Holiday Chalkboards

Last year my friend Amber hosted the holiday luncheon for our school's teachers and staff at her beautiful home.  We had a really fun, creative committee and my friend Jenny of Bloom Designs (http://bloomdesignsonline.com) chose a fitting chalkboard theme for the party.  (Check out Jenny's website.  She's amazingly creative and inspired!)  Jenny brought me these cute vintage chalkboards for me to make our signs for the party.  To make the signs, I first typed up the words on the computer and messed around with the fonts until I found ones I liked.  This helps me with the layout, the different fonts and centering things.  It makes it a lot easier than just free-forming it.  I love doing things like this.  My grandfather was a sign maker by profession and, later in life, a calligrapher.  I felt like a piece of him was with me while I was making these signs.  And, even though they aren't perfect (his would have been!), I felt like he would have been proud.  

So in case you're already looking ahead to Christmas, here you are...

This one went above our coffee bar.

This one greeted our guests.

It wasn't.  It was in the 80's.  Not cold at all.

It was a joyous day, despite all sorts of debacles.  It turned out beautifully.

This one is my favorite.  It was displayed over the dessert table.

We've yet to decide the theme for this year's holiday party.  Maybe looking at these again will get me inspired!

Thanksgiving Placecards

Last year or maybe even (actually probably) the year before that we made these for Thanksgiving.  This is how super on time I am with putting stuff on the blog.  Super on time, like I am with everything.  Tomorrow is the Great Shake Out, where all schools in California practice a major earthquake, with after shocks, injuries, staff fatalities, etc.  Our school needs parent volunteers to come to school tomorrow after the "earthquake" and act hysterical, demand kids whose emergency forms they aren't on, leave their cars running in the middle of the street, etc.  Act like a hysterical parent?  Sign me up!  How fun!  What assignment do I get?  The parent who comes late.  Seriously.  That's not fun, that's real life.  I was typecast.  So unfair.

Anyway, I digress.  It's fall, so I thought I'd show these little cuties we made for Thanksgiving some year.  Who knows which one?

I got this idea from somewhere.  Certainly I'm not running on enough brain cells right now to think of something like this on my own.  Maybe we credit Martha Stewart just in case.

These were really simple.  We have tons of liquid amber trees in our town, which drop these little spiky balls.  We went on a walk and the kids collected tons of these.

Apparently we needed a ton because these babies do not like to sit up straight.  Lazy little bastards.  The rest of this is pretty easy.  I made little flags out of card stock.  I just free-formed them because I wanted them to each be a little different.  Then I punched a hole in each flag and wrote the names on each one.  I used a thin, orange grosgrain ribbon for the ties.  I cut them short enough to just tie them once.

The last step was to just tie each one around the little buggers that were the most agreeable.  The tying was a bit tricky.  I tied them mostly all the way and then slid them down the stem and tightened the knot.  This way I was able to get the names to stay right where I wanted it on the stem.  We laid/sat/rested them right on the plates on our Thanksgiving table.  And done!  Happy Thanksgiving!

Dodger Love

My beloved Dodgers are in the playoffs this year.  It's not looking good for them.  They are down three games to one and the Cardinals look good.  Real good.  My mom always told us we aren't allowed to pray for sports because "sports aren't that important."  And she's right; in the grand scheme of things, sports aren't important.  So why is it that all over Los Angeles right now people are lighting candles, saying prayers, wearing rally caps and lucky shoes and growing beards, all in the hope that the Dodgers will stay alive?  Why is it that a Dodger win feels so important?  Why are we so desperate to keep the season going?

Sports bring us together.  A large, diverse city like Los Angeles is united right now.  Everywhere I go I see Dodger shirts and blue everywhere.  Random strangers will ask each other the score when they hear a radio on or pass someone walking with earphones in.  People in bars hug people they've never met and cheer and talk and hug with people as if they have known each other their whole lives.  In sports stadiums, people of all races and ethnicities, religions and beliefs and socioeconomic status sit side by side.  (I'm not lying here... in Dodger stadium you can still get tickets as cheap as $5 a seat.  That's because we're awesome.)  I've heard that the only other place people are brought together like this is in church.  (And of course there probably most people aren't of different religions; just kind of by virtue of the fact that it's church.  Except for those really supportive spouses like my own.)

In our own family, sports, and particularly the Dodgers, are definitely bringing us together.  My mom and dad share season tickets with a few other couples.  They have four seats, so they bring other couples with them or they bring Jason or me or the kids.  The kids go a lot!  It's been a great way for the kids to bond with their grandparents.  All season long we talked about the games.  And it's not just with my immediate family.  If the Dodgers are playing the Phillies, I text my cousin in New Jersey and brag about how awesome the Dodgers are.  It keeps us connected.  Watching the Red Sox on TV reminds me of my grandpa (a lifelong Red Sox fan) and it reminds me to contact my cousins in Boston.    Right now we are dreaming of a Red Sox-Dodgers World Series.

Through the past couple weeks, our family has sent emails, phone calls and even texts.  My mom has only sent about four text messages in her life.  (Her first was sent from Target, where she brought Juliette to spend her $10 gift certificate.  The text?  "I'm in Barbie hell."  That has to be the best first text ever.  Ever.)  But last night, as she was sitting at the game with my dad, my mom was texting.  The last one read, "Getting desperate."  My brothers live in San Francisco and Italy.  And to be connected to them every day is rare.  To be connected to my brothers every day, sometimes several times a day, is amazing.  I feel bad for my sister-in-law in Italy who has to put up with my brother up at weird hours, his constant cussing and yelling and superstitions.  But for me, it's great to feel like we are all sharing something together.  I feel like we are on the same team, in the same room, like we were when we were kids.

So I am hoping, if not praying, for the Dodgers' season to keep going.  It may seem silly and unimportant, but sports keep us connected.  And that's important.  And maybe even worth a few prayers.

