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.

A Little Trim

I know I still haven't posted anything about Juliette's Rainbow Art Party.  I will.  I'm still deciding which pictures to use and I need a bigger chunk of time to do that.  Someday I'll have a bigger chunk of time.  Maybe when Juliette leaves for college.

So we had a little excitement this week in our house.  Excitement in the form of scissors.  Who has a guess as to where I'm going here?  Yeah, you all do.  Hair.  Cut.  Not pretty.  I'd post pictures but I do want Juliette to still speak to me when she's a teenager.  And I also want to save them for bribery.

Juliette was in her room for her nap on Monday.  She almost never falls asleep immediately and sometimes she doesn't fall asleep at all.  On Monday she did.  And when she woke up I went in to cuddle with her.  I did notice that her hair was horrible looking but isn't their hair always horrible when they wake up from their naps? And then I noticed in the trashcan in her room these beautiful long wisps of blondish brown hair (along with some clearly synthetic black and blond hair).  And then I looked closer at her hair.  Oh.  My.  God.  Her hair was seriously scary.  The bangs are awful.  She took chunks out of the back and off the sides.  All over.  As one of my friends said, she looked like Billy Ray Cyrus.  It was seriously mullet-like.  Oh boy.  Of course it happened on a Monday and no one is open on Mondays.  Thank God for Supercuts!  She now has a super cute bob cut.  As she said, "My hair is really cute, Mommy.  Everyone thinks my hair is cute."

Juliette's hair is cute.  But I keep telling people not to comment.  I don't want to encourage her to do it again!

My brother asked why I was upset by it all.  He said I let her pick out her own clothes; it's Juliette's hair, why shouldn't I just let her choose how her hair should look.  It's a great question.  Why don't I let her choose how she wants her hair to look?  Why was I upset?  Do I care that much about what her hair looks like?  On an every day basis, actually, no.  I don't really care what her hair looks like.  But for certain things, yes, I want her hair to look nice.  For her dance pictures, where she's a part of a group, yes, I'd like her hair to look nice.  I can't put her hair up because it's so short on the sides.  I don't know how I'll even do the hair for the dance pictures and performance.   But she's only four, and when we all look back on those pictures, we will all remember and have a laugh remembering how Juliette cut her hair.  It's like the kid in Juliette's class who wears pajamas every day.  I am so grateful that his mother let him wear his pajamas in the class picture.  (Clearly a third child.  No first born would ever be caught at preschool in their pjs unless it was pajama day!)  I want to remember the kid who wore his pajamas every day.  And really, how awesome is that?!  Clearly this is a brilliant child.  I would like to stay in my pajamas all day, too.  That kid is a genius.

But there's more that upsets me.  When I asked Juliette why she did it, she said, "I just wanted to be a little bit sneaky."  So that upsets me.  She cut her Polly Pockets' hair and the next day she cut the wigs' hair in the "beauty salon" at preschool the next day.  Who's to say she's not going to go into her sister's room and cut the hair of the $100 American Girl Doll's hair.  That's what I'm more upset about.  It's a trust thing.  She is having her nap now.  I don't know what I'll find when I get in there.  And I don't like feeling that way about one of my children.

Loud Girls

In the other room right now are four eight or nine year old girls.  Three of these girls I have known since they were in kindergarten.  (Well, one is my own, so I've known her a little longer.)  The fourth is new to their school this year, and therefore new to me as well.  When the fourth girl joined our Brownie troop this year, her mother was somehow sold a bill of goods (by me).  She was told that our troop was made up of several girls who are shy, a little timid, sometimes a bit socially awkward, slow starters, uncomfortable in new situations, etc. etc.  I swear, if you saw our Brownie troop in June, this is exactly what you would have seen.  And then third grade started.

Somehow third grade has created completely different animals.  This was evident from the first time I had a whole gaggle of girls here (about week two of school).  We walked here from school, about a fifteen minute walk, and the conversations did not stop for the entire walk, the entire playdate, until the last girl was picked up and deposited in her own home.  When I peeked in on the girls, they were dancing and singing at the top of their lungs, putting on some bazaar show for the girls who looked back at them in the mirror.  These girls did not lack confidence.  They were not shy in front of brand new friends.  They were completely and totally comfortable in their own skin.  And LOUD.

