Lighting the Night

This past weekend, the tween and I joined hundreds of other local peeps doing the Light the Night walk around Greenlake to support, honor and remember those who have fought against blood cancers.

Participants are given a balloon in one of three colors: gold for those honoring someone who lost the battle, white for those who are surviving it, and red for those of us supporting the fight. There are little lights in the base of the balloons; as it gets dark it is quite impressive to see all the lights twinkling around the lake. I'm so bummed I can't find a good picture of us walking the lake, because it's a pretty amazing sight. Perhaps I can get my photographer friend to take a few next year (I'm talking to you, Craig).

From the Light the Night facebook page.

I do this walk, and raise money for this cause, because it has affected people I care about. This is my second year, and it is one of those events I will do forever. Because it's that important to me.

Let me introduce you to Ashley. This is her, two years ago, right before she was diagnosed with ALL.

She was 4. She was diagnosed very early, with no symptoms, because it was caught while she was being treated for something else.

Then the battle began.

And it sucked.

This is Ashley, mid treatment, while she was on her Make-A-Wish trip to Disney World.

And here she is today, with her family, at the Light the Night walk.

They will be done with treatment in December. But I don't imagine the fear will ever go away.

Watching my friend go through this is heartbreaking and empowering all at once. This whole family amazes me and I am so proud of how they have all survived this horrible, terrible disease. Check out the charity they started to help other families who are fighting this same disease. (And while we are supporting them, check out their little family business here).

As we walk around the lake, there are signs put up along the path. The first set of signs are the ones in memory of those who have passed away, the ones we are honoring. Heartbreaking though it is, one of Ashley's friends is in that group. A little girl who was going through the same battle, but she didn't make it.

You guys, she didn't make it. She was just a little kid, with a whole life she didn't get to live.

.

After a moment to remember her, we move on to the photos of those we are supporting, those who are surviving. And there, two pictures before Ashley, is a photo of another friends son.

You guys, cancer sucks. Any kind of cancer. It hurts so many people.

We need to find a cure.

Please do what you can to help support the fight, even if it's something as simple as holding a balloon. Because even that can be powerful.

Honoring the survivors in the pre-walk ceremony

pictures

I can't get enough of this photo of the tween and the toddler.

I took it after school one day last week. The tween complained the entire walk home from school and I wouldn't let him come in the house until he got over it and left all the 'grumpy' outside. The toddler was trying to cheer him up.

Today, the toddler found my aprons (actually, this one belonged to my grandmother and I love it. Technically it's supposed to wrap around your waist, but she has her own style). She also found her brothers chef hat. And moved her kitchen from the dining room into our kitchen.

She keeps her kitchen as clean as mommy does.

And finally, in case you missed it on facebook or twitter, the new uniforms arrived for the teenager's soccer team.

Senior year insanity

Before Pierre and God come in to the picture, the teenager has to get in to college. And before college, he has to survive his senior year.

Last night was open house at the high school. We got to spend 10 minutes in each class, meeting the teachers, getting a quick recap of what the year will be like for them, and hearing things like "you should have already heard about this from your child".

Ummm, no. Teenagers, by definition, do not communicate with their parents.

The teenager, if you haven't been following along, is in a program called IB, or International  Baccalaureate. To quote the Urban Dictionary definition, IB is "A malicious program aimed at the unnaturally brighter population in an attempt to overload their brains, thus reducing them to vegetables without lives ... In an attempt to shove too much information down the throats of students, the program ends up significantly improving the core skill required to succeed in IB: Bullshit." Thus the phrase 'IB, therefore I BS' was born. 

And seriously, that BS thing is pretty accurate.  

We are also in the midst of the college application process at the moment, which is confusing and overwhelming. He's decided to apply early action to Georgetown and U Chicago. He's also looking at applying to Brown, Northeastern, U Maryland, UW, and possibly NYU. At the moment his plan is to major in philosophy with a focus on politics and to get into a pre-law program.

That give me a headache.

Other than college essays and IB insanity, he is also taking an extra period to work on the student paper. We learned last night that 60 students applied to be part of the staff and they only took 18, which makes it pretty cool that he is part of this team. I'm excited to see his first byline!

He is also working one day a week (teaching swim lessons), playing soccer, and on a local swim team. He is even considering joining the high school swim team, which is MAJOR because he has fought us on joining school sports for years. I'm excited to watch him compete. I love watching him play soccer, I get to see a side of him I normally miss (social, competitive, focused on something other than academics).