Halloween Mantle

It’s fall!  Well, at least my calendar tells me it is.  It’s sunny and beautiful outside, but it is over 90 degrees as I write this.  So not really feeling super fall-like here in Southern California.  All the same, Halloween is a few short weeks away and it was time to bust out the decorations.  I finally retired the rainbow wreath from the front door.  It’ll make a resurrection in the spring.  I’m hoping to make a new fall wreath for the front door, but for now there’s a thrift store “Happy Halloween” wreath.  

Here’s what our family room fireplace looks like right now:

(a little more close up)

I made the sign last year when I hosted a Stella & Dot trunk show in the weeks before Halloween.  Since Halloween is such an over-the-top holiday, I like to keep it pretty simple… the only additions are a ribbon on the vase stand, orange flowers (Trader Joe’s), fake pumpkins (thrift store), real pumpkins (Trader Joe's and the kids' Harvest Festival at their school and the sign.

The copper pot which holds the pumpkins resides permanently on this weird  totally unfunctional bench-thing next to our fireplace.  It's not a lid there that you can lift to store stuff and you can't sit on it without hitting your head.  It mostly serves as a hard place in which to bump your shin if you round the corner too tightly.  So when my friend gave me this antique copper washing basin and laundry stir-er I knew the perfect spot for it!  It is not entirely filled with pumpkins.  I cheated and loaded pillows in the bottom and filled the top with pumpkins.  I think it looks beautiful filled with pumpkins!

Sorry I don’t have pictures of me making the sign, but it was so simple.  First, I decided how big I wanted each piece of burlap to be.  To do this, I first had to measure my mantle and decide approximately how much of a dip I wanted the twine to make.  Our mantle is quite long, so our twine is cut to about 6 ½ feet long.  (Full disclosure, I’m a math tutor, but I don’t trust myself, so I actually cut the twine longer just in case.)  Then I had to divide the length of twine the amount of letters.  (78 inches divided by 14 equals 5.6.)  I decided on about 5 inches across to leave room for spaces and at either end for hanging.

Then, to cut burlap in a straight line, (wish I had a picture for this), find the line where you want to cut, then pull the string at that line.  Pull, pull, pull until you have pulled that string out all the way across your length of burlap.  Then cut along that line.  This will give you a nice, even length for your letters.  These are a little more than 5 ½ inches long.  Then I measured them and cut the widths.  These are approximately five inches wide, though they vary.  (See below.)

Next, I typed on the computer what I wanted the sign to say.  Then I chose the font.  For this, I chose “American Typewriter”.  To write each letter, I enlarged the letters so that each letter was quite large.  Then I just used a black Sharpie to copy the letters.

Some of the letters weren’t quite centered in the square, so I trimmed the width on some of the letters.  Then I took my hole punch and punched two holes in each piece of burlap.  These are approximately an inch and a half in from each side and about an inch down from the top.

To thread the twine through, I folded the twine and pulled it through, starting with the middle letters on either side and ending with each end.  (In other words, I started with B and worked backward to Y and then O and worked forward until the L.)  Then I hung it with the very sophisticated Scotch tape on my mantle and covered the ends with my fake pumpkins.  Then I straightened out the letters and voila!  Happy Halloween!

Back to School

Last week my sister in law sent me a message, asking, "How's your free time?"  Hahahahahahaha!  In theory I should have free time now.  Juliette has been back in school since August 28th.  She goes three mornings a week and so I have all those mornings to get stuff done, have free time, do fun stuff!  In practice, today is the first day I've had which didn't have anything on the calendar!  Woo hoo!  I spent the first hour and a half cleaning and doing some prep for Annalise's birthday, which is this weekend.  Let's be honest, that could go on for days if I let it.  So I'm choosing to spend my "free time" writing in my blog, which I haven't for a long, long time!  I'd really like to be posting about Zachary's birthday party, but I'm still recovering from it.  (Nineteen seven and eight year old boys.  You get it.  It'll take me a while and a lot of alcohol to fully forget it.)  Someday I'll pretend it was the best day ever and I'll post pictures.  Instead I'll just give you a little bit of what's happening in our lives.

Let's start with my beautiful boy.  Zachary turned eight this summer.  He started second grade this August and is happy!!!  Really my biggest concern with Zachary is just that he be happy.  He loves his new teacher and is happy with the friends in his class.  He's making new friends on the playground and reports that he is the fastest runner in the second grade.  He's playing soccer and loving it for the first time ever.  (When we went to sign Annalise up for soccer in the spring we were SHOCKED that Zachary even wanted to play again.)  Thank goodness he did because he's having a great year and is actually acting a little bit (a little bit -- but it's more than usual) aggressive.  Zachary has a really hard time acting aggressive, so team sports have been really tough for him.  We are thrilled that he's making progress.  He's also reading better.  I think he's somewhat adjusting to getting up early, so he's getting into a better head space, too.  So far, so good with that dude!  Phew!

Annalise is having a great back to school, too.  She did not get the teacher she expected, but she's actually happy with her teacher.  He's strict, but she doesn't mind that.  And so far, and here's the best news of all, NO GIRL DRAMA!!!  Yes!  I was not expecting that, but I'm thrilled that so far things are going well in that department.  She auditioned for, and made, (Did I blog about this?  I can't remember.) the dance company at her new studio.  The audition process was crazy and she's thrilled to be on it.  She's dancing eight hours a week, which is A LOT!  So far, she's been able to handle it, even though it means that Mondays she's at the studio from 3:30 to 8:30 and Thursdays she has two hours of dance and an hour and a half of soccer.  She's working her butt off at dance and is making good progress.  We will see how her grades are.  If they aren't great, there may have to be some changes.  So far I'm not too concerned.  Overall, she's happy, too.  Yea!

