Mismatched socks and more

“Is today mismatched sock day?”


I cringed when I heard it. The innocent question of a dad to my dear, sweet Abby as she was on her way into the school. I was 30 feet away in my car, and in a moment, they disappeared inside the building. I said a prayer – like the one I say everyday – that this man wouldn’t destroy her sense of self-worth by expressing his opinion of her style.

My only daughter’s sense of fashion is … well. Um. It’s unique. VERY unique. Always has been. Mismatched socks are just the beginning. And honestly, hasn’t this father of an 8-year-old girl ever heard of the brand Little Miss Mismatched? Even Justice is selling packs of three not-quite-identical-but-color-coordinated socks.

But in our little farm town of 1,200, Abby is ahead of the curve – a trend setter. Perhaps. Though some of her other approaches to fashion might be more “out there” than her friends would dare attempt. Although she continually reaches for comfortable items – ie. ripped, torn, stained or shrinking – over practical. That kind of drives me nuts. I let her know. A lot.

As usual, she shrugs her shoulders as though I couldn’t possibly understand why wearing the same socks from two days ago, despite being unlaundered since, is perfectly OK. I – the mother who blissfully circles the cute coordinated ensembles in the Children’s Place fliers, which are oh-so-adorable! – simply don’t “get it.”

The very first time Abby put on something I deemed “questionable” was when she was 4. Jeans with a skirt pulled over them. She wore similar outfits daily. It was a logical solution to a new issue. In preschool, they played on the playground when the weather was appropriate. That included some chilly days, so the jeans-over-skirt look helped her stay warm and wear the only thing she really liked – skirts – such a blatantly obvious solution for a preschooler. Except she was the only one who thought of it.

That kind of creativity and problem solving for a 4-year-old made me think, "Who am I to mess with that kind of genius?"

Naturally, we got comments. The first ones were praise: “I think it’s so neat that you let her dress herself.” I felt good, perhaps even a sense of relief since other moms realized I couldn’t have possible come up with those styles on my own. Then came some sideways glances and flat-out criticisms, thankfully directed at me while she was still little.

This year is different. Abby is a third-grader. Peer groups are forming. Peer pressure is rearing its ugly little head. To top it off, this fall she adopted a new look: a tank top over long sleeves. Shorts over leggings. Tall mismatched socks and funky high top tennis shoes.

“Um. Abby,” I started out a conversation with her the first day she dressed this way, unsure of how to proceed in a way that wouldn’t make her think I was judging her. “It’s possible if you wear that some of your classmates will make fun of you. Kids can be cruel, you know.”

“I know, mom,” she answered flippantly. “I really don’t care.”

That a girl! I thought.

Then a few weeks later, Abby brought it to my attention that teachers stopped by her room frequently to check out her outfit of the day. Oh. My. Gosh. I had a moment. And shame on me! It wasn’t the kind of moment where I was concerned the teachers might be mocking her, but the horrible kind when I wondered what they thought of ME – the mother of “that girl.”

It didn’t take long for shame and guilt to overcome me. God’s good at putting me in my place. And maybe he wanted me to know that not just over Abby’s fashion sense but over my life in general, I was putting too much emphasis and energy into what other people think of me. It was one of those eye-opening reminders I very much needed. As I reflected on the school year thus far, I realized I had indeed been fretting relentlessly over how others perceive me. Of course, I know better but wasn’t wise enough to realize that ugly sin was dancing in my subconscious.

Abby later shared with me that all the kids in her class think she’s cool because of how she dresses. That makes her very happy. It occurred to me that it’s one way she sets herself apart from the crowd, and as she’s become more introverted, I think it’s her way of expressing herself and starting conversations. She truly loves being unique in a world where women and girls are socially trained and pressured by the media to conform to the world’s standard of beauty.

There is only one standard for Abby: being herself. She never attempts to dress like anyone else or act like anyone else -- famous or otherwise. So unlike my young (and truth be told, current) self. And so, how awesome is she? How much can I learn from my lovely little 9-year-old? How much can she teach others?

Mostly though I pray she never loses her sense of style, which is – I believe – a very core part of her identity, an identity I very much adore.

The Tooth Fairy

So, the tooth fairy came to our house a couple nights ago. Actually, it was an early visit for the tooth fairy....right after dinner.

