Christmas 2018

Brian and I went to an amazing and magical Christmas party last night. The theme was “My Favorite Things” and was complete with raindrops on roses, girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes, brown paper packages tied up with string, and yes, even a real cream-colored pony.  I’ve been singing the song for the past 2 days and also trying to think of how to write another Christmas letter: this one marking 25 years of Christmas letters from the Danahys.

So here, in no particular order, are “My Favorite Things” from this year.

1. Spring Break saw us in New York City.  Edwin, Brian and I took in the tourist sights – and food, (thank you Sean Danahy for all the amazing recommendations) and shows with a few days spent visiting Colin in Troy, NY.  “Dear Evan Hansen” was definitely a highlight for all of us – and the boys took in Madison Square Garden for a Knicks game.

2. Colin and Aidan took at 5000 mile road trip from NY to CA this summer. It was circuitous and involved Cleveland, Nashville, New Orleans, Dallas, Kansas, camping, Yellowstone, Utah, more camping, and parts up down and in between.

3. Colin graduated Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute with a Masters degree in Technology Commercialization & Entrepreneurship.  We watched the livestream of it in the parking lot as:

4. Aidan graduated University Nevada Reno with his Bachelors degree in Art with an emphasis in Digital Media on the same day in May.

5. Julia finished her first year at Gonzaga and we were able to catch a glimpse of her on TV cheering for the Zags as they made their way through the NCAA tournament. We are hoping for another good, long run this year too.

6. Edwin started his sophomore year at Saugus High School and has jumped full into the theater department: as part of the large group drama, he and 5 other thespians took first place at the fall competition in a piece based on vampires and bullying – and kissing.  Which… was a surprise to his mother when she saw it performed for the first time. 

7. Edwin turned 16, got his learner’s permit and will take the driving test on December 21. He spent much of his summer break working on and fixing my Dad’s old Buick – aka the eyesore in the driveway - and hopes to be driving it proudly to school this winter.  As it lacks functional a/c, it will probably not be driven when it hits 90.  Which could be as early as March around here.

8. Julia spent her summer as a Day Camp Counselor – and found that she had an affinity for working with kids.  Her no-nonsense, take charge attitude (wonder where she got that from…) – sprinkled in with bribes of candy on field trips to get kids to cooperate – made for an interesting summer full of great stories.  Life lesson: always bring a spare set of chonies in case yours get wet.

9. Aidan purchased a bus.

10. Brian’s former Baxter/Baxalta/Shire Building 8 project was the 2018 Facility of the Year Awards (FOYA) Overall Winner at the 2018 ISPE Annual Meeting & Expo in Philadelphia, PA this November.  Years of hard work, company and personnel turnover followed this project and as Engineering Program Leader, it kept Brian extremely busy.  We were all proud that the hard work was recognized in the industry.

11. I was selected to a new non-profit board: Raising the Curtain Foundation, the supportive arm of the newly renovated Newhall Family Theatre for the Performing Arts.  There are many creative people on this board, who will do great things for the community and arts programming. My (non-creative) role has been to set them up and secure non-profit status for the board.  And may possibly lead me to bigger things for 2019.  Stay tuned…

12. Aidan has found employment as a Ski Instructor at Squaw Valley and a substitute teacher for Innovations, a non-traditional, alternative high school in Reno. 

13. Aidan is trying to sell a bus.

14. Colin is working hard at his startup company – Storagy.  A solar optimization software for utility companies. He is based at home, but we don’t see much of him, as he’s usually in meetings, at conferences or networking.

15. Julia is in her second year at Gonzaga. Her club soccer team (again) made it to Nationals – this time in Alabama where they made it (again) to the Sweet Sixteen.  The soccer field was not kind to Julia (again) this year – a hand splint and concussion recovery were on deck this season. But it has not slowed her down a bit.  When not studying, she volunteers with Meals on Wheels, and at a Crisis Nursery every Friday night.  She has recently taken up salsa dancing, and her mother couldn’t be prouder.

16. Edwin is doing his best Napoleon Dynamite impressions around here. AP Chemistry, Soccer, Engineering, Theater and Science Olympiad are doing their job in helping fuel the stress and proper angst required to pull off the impersonation.  He’s getting quite good at it – must be the theater.

17. I still enjoy coffee. A lot.

18. Notre Dame’s final season win was attended by all of us Danahys here in LA at the Coliseum. While we all appreciated the win, I think the street hot dogs after the game were appreciated more (by some of us.)

19. Brian says he doesn’t miss coaching soccer. While this may possibly be true, he doesn’t miss a chance to practice with his kids when they ask him to shoot around with them at Central Park or the high school.  And I believe Julia and Edwin can both beat him on workout runs.

20. I laced up my running shoes and ran 2 5ks this year – one surrounded by 3000 women dressed as Wonder Woman. I highly recommend this race as the energy and motivation surrounded by that many strong women can’t be beat.

20 favorite things for 2018.  

No schnitzel. No noodles. No wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings.

But there’s always room for a bright, copper kettle on a list of favorite things.

My tribe

These are the women.

These are the women who:

meet together for coffee: every Friday morning for 20 years running
watch our children and care for them as if they were their own
help us bury our parents
stand next to us through crumbling marriages and steady us through divorce
care for us in illness, cancer and depression
listen to us sigh, complain, and cry into our drinks
pull us on to the dance floor
motivate us to exercise
commiserate with our aches and pains of age
make our faces and bellies ache with infectious, contagious laughter
buy enough shoes in one shopping trip to last a lifetime
keep our secrets
fortify us when we can't stand on our own.
work together to put on school events, family events and weddings
hold us accountable in our place in this life
pack our houses - and clean toilets - when we move
celebrate milestone birthdays with us
create and use the word 'craft' as a verb
drink wine and sing along at the Hollywood Bowl
drink coffee with


These are the women who I mark time with, walk through the world with and celebrate life with. This is my tribe and these are my people.

#vonsforlife

Yesterday I attended the soft re-opening of my local VONS grocery store.  The Grand Opening is next Wednesday morning, March 9 at 8am.  I know this because it has been on my calendar for weeks now.  The soft opening yesterday was an unexpected event – a more than pleasant surprise. 

Over a year ago, Albertsons grocery chain acquired Safeway stores – which owned the Southern California grocery chain VONS.  VONS has been a Southern California institution since it started in Los Angeles in 1906 by Charles Von der Ahe.  The merger of Safeway and Albertsons affected our local VONS store, as it was geographically too close to the local Albertsons and therefore couldn’t continue to operate as a VONS due to some strange FTC anti-trust laws.  So the local VONS closed its doors in June and reopened the next day as a Haggen’s.  While I’m sure that Haggen’s flourishes in its native locations, my old VONS location and its shoppers did not embrace it at all.  We weren’t about to pay $5 for a bottle of salad dressing in a Whole Foods wannabe knock-off grocery store. Ours was not the neighborhood for this new store: Haggen’s perhaps needed to share a parking lot with a Macy’s…not a Ross Dress for Less.  So Haggen’s failed.  Spectacularly.  Kind of like all of the local shoppers said it would.  Meanwhile, those of us in the neighborhood were left without our grocery store.