The insanity that is senior year for IB kids; it's crazy. We are consumed with college essays, his extended essay, IB exams, community service requirements, soccer, (possibly two) swim team(s), his job, the student paper ... and somewhere in there is sleep, family time and a social life he has just begun to embrace. Not to mention grauation, senior prom, senior party, graduation party, his 18th birthday ... it's going to be a crazy, emotional year.

And then it will be done.

And he will leave.

And I will be an emotional wreck.

first day of kindergarten

Soccer for the tween

This past summer, the tween got to practice soccer with a select team (see here for the back story). Now that the rec season has started, he's joined up with his original rec team for practices and games. It pretty much sucks.

After spending all summer playing soccer with kids who WANT to be at practice, who are excited to improve, who are driven and competitive and focused, it has been a hard adjustment back to a rec team. The kids are great, even the ones who aren't particularly athletic. It's just that not all of them really want to be there, to improve their game. Or want to play soccer at all. He is so frustrated when he comes home from practices, now that he's had a taste of more advanced play.

And the games. Sigh. We just try to be really patient and supportive. To give him the tools to motivate himself, to be a good sport even when he is frustrated, and to be a good teammate.

It's going to be a long season.

In last weekends game, he rocked in goal the first half. He made some great saves and was reading the game really well; I can see that the coaching he got over the summer has paid off. A couple goals went in, but sometimes that just can't be helped.

In the second half he got to play on the field; the coach put him in as a forward (which is his preferred position). He had a few chances to score, but with only a couple of the kids actually putting forth significant effort, things weren't looking particularly good for our hero(s).

At one point, I called him over to the sideline and told him that if he scored a goal, his dad would give him $5. A few minutes later, he finally got one in the back of the net.

Bribery is a wonderful motivator.

This is going to be a long season, but we are doing our best to see the silver lining in each game. He's decided to stick it out with this team for the season, and to do his best to improve enough in the off season to own it at try-outs next spring.

Lord help us. I might need to stock up on vodka.

A day in the life of my teenager

getting his groove on with one awesome cousin

The teenager announced that when he moves out to start his real life (presumably after he completes his two PhD's), he is going to get a chocolate toy poodle and name it Pierre (there's a story, you'll have to ask him). I told him this was unacceptable, we don't DO little dogs. So, after a little arguing, he has amended his statement.

He is going to get a pygmy goat and name it Pierre.

Later we were discussing Chaz Bono (because, you know, he's been a little in the news lately) and I told him that his mother was Cher (which was news to him! How did I neglect teaching him these important pop culture tidbits??). I'd heard that at birth, Sonny and Cher* had actually named their daughter God. This made him laugh and, atheist that he is, he decided this was brilliant and wants to do this too.

But he's not planning on having children. The plan is to get TWO pygmy goats. One named Pierre and one named God.

To keep in his apartment in New York City.

Of course.


*editors note: I've since learned it was not Sonny and Cher who did this. It was Grace Slick who was rumored to have named her child God at birth. According to Snopes, this is a false rumor. See here.

Mommy, I'm stuck

I've been preparing to write an update about the boys as I was told recently that I don't post enough about them. But damned if the toddler has stolen the show again today.

I was working on the final draft of the PTSA newsletter (the one that was supposed to be at the printer yesterday. Eek) when the toddler, in a panicked voice, says, "mommy, I'm stuck".

She had been using one of the antique fire hose nozzles we have (the husband used to be a fireman, we have some fun little collectibles from the past) as her telescope. She loves to search for things with the smaller nozzle, holding it up to her eyes (squinting closed the eye that is peeping through the nozzle, very cute) and tiptoeing around me while I work. Well, she had sat down and decided to put her fingers, one at a time, into the small opening on the top.

The middle finger got stuck.

At first, there was just a mild panic in her voice, but it escalated as she kept pulling on her finger. I went over to take a look and tried to gently pull, to no avail. I picked her up, trying not to giggle (because, come on, it's kind of funny) and carried her upstairs to the sink. We ran cold water over her finger for a few minutes, which she did NOT like, while I tried to figure out what the next step should be. I couldn't find the Vaseline, which was the first thing that occurred to me. I was at the point where someone needed to help me, but where does one turn in this kind of situation? I'd feel completely ridiculous taking her to the ER, but wasn't sure the doctor would see us on such short notice.

