Pomp and Circumstance

...or 2-1/2 hours of sitting in hard folding chairs while sandwiched in an overcrowded room holding a heavyweight, sleeping two-year old, starving, and feeling oddly sad at the arrival of the end of yet another school year.

Yes, Holden "graduated" from elementary school on Thursday, May 21st with much fanfare. Actually, they didn't play the song. I guess it wasn't technically a graduation so they skipped it. Good thing... because as emotional as I was I no doubt would have started to cry. Those cliches get me every time!

Holden is finally happy to be done with 5th grade and ready to move on to middle school next year. I am still quite ambivalent about the whole thing. I am proud of him. His all A report card; his Presidential Award of Academic Excellence; his good relationship with all of his teachers and classmates. He works really hard. The only way to go is up. But I wish he could stay here for a little while longer... for me.

The ache in my gut is still there. I suspect it will remain until middle school becomes the norm. Perhaps writing it down... putting it out there... will help me to let it go and enjoy summer. I know he will!

Holden and Mrs. Terry:

I've Got a Story to Tell

While reading to Emeline tonight I read the most wonderful lines...

"Oh, Sara!" she whispered joyfully. "It's like a story!"

"It is a story," said Sara. "Everything's a story. You are a story - I am a story..."

It's from A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett. Yes, it's a little bit heavy for a six year old, but she loves stories however long or complicated. She "gets" them, follows them, sees the details in the fabric of them. I love reading to her.

People have said to me "why do you write a blog?", "I can't imagine what I'd write about", "who wants to read about me?". Ben is baffled by the Facebook and Twitter phenomena. Why do people want to put out there what they are doing and why do people care? I think that quote reveals the answer.

We are all stories.

In the book, Sara Crewe is a little girl who loves to tell stories - for her friends and for herself. When her father dies and leaves her pennyless, she is reduced to the life of a scullery maid and forced to live in the sparse attic. She starts using her storytelling skills as a method of coping with her circumstances.

I love telling my stories. I share them on this blog for my family and friends that we don't get to see as often as we'd like to. In the beginning, there was also the lure of moneymaking from my blog so I added a Site Meter to keep track of my "hits", but now I don't check it because my readers are not the main reason I write. (And I don't write consistently enough to or write only about one main topic to gain a following anyway.)

The main reason I write is personal. I love writing. I have a pile of journals... one for Holden, Emeline, and Owen; one for tracking diet and exercise; and one for just me. The ones from my childhood and teenage years have laid untouched for years. Sometimes the current ones lay untouched for years. The blog is a bit more of a commitment and obligation... whether I have readers or not. Plus there's the bonus of hearing from my mom about how much she enjoyed this or that she read here. My biggest fan.

For whatever self-serving purpose... I'll keep sharing my story.

Found!

We are animal lovers. Animals are amazing... each in their own unique way. And they bring great joy to loving owners. That being said we aren't necessarily "dog people" although we have owned dogs in the past. And even though we currently own two cats, we are barely cat people.

How can we be animal lovers, but not love owning animals? That's primarily because pet ownership is hard work! And we love animals so much that we want to be the best at owning them that we can be, but with three (animals) children already and an extremely full life besides we don't have much time for being world's best pet owners. I know, I know... lots of important people have pets and make time in their busy lives for them. Doctors. Lawyers. Heck, even the President has time for a dog... but not us.

Another reason that we shy away is because we get extremely emotionally attached to the animals in our lives. We feel enormous guilt about leaving the pet (especially a dog) behind. I am not talking about death... not even a lengthy vacation. We feel guilty leaving the dog for just an afternoon. See what I mean about extremely emotionally attached?

Then there's the money factor. Inevitably, something bad (read costly) happens to them. Take Brick, for instance. Ben found him on a job site in the early spring of 1994. He was a tiny kitten probably too young to be away from his mother, but there he was making his way over a pile of bricks (hence the name) in a rainstorm... starving, lonely, and afraid. Ben took him in and fed him out of his lunchbox. He became an instant member of our family. In the fall of that same year, Brick was attacked by the neighbor's German Shepherd and seriously injured. The vet said he could do one of three things to our kitty: euthanize, amputate the severely broken leg, or repair the leg in a lengthy and difficult surgery involving pins that would leave no guarantee he'd ever be able to walk like normal. Putting him to sleep was out of the question. Ben couldn't imagine a three legged cat. So, yep, he opted for the surgery. And Brick became our million dollar cat (not literally, but when you've been married for only a few months and you are barely 20 and you are living above your parents garage... it might as well have been). Similar tales of woe could be told about all of our subsequent pets... except Amber, but I am sure her time is 'a comin'.