To many of us in our early childhood, Sesame Street’s Mr. Hooper exemplified the importance of the local grocer.  There was even a Fisher Price little person “Mr. Hooper” in our Sesame Street play sets.  He was a pretty big deal.  Not as big as Cookie Monster, of course, but big enough to be immortalized in a chokable plastic toy.  He was a person in our neighborhood – one that we might meet, walking down the street – and as such, gave us a foundation for what community looked like.  Grocery shopping is part of the fabric of our communal lives.  We don’t homestead and grow all of our own food here.  Grocery shopping is literally essential to our survival.  And I would contend that the community aspect of it is just as important.  It’s our neighborhood.  Our village. 

So when that community disappears, it’s upsetting.  Not just in the, “I don’t want to have to learn the layout of a new store” kind of upsetting.  But the “What the hell is going to happen to the people, who I care about, who worked here? Where will they go? What happens to our people?” kind of upsetting.  So the VONS/Haggen’s store sat empty.  For months.  My fellow shoppers and I had to find different places to shop.  And that’s what they were – just places to shop.  Going from weekly planned shopping trips at our VONS to shopping wherever and whenever felt completely unsettling: Trader Joe’s with its horrific parking and uber long lines; Walmart with its sketchy produce, questionable meat and even worse lines; and Albertsons where the prices always seemed far too high despite their “deals.”  But we’ve done it.  Had to.  Wasn’t really a choice.  We COULD drive across town to the VONS that remained open, see some of our relocated grocery store employees (but not all),  be comforted in the layout and get the items that only VONS carried.  But that was not always possible or practical. 

Until.

The sign went up in January: “Coming Soon: VONS”

Oh, the joy.  The happiness.  The sense that the universe was righting itself – turning back on its preferred axis.  To know that I could, once again, park in the 3^rd spot of the 4^th row and walk straight to what I might need, AND say hello to people who had been helping me feed my family for 18 years…WONDEROUS! Not sure how they averted the FTC anti-trust thing…don’t really care.  VONS was coming back!

And that is how I found myself (and 2 other loyal VONS shopper friends) in the parking lot of our local, community VONS at 8 am on a Tuesday morning.  Giddy.  Like dance in the parking lot giddy… which, of course, I did.  And take Selfies.  And post on social media.  Because we are THAT happy about our world feeling right again.  Once inside, we anxiously looked for our people.  Through the sea of employees, we only recognized a few of them.  Disappointing…a bit.  But we were assured later, that many of them were coming back and those who weren’t actually had been offer positions at closer to home locations.  We met the President of VONS, Lori, who personally thanked us for being there.  We quickly let her know that *we* were the thankful ones.  I saw an employee who I know got laid off by Albertsons, and had been commuting to a store in Bakersfield (!) and now is at this VONS.  A store less than a mile away from his home.  This.  This is why I am happy.  This is why the re-opening is a big deal to me: this store opening affects the lives of the people I share community with.

VONS is the place where I could go on Sundays, escape my family, and have alone time for an hour while shopping.  It’s the place that was open for cough medicine late at night when a kid was really sick.  Or get milk at 6:30am.  It’s where I could buy diapers, baby food, Capri Sun, Gatorade, power bars and beer.  VONS is Grandma Betty Jean – and birthday cakes and candles for every birthday no matter how old.  VONS is the Charles Von der Ahe funded library at Loyola Marymount University where I spent many, many hours in college.  VONS is peach-pineapple salsa and ILLY coffee.  VONS is the place where I know all the checkers.  VONS is Tony, whose widow we met in the meat department yesterday.  VONS is a bag of free groceries to loyal customers… like me. 

And to the mockers and laughers in my life who think I am “silly” with my devotion? Well, you just don’t get it.  And until you do my job, you can’t understand it.  So I can (mostly) forgive your ignorance.  But I don’t think *you* will be getting free groceries anytime soon…

#vonsforlife

2015 Year End Review

I wrote a Christmas letter this year, but the computer decided to eat the document when it got shut down.  I couldn’t muster up the holiday strength needed to re-write the thing and I didn’t send one out.  It was a small absence, it seemed, and one that most of my received Christmas cards seem to share.  Christmas letters have gone by the wayside – perhaps to join the other old-fashioned means of communication a la the telegram, the answering machine, and anything in general of needing a stamp to be replaced by the immediate updates on social media.

As I was putting the annual Santa photo into the Christmas binder – this year each child adorned not in red and green, but proudly displaying their individual alma maters - I was struck by the emptiness of the 2015 entry with its lack of letter.  So here I sit, on the eve of 2016, composing some highlights of this current – for a few more hours – year.  Like many wise editors, I have outsourced some of the work.  And I find it quite a reflection of the current times in how my children have chosen to respond to my request for their list of 2015.

This review started, unknowingly, with Colin and his post to Facebook this morning.  Colin still uses Facebook.  He turned 21 this year – and is just old enough in his generation to still use this media platform.  Or perhaps it is due to his busy schedule and general lack of desire to learn and use another social digital outlet.  He shared that he is the president of Tau Beta Pi, engineering honor society at CPP and is working on his Senior Project in Mechanical Engineering.  He attended many Engineering conferences this year, travelling to Illinois and Rhode Island.  He has scored 2 internships and is currently employed by Edison, where he puts in at least 20 hours a week on top of full time classes in his 4^th and final full year at Cal Poly Pomona.    He is contemplating the future: graduation, job, and grad school down the line.   He hopes to get an apartment, strengthen relationships and continue to travel in the new year.

Aidan met my request for a recap with a text.  I am, quite frankly, slightly worried to know which social outlets Aidan uses.  I suspect something quite dark and hidden in the internet world.  His update text, which I quote:

            Got accepted to nevada, went cliff jumping with Joe, Went skydiving with dad, finished igetc and csuge at coc, went to fallout boy and wiz khalifa concert, paid my way to chatauqua on a red eye, grew a man bun, numerous art projects (dragon, Cajon, dads coasters, wolf mural), started at Nevada and passed all classes, drove there and back.

Having Aidan at the University of Nevada has been a big change for our family.  We saw Colin quite a bit when he was/is away at school.  We see Aidan only on major holidays.  The house is very quiet and it’s been a big adjustment for all of us.  Some of us (me) took his absence a little harder than others (Ed, who took over Aidan’s room.)

Julia uses twitter as her social media of choice.  She did write out a very nice list for me, but for the purposes of brevity, I will recap via tweet:  “Rt your 2k15”

Met your current significant other 

Got your license [she gets to drive the minivan]

Went to Niagara Falls [this summer on our family reunion trip to New York]

Won an award [high school soccer co-defender of the year]

Had a sweet sixteen [soccer team kidnap breakfast and dinner with friends in Santa Monica]

Got your braces off

Hosted an exchange student [Tanja, technically lives next door, but has become a close friend]

I will add that she is taking a huge course load this junior year in high school and has managed to earn a 4.5 GPA.  I will take a soupçon of credit, as a broken right arm from an October soccer game injury left her right hand in a cast, thereby necessitating a homework scribe – moì.  A broken foot in January and a badly sprained ankle in May left her in casts and boots.  We are crossing fingers for an injury free 2016.  A final highlight was 2 week Medical School camp with her grandfather in Florida this summer.

