas upstairs, the case where photographs would be sprayed with aerosol (now they'd probably be considered carcinogens in a spray can), the spinning black trap doors that would lead to the dark rooms, the rolling chairs in the studio, and the volumes of proof books for customers to look at. The acreage in the back, for portraits primarily, also had plenty of room to make pretend play worlds under the tree canopies for us kids. It was a neat place to spend my younger days. From the looks of it, the yard is just a mess now. That building once had a life--a very vibrant life--and now its age and wear are showing. It's, well, alone and tattered. Deep sigh, move on.
I did some more driving around, and somewhat quickly came back home. This day is turning out to be JUST what I wanted. I think my brain has transformed into mashed potatoes, and I've not a care in the world. I thought about some new shoes...naah. I thought about venturing to the outlet mall...naah. I think I REALLY confused the dogs when I came home. I learned that they sleep after we leave in the morning because the piece of pop-tart that I left on the kitchen floor was still there when I returned. I NEED to get my oil changed. It's close to a craft store. I need thread. I half-laugh because the mundane act of getting thread is actually really appealing. So, off I go.

Before and After IKE

Besides the inconvenience of power outage for a week, we fared IKE pretty well. My beloved tropical back yard didn't seem to hold up so well, but compared to others who have 70ft. pine trees instead of roofs right now, I think we'll get over the landscaping catastrophes. Last night we came home to electricity. I thought it was the mirage in the desert. Here's a BEFORE and AFTER shot of part of our back yard. My pooooooor fireman's cap and banana trees.

yIKEs: It's Here!

The bands of Hurricane Ike are starting to approach Houston. Today started with sunshine and clear skies. To our dismay, the building crews down the street had left hefty piles of construction debris as a little present for the neighbors. Just Wednesday, they had dump trucks and mini-tractor-picker-upper-things out there picking up boards and pipes and other messy piles. At that time, Ike wasn't a guaranteed visitor, but I thought how nice it was for them to think ahead. Little did I know that they were just clearing those piles to mount them up again in the next 24 hours...and then LEAVE THEM. I love Morrison. The crew was there again this morning, but perhaps felt it unnecessary to PICK UP THEIR STUFF. Nails are still scattered EVERYWHERE. We were out there with a neighbor and the sales rep (I was shocked that he was there) cleaning up the projectile 2X4s and other junk that was left behind. I didn't think it would be such a pleasant storm memory to have one jetting through my front windows. Sigh. We got what we could get placed back into the homes under construction.
By about 5:00, the boys were behaving more like caged animals. And the dogs, well, the same--but maybe that is more likely to be expected. We decided to take a walk. We walked down the first empty street and Nick was tossing the ball to Charlie. Charlie stayed within the side barriers for the most part and thoroughly enjoyed his game of fetch. Michael thought it was pretty funny. We walked across to the other empty street, and then up to the playground that Michael calls lovingly "castle." The climbing and sliding and running around (even with a nasty busted lip from yesterday) was better than any form of Ritalin. The wind was picking up pretty well.
We hosed 'em down in the bath tub and Michael went off to dreamland shortly after his bottle. Nathan and Nick are playing Monopoly World right now. I am uninterested, perhaps my mind is preoccupied. Preparing for storms like this is not easy. We didn't board the windows. Maybe that would have been some consolation, but maybe closing everything in would be a little creepy too. We have a clear view to the north out our back windows over the neighborhood pond. I think I do like to see what's going on. Being a planner, I do not like feelings of vulnerability. It was, however, a nice excuse to clean up my house and catch up on some laundry and kitchen stuff. I just hope Ike has some mercy on us. My parents have such big trees. Andrew and Elizabeth aren't even in town. Nick's folks are hunkered down after helping prepare their neighbor.
This morning was so nice. There were more hummingbirds flying around than I had seen in any one day. Our bat trumpet plant sprouted the most beautiful pink and yellow bell flower. It's still holding on, despite the wind right now. We had another two caterpillars on the milkweed. Such little snippets of beauty, and at the same time, water was pounding and cresting the sea wall some 50 miles from here. My heart goes out to the people of Galveston and Tiki and the surrounding areas. It's really a shame. I think about my students and their families, and do hope that they all fare safely and securely.
Nathan claims that he won the Monopoly so far. I think we're going to settle in for the night.
Good night.

