Three Strikes and...

With all my kids being home now for summer, I have instilled a new "rest time" policy-- when Drew takes an afternoon nap... so does everyone else. Maybe they don't have to actually sleep, but they need to be in their beds... and quiet. So I just got everyone in their rooms. And, yes, it is quiet. I figure if I'm going to get through the summer sane, I will need this quiet time everyday, especially on the bad days. Like today.

Maybe "bad" is too harsh of a word. Hmmm... nah, it was bad.

Every summer, the moms at church get together once a week at the beach. I think in the past I made one attempt to go, but couldn't find them. I just don't like going very often-- the preparation work to just get in the car, the possible sunburns, the sand, the bags full of toys and towels and drinks, etc. I'd rather stay home, honestly. But this week I thought I'd give it a shot. Besides, I want to be better about making summer break actually fun for the kids, which is why we've also gone to the pool twice and the zoo as well this week already.

But, yeah, the beach.

I realized before we left that I needed to get quarters to put in the meters, because the beach they always choose has metered parking. Ugh. Strike one.

So I got change. I really would prefer to go to one of the many beaches that has free parking, but supposedly this beach has always been the one of choice because "it's the easiest to find." I like the beach itself, but just don't like the meters.

I put my dollar's worth of quarters in the dang machine, which gave me eighty minutes.

Right after we walked down to the beach, Drew, who had been acting perfectly fine all morning, sneezed, and a big wad of greenish snot oozing out from his nose. What the--? Where'd that come from? Fifteen minutes later, another little girl came and shoved him down... about three times. I wasn't angry-- her mother was mortified. But Drew, who had been quite patient through the first two shoves, lost it after the third. It took him a good fifteen minutes to stop crying. Strike two.

About thirty minutes into our stay, Allie, who had been playing in the waves with Sami, yelled for me in a panic. After racing over to her, I found out her crisis-- she had been trying to fill the bucket with water and the current pulled it out of her hand. It was gone.

Now I can understand disappointment and sadness, or even guilt, if she thought it to be her fault. But the weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth? Nope.

"It's gone! I'll never see it again!" You would have sworn someone just died. I asked her to be quiet and calm down. She didn't. So I grabbed her arm and pulled her to the towel to sit and calm herself down while babysitting Drew. I walked to the water and scanned the waves, hoping to catch a glimpse of something bobbing in and out of the waves. Nothing. Strike three.

When I went back to talk to Allie, Drew was crying again.

Thirty minutes later she was still sulking... and didn't decide until ten minutes before we had to leave to start playing again.

Needless to say, when we began packing up, she dragged her feet a bit. And continued to wail, with tears streaming, all the way to the shower, about how it was all my fault because I had "ignored" her. That wasn't true, because I had gone to her as soon as I heard her, but Allie's is very skilled at placing blame. At this point I was starting to fume, mainly out of embarrassment because of the horrible scene she was causing.

And then we walked back to the car. There was a yellow envelope on my windshield. Yep, parking ticket. My meter had expired. Yer out! My head basically burst into flames, and I yelled at Allie through my teeth to "get in the car NOW!"

Shelly had seen most of this last scene because she was leaving with her kids at the same time. So she found it rather humorous when she pulled up in her van along side me as we waited at the stoplight, just to see me turned toward the back seat, pointing with a firm finger, and spitting out angry words at my first born. I looked over and she was practically rolling. I'll admit, it made me laugh, too.

As we drove home, I told the girls, "That's it! No more beach day!" Of course, none of this was Sami's fault (she was actually awesome-- no whining, no complaining)... but she didn't say anything in protest to that threat, because I think she knew I was just an emotional wreck at the moment, and that I'd eventually recover and repent and change my mind. I probably will.

Allie just barely walked out of her room, and had the nerve to ask me to watch a movie. Say what?! I told her to go back to her bed. Quiet time is most definitely NOT done yet!

Links to the Recital videos

Blogger won't let me upload videos anymore for some reason, so I put the recital videos on YouTube. Here are the links...

Sami's ballet dance-- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZZ_xgcnKlYw

Allie's jazz dance part 1-- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_WeTbWTYaUc

Allie's jazz dance part 2-- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zlrz5V6D3Lg

Allie's ballet dance-- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LLH69ixNGec

In the Past Month

It was about five weeks ago when I found the lump in my thyroid. I assumed it was just a goiter-- that my thyroid level on my medication was too low and needed to be adjusted. A goiter is what I discovered six years ago when I was diagnosed with hypothyroidism. But this time a blood test, CT scan, ultrasound, and referral to an endocrinologist later, I started to wonder if it was something more than just a goiter. I still don't know what it is, but should know by next Monday. I had a biopsy last Friday, which was like getting blood drawn, but out of your neck... three times. My thyroid gland ached all day Friday, and has ached occasionally during the day everyday since then. But the pain seems to be fading slowly with each new day. I'm not complaining-- it is what it is. But I'm going on with life as if nothing has changed. I have to. Sure, there's a possibility that the nodule could need to be surgically removed, which may interfere with our plans to fly to San Diego at the end of the month. Or it could interfere with the modern dance class I'm taking that started this week (holy cow, I am so not flexible anymore). I actually try not to think about it too much, so I don't lose my focus. I get on Allie's case all the time for getting distracted when she's trying to complete a task. I can't allow myself to get distracted by something I have no control over. Of course, it's easy for me to do that because there isn't anything about this ailment at this point that proves to be a constant reminder of it-- like those who endure constant nausea or fatigue or severe pain. Those situations would be put on a completely different (and higher) level of tolerance and faith. I admire such people.