Edwin handed me a chronological list on notebook paper.  He is not on any social media.  He is, however, very well acquainted with Netflix.  Attached to this handwritten list was the speech he wrote (with a little help from Aidan) for his 6^th grade promotion ceremony. 

January            Squidwards [soccer team] lost at regional playoffs

February          Help buy and install Dad’s awesomesauce chair [Barca-lounger]

March             Last Math Field Day competition

April                3 qualification classes…

May                 …2^nd Degree Black Belt testing

June                 fairwell [sic] to Highlands Elementary

July                  1^st time the Danahys, Stewarts and Pernsteiners were together since Ellie’s and Drew’s wedding

August             1^st day of 7^th grade at Arroyo Seco and 1^st practice and game with Team En Fuego, 3 day Harry Potter Marathon

September      1^st and only loss by scorched Orange [rival soccer team]

October           turned 13

November       Scarlet Fever

December       San Diego with Gramma Lee, Papa Paul and Liam

My year included probably saving my mom’s life – as she was having a heart attack at the time and someone – ahem- got her convinced to call an ambulance; running the non-profit organization that I co-founded to provide support and funds to the local high school; visiting Pittsburgh; getting new carpet in the whole house – and the amazing amount of work it entailed; leaving the elementary school after 16 years as an involved parent; working another wedding; attending 26 live comedy, music and theater productions this year – THE BEST of which was Celine Dion in Vegas….life changing; reconnecting with old friends; joining not one, but TWO wine clubs; visiting Cleveland…twice and Tucson only once; and saying goodbye to fertility forever.   

Brian helped coach Julia’s club soccer team to second place in league this year.  And also took over as coach of Ed’s soccer team, a team that refuses to die.  January will see us on the field for the whole month of weekends.  Soccer took much of Brian’s time this fall – often 3+ hours at a time after work some days.  He did enjoy his Notre Dame football and is currently in Arizona with Colin and Aidan on a boys’ football bowl week vacation.  We all enjoyed our trip to New York and Lake Chatauqua- Brian did a lot of the driving of the boat – and getting the boat (and kids aboard the vessel) safely to shore during a huge storm on the lake.   Brian got an iphone this year – and enjoys face timing on it.  That’s as close to any social media as he will get.  We said goodbye to Baxter in July and hello (but not the Adele $800 Staples’ Center tickets kind of “Hello”) to new spin-off company Baxalta. 

So I’ll post this review on my blog – my social media of choice – and print it out to fill the void in the Christmas book.  And that’s a wrap to 2015, a most wonderfully full year.   

Hope you enjoy this, Meg.  I did it mostly for you. 

Teenagers

Today someone asked me how many teenagers I had. 

“Too many,” was my response.

My youngest child hit 13 last Friday.  When my oldest turned 13, I had a bit of a meltdown.  I myself had recently turned 37 – a number I considered, at the time, too close to 40.  Having a teenager put me over the edge, so to speak.  I was officially “old” and I didn’t take kindly to this milestone.  I comforted myself with the fact that I still had a child, in fact many children, who were not teens.  The distinction was necessary to me. 

My children’s teen years so far have proved to be just about as difficult as I expected them to be.  Not horrific.  Not a cake walk.  In our house we have combated attitudes, body odors, messy rooms, car accidents, defiance, overuse of the word “like,” ambivalence and even some angst.  The social and friend stuff is always hard with the teens: such a difficult time that I remember with painful clarity from my own life.  Truly one of the hardest parts of parenting is watching your kids hurt by other people.  I have to believe that the pain makes them stronger.  I have to hope that the pain doesn’t make them harder.  I’m here to help model channeling the hurt into something positive and not something destructive.  Sometimes I succeed.

The frank teen sex talks have had a different twist with every kid.  I know now that the best talks happen in the car – all eyes forward.  No question is off limits, and I generally throw in too much information.  Enough to scare them.  But also enough to teach them.  Always trying to maintain the distance I think needs to be maintained: I am their mother, not their friend.  My latest bit of wisdom to one of my not-to-be-named teenagers was, “I am on a need to know basis.  Like you doctor.  If it isn’t something you would tell your doctor, then don’t tell me” with the hopes that the shock-value details will be reined in.  This bit of instruction is tailored to a specific child – like most of my conversations with my children.  I hope that by the time they reach the teen years, I have come to know them well enough to have the kind of productive conversations unique to each of them.  It’s definitely not one size fits all.

My youngest turning into a teenager has been harder to accept than the first born turning 13.  Because with it came this realization:

                                              

I no longer have small children.  

I haven’t fully grasped this concept yet.  It’s been 22 years since I first discovered I was pregnant.  So for 21+ years …I’ve had a small or small-ish child.   Not having a “child” feels less like a chapter ending and more like a whole library closing.   For almost half of my life, I had a baby or child in tow.  Half. Of. My. Life.  And now the last one is a teenager.  And I know what that means.  I’m going to blink, and he’ll be gone.  Off discovering college and a whole new exciting world.

And I’ll be 50 when that happens.  Which to my 37 year old self is exceptionally old.  Even to my 45 year old self, 50 seems old. 

Almost as old as having teenagers.

Family Goodbyes

My boys said goodbye to each other on Monday night.  It was after a lovely celebratory meal for

Colin’s 21^st birthday.  He, of course, had pizza.  The rest of us had lovely authentic Italian dishes.  After the blowing out of the candle on the obligatorily proffered piece of house tiramisu, we all got up to say our goodbyes.  Pictures were taken.  Julia’s annual hug given to Colin, offered once each year on birthdays – his relative stiffness matched only by her uncomfortableness at being touched (Edwin clearly received ALL of the hugging genes that completely skipped Julia’s gene pool.)  And then it was time for the big boys to say goodbye – embracing like young men do – quick bear hug followed by the back thump.  Colin wanted me to take a picture of them.  Hugging.  Briefly perplexed, I tried to snap a photo on the phone that wouldn’t cooperate with a flash.  The hug happened again.  And then again.  

“See you at Thanksgiving,” they say to each other.  And I feel a little twinge. 

“This is the longest we will have ever been apart,” they say to me.  And I feel like I have been punched in the stomach.

Colin will start his 4^th year of college in September.  Colin chose a school 65 miles away.  In Los Angeles.  Which, to be fair, could either be 1 hour away or 3 ½  hours away, depending on traffic and the time of day.  We saw him often during that first year away from home. 

Aidan will start his second year of college on Monday – his junior year, according to the transcripts and thanks to taking so many college classes in high school – in a different state.  He will be 8 hours away.  More if the Grapevine closes due to fire or snow.   He won’t come home on weekends to do his laundry.  The next time we see him will be Thanksgiving.

Our family has done the goodbye thing.  The move to college thing.  The changing of the family dynamic thing.  We have morphed from a house of 6 to 5 and then 6 again on weekends and school breaks.  We are not new to the changing numbers and rearranging rooms in the house.

This change feels different.  Half of my children will no longer be living with me.  My boys will go months without seeing each other.  Months.  This seems inconceivable to me: like Vizzini inconceivable.   Julia no longer has a big brother around.  Edwin no longer has a tormentor/mentor around.  I no longer have another driver around.  My family will be scattered.  My family will not be together under the same roof.  The rightness of this milestone feels so very, very wrong.

