The New Normal: Day 1

Hello, is this thing on? Are blogs even A Thing anymore? Who knows. I still read Amy and Kim so I know they aren't officially dead...Yet.

So why today to dial up again? Well, life has taken a turn for the weird and somewhat unpleasant and I think perhaps this may be a good outlet for me. It's that or hard drugs, and since I have a kid home with me 24/7, the hard stuff isn't an option.

Yep, Fred now spends all of his time with me. He was essentially thrown out of school, but in the nicest way possible. For the near future, I am his end all be all. I was already most of the things, but now I get to be his teacher as well! Hopefully soon the school will be providing me with some curriculum, but until then my printer is pumping out worksheets by the dozen. At some point (hopefully this week but maybe next) we will meet with some therapeutic elementary school people and decide if that's a good place for him to land. Otherwise the next option is homeschooling with intensive outpatient therapy. In both cases, it's until he's deemed 'well enough' to return to a conventional classroom.

Why, you ask?

MENTAL ILLNESS

Yeah. It sucks enough for adults. Now multiply that amount of suck by at least 459,377,590 and we may possibly hit the range of suckitude when dealing with a mentally ill child. We don't have a definitive diagnosis because he's only 8, and most of the things he seems to be leaning towards are difficult to diagnose in children. Mood disorders and the like. He's awesome for a month, impulsive and violent for a month. Happy. Then not. And he's sizable for a boy of 8, so his impulsive behaviors are leading to more and more significant consequences. Sooooooo NO MORE (regular) SCHOOL FOR FRED.

Help?

Re-Entry FAILED

We were on vacation last week, and nothing is going well this week. We had a wart removal, and an oozing ear hole, and a crazy camp schedule, and an over grown garden. Maybe next week will be better...

The One Where Everybody Died

Last week was rough.

On Saturday, a relative of SOB's died from complications of a brain aneurysm. He was young, and it was sudden. Sam had just golfed in his first family golf tournament, and we were out celebrating with all of the men in my family when I got the call from SOB's sister. We quickly head home, but decided to wait and tell the kids later, since we had my big family reunion the next day and didn't want to dampen their moods.

The next afternoon we headed to the picnic, and when we got home we explained to the older kids what had happened. They were upset, but since they didn't know the deceased too well (he lived on the west coast, so we only saw him once or twice a year) they didn't take it too badly.

Around 9pm that night, the phone rang.

My grandfather, who has been on hospice care since my grandmother passed away in September of 2012, died during the evening. He had been doing pretty well for a while, but took a turn for the worse early last week. All of his sons were in town for the family reunion, so he got a chance to see them all, and he even managed to hang on until after the family picnic was over. We were all impressed.

When the kids woke up on Monday and I had to tell them that Grandpap D. died, only 12 hours after telling them about SOB's relative, it didn't go over so well. Sam was particularly upset, and Maggie just kept asking who was going to die next. We took the kids to the funeral home for the viewing on Tuesday, and they got to say their goodbyes. For the past 20 years he's been nearly deaf, so the kids always shouted when they spoke to him. It took a lot of reminders for them to keep from shouting at his body in the casket. Lucy, of course, had to touch him and tell everyone how cold he was. Sam cried a lot.

His history has some dark spots, as most do, but he was still my grandfather, my childrens' great-grandfather. It seemed that his kindness increased with each new generation of children. 

On my last birthday, he gave me a card and he drew a picture of himself on the front. When I was little he used to take out his partial dentures out to entertain me, and he drew his smile with missing teeth. I put it with the last card I got from my grandma. 

So far, this week has been better. Nobody has died. Let's hope it stays that way. 

Wrapping Up

It's that time of year again when all things are coming to an end. Tomorrow is Fred's last day of toddler class, and Maggie is finished in a week. (Side note: Sam and Lucy have to go until June 13th and they are PISSED about this.) Hockey is finished except for tryouts on Sunday morning, and music class and ice skating classes are coming to an end as well.