Dan was in Abby's room helping her clean up (aka barking orders while lying on her bed), and Ryker and I were in the kitchen discussing techniques for getting that front tooth out of his mouth. I was suggesting a twisting, versus a pulling, manuver. As Ryker twisted, I did something a little mean. I gave his hand a little smack. With cat-like reflexes, he caught his tooth as it fell out of his mouth, his eyes enormous in disbelief. He was so excited, because I just told him I'd never helped either one of my children pull a tooth. Ryker was glad I got to have a part. Isn't that sweet, considering I'd just lightly punched him? Anyway, he ran to tell Dan. And then he got all excited that the tooth fairy would come to bring him money. At the same moment, he and Abby remembered -- oh right. there is no tooth fairy.

A couple weekends before -- Sunday, Sept. 25 -- when Ryker asked a question about Santa. It was the 157th example of one of them asking a Santa question that we'd been successfully dodging for quite some time despite promising we'd share with them the real Santa story, the better Santa story about Saint Nicolas. So Dan corralled the kids and -- in front of unsuspecting grandparents -- spilled the beans, all the beans. Santa, the Easter bunny and the toothfairy all came tumbling down. They took it rather well, and throughout the day, Abby would have little revelations like, "Oh, you had to put together the xyz toy that one year!" And "You picked out the American Girl doll you knew I wanted." Ryker, I'm sure, is still processing it all.

So, Dan says "Here's your toothfairy money," and reaches in his wallet to hand Ryker a dollar bill. We -- Dan and I -- exchanged a look. YES!!! The moment we've been waiting for, the night we don't have to plan and plot, sneak and lie to try to get a dollar under a pillow only to fail miserably and make up a story about the toothfairy's schedule and try again the next night. HIP. HIP. HOORAY.

And maybe sniff. sniff. My babies are growing up. No more toothfairy. No more Santa. (Personally, I've never been keen on a creepy six-foot bunny sneaking in the house on Jesus' sacred holiday, so there's a lot of relief on that holiday!) I've got to snap out of it. It's not like it's the end of their imaginations....we'll have so much more to look forward to and experience together. And it's time to enjoy, and I mean really enjoy (my plug for Ryker-isms) the real meaning of Christmas!

Farewell to Football

So, this weekend was the climax of Ryker's second football season. This year, he played exclusively defense on a darned-good team -- undefeated! I thought the defensive line was superb, but I am also a little foggy on what a down is, so consider it motherly bias. Ryker is developing a bit of a nervous personality. Funny, I didn't see it coming with the thumb sucking, nail biting and general clingy behavior he exhibited in his early years. Hmmmm. Anyway, he gets VERY nervous before football games and spelling tests. On the way to the championship game, he would not stop talking about how afraid he was. Finally, I told him to pray. It always makes me feel better. This is him praying in the back seat on the way to the game. I assumed he would pray for peace or to play well or to not be so nervous, but he prayed for what every 7-year-old boy would pray for: to win!

Unfortunately, they didn't win. They had an amazing season and sadly played against a team that would have quite easily won fairly, but the boys were pulling on jerseys and hitting from behind. It was sad, especially when one particularly large kid on the other team shoved two kids from our team from behind with his shoulder. I was feeling really sorry for the first kid -- who was hit hard and bowled over on the ground. Imagine my surprise when it was No. 50. He got up, but a few moments later was trying to pull off his helmet and was crying. Broke my heart! And then I did a terrible thing. I told Ryker if he wasn't seeing stars he should go right back out and play. Oh, the horror of this mother! What? It wasn't like I told him to go do it right back to the other boy! The mom behind me already said that! It was a tough game. Here's the whole team, proclaiming their undefeated status during the season. Sorry about the lighting. There were 40 moms and grandma types with cameras, and someone made them move from perfect shade lighting into this patchy sun. Makes me shudder!

I couldn't resist this last shot as we were getting in the car. I wasn't sure what was more dirty -- my boy or my Jeep. But only the boy got a bath. Can you believe that front tooth didn't come out during the game? It's hanging on my a mere thread. And now, more than 24 hours later, it's still in there! That hit hurt more than yanking that tooth out will!

Burnt rice and pecans in the shoes

My kids are creative and intuitive. They are also onery and downright rotten, which makes them about normal...I think. And I love them for all they are, even on the days they frustrate me.

Maybe because there's so much drama with Abby at school or because I'm working full time outside the house again. Or maybe because I'm older and wiser and have the gray hair to prove it. I don't know why, but I didn't completely lose it this morning when I smelled something burning right about the time we were getting ready to leave for school.