We will rearrange rooms again – Edwin to truly get his own room for the first time in his life.  No older brother to share with on weekends/vacations.  When they are home again, even if only briefly together, the big boys will share the room they once shared when we first moved into this house 17 years ago.  (And of course, Aidan wants to turn it into a “man cave”.)

Funny thing these full circles.  I will look at that back room and see my 2 red headed boys.  The ones who people literally crossed the street to look and smile at when they were little.  I will see their sleeping faces and their rambunctious awake ones.  Those are the faces I will see when I take them to college.  Those are the faces I see when I say goodbye.

What I Learned as an Elementary School Parent

Tomorrow will end the 16 school years I have spent as an elementary school parent.  I will most certainly be shedding a few tears: some proud, some sad, and some even filled with joyful relief at an ending that’s been a long time coming. 

I will miss being an elementary school parent.  It has been at least a part-time job over the last decade and a half: room parent, volunteer, parent teacher group board member, site council president etc.  It all took time and energy.  And like a seasoned player, just maybe a bit past her prime, I leave it with some hard-earned confidence, maturity and a little relief.

Along the way it was impossible not to pick up a few things. I leave with the following knowledge.

Always go straight to the source.  I learned this embarrassingly early in my parent life.  Kindergarten with my oldest son, 1999– first week of school.  I questioned the teacher’s discipline technique….to the principal.   Of course she found out about my “complaint” and as she was a seasoned teacher, she approached me about it the very next day.  She explained, thoroughly, what I may have misinterpreted. She also made it pretty clear – without outright saying it – that I should have come to her first.  She was gracious about it.  She taught me how to be the kind of parent who works with teachers, as part of a team – not on opposite sides.  From all I have heard from my teacher friends, and from my children’s teachers too, one of the most taxing parts of the teaching profession today is dealing with parents who don’t support you. 

Kindergarten teachers know everything about you and your family. There are very few secrets.  Young children can be brutally honest.  And they see and hear more than you can even imagine.  So treat your teacher with great kindness.  Chances are, she knows some good dirt on you.

Little children have no qualms about farting in public.  Ever. 

Kids can be mean.  First grade boys, I’m talking about you.  Fifth grade girls? Yep, you too. There is a reason why “Lord of the Flies” is still taught today in high school.  Kids can be downright nasty.  Part of being a parent is to dry those tears caused by hurt feelings and exclusion.  It is a part of life that no parent *wants* to teach – but it happens to everyone.  If it hasn’t happened yet….it will. 

Kids can be extraordinarily compassionate.  The child who doesn’t speak in kindergarten? She will have friends who help her.  The child who has braces on her legs and can’t run? She will have friends who make up games that she can play.   The 6^th grader who doesn’t have a partner for the field trip? Someone will step up and step in with grace.

Nothing is ever accomplished by criticizing a child to his or her mother.  Even if it is “constructive” criticism. 

Groups of women can get anything done.  On a shoe-string budget.  In a small amount of time.  They can move mountains – or make them out of paper as decorations for the school play.  Nothing is impossible. 

Groups of women do not work well together.  Yes, I said it.  Yes, it’s true. 

A love of reading cannot be taught.  Reading can be taught. Love of books can be fostered and encouraged, but love ultimately comes from within each child.  Not from the parent.

No Child Left Behind did not work.  And it is my belief that Common Core will not work either.

Children learn best in small groups and small teacher to student ratios. 

Never volunteer in the classroom after lunch.  There is a reason why the veteran 6^th grade teacher doused himself in heavy cologne for years: kids smell.  Kids smell bad.  Even little ones.  The combination of black asphalt smudges, little kid sweat and leftover lunch bag smell is too powerful a combination for one’s senses.

Let your first grader take ownership of the diorama.  Let your 5^th grader take ownership of the Science Project. They can do it.  Back off.  Let them work it out on their own.  I will admit that this is extra hard.  Especially if you are crafty.  It took me a LONG time to get this concept.  But the pride they feel will go farther than any need you have to control the project.

The crossing guard, janitors and lunch ladies are the unsung heroes of the elementary school world.

Make friends with the office manager.

Never attempt to understand the complex rules of four-square.  Just nod your head and fake your comprehension.

Morning drop-off and afternoon pick-up bring out the very worst in humanity.  For the love that is all good and true….leave home 5 minutes early.  Don’t ever be *that* parent.  You know the one.  The one who makes the U-turn in the school zone.  The one who doesn’t follow the valet rules (PULL.  ALL. THE. WAY. FORWARD. Junior will survive walking 10 extra steps!) The one who jaywalks and stops traffic.  (Dads….I’m looking at you.  Please use the crosswalks.  Please model this safe behavior.)  The one who parks in a red zone next to the safety cones – blocking traffic.  The one who doesn’t think the sign “No Student Drop Off – Faculty Only” applies to them. 

I will miss this elementary school.  I will miss the people in it.  I will miss helping kids learn how to use scissors, write their names and make a clay monster.  I will miss reading to them and giving make-up spelling tests.  I will miss the art projects and the plays.  The reading logs and the journals.  I will miss the connection that I had as a volunteer to my children at school. 

Tomorrow is a big day for our family.  We say goodbye to a piece of our collective lives – one of the few constants this growing and changing family has had.  Bittersweet.  All 16 years of it.

To Lose

"Lose" is a word that has been bothering me lately.

Especially when it refers to death.

The verb itself declares itself as active.  One actively does this verb.  Not passive.

So to use this verb, the subject actively does it.

And with that, a sense of responsibility comes.  Culpability.  Ownership of the act.

Which I reject when it comes to "losing" a child to death.  I'm OK with ownership and culpability if you lose your child at Disneyland.  Ultimately, you are responsible for where your child ends up - wandering tendencied child or not.  And ultimately, the child is found.  But why is this word used for death?  Of the -too many now- parents I have known who have "lost" children, none of them actively "lost" them.  The children were taken.  By circumstance.  By accident.  By illness.  But the parents didn't DO anything to lose their children.  

How can you  *lose* something that was *taken* from you?  The act defies both definitions.  

Yes, I'm being picky and focusing on one part of the definition of the word "lose".  Yes, there are other nuances to the word.  But words are powerful.  And we use "lose" more often to explain something that we did - actively did.  And there is power to that.  Unwritten.  Hidden.  Negative power to using this word in response to death.  

So I have a really hard time with this word.  And I really wish I could come up with a better one. Perhaps I will have to turn to another language.  English is woefully inadequate for me on this subject.

Mother knows best

The movie trucks are gone - which means classes must be starting at COC. After weeks of driving around roped off areas and listening to stories of "guess who was on campus today" Spring Semester has begun and now the parking lots are full of students and their horrible driving/parking "skills".

Aidan is now back to his 8 class courseload. The three college classes will significantly add to his workload - which has been light so far this year. Math started yesterday - and he was witness to the ever-present California budget crisis as his teacher ("You can call me Bob") had to ask waitlisted course-crashing hopeful students to leave the class, as it was already too full. I'm not sure of the wisdom of having my 15 year old boy refer to his teacher as "Bob" - this could easily backfire with Aidan's 'issues with authority' personality. Or it could be genius.