And now on to my littlest love, Miss Juliette.  Aaaaahhh, Juliette, my easiest child.  She goes with the flow, she skips in happily to new situations.  For goodness sake, she even wakes up with an enormous smile on her face.  She's an easy going happy child.  Yeah, until last week.  Last week she had her first dance class of the year.  I was a little nervous going in because the studio owner wanted her to move up to the 5/6 advanced class (even though she's only 4 1/2) instead of the 3/4 class.  I really wasn't sure if it was a good idea, but she insisted the Juliette was ready.  So last week she went and actually did great UNTIL I showed up nine minutes early (instead of ten) for the "show" at the end of the class.  She was in tears and worried that I wasn't going to come at all.  But she settled down immediately and re-joined the class for the show.   The next day was her first gymnastics class.  Oh boy.  I don't even know where to start.  She was super excited.  She was ready an hour before we got there.  We got there early and watched the instructors set up the gym.  And then it was time to start and the tears started to flow.  Maybe it was the 1980's East German gymnast demeanor of the instructor.  Maybe it was the fact that there was no balance beam.  Or bars.  Or vault.  (Seriously.  They knew this is supposed to be gymnastics, right???)  Maybe it was the fact that the instructor didn't seem to care that Juliette was too shy to say her name (and said, "That's fine.  I'll find out later."  Yeah, knowing a kid's name isn't all that important.)  Maybe it was the fact that a three year old was yelled at for incorrectly doing a bear crawl (without any prior instruction, I might add.  It was called a CRAWL, so you have to forgive a kid who uses his knees.)  Anyway, my kid cried and refused to let go of me.  And after all I saw, I didn't blame her.  We watched a few more minutes, I talked to a few parents to see if it was going to get any better (it wasn't) and then hit the road and asked for my money backed.  I don't think I've ever done that before.  But I had to trust my (and Juliette's) gut on that.  Three days later, back at school, Juliette cried and cried and cried at drop off.  Never happened before.  I literally had to peel her fingers off of my leg.  It was so pitiful that I got in the car and started to cry myself!

Which leads me to Monday.  (Monday school was great, mind you.)  Mondays are crazy because Annalise walks in the door at about 3:10 and we have to leave by 3:15 to get Juliette to dance by 3:30.  Juliette was of course ready to go long before 3:00.  We walked into the studio, she smiled at her teacher and then freaked out!  Crying, crying, crying, refusing to stay.  Ugh.  It went on and on and no matter what I could not convince her to go back in and dance.  She even sat -- actually she and I stood most of the time because there weren't enough chairs -- at Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf while Annalise and Zachary had a snack (and I let them get crazy snacks that day -- a chocolate croissant for Zachary!) and I helped them with their homework.  I tried to make it as booooooooring as possible for her but she still didn't want to go in to dance.  We dropped Annalise at the other studio for her classes -- it's down the street, which is why we were one minute late the week before -- and then walked in to Juliette's class in time for the show.  She stood in the back and danced along.  When we got home, she drew a picture of the two of us.  We both had frowny faces.  I said, "Yes, we were both sad you didn't go to dance class."  She said, "No mommy, I was sad but you were angry!"  She was right.  I was!  I asked her to draw a picture of next week at dance class.  She drew herself, me and her dance teacher, all with smiley faces.  Hopefully that'll come true.

So it's been a rocky start for Juliette.  I'm hoping it's temporary and not a long phase.  I'm trying to spend better quality time with her in the meantime and reassuring her that I miss her too when she's not with me and I'll be brave and not cry either.  And we're trying to give her more sleep since she's given up her nap.  We're trying a different gymnastics class next week.  And she's home from school now and had another great day.  I'm hoping she'll be back to her happy, giggly self soon!

Gratitude for Healthy Kids

It's been an emotional week here at Mellow Lane.  I'll start by saying the everything is just fine, in fact, better than fine.  Better because I am more grateful for my life than usual.

Almost a month ago, while we were on vacation, Juliette and Zachary were sharing a bed.  Juliette and Zachary both like to be scratched when they are sleepy and somehow Juliette convinced Zachary to scratch her back and her legs.  (This is not surprising as Juliette can convince just about anyone to do just about anything.  Even her preschool teacher, when asked by a friend how she can stay strong with all those strong-willed preschoolers, said, "Oh I never have trouble saying no to them at all.  Except Juliette.  If Juliette asks for the doll house, I'll get it down.  If she wants the dress up clothes, they're hers.  For some reason I just can't no to her!"  This is not good.)  Anyway, she convinced Zachary to scratch her legs and in doing so, he found a lump on the back of her right knee.  Being a sensitive middle child (totally unlike his mother.  cough.  cough.), Zachary freaked out.  He came running out of the bedroom, Juliette trailing absently and smiley behind him.  We looked and felt the back of her leg, and indeed there was a lump behind her leg.  We assured Zachary that it was probably nothing, but that we would check with our friend, who is a pediatric radiologist when we got home.  This appeased him and both kids went to bed.  (Notice I said appeased "him" -- Juliette was totally unfazed.)

A few days later, we saw Dr. Friend, who looked at and felt the back of Juliette's knee.  She thought it was probably nothing, probably just a blah de blah or a blah de blah.  (It all went over my head.  On purpose.  I knew if I knew something specific I'd be on WebMD, which is the devil.)  She told us not to worry, but to keep an eye on it just in case.  This made us (and Zachary) feel better.

Then last week, Juliette was walking in front of me and, all of a sudden, her lump looked much bigger.  (It's about the size of half a ping pong ball for reference.)  I called Dr. Friend right away and we went to her house later that afternoon.  She looked and poked and felt and still thought it was probably still just a blah de blah but since she is someone who looks at films and not at feeling actual kids, she couldn't be sure.  She did agree that the lump was bigger.  She suggested that we go to see her friend at Children's Hospital who could tell us definitively what the lump is.  "Don't freak out when you hear what kind of doctor he is.  He's the lump guy.  He's the very best and he'll know what it is."  The lump guy is a pediatric orthopedic oncologist.