When Zachary has friends over I expect them to be boisterous, rambunctious, bouncing off the walls, and constantly having to be shushed if Juliette is sleeping.  But Annalise's playdates have always been much quieter; the girls preferring to disappear into Annalise's room for vast amounts of time, only surfacing to eat or use the bathroom.  They may have been napping in there for as quiet as they were.  The other difference I've noticed is that Zachary and his friends are constantly negotiating what they will play next, changing their minds, and then another back and forth about the next activity.  Annalise's friends usually make a suggestion and Annalise just goes along.  Many of her friends are like this.  They will just go along with the crowd.  But this is not the case so much anymore.  These girls in my house right now all have opinions and are not afraid to voice them.  Even Annalise, the queen of going along with any suggestion, is actually voicing her opinions and being heard.

These girls have grown up a bit, but mostly their friendships have grown up.  These girls who have now known each other for years have finally truly accepted the friendship.  They now trust in each other -- enough to speak their minds and know that they will still be liked, respected and listened to.  They are now free to be themselves in front of their friends.  They are free to be the crazy, goofy, opinionated girls that we, as their parents, have seen for years.

In a small town like ours, people move in and stay.  People do not move away.  (Actually they do move away: they leave to go to college, have a single life, get married and start a family.  But when it comes time for their kids to start school, inevitably, we come back.)  Annalise will be stuck with these kids for the next ten years of her life.  What a blessing it is for her to have found friends who know her and love her and listen to her and respect her for the crazy, goofy, opinionated girl that she is.  These girls in the other room will very likely be her friends for life.  They will share in each others' ups and downs, triumphs and collapses.

So, yes, I unknowingly sold a mom (also my friend) a bill of goods.  But what her daughter got is so much more: a group of lovely, loud girls who trust in each other.

Dirty Camp

This week Annalise is participating in our local Girl Scout day camp. It is a camp I attended when I was a Brownie, and I am so excited that she is following in my footsteps. The camp takes place in the afternoon. The girls aren't picked up until 7:30, which means right to showers and bed. Annalise is exhausted and oh so dirty when she comes home. The camp takes place at a park in town, which I am convinced is the dirtiest, dustiest place on earth. It is full of hiking and horse trails, a frisbee golf course and dirt. And sticks. And dust. And a few weeds. Beautiful old oak trees. And dirt. I'm still not sure what all they do there all day. The answers are always a little vague. Yesterday they went on a hike. Today they learned how to make lanyards. They sing those same old songs that have been around since the beginning of time -- songs about bubblegum and worms and boom-chicka-booms. Yesterday she learned a song about being terrific but nobody knows it yet (except people do know... I think she's pretty great.). They do some cooking and then some more singing. Tomorrow they are going to hike to the cave to see the "one-eyed monster." Both Annalise and her friend Cora were pretty sure they didn't want to have anything to do with that at the beginning of the week. But today they both are considering going inside. We'll have to see. This camp is the highlight of their summer. And it's one of my highlights, too. My girl grows before my eyes when she goes to day camp. She leaves the house a little girl each afternoon, but she comes back a little taller, a little wiser, a little braver and a whole lot dirtier.

I'm Back!!

I have taken quite a break from writing in my blog. I have been unbelievably busy and have not had a spare second to myself. But this afternoon, Juliette is napping; Zachary is "resting" while watching a movie and Annalise is still at school. They are all great by the way. I'm not sure what this entry should be about, so maybe I'll just catch you all up.

I have been so busy because, well, I have three kids. But more than that, I also co-chaired the fair at Zachary's school this spring. (Much more on that later...) And since then I have been playing catch up with my life! Also, my brother and his family were here from Italy for two wonderful months. (Hopefully more on that later, too!) And other than that, I shuffle people from one place to another. Jason is still plugging away at work and then working around the yard on the weekends. We're hoping to get some fun stuff done around the house now that I have a little break! And maybe we actually spend some time together, too. Aaaahh, a girl can dream! :)

Annalise is still doing her first grade thing. She is gaining confidence every day. She is still a "floater" -- playing with different kids all the time, which I think is fabulous. She has a couple girls whom she would call her "best friends," but doesn't play with them every day. She seems very happy with her friends, her school, everything but her brother. (More on that later, too!) She finished softball, which she really liked. It is kid-pitch in this league, which was excruciating to watch. Often there were only one or two hits in the entire game. Ugh! It is just strike out after walk after strike out. So obviously they don't get to practice their fielding, either. I just don't get it. But fortunately, I don't run the league, so I don't get to make those decisions. I'll let someone else who actually knows something about softball make those decisions. She is still dancing, too. She's getting pretty good, though I really can't read her when she dances. Does she love it? She says so, but she just looks very intense. I'd like to see her let go a little.