I couldn't immediately find the source. And while I was searching for appliances that might be to blame in the kitchen, I saw a blur of colors zoom right past the window...on the outside of the window. To their credit, the kids had backpacks, lunches and jackets neatly lined up on the sidewalk while they were running around and hollering in the front yard at 7:30 a.m. I called them both in so I could question them on the burning odor. Abby quickly admitted that she "did it" and then moved the kitchen garbage can aside. Behind it: a old Winnie the Pooh plastic bowl full of burnt rice. She wanted to make white rice for her brother, and according to her story, there were no directions on the box. (I doubled checked. There are.) I think she didn't add any water, and it was a black, stinky mess. We cleaned it up together, and I quietly thanked God that once again her mishap wasn't disastrous. We talked about having adult supervision in the kitchen, which is tough because she can make a lot of things on her own. But, even though she can, doesn't mean she should do it while I'm in the shower!

Later in the day, after the kids were picked up from school and we began settling in to evening routines, I found a trail of mulch on my bedroom floor near my son's shoes. Not unusual. Except one piece is literally the size of a pecan and as hard as a rock. I couldn't walk around with a pecan in my shoe all day. I'm relatively sure that I wouldn't last 30 seconds, and I'm not willing to experiment and see if I can. But I'm keeping the mulch...just like I do every day. We're planting a flower garden, and the school playground is funding the mulch! :-)

Harry Potter spectacles, please!

So, I picked up the kids from school today -- something I miss terribly already -- and Ryker immediately begins jabbering, which is A. weird. He never recounts his day and B. hilarious. He only talks about recess, as if it was the highlight. Well, I suppose it probably was.

Turns out his new group of recess buddies are still a mix of genders but also play Harry Potter just like last year. What's different is that his new friend, whom I don't know but love based solely on his ability to get my stubborn son to relent, insists on being Harry Potter. And Ryker who believed last year that he WAS Harry Potter and asked us to call him as much, has allowed it, graciously agreeing to the part of Ron Weasley. (He might be more accommodating based on who is playing the part of Hermione, but I don't have all the details as the boy rarely tells me much!)

Today, he's excited because we're on our way to the eye doctor. And the new Harry Potter told Ryker if he has to get glasses then he'll let Ryker play the part of Harry Potter for the rest of the year! Whoa, whoa, whoa! (He couldn't verify calendar or school year, but this is big news nonetheless.) Frankly, I was sort of pulling for Ryker to get glasses simply because the story was so cute, and I wanted him to turn into the triumphant hero in the end.

I figured he would try to intentionally "throw" the examination like Abby did last year. I gently reminded them both that no amount of fudging could fool the doctor. Ryker appeared to "try" to fib, but alas -- like his mom -- he just does not have a poker face. I thought Abby learned her lesson after last year, but she lied straight through her eye exam for the second straight year.

Either one of them would look adorable in glasses. Seeing as their parents both are nearsighted, and mine is pretty bad, I figured one or both would end up in them eventually. Turns out, both are just slightly nearsighted. Nothing our doctor recommends glasses to correct yet, and it's nothing either have ever complained about. So we'll check in again in another year. In the meantime, I might have to hit Amazon and get Ryker some Harry Potter costume glasses so he can play the part at recess sometimes. 'Cause I love my little Harry Potter!

First day ... and second ... at work

Well, the first day at full-time work in nearly eight years was fine and no different than any other day. Frustrations were running high by day two. It doesn't help that my transition is going hand-in-hand with the start of the school year. We're tired, cranky, whiny and irritable. And it just goes downhill from there!

Day one had a chaotic night. We knew in advance it would be madness! I get off at 5 but needed dog food -- there were a few scraps in the bin, and the wrath of the puppies isn't one I want to face! Dan picked up the kids from ASP, dropped Ryker off at voice lessons, went home to put together the homemade pizza with the crust I made two days earlier -- which failed to rise, and no, I didn't forget the yeast, though it might have expired as there was no date on it -- and had 20 minutes before he had to swap Ryker for Abby. Then he had 25 minutes to feed Ryker, dress him in full football pads and get him to practice. I hit Wal-mart for the dog food, milk, cheese and chicken for Tuesday night's dinner (I could have saved us all a lot of hassle by skipping the chicken -- more on that later) and went straight to a client's house in Athens to drop off a photo order and then to pick up Abby at voice. Abby and I got home, ate pizza and changed into our "workout clothes" for a bike ride. That's about the time I remembered I had milk, cheese and chicken in the back of the Jeep that had been there a good hour or so! Abby whined through a two-hour bike ride and then convinced me to buy a tow-behind bike that will attach to my bike. Not a bad idea, and so when we went to see the end of Ryker's football practice, I got on my iPhone and ordered it. $89 and delivered in two days -- perfect timing for our bicycling event Saturday if we get the hang of it by then! We got home, and I went for another bike ride -- or should I say a "real" one -- while Dan contended with crabby kids some more.