You don't really want to hear or read or use the word "oncologist" when you're talking about your four year old.  You just don't.  It also doesn't make you feel too much better when the lump guy's office is able to squeeze you into a completely full schedule "for something like that."  (Though I felt so grateful that I would have to wait less than a week to see him in the clinic, which is close to our home - and not at the hospital - on his next day there.)  And so we went on with our lives, tried not to think about it and waited patiently until it was the day for our appointment.  My mom was able to clear her afternoon to watch Annalise and Zachary, pick them up and drop them off at their various activities, so just Juliette and I made the trek to the doctor.  It was afternoon and so Juliette, who no longer naps, was pretty sleepy in the car, and therefore quiet.  (She's never quiet.)  Unfortunately this gave me time to think.  (I rarely have time to think.  Except when I'm falling asleep.  I don't sleep too well.)  And as much as I tried not to let it happen, my mind "went there."  I thought about what it would mean to have a kid with cancer.  I thought about how our lives would change, and everything we would do to fight.  I thought about how tough my little girl already is and how tough she would have to be.  I even thought about losing her.  And then I decided I had to stop thinking.  I cranked up the VBS tunes (and if you know how much I dislike over-produced children singing, then you can only imagine how much I can't stand listening to the VBS CD).  Fortunately it perked Juliette up and we sang along, badly and loudly, while she attempted to remember the "moves" in her carseat.  Much better than thinking.

We arrived at the clinic, and were greeted so warmly and cheerfully in a bright, open waiting room, well stocked with blocks and nice books.  (Like really nice books, like the kind you would actually buy or check out at the library or want to read.  Not like the usual torn, ragged, chewed crap books that you'd never even look at in normal life, but you will read over and over out of desperation, kicking yourself for neglecting to bring books from home, that you usually see in waiting rooms.)  We read about Piggie and Elephant and holes which are to dig and waited our turn.  I looked around at the other parents and children, some playing happily, some sitting quietly with their parents, one infant, and one preschooler with a prosthetic leg screaming "I hate this leg!"and wondered if I would be back in this waiting room another time; if I would become a regular, if I would meet other parents waiting anxiously like I was, if this would become another home for us.

It was our turn and a lovely nurse led us to our room, asked questions, looked and took notes.  She was followed soon after by the lump guy's PA (also lovely), who asked more questions.  She lovingly helped Juliette roll over onto her stomach on the table and gave her a pen for her to draw on the paper covering the table.  She felt her leg, asked more questions and attempted to shine a light at Juliette's lump.  Apparently there isn't much use for the light in the orthopedic rooms and the light was out.  She led us to another room where we met the lump guy.  Equally lovely, he let Juliette get comfortable before he poked at her lump also.  She was a little nervous, so she laid on my chest while he shown the light all the way through the lump, its red light going all the way through, revealing that the lump was indeed the blah de blah which Dr. Friend had suspected all along... a Baker's cyst.  The light will shine all the way through only liquid or air and since there is no air in this part of the body, the lump is indeed liquid.  A Baker's cyst in children is totally benign and usually not painful at all.  There is absolutely nothing that needs to be done.  Juliette is totally fine and the cyst will eventually just go away on its own.  He said that some day we will look down and just realize that it is gone.  We spent much of the appointment remarking on how fabulous Juliette's big brother was to have found the cyst in the first place.  What a great little kid.

So my baby is going to be fine.  She is totally, totally fine.  She is the same happy and healthy girl that she was last week and last month and last year.

I am grateful, so grateful I don't even know what to do or say to express just how grateful I feel.  Honestly the whole episode has been an exercise in gratitude: gratitude for a not-even-yet eight year old big brother who found the lump to begin with; gratitude for a dear friend who is willing to look at my daughter (and the daughters and sons of all our friends because she is the kind of friend who doesn't mind looking at the rash, hurt wrist, etc.); gratitude that she has a friend who is a leader in the field; gratitude for a staff fitting us in when they could have told us to wait a month and gratitude for a mom who can watch my other kids so I can focus on the one who needed the attention at that time.  Mostly I am grateful for my beautiful family, with all our ups and downs, nooks and crannies, temper tantrums and doldrums and giggles and tickle tortures and hugs and kisses.  And scratches.  I'm grateful for scratches.

I'm a Dance Mom

True confession time: I'm a dance mom.  I fully admit that this is a role I have embraced and grown to love, but in no way did I ever expect that this would a part of my life.  Soccer mom?  Yes.  Baseball mom?  Yes.  Minivan-driving suburban mom?  OK, it wasn't on my list of things I hoped for, but I'm not too terribly surprised that I ended up there.  But dance mom?  Oh hell no.  No way.  No how.  Not in a million years.  But somehow I ended up here.  It's been a journey.  Before you judge me, let me share a little of the journey with you.

When Annalise was young she was painfully shy.  Painfully.  She was the kid who was constantly attached to my leg.  She would spend playdates and parent ed on my lap or clinging to my side or in my arms.  It would take serious coaxing to get her to play.  Even when we were with kids she'd known her entire life, she would cling and worry.  Until she was fine.  It just often took her hours to be fine.  She wanted to go to the birthday party, but she wouldn't participate.  Until the end.  About fifteen minutes before the party was over, she'd start to have a great time.  And then she'd have a fit that it was time to leave.  With a mom who stayed home full time and being the oldest child (and only child, for almost three years), she was almost always with me.  She had yet to start preschool.  She didn't have a lot of opportunities to spend time with other kids without me.  So when a friend suggested she take a dance class, I thought it might be a good idea.