Maggie will mostly miss the playground and her music teacher

Lucy passed her level 2 ice skating test and declared herself ready for the olympics

Throughout the courses of these lessons and classes I have met some very nice people, and I was thinking about how to continue seeing them occasionally with them without being too weird. Because I only know them as Emily's Mom or Thalia's Mom, but they seem cool, so I want to try and maintain some sort of connection, but not come on too strong, you know? Mom dating. Luckily I have experience with these sorts of things! Some of my very best friendships were the direct result of stalking other moms who seemed fun. I gave out my number three times in the past few days, and scheduled one playground playdate, so hopefully by the fall I will have widened my circle a little more! 

Urban Farm Living

It isn't even May yet and already my garden is eating up most of my free time! Last year was great, but this year we decided to expand operations a little more. I was cramped, needing more beds in the plot, and more space to walk around. Last year we had six 4x4 foot beds and one 1.5x10 foot row. This year we've almost doubled that. And we added a chicken coop. Because we weren't crazy enough with our giant front yard garden.

These are some of our silkies. We currently have more chickens than we will ultimately want, but since we got them unsexed, we bought extra. We are only keeping ladies, and probably only about 5 of them. But there are more than that right now, so, yeah, we're going to be eating some really fresh chicken dinners some time this summer. 

These are some of the second run of chicks we got to replace the fellas from the first run. Plus, somehow we ended up with all one breed in the first run, even though they were supposed to be assorted. The second run has three different breeds, so we will have a little more variety.

Speaking of variety, the vegetable varieties have increased dramatically this year. Since we'll have more room, I let each kid pick something new to try and grow. Sam chose brussel sprouts, Lucy chose purple cauliflower, Maggs chose watermelon, and Fred chose peppers. We already grow those, but he didn't really understand that. Plus we have five tomato varieties, tomatillos, lettuce, spinach, cucumbers, corn, zucchini, pumpkins, two hot pepper varieties, two sweet pepper varieties, and blueberries. I saved seeds from all of last year's tomatoes, and luckily everything sprouted! If everything goes well, we should be getting fresh eggs sometime in August. It should make for a tasty summer! 

Mother Hen

Over the weekend, I quelled my urge to have another baby by picking up eight adorable baby chicks. 

We have been planning all year to get chickens, and the stars aligned on Saturday morning. Right now they are residing in a kiddie pool in our garage, under some heat lamps, nesting comfortably in our old shredded documents. There is a coop to be built, but they won't be big enough for outdoor living for 4-5 weeks, so we have time. The county ordinance states that we can have 5 hens and no roosters, but we got unsexed chicks so I bought some extra to hedge our bets. Plus, we already have one babe who looks like he/she might not make it. The kids are standing vigil, but have already started planning where to bury him/her. (Edited to add: he/she didn't. Super sad face.) 

They are so cute and fluffy, it's hard not to get a little attached. Fred has even been singing them lullabies! You go ahead and try not to get a little misty watching this! 

I had to cut off the cuteness because the furnace kicked on, and since I was sitting nearby, it drowned out all of the extra cute names Fred had given the chicks.

Yes, I have to check their butts to make sure they aren't clogged up, and yes, we may have to deal with an unpleasant situation if and when some turn out to be roosters, but still? I heart them.

State of Emotions

My firstborn takes after his mother in many ways. Obviously, he gets his charm, intelligence and good looks from me, but he has also inherited a flair for being overly emotional.

On Sunday afternoon I was upstairs working, and when I came down to check on the score of the hockey game Sam was watching, I found him sobbing on the couch. I asked what was wrong, and he couldn't even answer he was crying so hard. He pointed emphatically at the television and I panicked, thinking that maybe there had been some tragic news story that interrupted the game. Nope, he was simply crying because the Penguins lost to the Flyers (two days in a row) and he was despondent. 

He is also prone to hyperbole. For example, each and every day is either the worst day ever or the best day ever. If he gets into trouble at school, he'll call himself the stupidest boy in the world, and if he scores a goal at hockey it's because he's the best player on his team.

Lately, piano has been vexing him. For the first two months they were playing simple pieces with the right and left hands playing the same thing. He's flying through his lessons (musical talent runs on my side of the family, by the way) and has started working on a piece where his left hand is playing something entirely different from his right hand. This is incredibly frustrating to him, and when he is in his lesson his teacher will hold onto some tissues so that she can catch the tears dripping off of his nose before they hit the keys. And while he claims to hate piano more than anything in the world, he'll often sit himself down and start playing without any prompting from me, so I know he can't hate it too much. 