Dan, meanwhile, had the living room turned upside down form the last piece of the fireplace he ripped out earlier. He had to cover up a spot that was churning attic heat into the house, not to mention clean up for the Boy Scout meeting that was now an hour away. Finally at 6:12, we all strolled out of the house into the Jeep with nary a plan in hand. The tank was beyond empty, further cramping our schedule. Dan's ingenious idea -- the corner gas station 10 minutes away that had a Subway. Perfect! Everyone loves Subway. So the $5 chicken turned into $25 sub sandwiches. But Dan and Ryker made it to Boy Scouts on time. The downside: we had to drop them off so they would get there right at 7 p.m. I was going to leave my cell phone so Dan could call when they were done. Guess what? I forgot. Then Abby and I walked across town to get ice cream cones and I left my cell phone behind! We were nearly home an hour later when I realized I hadn't brought my cell phone. Then I realized that it hardly mattered since he didn't have his phone -- I was supposed to leave mine for him! It was still about 30 minutes to the time when Dan thought the meeting would end, so I cleaned up the kitchen. We headed out with 15 minutes to spare, so I figured I was doing pretty good. Then the boys spotted us and hollered about halfway to the park. They didn't try to hitch a ride; they decided to enjoy the evening on a stroll home. Ryker was happy. Abby said it was the best night of her life. I guess chalk one up for the parents, but we'll definitely need another plan. Subway for dinner every night will break us!! And don't even get me started on the Amazon shopping. That web site is very dangerous!

I'm back!!!

I miss blogging! And I apparently need another hobby, so why not? Perhaps you detect the sarcasm??? I'm starting a FULL-TIME job on Monday. I'm excited, inspired, enthused, honored and...scared! I've worked part-time jobs or home-based jobs since Abby was 10 months old. I went back to my full-time job when she was 3 months old, and I lasted 7 months. (And I thought I was bad at math!) She will be 9 this year, and it was exactly eight years ago that I left my full-time position as health reporter at the Herald & Review in Decatur. Gee...time really does fly!

So, what am I thinking? Well, specifically I'm thinking about college savings and a 401k. We've made some headway on our finances the last few years, but we want to move forward on Dave Ramsey's baby steps. Unfortunately, my photography business is stagnant -- I've made $8,000 a year all four years! Of course, I never took out a loan, and each year I invested more and more to make my business better. :) It's been great to us, allowing me grow in my skills and even get fantastic art of my own children during these years that race by so quickly. And I've learned a ton about marketing, which is the field I'll be working in! I'll actually be working at Abraham Lincoln Memorial Hospital in Lincoln, where I've spent the last three years working two days a week. I love the people there and everything I do, so it's definitely something to look forward to!

My kids spent most of the summer in "school" at the Montessori Children's House, and LOVED it -- the structure, the learning, the adventures. That convinced me the timing is right. There are some things that scare me more than others, such as the day they turn 13 and can no longer go to "camps" and the church after-school program. I mean, this is the age they are bound to get into big-time trouble with time on their hands. For the school year, Dan will be home minutes after they get home. So that pretty much solves that dilemma. And a friend of mine said she still hired a high school or college student to ferry her kids places when they were this age. I know I won't leave them to an empty house! And I've got a few years to write a plan. Frankly, if I can't figure it out, I also have no problem leaving the workforce and returning home either. I love that type of flexibility!

I hope I'll find the time to blog -- maybe late at night since I don't watch television -- so I can share my adventure, keep family up-to-speed on the craziness of this life, inspire you with stories about money, faith and raising an ADHD child, and maybe even make you laugh or smile from time to time.

Stay tuned....

Teeny weeny

Ryker came bounding in my room this morning and shouted, while laughing, "I have a teeny weeny tiny little weiner!"
"What?!" I said. And then, of course, he repeated verbatim.
"No you don't," I replied, as a mother should. "It's just right."
"You're right, Mom," Ryker said. "I love you."

My hero is turning 5 and then going to kindergarten!

