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.