Yes, Fudge!

1. I am so glad that only two days after Annie's eye surgery, she's back at school. Hmm. That could be interpreted as being happy she's out of the house - which is not what I'm saying (although, yes, there is that!). I simply mean that it is good to see Annie feeling like Annie.
2. I am so luck to have a daughter with Emi's thoughtfulness and incredible creativity. Last night, her room briefly turned into an elfin workshop - she is so enthusiastic about making gifts for each of us. And it's not just that Emi loves to throw herself into projects reflecting artistic expression - more than that, Emi creates objects that have applicable (as opposed to just sentimental) value to the recipient. (i.e. a filing system she made for Ryan, a cardboard car engineered for Annie's bitty twins, a coupon book for me). I can't wait for Christmas morning!
3. I am thankful for fudge. For breakfast.

It Really Isn't So Bad, After All...

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know I'm supposed to post three things that I'm thankful for each day. And I know it's been a week or so since my one entry. So, hmmm....maybe one thing I'm really thankful for is:

1. Knowing that sometimes, even if something isn't done the way it's expected, it doesn't have to mean its value is diminished. Sometimes, just doing what you can, even if it isn't what you initially intended, is enough. Now, on to number two. 
2.  I'm really thankful for Emi's sense of humor. Or maybe what I mean is that I'm thankful that she gets my sense of humor (or it could simply be that I'm thankful she plays along with me, so I think she thinks I'm funny!). I love it that we can share a look and know that we're both trying not to laugh out loud. It's nice to share laughter with your kids. 
3. Lastly, I've been reminded that as  hard as it can be having a kid who struggles with disabilities (and hence, a family who also struggles occasionally), we're incredibly blessed with the things Annie can do, with amazingly supportive family and friends who cheer us on and cheer us up, we have access to very talented doctors and dedicated teachers and therapists, and perhaps, most of all, that our religious faith comforts us with the belief that we have a loving heavenly Father who is intimately aware of us and won't ignore us, that we can all get through this - and all the heartache felt and tears shed will always be more than compensated innumerable blessings and with love and smiles and laughter. I say this because today at Children's Mercy Hospital (as with every time I'm there), I saw all around me familiar faces: adults who looked anxious or scared, some disappointed or angry, others sad and overwhelmed and yet other expressions filled with hope and strength and courage.I also saw brave children hooked to IVs, some with balding heads, others sitting in wheelchairs or using using walkers. I saw children who looked well-cared for, and children who weren't. I saw twisted limbs and obvious facial deformities. I heard young voices express clearly articulated words, and I heard kids communicating with grunts, others slack-jawed and drooling.I could be any one of those parents, and Annie could be any one of those kids. But we're not. 

Wow. It's been almost two months since I last posted. However, it's not been that long since I've thought about things to post. Rather, the lag is in the process of getting my thoughts tidily typed and published.

While starting my Saturday morning with oatmeal - mixed with sugar. And peanut butter. And chocolate. And everything else that goes into no-bake cookies (Tiffany makes the best no-bake cookies!) and sneaking bites of tasty muffins - which I think were actually cupcakes parading around under a healthier-sounding name (kudos to my friend Laurenda!), and dipping strawberries in a divinely mixed concoction of marshmallow creme and cream cheese (you can bring that to any gathering, Daisie!), talk turned to the annual Attitude of Gratitude challenge issued by my friend Jennifer. Which I have neglected so far this year. Can I be frank, friends? Some things that have happened this year have left me feeling....uh....not so thankful. And yet, so many good things happen every day for which I am immensely grateful - not the least being that I have friends who make me laugh along with them as they chide, "So, Allison, I've noticed you haven't done the gratitude challenge this year. Not much to be thankful for, huh?" I want to assure you that I do know that the good far outweighs the bad:

1. Ryan - Ignorance is bliss. But more blissful is knowing that when strong storms rip through and carelessly toss up nicely laid plans, you stick with me. Thank-you.
2. Emi and Annie - I'm just so thankful for my two princesses.
3. All of you dear friends who love me and listen to me, who laugh with me and even cry with me - you are one my thankful list everyday.

Oops!

Yesterday was a beautiful day: sunshine happily dancing across a late summer sky, the wind blowing a gentle breeze - so nice that Ryan put the top down on his car as he ran errands. Last night was stormy: angry lightening, roaring thunder and heavy drops pouring from the sky - so wet that by the time Ryan realized the top was still down*, there were probably 15 gallons of rain flooding the floorboards! 