Can hardly believe this is my baby...um, er, my hero. He fights villians by night, which must be why he's so crabby and moody during the day! :-) Invites have been ordered; can't wait to see how they look in my hand! I LOVE my job!!! Oh, and this has inspired me to start a birthday club for kids. Photos 6-8 weeks before their birthday that can be used for invites, guest books at the birthday party, beautiful decorations/centerpieces. What could be better???

Slumber party

“Just jump in.” That’s my husband’s philosophy on the best way to acclimate one’s self to cold pool water. I’m the annoying one who parks herself on the ladder dipping in one toe, then two and slowly creeping in one inch every few minutes. I do prefer this. It helps me prepare for what’s to come. I feel more at ease.

When it came to hosting a sleepover – a first big slumber party actually – for our daughter, I decided my well-planned efforts of slowly adjusting to my new environment would work in this scenario, too. I had an agenda, a schedule, a very well thought out plan. Yes, I knew there could be chaos, but I would be prepared, my plan would put me at ease. There would be swimming and pizza, movies and popcorn. That would be plenty to keep them occupied and satisfied….happy even.

Informal invitations went out and after a few agonizing days and then a couple early “no” replies, we thought we would be nursing a certain 6-year-old’s damaged self esteem. However, we ended up with six girls – armed with PJs, pillows, suits and towels – on our doorstep one recent Friday evening.

After the first two arrived, it occurred to me that while we had enough frozen pizzas to hold a block party, there was no dessert. No self-respecting mom withholds sugar at a slumber party, so I sent my husband out with a list: ice cream, sprinkles, strawberry syrup, whip cream. My plan already crumbling, I was still determined this could be a slumber party that all kindergarten slumber parties would be compared to…it would be the measuring stick. My husband, the rational one, wanted to know why I would make the party so inviting that they’d all expect to come back. Duh! It’s obvious he’s never been a 6-year-old girl!

The girls hit the pool first, jumping and splashing, kicking and diving. Naturally, I shot photos since it would take me too long to get into the pool, and my husband kept the peace in the pool. We took a break for pizza, and they naturally wanted to go back in the pool right away. But the “lifeguard” needed to eat (I think he wanted a break), so they were stuck playing in the backyard with our two battery-powered Jeeps and the play set. After a few minutes (literally), one of the girls came up and asked, “When are we going to do the fun stuff?”

Excuse me? What? Did I go to the wrong party? Was I in someone else’s back yard? I mean…pizza, swimming, swings, slides, motorized Jeeps. I didn’t even tell them I had planned to set up a sundae bar or that afterwards we would watch a movie and munch on popcorn. And yet, it wasn’t entertaining enough. The other girls chimed in with agreement. All the evidence I ever needed that children are irrational beings who cannot be completely satisfied was standing right in front of me, all 50 pounds of it, wet with chlorinated water and sticky with pizza sauce.

After more swimming, I set up for sundaes. There were two kinds of sprinkles, hot fudge, caramel, strawberry sauce and whip cream. I even got out fancy tall glasses to build their sundaes in. They loved it; they really did, but the complaining ensued after the last one finished making her culinary creation. Someone had more sprinkles; one didn’t get enough whip cream. By the time I was done running around trying to meet needs, I headed for the sticky, sprinkle-covered kitchen table to wipe it off. But I was cut off by a plea to end the boredom. OK, better get this movie going and pronto. It seemed I could not move fast enough to keep everyone happy.

I enjoyed a few minutes of peace when one became thirsty and then another and another. There was a need for more popcorn and did I have any candy. I suddenly wondered how kindergarten teachers maintain any amount of sanity. What was definitely clear was that I had not been able slowly acclimate myself to this slumber party. No amount of mental or physical preparation helped me avoid the inevitable. You know it’s true, every time you try to adjust to icy pool water slowly, you’re in full concentration when you’re unexpectedly splashed by child who’s plotting your doom and strikes maliciously just as the water reaches that mid-torso point that makes your face scrunch into a wrinkled ball.

Yes, my husband’s philosophy definitely applies. Not just to acclimating to the water temperature, but also to acclimating to the child’s temperament. Yes, they are greedy and demanding. They require immediate satisfaction; they are keenly aware when they are treated unjustly (“She got more ice cream,” spoken in more of a squeaky whine than a comprehensive voice.) And when you think you can prepare yourself in a way that will circumvent this, you are slapped in the face with reality. Kids will be kids, and while it’s hard to comprehend that they’re enjoying themselves through all the complaining, they really are. The one who complained the most will probably talk incessantly about the party for days. And if you decide instead to jump right in, you’re bound to have fun, too. Just be prepared to need a nap the next day.