History of Animation is his other academic college class - fulfilling both a-g and IGETC requirements, I think. Luckily, the counselor at his high school knows WAY more than I do about such things. Aidan is looking forward to the class - which is a great sign.

The class that he's the least excited for? PE. And this is where he needs to trust his mother. He's in Ballroom Dancing for PE. Ballroom. How amazingly awesome is that??? He doesn't see it yet. But he will. It might take a few years, but someday he is going to come to me and thank me for taking this class. He'll get a glimpse of it's power when he asks a girl to dance and doesn't look like a moron. And then he'll see it even more when the girls/women (later) realize that he *can* *dance* and will want to dance with him. And pursue him. And be happy to dance with him. Guys who can dance (and lead!!!) are in short supply. And the gal who can appreciate a good dancer - well... that's the kind of gal I want my son to date.

Ballroom is not easy. Partnering isn't easy. It's ultimately a form of non-verbal communication. It's discipline and athletic at the same time - with the added benefit of working with another person to get it right. Important lessons for anyone - especially teenaged boys. And eventually can help keep you healthy: http://socialdance.stanford.edu/syllabi/smarter.htm

My hope is that Aidan learns something from this experience and sees it for what it's worth. Because in my opinion, this class has the potential to be the most important class of his social life. He has countless hours of wedding receptions in front of him - and what better way to spend those hours than by twirling girls around the floor? If I could crash the class, I totally would. But I would probably get kicked out: budget cuts and all.

High School

I had 4 kids in 8 years. Some are closer in age than others. But while on the phone today with my sister, we realized something that my children won't experience which shocked me.

My children have/will have a completely different experience than I had during their high school years. For 3 of them, it's because they are boys. For all of them, the high schools they attend will look nothing like mine: most will be significantly bigger and one will be significantly smaller. Half of my kids will attend schools without the benefit/comfort of old elementary school friends, acquaintances and bullies. My sister and I had this experience: K-12 with the same people; one junior high and one high school in the town we grew up in. There are 6 junior highs in our town here. And 6 "typical" high schools - with alternative learning facilities to boot (continuation etc..) Each 2 year junior high school here has at least as many students if not more than our 4 year high school alma mater.

Colin is almost halfway done with high school. There are 2600 kids on his campus - with 150 more coming in next year. He attends school clear across the valley - to take advantage of a social skills program offered to kids with Asperger's Syndrome. He's in the Special Education program but in all "regular" academic classes. He straddles both worlds. Sometimes more effectively than other times. He listens to Eminem, Kanye West and Radio Disney equally. He'll watch ESPN and read Sports Illustrated and still play Yugioh. He'd prefer watching a Miley Cyrus movie to a horror film. He's also in AP classes and is trying out for football. (Well, "trying out" might not be the best way to put it: we paid the $600 fee and now he's on the team.) He was also selected to be a representative for the California State Youth Leadership Forum for Students with Disabilities to be held this summer in Sacramento - all expenses paid.
And he won't go to the same high school with any of his siblings.

Aidan is getting ready for high school next year. Junior high has been a 1200 person trial and we're holding a collective breath until it's done on June 3. No promotion ceremony for him this year: the school district cut the ceremonies out due to a California budget crisis. He's been accepted to an alternative high school offered through the school district in conjunction with the community college- also across town. He's one of 60-70 kids to be accepted out of 175 incoming freshman applicants. It's possible he won't know a single student on his first day of school - or more likely that he'll only know a few. He won't take AP classes, but his college level courses will be *college* classes on the community college campus. He'll be exposed to the students and professors of the college, in addition to the students and teachers of his high school academy- located in a building on the edge of the college campus. He'll also be exposed to everything at the college - including but not limited to access to the college health center (and free condom handouts...) at age 14. He won't be able to play in high school sports - they aren't allowed at his school due to CIF eligibility regulations. But he can take anything for PE from the course catalog including Jujitsu and Hip Hop.
And he won't go to the same high school with any of his siblings.

Julia has an October birthday. She started Kindergarten when she was 4 years old: a decision we made, in part, due to her older brother's age. We wanted her to be in high school with her older brother. My oldest friend had a brother 2 years older than us, and I was always envious of the ease she seemed to have interacting with boys - and frankly, that she got asked to dances as a freshman because of it. I figured that having an older brother (and his friends) would be a certain bonus to Julia as a freshman in high school: at least someone on the campus to look out for her. (And for me to have a spy in her looking out for *him*) As it stands now, Julia will be the first of my kids to go to the local high school. And by local I mean: Right. Across. The. Street.
And she won't go to the same high school with any of her siblings.

Edwin's in first grade. He has an October birthday too. We made the decision to hold him back from starting Kindergarten - and waited until he was 5 (almost 6) to start school. He'll start high school in the fall after Julia graduates. He may go to the local high school too.
And he won't go to the same high school with any of his siblings.

High school was a time in my life that I would actually do over. I loved it. It was a great experience. Partly because of when and where I grew up. Partly because I had a group of friends whom I gathered over my school years, but always having familiar faces since kindergarten in the halls (for 13 years, I saw Jon Keller every day in at least one class.) But largely because I had a sibling to share it with. We went to school with each other and we have a shared history of familiar schools, friends, and teachers. My kids won't have that. They'll have excellent opportunities. Different experiences. Unique options.

But they won't go to high school with each other.
And it makes me sad.

Bugsy and The Wrong Mother

The Christmas gift from my sister consisted of 2 things representing opposite ends of my life so far. The kid end: "Bugsy Malone" soundtrack. The mid-life adult end: "The Wrong Mother" by Sophie Hannah, contemporary fiction. Both were very meaningful.

Bugsy Malone was a huge favorite of ours growing up (in the days before Scott Baio was Chachi or Charles and before he became a complete tool on reality TV). Our parents took us to see the movie when it came out. I remember picking out Willy Wonka candy to take with me to see the show, and becoming extremely thirsty during Blousie's song, "Ordinary Blues." I think it had something to do with the type of film it was shot on: it looked dusty and sepia like - very parching. (These were the days before juice boxes and bottled water - if you tried to bring beverages with you, it had to be in a thermos, and those always leaked, so no one ever used their lunch box ones.) I never noticed the amount of violence in the film until my own kids saw it last summer at a roof top drive-in in downtown LA. It took on a different feel watching it as a mother. Although you'd think I'd be used to the gun fascination thing as a mom to 3 boys. Happily, we've escaped this phase for the most part. But being a mom didn't stop me from singing along with the movie: we owned the record and it was one of the most played records in the playroom. I'm happy to report that it's still in the playroom, alongside the other LPs of my childhood: Saturday Night Fever, Sound of Music and Grease. Sadly, all of the Donny and Marie albums have disappeared. I'm not sure why Bugsy survived the cleaning purge and Donny did not. So this Christmas, Hilary gave me Bugsy on CD - part of my childhood in song form.