He finally got his hands working together but independently. I was so proud of him, and he was so proud of himself. I want to share this because I'm hoping, like the skating videos, that one day we'll have a fun little chronological order series of his talent developing. 

Lightly Row

My Two Sons

This is Fred crying because we took him out in the snow. As he requested. 

My boys, my lovely little fellas, have been being a humongous pain in the neck these past few weeks. I've avoided writing about because I was hoping it was a short phase brought on by the inconsistent school schedules and horrible weather we've been having. That may very well be true, but because of some damn groundhog we're looking at another six weeks of this shit, so I'm assuming the bad behavior isn't going away any time soon.

Fred. Oh my sweet little baby Fred. I was the last one to know about this shift in your behavior. You saved up all of your smiles and cuddles for your mama. Unfortunately you ran out sometime in the middle of last week, and now all I get is screaming and poking and hitting and spitting. And the whining, my god the whining. The only thing in life that you desire is a "blaster toy", which you will point at someone and scream FREEZE RAY! Thank you Star Wars and Despicable Me. Mostly, people don't like gun-type things pointed at their faces, and this particular blaster toy makes a sound that would drive even the most patient person insane. So we hide it from you. But usually you find it, and since we're smart enough to hide it up high, you just sit on the floor under said "blaster toy" and wail. "Fred, stop crying." "BUT I WANT A BLASTER TOY!" "Fred, come eat dinner." "BUT I WANT A BLASTER TOY!" "Here, have a cupcake instead." "BUT I WANT A BLASTER TOY!" If it wasn't Sam's effing blaster toy, we would have thrown it away weeks ago.

Speaking of Sam, guess who's grounded until he's 42? He's developed the attitude of a teenager, combined with the anger management issues of a DMV employee, and the impulse control of a toddler, with a touch of hormonal pregnant lady peppered in there, just for laughs. He's been alternately weepy (over NOTHING) then shove-y, then mouthy, and then punchy. Mostly with us at home, but I've seen it happen after school and at hockey. He actually got kicked out of practice on Monday (by me) for being way to rough with his team mates and giving me enough lip to last a lifetime. The hilarious thing about this is that he's practically been an angel during school, and his piano teacher sent me a long email last week about how lovely he is (and Lucy, too). I'm worried because he doesn't seem to pick up on social cues, and so he'll be goofing around with a friend, things will get a little too rough, and Sam, who is a giant among second graders, can't seem to stop himself. Even after calling his name 3 or 4 times, he doesn't stop what he's doing, and I usually have to intervene physically. If he's with his friends or team mates, it doesn't come off as malicious, just annoying. Lucy, on the other hand, he seems intent on killing.

We're going on vacation in a few weeks, and we're going to be spending a lot of quality time together, including TWO 16 hour car rides. I hope we all make it back with our sanity (and limbs) intact. 

Randomized

This week has been unusual, which is actually not that unusual if you live on the eastern side of this country. The amount of school the kids are missing is getting a bit ridiculous, and not just for us moms out there. They are getting a wee bit nutty as well. Sam, who has never ever tried to change a diaper before, decided to try and get Fred ready for bed the other night and accidentally zippered Freddie's penis into his footie pajamas. It was only a flesh wound, and Dr. Dad was home, so no trips to the emergency room for this case. Maggie has a great big bruise on her forehead (just in time for pre-school picture day, YAY!) because Fred has become fond of throwing and hitting and kicking and spitting at just about anyone. The instant you put him in timeout, however, he starts wailing about how he just wants to be nice to someone! Please! Let me be nice to someone! Lucy had a total meltdown because we listened to her favorite song on youtube (from Frozen, just like every other 6 year old girl int he world) and I inadvertently selected a different version of the SAME EXACT SONG. But to her very delicate ears, it wasn't acceptable, and she loudly screamed that she couldn't live in this world anymore. SOB is working at a new job with a new schedule, too. So everything boils down to THIS WEEK WAS CRAY.

We're going to Florida in a few weeks, and I for one am counting the days.