*This morning, when I returned home from dropping the girls off at school, I noticed that when Ryan dashed  into the storm (at 11pm) to put the top back up, he somehow missed closing a window completely!

We're Glad It's Your Birthday, Dear Emi....

Happy Birthday

 Happy Birthday 

to You!

We gave you a bike

for your birthday.

Go and ride it,

and dream of chocolate cake, too. 

 We hope for a year

full of good things

May your wishes

and your daydreams come true!

It's this kid's birthday today:

Good-by 10, Hello 11!

And she's off, on her way to another great year!

Come on Eileen....It's Your Birthday!

It's my mother's birthday today. I think of her whenever I hear this song, so I decided is would be a fitting tribute for an amazing woman

• who was born during a bombing raid in WWII London sailed a ship to Canada when she was 21 (and during this voyage, she and her best friend had to take over some housekeeping duties due to a virulent bout of seasickness that struck much of the crew!)
  
• dated a man she thought had a horse, but it turned out to be his car (what's a young Brit to think when she hears other girls chatting about Stan and his mustang?) - and married him anyway, despite (or was it because of?) his farming, not, cowboy, stock
  
• is a true citizen of the world, having been recognized as a passport holding denizen of three countries
  
• has worked in industries spreading from Texas oil to the middle of the block, at the sign of the clock and all parts in between
  
• who, most of all, is just who she is. And I'm pretty happy about that.
  

I love ya, mom! Happy Birthday!

I Can Stop Any Time I Want.....

I have an addiction to weather.com. I just can't seem to stop myself from checking the weather report for my area. A couple of times a day. (Sometimes, I even check the conjectures for other locations across the globe, too!) I always look at the feature forecasting the next ten days, while only trusting it's accuracy for the immediate day and giving the next day the benefit of the doubt (usually). Obviously, I have a trust issue with the latest radar technology developed for weather prediction, exhibited by my tendency to check in 3 or 4 (even5?) times a day - usually scanning the current day's presage of temperature, rain, sun, humidity, etc..

See, if today's not panning out like weather.com publishes, then how can I trust any hunches for tomorrow? However, since the atmospheric activity determined for the next ten days, as shown on the climate projection site, is in the ballpark often enough (even if the game's already had tip-off), I still regard that data enough to gauge what laundry must be done so my girls will be appropriately clothed for potential weather conditions materializing in the next week-and-a-half. (It's all about motherhood, the compulsive need to ride the web to my weather website of choice. Just like my enslavement to chocolate. Dark chocolate.....'cause how can you be a mom without daily imbibing of chocolate? Seriously!)

So last night, armed with an insider's recognition of my weather neurosis, and perhaps in an attempt to to spin my mind into a maelstrom, Emi purposefully asked, regarding the weather, "Will yesterday be like today?" Perhaps instead of wearing my confusion all over my face, I should have given the obvious answer, "Why of course, as long as the-day-after-tomorrow's rain is like next Tuesday's wind speed."

Coming Soon.....

We are nearing the end of summer, folks, and you know what that means? My self-imposed hiatus from the world of blogging is also winding down. The new season of the smash hit, Around the Block, with it's cult-like following, promises more thrills, spills, tears and laughter. At once introspective and entertaining, Around the Block treats its 7 fans to a glimpse inside the ordinary life of an ordinary woman in an ordinary world. Her trusty side-kicks provide unexpected comic relief, while her partner-in-crime dispenses timely travel and political advice while inviting the reader to keep a dictionary handy. Need a preview to keep you going until the season is in full swing? Here it is:

In the wee, small hours of the morning, when the whole, wide world is fast asleep, I lie awake*....and wish Annie would stop calling out for me! But I realize, with knowledge acquired through trial and error, that unless I throw back the covers and drag myself out of bed and stumble into Annie's room, the solace I seek on my pillow will not be found. So I do what any other desperate-for-stillness-and-its-blessed-companion-silence mother does: I drag myself across the hall to said room of said child.

me: Annie, what do you need?

Annie: My tummy is hungry. Is it morning time?

me: No, Annie, it's not. Tell your tummy it has to wait until breakfast. See, it's still dark outside. The sun isn't even awake yet. Just go back to sleep. Morning won't come unless you go back to sleep.

Annie, saying calmly: The sun won't wake up in the morning until I am fast asleep.