Zachary is finishing up his second year of preschool. He is very conflicted about not going to kindergarten next year, as many of his friends are. We have had him observed by the district psychologist, who really thinks he is doing just fine, though he is a little immature. He definitely is showing a little more interest in "academics" lately. And we need to do a better job of follow through with him, and not accepting "I don't know" or "I can't" as an answer. He is still very social and loving. And I think he's a good friend, too. He is also done with his gym class. I'm a little sad about this, but he was ready to move on. And he has moved on to tee ball! Adorable!! Everyone gets a base hit, even if it takes you ten tries to hit the ball off the tee; even if you get tagged out; even if you run zig zag across the field to get to your base. The last one up always gets a homerun. The game goes on even if the opposing team is now sitting in the outfield playing duck duck goose. It's really cute and he's having a lot of fun.

Juliette is a rascal!! She is now 16 months old and is just so full of spirit! She's been walking and climbing for so long that now she really is an expert. Somehow she still manages to fall about 30 times a day. But she is one tough cookie. She cries for a second and then is back in action. She is by far the toughest one of my kids, and the least bit of a drama queen. She has tons of words now, and a few signs, too. But her favorites are baby, please, doggy, cracker, birdy and Zachy. My favorites are still shoes, cheese, purse and backback. She is always in action, often with a purse over her shoulder, ready to go. She is still a huge flirt and wins hearts wherever she goes.

Okay, you are now caught up on the major happenings in our house. Hopefully I'll have a chance to go into more detail, too. Keep sleeping, Juliette...

Girls Are Weird

Yesterday, the kids had a double play date over at our house. We decided to have an outdoor-only playdate because, well, we can (it's not raining! Yay!), but also because everyone is germy and borderline-sick, so we thought we'd minimize the germ-spreadage by keeping them all outside. It was great. They rode bikes and scooters, played with "swords", played on the sit upon spinny things, hid from one another, chased each other, etc. Juliette walked all over; played in the dirt; tried to get in the way of the bikes; layed down in the middle of the street. It was great.

At the end, the girls were playing with hula hoops. Annalise and Zachary just got hula hoops from my mom. My mom was buying one for herself and bought them for the kids as well. (Yes, you read that right. My mom bought HERSELF a hula hoop! She's 65 and she can still hula hoop like a rock star! According to my husband I look like Ozzy Osbourne when I hula hoop, so I guess I do, too. It's hard!!) Annalise has gotten quite good. She's confident and she whips that thing around. She almost knocked Juliette over the other day. A hula hoop can be dangerous. (I should have remembered this. "The Hula Hoop Incident" caused a trail of blood from my nose across the Paradise Canyon campus for years. It also covered my entire Brownie uniform. Deadly, those hula hoops.) Anyway, Annalise's BFF clearly hasn't had as much experience with the hula hoop, and so she wasn't as good. And that's when this weird thing happened.

They stopped hula hooping. When Annalise isn't good at something, she usually keeps going and going until she is. She taught herself to jump rope in one day. She's stubborn as hell (wonder where she gets that from?) and keeps trying and trying. But that's not what happened with BFF. But what's weird, is that it wasn't really BFF who stopped trying. It was Annalise who changed the activity. She saw that her friend wasn't doing as well and so she changed what she was doing. She started rolling the hula hoop. BFF immediately started rolling hers as well. And this was fine for a while until it was clear that Annalise was much better at rolling the hula hoop, too. So then she started messing up on purpose occasionally. And was saying weird things like, "Oh, I just got lucky that time. I'm not that good at it either. You're good, too." It was so weird. And then she got her condescending voice on, like she was an adult talking to a small child. "Good job! You did it!" It was like she was afraid to be good at something her friend wasn't. IT WAS SO WEIRD!