Kids Who Play Hockey Have Parents Who Play Hockey

When I was a kid I was at the ice rink several days a week. My mom worked there, so we went along with her most of the time. I skated each weekend, sometimes at multiple sessions. I met one of my very best friends there when I was 11, and we still keep in touch today. Once I went to college, though, I hung up my skates. Not intentionally, but just because other things got in the way. I don't even think I took skates with me when I moved to Philly. The first time I skated after that was on Sam's third birthday, and it was shaky. Once we moved to Morgantown, I began skating more often with Lucy at her 'hockey' practice and now I'm skating several times a week with Sam's team. Add in the occasional public session with the kids, and I'm feeling pretty good about my skating ability.

My hockey ability? Now that's another story. When I'm at practice with Sam and we have to demonstrate something, I usually hang back. The other coaches on our team (we have SIX) all played or currently play hockey, so I've never been confident enough to step up. I mean, I think I can do most of the maneuvers we do in practice, but do I really want to try them out for the first time in front of a bunch of kids who think I know what I'm doing? Nope. No thanks! Not today.

What to do, then? Luckily, the answer was revealed to me in an email from our local rec center. A women's hockey clinic, for all skill levels, running for eight weeks. I ran out, bought myself a purple practice jersey (of course) and didn't sleep for days, I was so anxious. I got there extra early on my first day (of course) and began suiting up. I had put on all of my equipment the night before just to try it out. I've been dressing Sam for three years, but never myself! It was a little weird moving around in all of those pads, but I managed to get my skates on and get onto the ice without any major pratfalls.

After a few laps, I was feeling good! It was definitely weird skating with all of this stuff on, but I was glad to have it when I did a major belly flop during our scrimmage. We did some skating drills and some stick work, which was what I was the most anxious about. I yap at Sam that he should always volunteer to go first during drills, and since I didn't want to be a hypocrite, I got right in line behind the coach when he started working with pucks. And I lost that damn puck every time I had to make a turn, with all of the other ladies watching. But by then I was having so much fun I didn't care!

The next week I recruited a friend to come, too, so it was even more fun! I skated my butt off, and I felt it later on, but after only a few weeks I'm feeling a lot more comfortable playing hockey. So next week I'm joining the actual league that plays actual games. Crazy, I know, but I think I kind of love it!

--

Speaking of hockey games, our team came in second place in our last tournament, and Sam got his very first trophy. He was so, so excited! Go Hornets!

Ice, Ice, Baby

We had the most lovely late summer weekend last week. Warm and sunny days without a cloud in the sky. The perfect time for hockey to begin! Sam had his first three practices Saturday, Sunday and Monday. Nothing like starting off with a bang. And I had my first three practices as an assistant coach. 

I cannot tell a lie. I was so nervous I almost peed my pants. When I was an assistant coach back in WV, I was working with 4 and 5 year old kids who were mostly just starting out. And the organization was very relaxed. Basically, anyone with skates and a helmet could come out and be an on ice babysitter assistant coach. 

Up here in Pee-Ay things are a little more intense. There are teams all over the place, with each organization having at least one elite team that usually contains the son or daughter of a famous local hockey player. You have to try out to make even the lowest level team. And many of the coaches played hockey in college and some still play in adult leagues. And then there's me. Former figure skater, hockey fan and mother. I have skates, a pink helmet, and a pair of gloves only because of the big bag of gear our nephew donated to Sammy. He's 10, and his hands are as big as mine. Thanks Jack! 

I actually know how to skate pretty well, and know a thing or two about the game of hockey, but damn if I wasn't shaking like a leaf. Lukcily we got there a little early on the first day and I got to go out and skate a few laps at the tail end of the public session before the practice began. Good thing, too, because my right leg was litterally trembling. The pre-practice coaches meeting had been cancelled, so I hadn't really met anyone. And the one guy I did know didn't remember/recognize me with my helmet on, so I had to do that awkward thing where I reminded him who I was and of the (several) times he's come to our house so his kid could play with my kid. Good times. For some reason I wasn't yet on the coaches email distribution list, so I didn't have the practice plans and I was just sort of floundering, surrounded by about 60 little boys and a few girls hell bent on running me over.

I almost quit then and there.

When I got home I wanted to cry, I was so disappointed in myself. Luckily, I have an awesome husband who came to watch us, and he reassured me that I looked just as qualified to be out there as almost everyone else. (There was at least one guy a little more qualified than me.)