The other part of the gift was the joke part. Hilary is great at joke gifts - a skill passed down from our father. One year, after a particularly long commercial ad-campaign by Manny, Moe and Jack, he followed their advice and got each of his "girls" (mom included) some little tidbit from the Pep Boys: "get all your Christmas needs at the Pep Boys" the commercials promised. He got each of us a trinket and wrapped them up in small jewelry boxes. I believe mine was some kind of spark plug. Upon unwrapping, the girls were confused, and the dad was crying with laughter. It took a bit of explanation before we all started laughing with him. This year, Hilary got dad a Snuggie. And for me? "The Wrong Mother." Hee. She said she walked by it and the title spoke to her.

So I've cracked open "The Wrong Mother" this weekend, as I've been stuck with a cold in bed and there is only a limited amount of Joss Wheden produced material starring Nathan Fillion I can see on Netflix. "The Wrong Mother" is a British Book. Written by someone who lives in England. Uses the queen's English in her writing. Which I find exciting, actually. It's like reading a foreign language book that you can understand *most* of. It's a little like travelling abroad, which, let's face it, all authors try to do: transport you into his/her world. It's usually a world I like to think myself a part of. I studied abroad in Essex for 6 months. I've seen the BBC versions of ALL the Jane Austen classics. I drink Tetley tea and Boddingtons ale. I know the difference between Crisps and Chips. You know, all the important stuff that makes you feel more British, and a little snobby too. But there's something about reading a British author that illuminates your American-ess. It's not just the spelling. Or the slang. It's the assumption that you know what "O levels" are. And how the police system works - and what the initials in it stand for. Or that post (mail) boxes are standardly red. (I knew that one!!!)

So when I understand something that to a Brit makes perfect sense but is slightly baffling to their Western Atlantic counterparts - I feel a bit excited (I knew that one!!!). Like I've read a passage in Latin or some other foreign language. And it makes *this* mother feel smart.

I won't ruin the story for anyone. In fact, I haven't finished it myself. It's turning out to be a great tale. A mystery. I won't be surprised if it's made into a movie; hopefully starring a Kate Winslet and NOT a Gwyneth Paltrow faking a British accent. That would be rubbish. (hee) And I don't tend to discuss - at length - books with anyone anymore. Been there. Done that. Paid 5o grand to do it for 4 years and have a piece of paper to prove it.

And how does this relate to raising 4 children - as the blog title suggests? It doesn't, really. But some of the passages of the book dwell on the dark side of motherhood (yes, there is that side - you see it the moment you go into labor and it peeks it's head out fairly often after you've gone through the trauma of birth) and acknowledging the dark can be a healthy thing from time to time. Bit of perspective and all. And it can be nice to hear another mother say, even fictionally, "What the f*ck have I gotten myself into..." - comfort in numbers and all that.

"You give a little love, and it all comes back to you..."

Trash

I am a semi-feminist. I was full-blown at age 18, 19, 20 and 21. Now? Not so much. As I get older (or "age gracefully" as I like ot call it) I find that life is far less black and white. Much more shades of gray. I am sure of less *now* than I was *then* but I know *more*. Hmm...
So back to the feminist, I can do anything a man can do, and better! thing. When it comes to trash, I happily defer to the age-old sexist sterotype that male people should take the trash out. I live in a house with 4 of them. You'd think one of them would get it.
Tuesday is trash day. As in, the big truck comes right up to your curb and takes your stinky cans, dumps them into the truck and drives away. There is no excessive hauling. The curb is less than 30 feet away from where we store the big trash bins. This is not Italy where you had to carry your trash down 4 flights of stairs and walk half a block to the communal trash dumpster. No, it's not.
So when I freak out about having to remind those who have penises to Take. The. Bins. Out. I (understandably) get a little bent out of shape. Because it happens every Monday. I have tried ALMOST everything to get my point across to the p-bearers in the household: reminding, threatening, withholding allowance, contemplating storing the trash bins in their rooms so they can live with the smell. Nothing has worked.
Last week - I threatened the boys (as I waited in the car while they hurried to get the bins out to the curb after I reminded them AGAIN that it was trash day) that the next time they forgot, I was taking $20 from each of them. No more of this losing a day of allowence. No extra chores. No make up chores. Just pay me when you screw up. I thought this would get through to them. If not Aidan, then Colin, because he is scrupulous about his money and keeping it.
Today? I'm $40 richer. Because they have no frontal lobe function - no memory. No concious thought that doesn't revolve around their stomachs or other (less important) organs. They cannot possibly do this one SIMPLE task. Hmmm. What's a creative mom to do? Think of more creative ways to INSTILL THIS PRIMAL MALE FUNCTION INTO THEIR TINY, TINY BRAINS. Wish me luck.
Eventually this may work with Colin - he paid me cash already. Didn't want me to transfer money out of his savings account because then he would lose interest. Seriously.

Fundraising = ***dra****g

Fundraising should really be a 4 letter word. I don't know who actually enjoys this aspect of raising children. Maybe the kids for about the first 10 minutes? Certainly not me. I don't care what the fundraising "theme" is - the mere sight of a catalog/order form throws me into an anxious state. I really don't care how great or deserving the organization is: I'm averse to whoring out my children as cute little salespeople.

I hated selling Camp Fire Candy as a kid. This was back when you could go door-to-door by yourself and hawk some overpriced product to strangers. It's also when I learned what the "No Soliciting" sign on the door meant.

And now there are few (if any) activities which don't require the participants to sell something. Part of my aversion comes from asking people for money. I will concede that there are some people out there who are extremely adept in selling; and who can sell ANYTHING. You know who they are- they probably have part of your bank account in their wallet.
They are not me. In any way, shape or form. And since the selling really comes back to the parents, my kids are kind of screwed in the fundraising area of life. Doesn't matter if it's candy, magazines, cookie dough, wrapping paper, Tae Kwon Do lessons, car washes, cookies, popcorn, peanuts - and that's just a list of what we've been asked to sell this school year. 75% of the time, I will buy my way out of the fundraising part: I have a cupboard full of nuts to prove it.

And how about the donation part of fundraising? That's the one my quasi-hidden Republican self likes. The donation and the write-off. For me, as painful as the check may be, it's FAR less painful than hawking stale popcorn to people who don't want to buy it. But please don't make me ask other people to donate - it's really a form of selling something and again pushes me way too far past my comfort level.

Sadly, I don't have an alternative solution that is equitable for all teammates/schoolmates/scoutmates. So the selling continues. And will not stop for at least 10 years. Food for thought though: less selling = less perks. No catered Cub Scout party. No monogrammed soccer backpack. Hmm... maybe the kids do with a little less, and still have fun?

Holiday Cheer 2009

Julia made a list of 100 holiday related items for a school art project: Christmas cards, Santa’s lap, lights, wrapping, relatives...and (my favorite) “stalkings.” Add to this Edwin’s expectation of a Hanukkah celebration (thanks to best buddy Alexander down the block) and it all adds up to just the right blend of realistic, holiday cheer around here.

The Christmas tree and outdoor lights (mixed LED and regular because “they’ll look just fine, honey.” Really? Not.) were put up Thanksgiving weekend. Brian’s 97th trip back to Vienna , Austria that weekend precipitated the early festive preparations (OK, not 97...but it sure feels like it) The kids and I have spent much of this fall talking to Brian on the phone during his various travels – and with a 9 hour time difference, it’s not as easy as it sounds. We look forward to 2010 when Brian will head up a new Baxter project that will keep him in Los Angeles most of the time. However, we will miss the coffee and chocolate he brings back to us from Europe .