What's even weirder, is that I remember doing the same thing. Maybe I still do??? What is it with girls that we can't just be good at something and be good at it and that's it. Why does it have to be an issue. I remember lying about my grades to my friends because heaven forbid I did better than other people. I was SO SCARED to tell MY BFF (who was, admittedly, a scary person and SO not my BFF) that I got into UCSB. I knew that she hadn't heard yet and I didn't want to deal with that conversation. I remember downplaying my own strengths and boosting up others. Why do we do that? How does Annalise know to do this at the age of seven? Did I teach her that? God, I hope not! Is it something innate in women and girls that we are so sensitive to the feelings of others that it holds us back from our own successes? How do we counteract that? Of course I want Annalise to be sensitive to the feelings of others. That is one of her strengths. She has shown empathy from a way younger age than she should have been able to show such a thing. But is that holding her back from other strengths? How do we build our girls up without them feeling like they are keeping others down? In the long run, has this effected the success that I have had? Did I stifle my own talents when I was young and hence hold myself back from future success? I am so baffled by this. Maybe it's not everyone. Maybe it's just Weber girls? Does anyone else do this? The last thing I want is to have my daughter hold back on her own success on the hunch that it might make someone else "feel better." Annalise's BFF is one tough cookie. I seriously doubt she would be bothered by someone else doing better than her at something, especially when she has so many strengths herself. I am going to be seriously watching for this in the future; and watching what I do as well as my girls.

A Girls' Morning

Today was a rarity. Zachary had school, but Annalise was off. So we decided to go out to breakfast. My friend Sarah's mom came over to babysit for Juliette so that Annalise and I could really enjoy ourselves. And we did! With three, I feel like Annalise is sometimes the one who gets the shaft as far as alone time with me. Zachary and I get time during the mornings he's home when Juliette is sleeping. Obviously Juliette and I get time when the others are in school. But I have to make special arrangements to have one on one time with Annalise.

Seven is such an interesting age. She is on the verge of being very independent. She can do so much on her own and loves to have that independence. She will close her door now and turn up her music and hang out by herself or with a friend. She wants to do her own hair and pick out her own clothes. She can help her brother make his lunch. She will ride up ahead on her scooter to ride down the big hill by our house all by herself. But she also wants to come in and cuddle in the mornings and night. She still loves to play with dolls and Legos. And she is very silly! When I was her age, my friend, Sarah, and I walked to school all by ourselves. (Actually we walked all over town when we were supposed to be on our way to school, but that's another story for another day.) We rode our bikes to "The Plaza" (the Vons shopping center) every Saturday and stayed for hours. We were so independent. But I also remember going to camp at age nine and crying every night because I missed my mommy. Even today, Annalise was wearing her skinny jeans with her ballet flats (She's way more hip than I am.), but she skipped and held my hand as we walked into the restaraunt. It's definitely an age of contradictions.

So our breakfast today was a great check-in time. We talked about her plans to go to Stanford. (Have I mentioned that before? "I don't know why. I've just decided I want to go to Stanford." She'd better work on those soccer/dance/softball/ANYTHING skills that will get her a scholarship! The other night I woke up in a cold sweat when I realized that if Annalise is the same age Jason and I were when we got married, that we will have two kids in college at the same time as we're planning a wedding!! Yikes!!) Anyway, we talked about her college plans and how she wants to do a year abroad like Auntie Sarah did. Actually she's trying to talk me into doing a summer in Italy with Uncle Billy and Auntie Carlotta NEXT YEAR! Crazy girl! But we laughed and were silly and had a great time! My friend Courtney is having a girls' weekend in New York right now with her mom and sisters. I can't wait to have that with my girls! For now I will take these little opportunities for "big girl" time when they come. She's growing up before my eyes, and it's nice to stop and take it all in before the moment has passed.