Annalise was almost three.  I was due with Zachary any day.  (And then I was overdue with Zachary. Every time I would walk/waddle down that ramp with Annalise, I'd hear, "Are you still here!?"  I swear I was pregnant with that child for two years.)  But I digress.  Annalise was technically too young for the class, but they made an exception for her.  (Probably not the smartest move they'd ever made.)  Well, she loved the class.  No clinging.  No whining.  No crying.  Just a little girl having a whole lot of fun.  There was a little problem though.  She wasn't dancing.  She jumped and she ran and she giggled.  But there wasn't a lot of dancing coming from that kid.  So we took a break for a while.  We tried a different class at a different studio the following summer.  Egh.  Not impressed with the class.  Annalise didn't really like it and neither did I.

When Annalise was a little over four, we tried again, back at the original studio.  This time, something stuck.  Right from the beginning, Annalise was happy there.  She loved her teacher.  She ran into class with glee.  She didn't need me to hold onto her, hold her hand, peel her arm off my leg.  And going in, she didn't even know any of the kids.  For the first time in her little life, Annalise was at home.  (Home away from home, that is.  At home, the child was funny and silly and talked incessantly, sang and danced and told stories, made jokes.  Away from home: leg clinger.)  She was so happy at dance class we really couldn't believe it.  And so somehow we got suckered into becoming dance parents.  It happened so subtly that we really didn't see it coming.  It kind of snuck up on us and took hold before we even realized it had happened.

Before Annalise's recital, I asked the studio owner what would happen when she ran off the stage in a panic as soon as her music started.  She attempted to assure me that it wouldn't happen; that it almost never happens and it wasn't going to happen with Annalise.  "Uh huh, " I said. "So what are you going to do when she runs off the stage in a panic?"  Again, she tried to convince me it wouldn't happen.  Clearly she didn't know my kid at all.

The day of the recital arrived.  I curled and curled and hairsprayed my four year old daughter's long, straight-as-a-stick hair, knowing it would be completely flat by the time she went on stage.  I put blush and mascara and lipstick on my four year old.  (I could write a whole blog entry on putting makeup on children.  It is one of the weirdest things I've ever done.  I don't even wear makeup myself, so this is bizarro land for me.  And I suck at it.  She's lucky if the makeup is anywhere close to the right spot on her face.)  I dressed Annalise in shiny black tap shoes tied with red grosgrain ribbons, tan tights, and a polyester stars and stripes dress.  Backstage I helped her instructor bobby pin on seven white sailor hats.  They were ready to perform thirty seven seconds worth of "The Good Ship Lollipop."  I went and sat down, ready to jump onto the stage to retrieve my screaming daughter.  It didn't happen.  She came on, in her line of little American flag-clad girls, and did her dance.  Her head was turned, watching her teacher off stage most of the routine; she didn't smile, but she never did look like she was going to make a run for it.

I went to retrieve her from backstage.  A smiling, happy and proud little girl awaited me.  She LOVED it!  She loved it so much she wanted to stay and watch the rest of the show.  We changed her out of her costume and went upstairs to the balcony to watch.  She stood on the edge of the balcony, hanging on the railing, completely enthralled by the show in front of her.  At the end of the show they called all the dancers back on stage for the finale.  Since we didn't know this was going to happen, we'd stayed upstairs, Annalise in a sundress and not her costume.  Once she saw what was happening, and that she could be back on that stage, Annalise had an absolute fit.  She wanted back on that stage so badly that we had to drag her out of there crying.  She was totally hooked.

And that's how it all began.  From there, we continued on.  Annalise took one tap/ballet class a week.  She dabbled in hip hop.  (She'll tell you this was not her strong suit.  It wasn't.)  We kept her at the small studio where she had started.  They were personal and loving and greeted her by name and with a giant hug before every class.  They made her feel special.  And Annalise bloomed.  We watched our shy little girl grow not only in skill and grace but we watched her gain confidence and poise.  She learned how to handle pressure, rise to the occasion and role with the punches.  She learned to deal with last minute changes, recover from mishaps.  And she learned about hard work.  Dancing does not come naturally to her.  She has a hard time remembering choreography.  Her musicality was lacking.  And she gets her flexibility from my dad, which is to say she could barely touch her toes.  As a four year old.  She's a lucky girl; most things come really easily for her: school, soccer, softball, running, most things she tries.  She's never the best at anything, but she's always one of the best, and without much effort at all.  Dance has taught her to have a strong work ethic.  It has been amazing for her and has helped to transform her into the confident child whom I know today.

Over the years Annalise has increased the time she spends in the studio each week.  She was on the company at the small studio where she started when she was four.  We went to dance competitions.  (Yes, dance competitions.  This is another blog post as well.)  We've done quick changes backstage at recitals where she was in six different routines.  And then her studio closed.  We saw it coming.  We weren't surprised, but she was deeply saddened all the same.  So this year we made a move to a much bigger studio.  MUCH bigger!  She is now a small fish in a big pond.  And the kid is swimming!  She's thriving!  And she's happy.  And now her little sister is dancing, too.  And loving it as well.  And that kid loves the stage as much as her sister.  She even has the smiles and facial expressions on stage already.  Oh boy.  I got another one.

So, yeah, I'm a dance mom.  I put mascara on small children.  I own Aqua Net.  I buy booty shorts and foot thongs.  And I've seen the power of dance.  I've seen how being on a stage can bring out the best in someone.  I know the confidence that comes from learning to do the splits on all three sides, mastering a double pirouette, winning a special judges award at a competition.  I will try my best to not be a crazy dance mom, but I will continue to load my minivan up with dancers and bring them to the studio, where they will learn about team work, dedication and hard work.

Freakin' Lice. Twice.