I went back the next day things were a little easier since it was only 25 kids instead of 60, and I got to know the other coaches on our team better. Finally, last night was another big group pratice and I really felt good about it. I had fun, Sam is having fun with me being his coach, and he seems to be listening and doing well. I think the other guys realize that I'm serious about being there and not just some clingy mommy who wants to be with her baby all the time. 

Well, I do want to spend time with my boy, but if we can spend time together playing hockey, well, that's even better, right? It sure beats sitting in the stands with my toes freezing off! 

Tangled Up In Indigo

My grandmother has dementia. She has had it for a while, but things have gotten worse lately. She has no recollection of my kids, even after spending the day with them. She thinks her long deceased parents are still alive, and when she is away from home for a while she starts to worry if her dad knows where she is. To make matters worse, she has breast cancer. My aunt has to take her to treatment and since she never remembers that she has cancer, it's a constant battle that no body wins.

A long time ago, when I was a little girl, my mother's grandmother had dementia. She found this poem and it brought her a lot of solace. With my other grandmother's death still fresh on my heart, I've been feeling like I need some solace as well. So I decided to do this:

It's a daily, visual reminder to try and hold onto those happy moments, with her and with everyone. To remind me to have fun with my kids. To kiss my husband goodnight each and every day. To not wait until I'm old and gray to do things I should be doing now. Like dyeing my hair purple.

Sleep Is For the ME! GIVE IT BACK!

This summer has been wreaking havoc on my sleep patterns. We've had camp after camp after camp, and so our schedule has never once been consistent. One freaking time I mixed up the am/pm on my alarm and my oversleeping anxiety went into overdrive, and despite years of behavior modification therapy I still can't turn it off.

In the past I always had trouble with falling asleep, which I now have under control. A mean combo of melatonin plus counting backwards by threes from a number higher than 1000 does the trick most nights. Now, though, I've been waking up around 2 or 3 in the morning and not being able to get back to sleep. Just tossing, itching, crying. I do all of the things I'm supposed to do, don't go to bed until I'm sleepy, avoid caffeine in the afternoon, etc. but to no avail. Inevitably I usually fall back asleep so that when my alarm goes off I'm in the deepest sleep possible, and then end up a zombie space cadet all day.

Zombie Space Cadet was the name of my band in college.*

I used to be able to nap to get myself back on track a little bit, but now even that won't work for me. I lay in bed hearing an imaginary clock ticking away the minutes that I'm not sleeping and end up giving up before I've hit the 30 minute mark. It's very frustrating, especially considering how much I used to love a good nap. Now we're enemies, naps and me.

So it's time to change things up. I'm not looking to take any other medications of supplements, so I'm going to start gradually weaning off of caffeine, and I'm going to avoid alcohol as much as possible. School starts in about a month, and I want to nip this shit in the bud before then.

So if you call or text me after 7:30pm and I don't answer, assume I'm in bed.

*False. I was never in a band. Feel free to use the name, though!

Suburban Peep Show

When you are a homeowner, your to-do list is always three pages long. Some items are major, like gut and remodel bathrooms and basement,  and some are relatively minor, like weed the front mulch beds. Plus, you have your standard daily tasks. Most days I usually end up vacuuming something, and unless it rains I water my garden.

It was while I was watering my garden the other day that I was all of a sudden motivated to tackle a task I've been avoiding for quite some time. We have a rather invasive outcropping of a woody-weed-like thing that I can't quite identify. It might be box elder. It might be green ash. It might be whothefuckcares. But it's been coming up around our yard all spring and summer and needed to be dealt with, finally. I have a magically powerful pair of pruning shears, so I got my work gloves, my magic shears and got down to business.

The first few were easy. They were isolated and small, and with one swift snip they were no more. A few were harder to get at, growing within a bed of flowers or shrubs. And finally, there was the Big One. We noticed this one growing all the way back in March or April, and by this point it was as tall as I was, but three times as wide. Getting at it was a little more than I had bargained for, and there were moments I thought I was going to fail. Or get some serious poison ivy. But with determination and stamina, I managed to get the effing thing cut down.