2009 has been as normal as it can be for a family with 4 kids in various schools and activities. We’ve added more sports into our afternoon and weekend repertoires: Colin played 5 on 5 flag football in the spring; Julia played spring soccer (with our neighbor -16 year old West Point bound soccer star/ Julia’s role model - as her coach) and fall soccer; Aidan and Edwin continue their study of Tae Kwon Do and will earn their 2nd degree blue belts tomorrow. All the kids are back in Religious Education this year – adding more drop-off and pick-up times to our harried schedule. I have only forgotten a child once so far. (OK, maybe twice – but it wasn’t Edwin, so it doesn’t really count, right?)

Colin is a sophomore at West Ranch High School . He’s made the National Honor Society – with the help of mom and Aidan who accompany him on his “community service projects” to earn the required hours necessary to remain in said society. As the majority of his hours have come from projects which require trash pick-up from the side of the road, I’m left to wonder how this enriches the “honor” part of this academic society – I’m sure there’s a metaphor in it somewhere. And here’s a tip for those of you entering the community service world: bring gloves with you. Colin has added AP Chemistry and Honors Pre-Calculus to his class schedule, so when Dad is out of town (see above) Colin is on his own for homework help. Frighteningly, he has not needed it with math. He looks forward to the weekly arrival of Sports Illustrated and ESPN is his TV channel of choice – sigh. Colin has high hopes of joining the football team next year, and can be found running (jogging around the neighborhood and 5k races) and working out in his room with new free weights – the weights he tried to bring with him on summer vacation (in his backpack!) were confiscated by TSA as they were shaped like soft explosives. Yeah, that was a fun security experience...

Aidan is finishing up 8th grade in Junior High School. He and I will both be thrilled when this rite of passage/torture is done in June. Let me say here for the record that Southpark is evil – and being a redheaded adolescent boy got even harder this fall. On a happier note, Aidan is excelling academically and made the Honor Roll at school. He enjoys the wit of most of his teachers, and through the Advanced Cooking class, has become quite the chef at home. On our way to Lake Tahoe this summer we stopped at the former Japanese relocation camp, Manzanar. Aidan’s study of US History was one reason we decided to tour this illuminating piece of our country’s history. Aidan has moved up to the adult class in Tae Kwon Do and has been known to kick his mom during sparring. He participated in Tae Kwon Do tournaments this year, taking home numerous medals. The “broken ankle” Aidan sustained in his sparring match turned out to be a false alarm...knock on wood, we’ve gone another year free of broken bones. He continues his love of reading and while finishing an assignment for “The Outsiders” tried to argue with me about characters from the famous 1983 movie. He lost the argument, of course.

Julia is in 5th grade and enjoys school. Her teacher this year is a country music fan and is teaching the class line-dancing as part of their PE. She and her Junior Girl Scout Troop earned the “Bronze Award” this fall after many months of hard work and preparation. (I have earned my “Mom award” as I have kept up on the sewing of every badge and fun patch she’s brought home.) She keeps busy with the scouts and the various meetings, outings and campouts. One highlight this year was going to “Surf Diva Camp” in San Diego where she conquered the waves in a wetsuit. Julia has run several 5ks this year, and managed to break off on her own to finish with her best time during the Santa Clarita Marathon/5k. Her favorite color is lime green and she favors brightly colored clothing and accessories with faux fur – in response, I believe, to all the testosterone in our house. Soccer continues to be her passion: she has earned spots on both the All-Stars team and on a travel Tournament team for the coming spring – big accomplishments for this age group in our city. She very much enjoyed our family vacation to Texas – girl time with cousin Lizzy was a big highlight for her, as were the Texas shaped waffles at an Austin hotel buffet.

Edwin is seven! And loves 1st grade! And recess! And Tae Kwon Do! Especially on dodge ball days! Yes, he’s *that* excited...about everything. He continues to prance, run and jump through life with gusto. He really loves school and is working at becoming a better reader – currently, his favorite word is “awkward” and uses it (too) frequently. He continues to attend speech class, but has finally mastered the “S” sound: on to the letter “R!” He joined a Cub Scout den this fall and is an official “Tiger Cub”. He would be perfectly happy getting into uniform every week and showing up just to salute and have snack. He loves to play outside with his buddy Alexander – the more complicated the game, the better. Many obstacle courses pop up during the week. This is done while dodging the basketball/football games played by the big boys on the street – games which Edwin and Alex, to their dismay, are rarely allowed into. Roller blades, Legos, Sponge Bob, and the Bop-It are some of his favorite things. He had a great time on our family vacation this summer back east: 2000 miles from Chicago to Boston and back. He had a blast with cousin Henry in South Bend and during the Danahy family reunion. He perfected his Boston accent on Cape Cod with his introduction to “Chowdah” and “Lobstah.” I think he'll always be welcomed at Aunt Anne's house, as long as he brings the accent!

Brian got to spend some vacation time on the Notre Dame campus again this summer, where we were joined by many members of the Danahy family in Carroll Hall. He especially enjoyed the rain that started in South Bend and followed us throughout our entire vacation. The kids and I were less thrilled. He spent some time on the sidelines of Julia’s soccer games as Assistant Coach and sideline referee when he wasn’t overseas “enjoying” 4 hour European dinners every other week this fall. He continues to bike on the weekends with the kids to the mall and dreams of expanding the house. I dream of the easier expansion version: start kicking kids out – the house will seem much larger and we avoid the whole dust/demolition thing.

In March, I started Tae Kwon Do classes myself. It kind of stuck, and I will be testing for my green belt with the boys this week. I admit to not enjoying the sparring portion of the sport, but having the opportunity to legally kick your teenaged son is somewhat of a bonus. I keep busy volunteering for the schools: I can papier-mache like a pro now, thanks to many 1st grade projects and chaperoning junior high dances remains a terrifying task. I continue to exercise and run when my body doesn’t fail me. Some 2009 highlights include: purchasing real cowboy boots in Texas , taking outdoor showers on Cape Cod this summer, falling in love with Boston and having kid-free days for the first time in 15 years. My friends and I still use coffee (although most of them have switched to decaf. Traitors.) to get through the highs and lows of daily life. As I enter this mid-life (but not 40! yet!) phase of my life, I’m grateful for good family, good friends, good coffee and Miley Cyrus – it’s all about The Climb, people.

Boo

The mornings around here resemble a split personality. They start off very quietly (and darkly, thanks to daylight savings time for a few more days) and then manifest to full blown chaos in a sudden, blink of an eye, transformation.

Today was no exception. Well maybe a *bit* of an exception as it's the day before Halloween AND Edwin's birthday. On the days that I don't crawl (slowly) out of bed to go to the gym for spin class, I take advantage of a little lie-in and usually shout wake up calls to the various kids. It goes something like: Wake-up (smiley face) "OK mom" I hear from Julia. Colin is, of course, already awake in the kitchen reading the sports section - so he just grunts so I can hear him. Wake Up! (a little louder) then WAKE UP!!!! AIDAN GET OUT OF BED. Mumblings are then heard from that area of the house. This is quickly followed by EDWIN!!! Get DRESSED!!! Then the bickering starts. And yes, Aidan starts it all. NO TALKING!!!! I shout. (I have had a "No talking" policy for many years now. Say what you will, but the less talking = the less whining/fighting/complaining I have to listen too. They are, of course, allowed to talk *to me* - but only after I've had a coffee.)