Summer is finally here!  Alleluia!  I feel like I've been waiting for summer to come all school year long.  By the end I was done.  Spent.  Finished.  If you haven't read Jen Hatmaker's blog entry calling herself "The Worst End of School Year Mom Ever," read it now.  And don't be upset if seventeen people haven't forwarded this to you already.  Your friends must think really highly of you.  Myself, well, let's just say lots of people thought I'd enjoy this.  Pretty sure I shouldn't take that as a compliment.

http://jenhatmaker.com/blog/2013/05/30/worst-end-of-school-year-mom-ever

It is hilarious, timely and so on point.  With the exception of one person (who is clearly organized and energetic), every single person I talked to said, "Oh my God!  That is so me!  I could have written that!"  Yeah, no you couldn't.  You didn't have the energy to write it.  I honestly don't know when Jen mustered up the strength to sit at her computer for that long, attach video and pictures, and write thoughtfully and with that much humor.  I'm pretty sure my sense of humor dropped off somewhere in April.  And I couldn't even gather the strength for Pinterest much less writing something with which thousands of people could relate.  So, yeah, I'm with ya, Jen.  I don't know you at all, but we are sisters in this whole parenting adventure!  And thank you for speaking for all of us who were only capable of head nods and drool in May.

Which leads me to summer.  There was a lot leading up to summer.  Class parties.  Dance recitals.  PTA meetings.  Parent Board meetings.  Dance recitals.  Plays.  Performances.  A parade.  Dance recitals.  Special lunches.  Girl Scout events.  Team parties.  And did I mention the dance recitals?  Keep in mind that they also come with dress rehearsals.  Between the two girls, I spent three plus hours in dress rehearsal and I think seven (or eight?  it's a blur) hours in recitals. I'm sure you've figured out that I wasn't the one dancing, but let me tell you, I was exhausted.  I was literally sore from sitting so much!  Is that even possible?  The dance recitals almost did me in.  Smart people at the dance studio take a huge break before starting up again for the summer.  Brilliant.  It should be enough time for me to forget the pain.

OK, so it's now summer.  All that crap is over for the year, we've started off strong with swimming at friends' houses, having friends over for dinner, sleeping in, watching boatloads of TV and just generally being blobs.  (The kids needed to up their ante on the drool factor.  While I was plenty braindead by the end of the year, they were still kicking.)  So on the night of day four, (DAY FOUR!!!) Zachary complained about being itchy.  Want to know my response?  Yeah, you guessed it:  NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!  Sure enough, the boy had lice.  Oh.  My.  God.  This is how I get to start my summer?  Are you freakin' kidding me!?

I need to back up.  Over spring break this year, while in Northern California, after having stayed in other people's homes and visiting NINE other families, we discovered we had lice.  When we made the discovery, we were an hour away from our friends' house, where we were staying.  The lovely people at LoveBugs took pity on us, cleaned us up and sent us on our way.  (That sounds simple, but it was about three hours for two people to comb our four heads and hundreds of dollars.)  Meanwhile I was texting, calling and voxing everyone I knew to tell them to be on the lookout.  If you've ever had to make the call after the birthday party to tell everyone your kid threw up that night, has a fever, has pink eye, whatever it is, you get the feeling.  I've made all those calls.  For some reason this one is SO much worse!  Mostly because lice is a major pain in the ass.  You can take care of it yourself, but you probably won't do a very good job, so it will take a long time to get rid of it, and meanwhile you're risking exposure to everyone else around you.  Or you can pay God-sent people who will come to your house and comb you out.  Obviously this is a great option, but it's expensive!  And the vacuuming.  And the laundry.  And the laundry!  Loads and loads and loads of laundry.  My poor washing machine won't even make eye contact with me anymore.  It just groans, opens up and accepts the inevitable.  Like a baby eating squash.  Or me eating squash.  Blech.

Fortunately the day in Northern California when we discovered lice I had spent the day with three beautiful women (and their children) from my childhood.  I'd warned them ahead of time that Zachary suspected he had lice because he'd become paranoid during the car ride down.  (Mind you, I'd checked him before we left the house, found a nit - which I didn't know was a nit because it didn't look like the pictures I saw on the internet - dismissed it  and got in the car to go meet our friends.)  We had a great day, laughed and laughed and miraculously didn't share our bugs!  One of my friends had just finished up chemotherapy for lymphoma, which was found on a routine ultrasound when she was four months pregnant.  (Yes, you read that correctly.  Read it again if you need to.)  And here she was, at the park, with her two gorgeous daughters, the baby having literally saved her life, beautiful and happy and strong.  (This friend is one of the most incredible people I've ever met and if she doesn't become an inspirational speaker or write a book or somehow share herself with the world after all this is over, I will have to drag her around myself.  The way in which she has dealt with cancer, while pregnant and caring for a toddler, is unbelievable.  She has an incredible spirit, positivity, faith and has maintained the same sense of humor that cracked us up as seventh graders!  And now has no evidence of disease!  She really is a walking miracle.)

I send a text to the friends I saw that day, my head in a shower cap, neem oil stinking up the joint, and right away, this friend calls me.  "Lice sucks, " she said.  And you know what, it totally does.  But to hear that from my friend who had just gone through chemotherapy not only validated what I was going through, but also put things into perspective.  We joked about how much quicker it would be to get rid of the lice than cancer and how, comparatively speaking, LoveBugs was a huge bargain compared to the price of chemo.  We were also pretty sure that she wouldn't get lice seeing as she was sporting what she called "the Matt Lauer look."  She was just the person I needed to talk to that day, to talk me down off the ledge, to keep me from feeling too sorry for myself.

In the days since then, I have not stopped itching my head, constantly afraid of the lice coming back.  (Paranoia runs in the family.)  And of course it did.  Clearly someone in Zachary's world has it, as it is very definitely a new case of bugs.  It sucked to have to make those calls.  Again.  It was a bummer of a way to start the summer for sure, but not the end of the world.  I'm always trying to find the reason for things, the "why?" in God's greater plan.  I have to be honest, I'm still searching.  But I have made an amazing connection down here now with Angel from Lice Schmice.  Her website is http://www.liceschmice.net.  And, yes, I am plugging my lice lady!  She is truly an angel!  If you're in Southern California and you suspect those little buggers are in your home, then Angel's your girl.