Seven

Seven years ago, I went on the most harrowing ride of my life. It was scarier than the first time I drove out to Palm Springs, with only my learner's permit, the wind whipping the car around. It was scarier than the time our family escaped "the biggest storm in 20 years" in Boston, slip sliding up the hill to make it back to my aunt's house in New Jersey in time for Christmas. And it was scarier than the snow storm Jason and I drove through in the middle of the night on our way to Colorado, me hanging my head out the window to see the white line, the only way we knew we were still on the road. Seven years ago, we put one tiny baby into a Graco carseat (checked and properly installed by the CHP) and drove her home. We did not go on the freeway. We did not drive anywhere close to the speed limit. And we had somehow talked my mom into following us home. We had been unsuccessful in talking the nurses into joining us. I sat in the backseat, staring at the beautiful, terrifying, mysterious and loud creature next to me. I was scared out of my mind.

To this day, I do not understand why they let us take that little thing home from the hospital. She was so fragile and helpless. And we had NO CLUE what we were doing. Sure, we had taken every class possible. We knew how to nurse a plastic doll and perform CPR on a dummy. Sure, we had read every book on parenting (a practice I would NOT recommend). I knew that the baby's life should revolve around mine and not the other way around (yeah right) and that I should never let a baby nurse to sleep (um, had that author ever actually interacted with a baby?). But a real life baby, we had come to find out in our two short days in the hospital, was a completely different animal. This little being followed her own rules. We had no idea what those rules were and how to handle them. We knew we were completely in over our heads. I have the picture of myself, about to get into the car, to prove it. I am wearing the face of someone about to walk the plank.

For some reason they did let us take her home, and thank God they did. It took us a while, okay a long while, to figure out Miss Annalise. It took us quite a few more car rides as well, mostly in the middle of the night, with at least two, if not three, of us crying. It took us throwing out most of our parenting books. It took us listening to other parents, both seasoned and brand new. And mostly it took us listening to our hearts. Annalise was not an easy baby; far from it. She did not fit into any mold. She did not fit into our lifestyle; she did not fall asleep on her own. Of course she changed our lifestyle. Isn't that the whole point of parenthood? If I had wanted my life to stay the same, I would never have gotten pregnant to begin with. Annalise made our lives messy. She made things difficult. She made us tired. And cranky. She made my breasts swell and bleed. She spit up on everything, all day long. She cried. A LOT. She made us question every decision we ever made. But she was worth it; all of it. For soon after she arrived at our house, she cuddled with us. She would hold our fingers in her tiny, little hand. And soon after that she was smiling; then giggling; playing peek-a-boo. And the next thing we knew, she was pointing out accessories: "Hat." "Shoes." And then she was running in new shoes, falling down and scraping her knees. She was analyzing the different types of shirt sleeves: "Spaghetti straps." "Cap sleeves." (I know, the fashion thing is interesting. We think she gets it because Auntie Jenn was in the delivery room. She certainly doesn't get it from me!)

Somehow along the way, we learned to throw out the rules. We learned to listen to our hearts and listen to our child. She has grown into a smart and capable first grader. She frustrates the hell out of us sometimes (still). But mostly she amazes us. She is creative and imaginative. She has her own sense of style (obviously). She is kind and giving. She is goofy and beautiful. She sets up a play store called "Kid stuff for way less than you would believe" in our living room. And she sends e-mail to her Grandma, on vacation in Italy, because she misses her. She still wants to cuddle first thing in the morning. Her four-year-old brother is her best friend. She rocks out to Miley Cyrus and Taylor Swift. She is trying to be independent. She wants us to drop her off at school instead of walking her to her classroom. But she wants to sit on my lap at "Eat lunch with your child day." She curls up in a chair and reads chapter books in her head.

I'm still trying to figure Annalise out somedays. Somedays I just don't get her at all. She still makes our lives messy (both literally and figuratively). She still cries a lot. But she hardly ever spits up anymore. And often she's actually able to tell us what's bothering her. She's our first born baby; our experiment. We've made a lot of mistakes along the way, but in the long run, so far, I don't know how, but we have really gotten it right.

Ungrateful

Yesterday was one of those days that just grrrr!!!!! It was bad. I know I just wrote a post about keeping perspective, but sometimes you have to bitch a little bit, too. Anyway, we have ants, the water heater isn't heating water, we have tons of bills to pay and not tons of money with which to pay them. I had a million things to do AND my mom (babysitter/lifesaver/person I complain to) left today for three weeks. Anyway, it started off as one of those days. And I was wearing my sweatpants, which actually are Jenn's hand-me-down yoga pants from when she was pregnant and just post-pregnant. And for those of you who saw me every day last year, you know I wore them every other day last year. Now a few more things actually fit in my wardrobe, so I am trying to disguise myself as an adult. Today I am actually wearing a skirt (a nice one that has to be ironed). But yesterday it was sweats and you know how that doesn't really help the whole attitude. So I was already on the edge.