As I was catching my breath, I needed to wipe the sweat from my brow. I reached down for my shirt and realized that, in my haste, I had completed this task in my bathing suit and cover up, which basically looks like a strapless black mini-dress. I was bending over and pulling at tree branches with all of my sweaty might on a very heavily trafficked road in next to nothing. So to the brave souls who traversed route 19 on Wednesday July 17, to you I say I'm sorry. Or your welcome, if that's the sort of thing you are into.

--

To cleanse the palate, here is an adorable photo of Fred with C-3P0, or as Fred calls him, Star Wars.

Boy on Safari

Last weekend we went to Philadelphia, and we left Sam there. With his aunt, not alone on the streets or anything. It's been crazy weird not having him around this week, but I'm pretty sure he'd stay there forever if we'd let him. In his absence, the girls are getting along pretty well, and I'd estimate that the fighting is down at least 73% this week. Big brother is apparently also a big instigator.

In addition to making our house quieter, this week has been really good for him. He had a lot of trouble adjusting when his aunt had a baby, but now that his little cousin is older things are evening out. He can interact more with her, and being 7 years old, he can also be a big help to his beloved Yani. For example, he pushed the cart at the grocery store when the baby was fussing and she had to be carried. Uncle is out of town for the week, so Sam has had to be the man of the house, and he loves all of the responsibility and attention.

Sam and Lucy as the bread in an adorable baby sandwich

They've been galavanting all over, going on nature walks and playground, getting ice cream, going to dinner, and visiting places like the Please Touch Museum. Sam is my only kid who really remembers living in Philly, so it awesome that Yani is taking him to do the things that he remembers fondly. He's coming home tomorrow, and luckily Yani and the baby are staying here for one night. I think that will be good for easing back into home life. If you're a long time reader, you know that transitions are a little rough for these kids of mine. 

Plus it gives me a little extra baby snuggle time, which I need otherwise I might go and do something stupid like get pregnant again. 

The Situation With the Pool is Coming Along Swimmingly

Well, my anxiety about the pool is slightly dissipating, and I'm finding myself occasionally enjoying having a swimming pool! This week.

Since Sam is still in school, I've been able to manage swim time without too much drama. I take the girls swimming in the afternoon while Fred is napping and Sam is at school. Then once Sam gets home, our babysitter arrives and I take the boys in the pool while she plays with the girls. Fred only stays in for a bit, and then I hand him off and spend a little more time with Sam. Fred is a delusional little boy who literally thinks he can walk on water, but I'm hoping that he'll learn soon enough the truth about that. Without drowning, that is.

The thing is, I don't really know what in the hell I'm going to do next week once school is out for Sam. Anyone want to volunteer to come over and help?

The Great Bed Swap of 2013

All four of my children have used the same crib. Sam started sleeping in it when he was four months old, and continued until we moved to Philly when Lucy was born. She was the first to have an actual nursery with decor and paint colors to match, seen here. She stayed in there for a long while, until we moved her out to get ready for Maggie. Maggie slept in there until a few months after Fred was born, and there he's stayed. Until now.

On Friday morning I was getting the girls dressed for the day, when all of a sudden their doorway was filled with Freddie. 'I wake up!' he exclaimed. Then he said, 'I hurt my belly!' and sure enough, his little tummy was all red from where he had hoisted himself (headfirst, I might add) over the crib rail. First I made sure he was ok, and then I sent SOB a text to inform him that we would be bed shopping that very night. Interestingly enough, later in the day when it was nap time, he got up to his room a few steps ahead of me, and somehow managed to climb back into the crib as well. I was flummoxed, and so I removed him to the floor and asked him to show me how he had gotten into his bed. He could not/would not show me. I'm pretty convinced that a ghost lifted him in there.

So that evening we took them to Ikea, the bastion of cheap, impulsive furniture buying, and tried to pick out a new bed for him. But we couldn't really find one we liked. We had planned on buying the same bed we had for the girls, because all of the other furniture already matched it, but they don't sell it anymore. So then we started thinking, maybe we ought to get the girls new beds and let Freddie have one of theirs. I've been thinking that bunk beds might work well in their room, because of its dimensions. It's long and narrow, so to maximize space I thought bunk beds along the long wall would work well. SOB didn't like most of them because they were too high. You see, my girls have the habit of jumping around like monkeys, so we decided on this one where the bottom bunk is actually on the floor.