I called my father-in-law (a former EMT/medic type, the one I always turn to for medical situations when I don't want to go see the actual doctor). After I assured him, over the hysterical toddlers screams, that everything was really okay, he suggested I try liquid soap (duh, why didn't I think of that? It was right in front of me).

I picked up her hand/nozzle (dude, that would be a great super hero attachment!) and tried to move it back to the sink. She started screaming "Don't cut it off!"

In hind sight, "well, lets just cut it off then," is perhaps not the best comeback to the imaginary wounds the kids come to us with.

After a couple minutes, the soap greased the finger up enough and it slid out. Whew.

That's when the tears really started. "I want to call daddy" she tells me, between sobs. Daddy, of course, does not answer the first two calls. So we decided the best way for her finger to feel better would be to make chocolate chip cookies. Because chocolate cures everything.

On the right is the offending nozzle. While waiting for the cookies to cook, she is eating a spoonful of peanut butter with chocolate chips sprinkled in. This is what daddy suggested would make her feel better. Parenting 101, right here.

Preschool fun

Today was the first day of preschool for the toddler. Here is our review, in pictures.

"I don't WANT you to take my picture". Sigh. She'll need to get over that.

Having fun in her new classroom. Coloring, play-dough, painting and the water table. 

Important preschool activities.

Time to sing and dance. She picked a triangle and was excited to hear a song she knows from her dance class. Being loud inside ROCKS when you are in preschool.

Outside play time. It's fun to be a toddler.

Making new friends is pretty cool too. These two are about the same age, and both equally bossy. It will be fun to see how this friendship progresses.

It was a good day to be a toddler.

A glimpse into my morning

I could hear water running in the bathroom sink this morning. When I went to check, the toddler had filled the sink up with hand soap and water and was giving one of her (plastic, thankfully) baby dolls a bath. Messy, but cute.

I went back to my laptop to get some work done and a bit later she came out to me, dripping wet. She had decided to stick her head under the faucet and wash her own hair. With the hand soap. She used a dish towel to dry off.

Surprisingly, the bathroom wasn't a total, waterlogged disaster. I am, however, going to need to buy some new hand soap.

Holiday Weekend Highlights

Three day weekends rock; I have decided this. We should have more of them. So we can have more memories like these ...

Friday night, we went back to my home town for a football game. The hubs and I sat in the bleachers and held hands. For real, we got to hold hands. And sit together. We never get to do that.

Saturday the toddler helped daddy mow the lawn. While wearing her jammies and 3-sizes-too-big, fur lined, Care Bear snow boots. Because that's how she rolls.

Later, we had a campfire with the neighbors. With s'mores. In the backyard. Dude.

Sunday we spent a day at the lake, watching the kids play in the water. And in the sand. And it was relaxing. With three toddlers! Who knew?

Then I got to have drinks with a client. After watching another client play with wedding dresses. Because this is my job, and it rocks.

Monday I spent hours and hours of uninterrupted time pinning and on etsy (for clients, of course) in my jammies. Yay!

Meanwhile, the teen who goes everywhere in a button down and tie, the one who thinks New York City is heaven and will not consider a college unless it's on a coast or in a big city, went to the state fair. And he texted his commentary to me. Freakin'  hilarious.

That's a lot of happiness for one weekend.

Hope your Labor Day Weekend was filled with equally meaningful moments!

Friday Night Lights

I got a little dose of high school flashback last night. Opening day of high school football, the hubs former high school v. my former high school (played in my little hickish, cute home town).

It was fun to be back there for the evening. I grew up in a football town; whenever I see those high school football movies (and especially my favorite TV show) it makes me smile and remember what it was like on Friday nights back then. The whole town pretty much shuts down, everyone has a personal history or investment with the coaches and athletes on the field. Friday nights are the social highlight of the week.

One of the highlights of the evening, other than being back at my old high school, was watching my neighbor show our friend from Germany what its like to be a teenager in the states. They got in the school spirit (after spending hours figuring out just the right outfit. Oh how I miss those days) and were ready to cheer on their team. Check out how cute they are!

This wasn't the final outfit, there were some changes and additions. My favorite part, once they got to the game, was their eyes. Check out the gold sparkle!

It was fun to watch the girls be teenagers, it was fun to flash back to my high school days and see all that school spirit (from both teams). Mostly, it pretty much rocked to be able to hang out and have fun with the hubs. We don't do that enough.

Happy labor day weekend!