Pictures, August 2008

Back in Business

I went back for teacher inservice days, oh, it seems like a month ago. Nick started shortly thereafter. Nathan officially began his year in kindergarten. Michael waltzed right into his toddler class. My students came through my door yesterday morning. The Cobb Family is in full swing for the 2008 - 2009 school year.

My overall impression of my students is that this is going to be a nice year. They seem like happy little creatures, and they're fairly eager to please. I love the age of fourth graders. It is the perfect intermission between childhood and the opinionated teenage years.

Nathan LOVES kindergarten. Curious George runs away and escapes to various locations in the school and the class must find him based upon hidden clues. It's a clever way for the children to learn the layout and personnel of the school. Hopefully the running-away part isn't emphasized too much! :) We get daily play-by-plays of his days. I know this might seem shocking, but the first words that he learned from his Spanish class were "silencio, por favor." Twenty-some-odd five year olds? I can't imagine why those were the words of the day! HA!

After his first day, he went into great detail about what they did. He told us about a pesky kid who was mean to him (and rightfully so, I think the kid was pretty harsh with his words), and all about the fun things they did. I asked him to tell me about his most favorite part of the day. I was thinking that it would be something monumental like circle time, a craft, his magnetic center name tags, or a story. He pondered for a moment and then his eyes lit up with a shiver of his head. In a shy, coy little voice, he said, "The cafeteria had CHOICE of milks. I could get regular milk or CHOCOLATE milk!" And that isn't even part of the tuition! He's such a precious little piece of art. I love him and Michael with every part of my existence. They have begun their new chapters in his life filled with wonder, excitement, and the outlook that life is amazing and worthy of savoring.

Lavender Fest 2008

Today we visited the Chappell Hill, TX, Lavender Fest. We went in 2006 when I was bustin'-at-the-seams pregnant with Michael. A photographer there took Nathan's picture in 2006, and I recently found out that the photograph was published on the website and in the printed pamphlet for today's festivities. The same man was there today. He was delighted to see Nathan all grown up, and said he would e-mail the photo files to me from 2006. What a nice guy. He even took this family snap shot. The fest is small, but worth the trip from Houston. Unfortunately, like many fun things, it is in AUGUST.

http://www.chappellhilllavender.com/

Chocolate Milk

Do you remember the first time YOU made your own glass of chocolate milk? Although it may not seem so monumental now, at one point, this was a BIG deal!

Some Summer Pictures

Believe it or not, my boys have enough toys for a small country worth of children. Yet...they play with the laundry basket. Ugh.


Looking south toward the Reliant Stadium/Astrodome area

Thank you, Wells Fargo, for having such an incredible observation deck and thick glass windows.

Overlooking MinuteMaid Park (open for some sunshine)

Wells Fargo Tower in downtown Houston

We had so many moments of collaboration this summer. I love that my boys love each other.

When big brother has cool froggie-green goggles for the "seeming poo", little brother's #1 priority is to GET THE GOGGLES. Somehow he got them, and was trying so very hard to put them on--whilst running around the house squealing with delight. Once they were on him, he just looked so darn cute. My little green froggie fighter pilot.

Five. My Nathan is five. He just makes me smile.

Michael snuck into the bathroom, pulled out the box of bathroom Dixie cups, stealthly (is that a word?) climbed into the tub, and had the most jovial Dixie cup separating party imaginable. He was quite pleased with himself and the scene was hysterical. Who knew that Dixie cups could create such fun!