So let's talk about life.

Friday night was the girls' dance recital. They still take lessons from the dance academy at the Baptist church... which is nice for several reasons-- the classes are smaller and the kids are nicer, I haven't had to worry about dealing with "stage moms", and there aren't modesty issues. In fact, the dances were all biblical-- either in the portrayal of a biblical principle or story. Sami's pre-ballet class did a balletic interpretation on the battle of Jericho, with the one little boy in the class acting as "Joshua." He blew his little ram's horn (which the the other girls giggle), and they "chased" (sha-sayed) around Jericho. Allie's jazz class did they're "happy to know Jesus" dance, and her ballet class portrayed the Creation... which ended up being more of an epic than a dance (in the words of Kimberley, their teacher) with each "day" taking a minute or so. But it was beautiful. We all smiled as Allie flew around the stage, gliding and spinning and leaping, portraying every kind of "flying bird," and then she made us all laugh with her ape-like faces while attempting to dance like a monkey-- the more the audience laughed, the more she scrunched up her face and stuck her jaw out. And of course, at the end as everyone applauded and the girls walked off the stage, Allie couldn't help but blow the audience a kiss. I wish I had gotten that on video.

Well, tomorrow is Allie's last day of Kindergarten... and then she will never be a Kindergartner again. Sami finished her first year of preschool last week, even wearing for the end-of-year program the same dress Allie had worn when she was in her place two years ago. I don't remember crying when Allie finished that first year, but I did this time... just a little. I came to realize how quickly these years are going by. Billie Williams, the director of the preschool who retired at the end of the year, said, "The days are long, but the years fly by," (or something like that), and I am reminded daily of how fast my children are growing. A girl who, when we moved here, was just fifteen years old and babysat for us until she moved away after high school, got married earlier this year and is expecting her first child in November. Time really isn't standing still like I sometimes believe it is just because I tend to do have the same routine day in and day out.

The girls tried to make Mother's Day special for me, with special pictures and cards they had made for me. Of course, they complained about the dinner Kev had made for me-- grilled ribs and peppers and onions, as well as hummus and homemade whole wheat pita. He had gone shopping for me the day before, and surprised me with a new vacuum-- we couldn't take the squealing from our ten-year-old vacuum anymore. The Friday before that Sunday, Allie's class had prepared a special Mother's Day presentation, where the kids presented their mothers (or grandmothers) with cookies and orange juice, songs, and mini-speeches on why they love their mothers. I spent some time taking pictures of Allie with her friends before checking her out early to enjoy the rest of the day with us.

On April 28th, Kevin and I officially celebrated our 10th anniversary with a nice dinner at Scott's on Fifth in Indialantic. It's a little strange to think that those first five years were spent at BYU, and the latter five years have been here in Florida.

It's been a bit difficult to get all of this written down with all that has been going on. But I'm glad I finally took a moment to do it.

A Cut

Sami came to me yesterday morning with Allie's scissors in one hand, a clump of her hair in the other. She had cut off a good six inches of hair in one spot about a half inch across. I sighed, "Sami, what were you doing?"

"My hair right there was too long, Mom. I want you to take me to Miss Marelyn-- I want her to cut my hair short, just like yours, Mom!" I stewed over it for a few moments.

"Are you sure Sami? I think it would be cute, but I couldn't put it in a braid or a bun anymore. You sure?"

"Yes, I want it all cut off." Oh, and I left out the part of the conversation where she declared she wanted to give her hair to kids "who don't have any" (a.k.a Locks of Love). I had to explain to her that her hair, while long, wasn't quite long enough.

Anyhow, I knew that Marelyn couldn't take her right then, so I just did it myself. Now... I have been cutting Kev's hair for the past eleven years, and I have given the girls trims here and there. But I have never cut six or seven inches off someone's head of hair before. I got Sami's head wet, combed it through, clipped up the top third, took a small clump in my left hand, (winced) and cut... knowing there was no turning back... and if I messed up, it would have to be even shorter.

I finished and smiled. It was actually pretty cute. Not perfect, but cute.

When we went to pick Allie up from school, Sami declared, "Look, Allie, at my hair! Mom cut it!"

Allie whined, with a half-smile, "Mom, why'd you cut it?" She was in shock. She never thought Sami would have the guts to do that. Ever. I think she was a little envious of Sami's nerve... and yet terrified that the same fate awaited her. I assured her that Sami had asked for me to do that and that I would only cut her hair if she asked me to. She sighed in relief.