Now they have so much more room to play in there, and they seem to enjoy the sleeping, too. Twice now Lucy has pushed Maggie off of the ladder as she attempted to climb to the top bunk, but we're working on that.

So then there's this: 

The sleeping is only going so-so, but he loves it. Me? I get a little weepy every time I walk in there. We disassembled the crib, and I totally reorganized our tiny attic so that we could store it up there. I'm never getting rid of that crib until I have a grand baby who needs a place to lay their sleepy head. That's reasonable, right?

Choke

These past two days were a wonderful time, and our weekend was pretty much perfect, thanks to friends, family and little kids dancing around with pink teddy bears. However, there was one little blip that made things just a tad shy of absolute perfection: Sam's hockey tryouts. 

Sam is seven years old. He's never had to actually try out for anything before. And apparently we didn't  do a very good job of explaining to him that it was basically going to be just like a practice session. On Saturday morning, he was limping. 'I don't think I should go to tryouts, mom. My foot hurts.' I sent him to see Dr. Dad, and he wasn't entirely sure Sam was faking it, but wasn't entirely sure if he was hurt, either. Since he had been fine and dandy until just that morning we decided to go.

As soon as we arrived, he asked why so many kids were there. All along he had been thinking that he was going to have to go out there and skate all alone, and I think he seemed relieved when he realized that were going to be 25 other kids out there with him. But as soon as he relaxed a little, this guy walked in.

So I guess Pascal Dupuis lives in our town, and I guess his kid/kids play hockey. Sam was nervous once again. He looked around for some of his friends who play hockey here (which is why he wants to) but couldn't find them. 

They got out on the ice and he seemed to be calming down, but as soon as the actual drills began, I knew he wasn't really going to give it his all. The very first kid in his group to do the drill was awesome, and Sam has this really annoying habit of not wanting to do something if he can't be the best at it. His skating was lazy and he did seem to be weirdly not using his one foot. The he fell, and it was pretty much downhill from there.

Will he get on a team? Probably. I don't think they turn too many kids away, and even if they do there were some younger ones who would likely get cut before him. But I honestly can't say for sure. And if he doesn't it's going to be a bad, sad scene. For all of us. Keep your fingers crossed!

I Wish My Life Were a Fairy Tale...

We have had some big challenges this week, but yesterday Sam performed in his first grade spring concert about fairy tales. It was beyond awesome. So I'm just going to ignore everything else and watch this over and over again...

Buyer's Remorse

Last summer when we were house hunting, we looked at several homes with pools. As a child SOB had a big in-ground pool and thus was very interested in having one again as an adult. (Never mind the fact that he very nearly drowned once as a child, as in unconscious and needing to be revived very nearly drowned.) However, most of the homes with pools were vetoed almost instantly by yours truly. My thalassophobia extends a bit into generalized aquaphobia, not for me but for my children, (and if we're being honest here all of the children in the world). I wouldn't even consider a house with a pool if there was any continuity at all between the house and the pool. Door from the house to the pool area? VETO! Regular old non-child-proofed gate to the pool area? VETO! Only available yard playing area also inside pool area? VETO! Basically, I would only accept a house with a pool if the pool in question was separate from he house entirely, locked up like Fort Knox, and separated from the rest of a nice, usable yard.

Guess what? SOB managed to find a house that was pretty darn perfect for our family, plus it had a pool that met all of my requirements for safety, therefore making me the proud owner a pool. I haven't had too many issues with it so far. Since we moved into the house back in the fall, the pool was only opened for a few weeks and we only went it in once. Sam went in twice. Then we had the cover put on and I haven't thought about it much since then.

Until last week, when we made the appointment to have it opened up. In the next few days, the cover is going to come off and the backyard will be converted into a super fun family death trap! I know that my anxiety is a bit out of hand, however it's not completely unfounded. We recently added extra combination locks to the child safety locks on the fence, but I'm still being scared awake by nightmares of kids/people drowning in our pool. Plus I've already witnessed my oldest and another kid his age almost successfully scale the fence to retrieve a ball, so I now I have that on my brain.

Even just writing this is making me feel a little bit nauseous.

So any pool owners out there care to share some coping mechanisms with me? If not, I might just be tempted fill it in and make a basketball court.