Doggie toys arrrrre...Yucky!

We have a new mantra in our house.

Nick, April, or Nathan, or any combination of said names: Doggie toys arrrrre...

Michael: YUCKY!

Over. And over. And over...

The problem is that it's becoming more of a game and less of a redirecting tactic. Yucky to us has an unmistakably negative connotation. To Michael, maybe it's just a really really fun word to say. Why, why, why is there such an obsession with Michael touching slimy, doggie, chew, plastic-thingies or ratty, old, nasty plush rabbits? They even LOOK yucky. Now that I think about it, Michael is really into washing his hands. It is such a riot. Maybe he has me figured out because after he touches a doggie toy, one or more of us start the "doggie toys arrrre..." chant. After that, he gets to shout, "Yucky!" After that he gets to wash his hands. Lots and lots of attention. Hmmm. Maybe I am being scammed. HA!

Dr. DeBakey's Sisters

I went to the dentist today. I know that Nick will be a dentist in the not-so-distant future, and I love him to pieces. However, I can't stand going to the dentist. I'd rather give birth again. No joke. I'm wandering from the point. In the waiting room, I busied myself with some meaningless magazine. Thumbing through the pages looking at the pictures, I saw a photograph of two older women. Their picture caught my eye and the article was short. They'd be calling me back for my appointment any minute. I wrote a post the other day about Dr. DeBakey. The two women are his two sisters. The article, in short, summed up the devotion and support that these two women gave their brother as he climbed the medical ladder of success. They made their own marks on the medical communications field, which I learned was just that--doctors communicating with patients about their diagnoses (I thought the term may have meant much more technical verbage). I was pleasantly surprised to learn that these women took a more, not emotional, but perhaps the word is humanistic approach to medicine. Their brother was famous and world-renowned. But there in this little article, the world got to meet his sisters. They haven't quite made it to world-renowned status, but it was a pleasure to read about them.

School Supply Obsession

Remember, before glue sticks, there was glue paste? In the first grade, mine was taken (or I misplaced it) six times. What a first grade memory. I think there is a (very loose) connection between my paste being taken and me hoarding school supplies to this day. Mid-July rolls around each year and those 50-cent packs of pens and pencils and colors call my name. It's a stranger obsession than my dish towel craze. Maybe that's weird too. And so, 'tis the season again.

Dr. Michael DeBakey

The death of Dr. Michael DeBakey has headlined the Houston news lately. I always knew he was a Houston icon, but his passing brought two thoughts to mind. First, what makes a person great? Second, did Dr. Debakey--in his greatness--ever have time to just live?I made a great fish curry dinner the other night. Does that make me great? It certainly doesn't measure up to pioneering the field of cardiology nor inventing life-saving devices. He even pioneered the very procedure that later saved his own life. Great things are going on in the world every moment of every day. We have great people all over our country (some who truly are great, and some who may think themselves great). In August, children all over the country will file into their classrooms. Among those children will be the "greats" of the future. They will invent and transform things that we have no concept of at the present time. What frontiers are yet to be discovered? Do my own children behold greatness?--well, most certainly they do...just ask me...I'll tell you!Did Dr. Debakey ever sit, meditate, and savor a cup of coffee? Or did he eat, drink, and breath cardiology? They say that even in his later years, he continued to push the envelope in advancing his field. Could he handle small talk at a dinner party? What did people talk to him about? Did he ever fuss about dirty dishes around his house? I sound like a nosy voyeur, but after hearing about all of his professional greatness, I wonder what he was like as a man. His photographs in and out of surgical attire make him look like a stern and unapproachable man. At one time, he was someone's little boy. At one time, he was learning to ride a bicycle. At one time, he fell in love--I am sure, well, I hope he did. And one morning or evening, or perhaps in the shower one day, he sparked an idea that gave birth to his greatness as a heart surgeon and innovator. I wonder if he knew what an impact he would make on the world.

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