So maybe the reason is to keep me humble.  Maybe it's a lesson in forgiveness and learning to not place blame.  (I have no idea where the lice is coming from and this is hard for me -- not in that I want to place blame, but in that I want some answers and I want to know that this won't come back into our house.)  Maybe it's a lesson in appreciating every day life, and appreciating the fact that I have my own washing machine and dryer and that I can (sort of) afford to have someone come to my house to deal with this for me.  Maybe it's just a lesson in lice removal.  (I've learned a lot this year!)  Whatever it is, I'm paying attention.  Summer 2013 has now officially begun.  Instead of spending our days doing nothing other than laundry and vacuuming, we are Legoing, playing board games, scootering, reading, swimming.  And gearing up for dancing to start again.

Mason Jar Plants

Happy summer everyone!  I hope you are as happy as I am that the end finally came!  I can breathe.  I can relax.  All the dishes in the kitchen are washed for the first time in weeks.  My children like each other again.  Granted we are only three days in, but I am a much happier person than I was last week.  More on our end of the school year later.  For now, I want to show you what I made as end of the year thank you gifts for our preschool parent board.

Last year, my friend Amber was president of the parent board, and, feeling generous, she gave every member of the parent board a pair of flip flops.  Super cute.  Summery.  Useful.  But at $5 apiece (at best) times 25 members of the board, that's a little more money than I wanted to spend.  Plus, I couldn't do flip flops again.  I searched all around and couldn't come up with anything cute for more like $2 per gift.  So I decided I'd make something myself.  Of course I went with my old standby: the mason jar!  This is one of the easiest projects I've ever done, and I think they turned out pretty cute.

Hello, old friend!  I went with a cute, half pint size.  I didn't want something too big to take up too much space.  This little guy is perfect for a kitchen window.

I filled the bottom with a mixture of those decorative shiny glass rock thingys that we purchased and some shiny real rocks that Annalise had in her "treasure box" from preschool.  She just finished fourth grade.  She wasn't too heartbroken to part with some of her treasures.  The rocks at the bottom give you a little bit of a drainage so that the roots don't get too soggy.  (These are technical terms here.  Can you tell I'm a real gardener?)

I didn't want to put too many in; just enough to cover the bottom.  OK, get ready.  Things are about to get really complicated.  Jason bought me six packs of impatiens.  I removed each flower, broke apart the roots a bit and shoved it into the jar.

You see what I mean.  It's a good thing I'm such an experienced gardener and I never, ever kill plants.  Ever.  This took some serious skill.

I gently punched down the soil a bit, just so it all fit in nicely, but really I couldn't have planned that any better.  (And believe me, I really hadn't planned for that to be that easy.)  I didn't even have to use any additional potting soil.

I put my old file folders to use again.  This time I traced a small glass to make circles.  (This part made me yearn a bit for one of those circle punches, I have to admit.)  But I LOVE reusing something I already have, especially something that has literally been sitting in a cabinet for eleven years.

They're not perfect, just like me!

Then I just personalized each one.  And got out my twine, my other old standby.

Here's the finished product!  Cute, isn't it?  And not bad for less than $2 apiece.

And here they are, ready to go to the parent board meeting.  They held up better than I did, and I can attest that, two weeks later, they are still going strong!  Woo hoo!  One of our board members is still on a trip to Spain (lucky duck), so I'm managing to keep hers alive until she returns.  And if I can keep one alive, then surely the others are still kickin'.  At the meeting I was a blubbering mess, as you can imagine.  It's not even my last year there.  I don't even want to think about next year.  Puddles.  It won't be pretty.  I'll have to come up with something really clever to give my girls next year.  They are an awesome board, who deserve a little something pretty.

Home Tour

In the area where we live in Southern California, we are surrounded by many beautiful, large homes.  I shouldn't say surrounded, because our house is actually surrounded by small California ranch houses that look similar to the one in which we live.  But in the area, there are many big, gorgeous houses.  Each year, the Pasadena Showcase House of Design chooses one of these big, beautiful houses and sets loose a bevy of designers to do their thing.  After a quick four month turn around, the house is opened to the public to tour, admire and raise money for local music programs.  It's estimated that this year 40,000 people will tour the house.  My good friend Courtney was fortunate enough to be one of the designers chosen to design one of the bedroom suites this year.  I have been "selected" to be one of the docents in Courtney's room.  (*By selected I mean I volunteered my services as cheap labor.  And by cheap I mean free.)  It's been really fun.  I even got in trouble yesterday because there was too much of a back up in our room.  Can I help it if I'm representing the best room in the house?  If you want to see some pictures of the room in progress, check out Court's blog at http://strongstudiodesigns.blogspot.com
She doesn't have any pictures up yet of the finished product.  Oh crap.  That's my job.  Better get on that...

We also have a home tour every spring of local "real" people's houses in our town as a fundraiser for the junior high school.  One of the houses is a 12,000 square foot Normandy estate.  I'm sure our whole house could fit into the master bedroom.

All this talk of home tours has gotten me thinking about what people will see if they come on a home tour of our home.  Let me give you a sneak peek of what you would see.  I know you're super excited to see it, so I'll just give you a little preview!

As you meander up the driveway, look to your right to notice the flower beds.  Lavender, society garlic, day lilies surround the base of a birch tree.  Feel free to pick a few weeds.  Wait.  That gives me an idea.  Pick a few weeds.  Ten apiece.  That will be your entrance fee.  Mind your step on your way up the driveway.  The driveway hasn't been swept in awhile and is carpeted with crap that falls from the tree next door.  As you approach the front door, make sure you notice the basketball hoop.  Attached you will find the remains of a "raccoon trap" that Zachary built last year.  The planter box has a unique element!  Instead of plants, you will find old pots, wooden spoons, sand toys, various doll parts, watering cans; you get the picture.  This is where Juliette "cooks", "teaches", plays "Mommy", holds court over the cul de sac.  You will also find the pots not used in the planter on the porch, along with various markers, maybe some dolly clothes.  In the vintage egg crate by the front door, you will find either soccer balls, cleats and shinguards or baseball cleats and a mitt, depending on the season.  The rainbow wreath on the front door is left over from Juliette's birthday party several months ago.