But today was different. Today they were all excitedly up. Today is some kind of "dress up" day at each respective school. Dressing up is a rite of childhood. One that should (and is) enjoyed and looked forward to with as much anticipation as Christmas eve. So much so that dressing up now needs more parameters. The high school principal sent out a message earlier this week urging parents:

*PLEASE* make sure the teens were dressed appropriately for the Halloween dress up day on Friday. Yes, students may come dressed up, but please leave the "sexy ________ (nurse/pirate/cop/doctor/fairy/princess)" outfits at home. Students violating dress code will be loaned clothing or will need clothes brought to them by parents.

Obviously, this has been an issue in the past. And given the state of what they wear on a daily basis - I can only imagine the costumes. So Colin is dressed up like a Yankee player (Posada. I know this because I ironed on those letters last night in between making birthday goodie bags and decorating the puppet for the first grade project, all while getting myself dressed for Taekwondo) He looks great. What doesn't look so hot are the Addidas warm up pants that now say "New York Yankees" written messily down the legs in white out. Sigh. Oh well, points for him for wanting to be completely decked out.

Aidan didn't go for the costume but instead got up EARLY AND ON HIS OWN to paint his face ghoulishly white and black. The theme for his school is "dress up for 'Say No To Drugs Week'" Seriously? What kind of no fun dress up day is *that*??? He worked hard and is artistic (mom crows proudly) so the face turns out great. He's just wearing a black shirt and shorts - no costume needed for him. What is needed is a minor adjustment to the make-up, because when he comes out to the kitchen (after many LOUD requests to GET IN THE CAR NOW!!!) he is sporting a bloodied bullet-hole in his forehead drawn with the carefully applied face paint. AIDAN!!!! GO TAKE THAT OFF RIGHT NOW!! "Why???????? Ugh!!!!!!!!!" He stomps off. HURRY UP!!!! I shout.

Meanwhile, I'm making an egg (his favorite - fried with salt and pepper please) for the birthday boy who himself is dressed up for "Clash" day. (No, sadly, *not* the band - but how cool would those costumes have been?) "Clash" day is miss-matched day and Edwin did his plaid/stripe/color combos very well. He definitely clashes, and takes delight in it. The other thing he delights in? His birthday. He must have mentioned it about 15 times yesterday in class his teacher told me after school. Yep, that happens when you are 7. I will be bringing him a very specific lunch to school as a special birthday treat (he has placed his order with me every day since I brought Julia *her* birthday lunch 16 days ago....) He will be bring goodie bags for his classmates today because it's now against the "law" to bring food to celebrate birthdays at public schools. Some teachers turn a blind eye. Others don't. We settled for donating a book to the class library and pencil/eyeball bouncy ball goodie bags. Because nothing says 7 year old boy more than an eyeball bouncy ball.

Now we are in the car - heading toward the school drop off route. Colin first. Then Aidan sans bullet hole: "Aidan, there is a one word reason why you can't go to school with a bullet hole in your head. Do you know what that word is????"

"Columbine." he mutters. He's miffed about ruining the artistic rendition on his forehead, but (Thank God) he gets why it's inappropriate.

Finally off the to elementary school where Ed is chomping at the bit to get out and start his birthday at school. Julia is decked out wildly for clash day: neon green and black striped tights; brown boots; purple and grey plaid SHORT skirt; tye-died t-shirt; polka dotted sweatshirt and pink polka-dotted head band (after *much* deliberation, the hair is left down today) She watches Edwin leave the car and then horrifically asks me,
"Mom, are you SURE it's 'Clash' day???" With the jackets that kids are wearing as we watch them walk up the hill, we don't see anyone else dressed up. Uh-oh. "Let me call the office right now and check, Julia" I answer her. I call. I check. It IS "Clash" day.
"Yes, Julia it is." I reassure her. "But MOM, NO ONE ELSE IS DRESSED UP!!!" she cries. As in, she's crying now. Hysterically. And won't get out of the car.
As much as I know that there will be some kids at school dressed up, I realize how Julia will feel if she's one of the few. (Part of this dilemma stems from "Clash" day being announced just the day before in the parent bulletin that goes home. It wasn't mentioned around school: no posters, signs, announcements were made. And not many parents actually read the bulletin that may or may not make it out of the child's backpack...) So I call my friend Lori over to the car as she's walking by and we ask her opinion of what to do. "Go home" she says. "Let her change." Yeah, that was my gut too. So we pull an illegal U-turn in the school zone, almost get hit by another car zooming down the hill, and speed home for Julia to get normal clothes. Changed and back in the car, we zoom back up the hill and she gets out - visibly relieved. I make her take the "Clash" clothes in her backpack so she can change back later "just in case." I hope she does. Dress-up at school is part of being a kid.

And that was the full blown morning end to the chaos that is Ed's birthday/Day before Halloween. All before 8 AM. Boo.

"Hey guys! You forgot me!" Chapter 3

We had a lovely day at Notre Dame. The campus is host to many conferences and sports' camps in addition to the alumni family hall (where we are staying) during the summer, so there is no shortage of people on campus. There are curiously few people here in our alumni hall - but maybe I'm wrong about that. The walls of the rooms are so thick, that it's hard to tell how many people are actually roaming the halls. This is one of the few pluses of the dorm.



We were able to partake of a few Notre Dame highlights today. One being the dining hall. All you can eat menu is particularly helpful when travelling with teenaged boys. My stomach literally hurt watching Colin eat the enormous amount of food on his plate; but not as much as watching the athlete at dinner. I have never seen that amount of food consumed by one person at a sitting. His small side dish was 6 hard boiled eggs.



We had a mellow day - riding bikes and going for a jog around the lake. We even went for a swim at "The Rock" (athletic center named for Knute Rockne). When we returned to the dorms to get ready for dinner, we met up with a family with 3 small kids (dad with child in one arm, porta-potty seat in the other) and as they hadn't checked in yet, we let them in to the dorm - after trying several doors - with our key. We continued up to our 3rd floor rooms. We were here about 10 minutes when Brian went to retrieve something from the kids' room. He returned shaking his head. "What happened?" I asked. He explained that while in the kids' room he heard this little voice shouting, "Hey guys! Up there! Let me in! You forgot me!'



It was Ed. Outside the building. In our haste to help the new family check into the dorm, we forgot one of our kids outside. Thankfully, Ed was content to play on the volleyball court for awhile until he decided he wanted in.



Grandparents arrived this evening - and god bless them - are roughing it in the dorms with us. The kids are super excited to see them. Colin, especially, since he knows that Papa will willingly visit the College Football Hall of Fame with him. Edwin and Julia are happy because they have their collective eyes on a 12"x18" package of Rice Crispie Treat in the student center. They tried to get me to buy it for them. I told them to wait and ask Papa.



We might kick the big boys out again tomorrow to roam the campus. Today, we gave them some money and the directive of not to return for 2 hours. It was great.