So after we ran a bunch of errands that required Zachary and Juliette to be in the car for almost two hours, we had to pick Annalise up from school, zip over to South Pasadena to buy Annalise both new ballet and tap shoes and then get back to La Canada in time for her dance lesson. (Basically this meant almost another hour in the car for the little ones who, miraculously, weren't complaining at all.) We were half way to the shoe store when I told Annalise that we probably would not have enough time to go home and change before class, so she would just have to wear her dress and leggings that she wore to school. She proceeded to have an enormous fit (with tears) and would not let it go. So of course, I overreacted as well, turned the car around, yelled about how ungrateful she was, drove home, screamed at her to change her clothes, changed Juliette's diaper, threw everyone back in the car, yelled some more, got the shoes (Thankfully I had my checkbook since in all the yelling I had left my wallet at home.), and took her to dance class fifteen minutes late.

I was so upset I didn't know what to do. Jason said he was surprised I had taken her to the class at all and that I had bought the shoes, too. Truthfully, I wouldn't have done either except that I had already paid for the class AND given away her too small shoes.

Sometimes I get so frustrated with my children. I feel like I've done a good job at teaching them to be grateful for what they have. And then they turn around and have this real sense of entitlement. Where does that come from? Do I give them too much? Do I need to start cutting back on things? I really don't feel like I have spoiled them, but maybe I'm just naive. Maybe I have. Is it just an age thing? Are all seven year olds self centered? Do they all really only care about themselves? Annalise has always done a great job of showing empathy. When someone is hurt, she's great at taking care of them. When they're feelings are hurt, she will be the one who plays with them. But she didn't seem to show any care at all that her brother and sister were being carted all around town. She wanted her shoes. She wanted her ballet outfit and she didn't care who had to suffer in the meantime. I don't know what to do to teach them better that they can't always have everything they want and they can't always have things when they want them. I hope these lessons will come with age. I didn't handle the situation well yesterday, but I hope I don't have to handle the same kind of situation too much in the future either. Maybe next time I'll have a cooler head. Maybe nest time the kids will be a little more grateful. We'll see.

First Day of First Grade

Because of the fires, the first day of school was postponed two days this year. Annalise had fun playing on the beach and in the pool, but cried both times she heard that school would not start yet. So Tuesday afternoon, when we heard the news that school would start the next day, she was elated! (My mom and I groaned.) We got home late, and had time only to throw on pajamas and brush teeth. Of course Annalise had already picked out her first day outfit, so that was easy to set out.

The next day, though she must have been tired, she bounded out of bed and was ready early to head out the door. She hardly looked back as she kissed me goodbye and sat on the floor with her new classmates. I couldn't help but linger, not believing that she was going to be gone all day. In the end she had a great day, even though only one kid from her class last year was in her new class. She and Malia stuck together and were more than fine. But for me it was one of the longest days I've had since becoming a parent. Of course it was all compounded by the fact that we stayed inside all day. Zachary's asthma was still a problem and the air quality was still awful. He watched movies and I watched the clock. Even Juliette wasn't much of a distraction, taking a three plus hour nap. As my mom said, I felt like my right leg was missing. Finally twenty minutes before she was to get out of class, I couldn't take it anymore. We drove the one minute drive to school and waited outside her classroom. I wasn't the only one either. There were already moms there waiting impatiently for their right legs to come through that door.

I was so proud of my tired big girl. She had had her first full day of school and had weathered it just fine. (At dinner time, though, she asked if we were going to have a nap!) I know that I will adjust to having her gone. Officially, I know I'm supposed to like having all that time. I'm sure someday I will. I'm sure some days I'll be thrilled to let someone else deal with her. But in the meantime, I'm going to miss her when she's gone and that's just going to have to be okay.