Enter the house into the grand foyer and be sure to gaze upon the spiderwebs that just haven't been removed yet.  They are not only beautiful, but functional as well!  They catch many of the various insects that enter the house when the kids leave the door open as they run outside to play.  From there, enter the kitchen.  The kitchen table sits in a lovely nook of windows overlooking the front yard.  On it you will find homework papers, preschool notices, cookbooks and picture books.  Assorted stuffed animals watch the youngest member of the family eat her breakfast.  The homemade bulletin board, which has way too much stuffing for thumbtacks to stay in place (sometimes) holds birthday party invitations, photographs and preschool art projects.  The refrigerator door holds pictures of soccer and baseball teams.  The water heater cabinet door holds class pictures; lift up this year's to see the ones from years past.  Piles of important and not-so-important papers are stacked on the kitchen counter, next to the lice preventative spray, next to a clay butterfly.  There may or may not be dishes stacked in the sink.  Probably the crock pot is filled with soup for dinner.  The kitchen chairs, purchased almost eleven years ago for our first house, "until we can afford something nicer" sport spots of pink and red paint and one has a broken back.

The living room, which Courtney designed and put together as a surprise for me, is actually awesome.  Take a look.  It looks like a grown up owns that part of the house.

Further through the house you'll travel.  The family room, the laundry room, the bathrooms, bedrooms.  Toothpaste remains in the sinks.  Spilled mouthwash makes the counters sticky.  Piles of folded laundry are on the family room floor, the unfolded laundry spilling over the basket in the laundry room.  The carpets are stained, the furniture dusty.  Books and toys, plastic party favors clutter up desks and corners of bedrooms.  Mothers' and Fathers' Day cards decorate the master bath.  Pictures of smiling children cover every empty surface.

My friend Beth once told me, as I asked her forgiveness for my messy house, "You're raising a family, not a house."  I try to remember this when I see dollies and kitchen toys filling up every corner of the house, crumbs on the dining room floor, unmade beds, red handprints on the wall out back.  Someday my house will look like my parents' -- everything in its place, floors vacuumed, furniture dusted, papers filed.  But for now, our house is our home, and we live here, all five of us.  Our house is not worthy of strangers coming through to gawk and admire, but perhaps our family is.  We aren't perfect and we aren't perfectly staged either.  There are times when we are a lot prettier than others, all of us getting along, running through the sprinklers, playing basketball, having a real conversation at the dinner table.  And there are other times you will hear yelling, arguing, bad grades on tests, lice.  (OK, I'm hoping you won't have to see that again!)  But we are a real family in a real home.  We don't need a special tour to invite you inside.  Friends are always welcome.  Come inside.  You'll find the greatest thing to see is the laughter and the love.

Rainbow Art Party, Part Four

This is so long overdue, but finally I have the time to sit down and write about Juliette's Rainbow Art Party!  It seems like such a long time ago... It certainly was a different hairdo ago!  Here are the final details and pictures from her party.

We made this banner so easily!  Just a cute, free downloadable font, with the letters really big in rainbow order.  I printed one letter per page and then cut them using my paper cutter.  To do the bottom, I just folded the page in half only part way up the page and then cut on an angle from the corner to the middle.  I strung them using multiple colors of yarn and my hole punch.  Then I just taped that bad boy to the garage!

We also made these cute tissue paper puff balls for decorations.

They were really easy and cost less than a dollar each, having bought tissue paper at the Dollar Store.  I planned to make a super cute balloon arch that I saw online, but time management still is not my friend, and the arch never got made.  We ended up with balloons all over the living room which provided extra entertainment for the kids!  Some balloons got hung up around the front yard, but most were kicked around, thrown and added to the fun.  We also had our fabric wreath on the front door.

So have I mentioned that I have a problem with time management?  Yeah, so it's a major issue.  Now would be a good time to bring up the fact that all these pictures (with the exception of the wreath picture, which was taken well before the party) were taken by a ten year old.  If I were an organized person, I would have taken pictures before the party started.  Instead I was trying to string together a balloon arch that never got finished while my husband and mother spent the first half hour of the party finishing assembling the food.  So you'll have to believe me when I say that the fruit salad was beautiful.  Bottom layer: purple grapes, blueberries on top of that, then green kiwi, yellow pineapple, orange tangerine sections and red sliced strawberries on top.  Here's what it looked like when we finally took a picture of it:

Oh well.  At least they liked the fruit!

We bought white bread (Those who know me are shocked!) and took a flower cookie cutter and lengthened it to make cloud-shaped sandwiches.

The veggie cups were super easy to assemble... just some ranch dressing in the bottom of the cup, then a red pepper stick, carrot stick, yellow pepper stick and a celery stick.  (Sorry, no blue or purple veggies!)

Grown ups had different sandwiches. When I have a lot of little people over, instead of buying a lot of water bottles that just get wasted, I buy these little shot glass size cups for water.  There's still a lot of waste, but not as much as one four year old going through four water bottles at one party.  One of our grown up friends got clever and served himself up a little wine!

Here are the rainbow cupcakes.  They were a little tricky and time consuming.  For one batch, I just lumped the batter in instead of spreading out the layers.  Juliette got a lumped up one.  Still super pretty, I think!

OK, enough of the food and decorations.  Let's get to the important stuff!  What we did!

We had homemade rainbow play dough...

We drew with sidewalk chalk on the driveway...

Each kid made their own 24 piece puzzle...

We dyed macaroni to make necklaces and to glue onto paper.

We poured colored sand into bottles...

And we painted three large canvases for Juliette's room and each child painted a small one of their own to take home...

It was a really fun, colorful party!  I hope you enjoy the pictures as much as we enjoyed the party!