So this morning we awoke to a beagle meandering on our patio. Holden, who was sitting on the couch, munching his breakfast, and watching Curious George with bleary eyes, perked right up when the words "dog" and "our" were sounded in the same sentence. Yes, the kids have been after us for quite some time for a dog. To tell the truth, about five months ago, the "puppy bug" bit me. The puppy bug is somewhat like the "baby bug" where you see an adorable dog that is well-mannered and lovable and suddenly you want one for your very own. The longing continues until you run across a not-so-adorable and well-mannered dog or baby as the case may be, then the longing suddenly and abruptly ends not to be brought up again... at least not until you get another bite. Another admission... the dog I've been longing for... a beagle. Yes, this is my fantasy dog... a hairless, barkless, poopless beagle named Dash. This is another sign of "the bug"... a fantasy that lives perfect in your head, but is never to be realized because reality ain't perfect.

So here sits this beagle. Thirsty. Hungry. Sweet. Sad. We water him. Feed him... cat food, it's all we had. Pet him. He stays. The kids leave for school. He stays. Ben and I spend an hour picking off ticks... no less than 50... during which he lays submissively actually enjoying the attention, I think. Then Ben and I leave the house with the usual guilty ache in the pit of our stomachs. He stays! We bring home food and tick medicine. The talk of names begins...

I am torn. Ben is torn. The kids are decidedly thrilled. We will put forth a good faith effort to find his rightful home... if he indeed has one. If that is the case, Ben and I will be relieved because we want all animals to have a loving home. But if he stays with us... that's what he'll get.

Yearbooks

Nothing signals the near end of the school year quite like receiving your yearbook. Holden and Emeline's yearbooks came home with them on Wednesday. As soon as Holden, hopped in the car he announced "I'm in there five times!". I guess kids still immediately scan every page hoping to see the image they see in the mirror every morning forever inked on the glossy paper. Being immortalized in your school's yearbook beyond the one "gimmie" class picture is almost like being famous. A story in your own tabloid magazine.

When we arrived home the kids sat for at least an hour pouring over the books, page after page, looking for friends, teachers being silly, the kid who blinked when the flash went off... anything unique and memorable. That's what yearbooks are for after all.



By the way... Holden's been moved up to six appearances. Emeline stands at three. Look out for the paparazzi mob!



Who wants a two-year old's grimey fingers on their brand new fancy-shmancy yearbook... not Holden and Emeline. Owen had to get his own "yearbook" so he could sit on the couch just like his brother and sister. I couldn't leave him out...

A Happy Haircut

Emeline finally got her wish this weekend and she got her hair cut in a bob. She's been asking since before she started Kindergarten this past August, but I wasn't ready for it. Yes, I'm one of those who likes long hair. I don't mind the extra hassle of brushing out the tangles in the morning or braiding it for a hot summer day. And Em has beautiful "Breck Girl" hair... flowing, full of body. Needless to say I wasn't thrilled with the idea. So I put her off...

"After school pictures", I'd say. That came and went.

"After winter", I'd reason, "you'll want that hair to keep you warm."

"After school is out for summer", yet another stall.

But my mom and Ben both were on my case to let her be and let her do it... it isn't a nose ring after all. Hair will grow out. It's getting warm and will soon be hot. Days at the pool are just around the corner and that means bleach blond streaks in her hair... better to get it cut now so we don't cut off all the highlights in a month or so.

Saturday was the day.

Before:

After:

Can you tell she loves it? Her whole personality has changed. She's even bouncier than before. And she's been plain silly and giggly since. I am happy that she loves it so much.

But I, on the other hand, had a lump in my throat the entire day. Ben says I get too emotionally involved in stuff like that. He's probably right, but at least I let her do it. I think that's a big part of parenting... letting your children do things that maybe you wouldn't do or want for them and letting them live and learn. Roots and wings. Maybe along the way mom will learn a thing or two.

It's actually not "easier" to fix. I haven't mastered the blowout yet. Getting it smooth and bobbed under like the stylist did. Her natural wave is working against me, but she doesn't care. She's glad it's short. And when Emeline's happy, we're all happy.