Anticipation

School starts on Monday. My big girl will start first grade. Annalise has been anxiously preparing. Tuesday we dropped Zachary off at MyGym camp for a morning so the girls could do some back to school shopping. We bought two new pairs of shoes. And then she tried on about 30 outfits at GapKids until she narrowed it down to her favorite two. We also picked up her school supplies from school. She carefully examined each item and labelled them with stickers reading "This belongs to Annalise E." (This, of course, to separate her from all the other Annalises in her class. You know there are so many.) This morning we dropped Zachary off again and we went out to breakfast, just the girls. We had fun "writing" our own version of "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie" -- "If You Take a Baby to a Restaurant." We rolled with laughter with each different senario. Then we went home and together decorated her pencil box.

I remember so much the anticipation of school starting. Like Annalise has been doing all day, I remember running down to the mailbox twenty times on the day the letters would arrive, telling us who our teacher would be. I, too, called my friends to see if they were in the same class. Every time the phone rings she jumps up to see if it is a room 9 friend. I admit, there are friends who I hope are in her class. I am pleased with her teacher and look forward to a challenging year where she will learn and grow in a loving environment. I think her teacher's soft voice and demeanor will balance nicely with all the noise (and okay, often loud voices) she hears at home. I look forward to p.e. classes, science and art, music and lots of reading and writing.

Monday she will put on her pink (Did you really think it would be any other color for the first day?) butterfly dress and polka dot leggings. She'll tighten the velcro on those pink glittery Geox shoes. (She's graduated from Lelly Kellies apparently.) We'll brush her newly cut hair and put in a sparkly headband. We'll pack up her new pink and green lunchbox with reusable, non-toxic containers filled with healthy, tasty treats to get her through the day. And she'll throw on her old blue butterfly backpack and we'll head down the hill. She'll have her own spot in room 9 next to a boy who picks his nose and whose shoes are untied, but whose hair is pefectly coifed for the first day. She'll play for the first time on the upper playground with her friends at recess. She'll be a little scared and a little excited, but she'll make it through her first day of first grade. She'll come home a little dirty and a lot tired. And we will all look forward to day two.

Cuddle Time

Yesterday I wrote that we don't have a family bed. Apparently that's not entirely true! Sometime in the middle of the night Annalise crawled into our bed, leaving me sandwiched between her and Jason. (And I mean sandwiched -- the girl is a heat-seeking missile. My side of the bed was mostly empty as we all snuggled up on Jason's side.) I didn't sleep very well because of the sandwich (and Jason's pillow is way too high) and Juliette has been having sleep issues as well. But that is a whole other post. I was about to be annoyed and grouchy until I thought that I probably don't have too many years left of snuggling with her in bed. And then I remembered that in high school my mom used to climb into bed with me every morning. "Move over," she'd say, just like I say to Zachary whenever I cuddle with him. My mom and I would lay there a few more minutes, cuddle and talk. It's one of my favorite memories of my mom at that time of my life. What a great way to connect with a grouchy teenager -- corner them when they are happy to not go anywhere. A few more minutes in bed? Sure! I'll have to remember this when Annalise is more interested in boys, friends and her cell phone than she is in me. Hopefully cuddle time has a lot more years left in it. In the meantime, I'll try my best to savor all those special moments, even if they come at the expense of some much needed sleep.

Sex Ed

So here is the issue that we are currently dealing with in the Evans household. Annalise's BFF was recently told by a friend at school how a baby is made. Of course BFF brought it up to her parents, who then got a book and filled her in on the details. (They had to -- she already had been told the nitty gritty.) Fortunately, her parents also told her that this was something to discuss only with her parents. But she told Annalise that she knew how a baby was made and that she couldn't tell her how because this was something to discuss only with her parents. So now Annalise is asking. She has asked before, and we have kind of passed on the question by giving some details but telling her it's quite complicated and we didn't think she was really quite old enough yet to understand. This satisfied her for a while, but now that BFF knows (and she's only 3 months older), that doesn't fly anymore. We have a very open household. My kids know all about their bodies. She knows about periods and eggs and all that -- just not the actual act. I'm just afraid she's a little young. She just finished kindergarten for goodness sake! But I think the conversation will have to occur soon. BFF's mom gave me a great book that's really on her level. Deep down, I know it will be fine, but my inner prude is totally coming out!