(I was tempted here. Really tempted. It would be have been so easy to build off of Annie's assumption and run with it - all the way back to my cozy bed. But Ryan, uh, discourages me from telling our kids little white lies - even if  the lie will  take care of the immediate (and perhaps future) issues as well.)
me, struggling against the lure of Annie's conjecture: Uh, it'll just take forever.

Annie: It will? You mean the sun just won't get up in the morning if I don't go back to sleep? The sun doesn't wake up if kids don't go back to sleep?

me: Well, it'll feel like forever. Um, time just passes faster if you're asleep. Sooo, you'd better go back to sleep....so morning can come sooner. (Was that a lie? I mean, time really does seem to go in slow-motion when it's the middle of the night and you should be sleeping, right?)

There was a slight pause, then the conversation, as well as Annie's urge to get up, was laid to rest (no pun intended) with her conclusion, delivered very matter-of-factly:

"The sun will not get up in the morning unless I go to sleep, because the sun doesn't wake up when it gets tired of peoples calling out for their mothers. I think so. We'll ask it in the morning. We'll just wait and see. Good night, Mummy."


In The Wee Small Hours Of  The  Morning by songwriters Bob Hilliard and David Mann

Happy Mother's Day!

Sometimes, it makes me laugh. And sometimes, it makes me cry. Sometimes I even cry because I'm laughing so hard! If I'd known how much fun it was going to be, I would have tried it sooner, yet if I'd known the hardship it entails, I'm pretty sure I would have waited.

I didn't know that something that utterly zaps me of energy could also absolutely replenish me. It fortifies me to know that this is what I still want to be, even though there are days when I just want some time off!

I have surprised myself with tear-drops spilling from my own eyes when I see my precious ones being so brave and keeping their own tears at bay. I'm thankful for the cacophony each day brings: shouts and giggles and stomping and dancing create a symphony that I am trying to appreciate, even when the orchestra sounds out of tune (which is sometimes the conductor's fault, I think!).

I had no idea that sharing a 10-year-old's mirth would be so enjoyable. And I certainly couldn't foresee that I'd be changing a 7-year-old's pull-ups (with no end in sight) and still like that same 7-year-old. I have learned to appreciate from the 7-year-old kisses full of slobber and from the 10-year-old hugs that are forced.

I have learned that I am not heard as well when I yell instead of when I whisper. I swore I wouldn't, but I have caught myself repeating certain phrases, mimicking the voice of one before me.

I am so glad that I can still be comforted by my own. And I am supremely grateful that the recipients of too many failings absolve me of my mistakes. What's more, I think they really want to keep me! I'm so glad I don't have to do it alone. Perhaps most of all, I am sustained by the knowledge that I will always be this. And that makes me very happy.

Because I am a mom.

Here's What I learned from Poison Control

Did you know that in the world of poison control, there is no such thing as a child-proof cap? They accept that something - for example, a medicine bottle - can be considered child-resistant, but they laugh at the notion that a child cannot pry open a lid that boasts of the ability to refuse to respond to the manipulations of said child's fingers.

Here's another piece of trivia I gleaned this evening: 2 fluid ounces (which is half of a bottle) of children's ibuprofen does not result in toxicity to a child weighing 60 pounds. However, it may induce a tummy-ache (which a kid who ingests that much might deserve!) and tiredness. The tiredness part - which should lead to a nice, solid night's sleep for a child clutching a pink, tricot-covered, bean-filled heart (aptly named "Bean," because doesn't every kid christen heart-shaped pillows?) is the reward for the mom who has to make the phone call to poison control so that she can learn such trifling tidbits as I've shared with you tonight.

*BIG SIGH*

Annie has been....Annie lately. Very Annie. Go ahead and use your imagination, or look back at previous blog posts expounding the Annieness of our girl. In the past month, I have - on two separate occasions - made frantic calls to hairdressers in order to rectify my foolishness at leaving Annie alone with a pair of scissors. Most recently was Wednesday, when she also added to her hair cutting repertoire: she apparently has decided to become a fashion designer as well. I mean, why wear a perfectly good t-shirt when you can instead sport jagged holes and an uneven hem? At least that experiment was a hand-me-down.

A couple times in the past week or so, I've caught Annie after she's raided my jewelry box - the big give-away is the mismatched earrings dangling by her chin. Today, I walked into my bedroom to see squeezed-out tubes and bottles of facial lotions, liquid foundation and lipstick smeared on my bedspread and sheets - amazingly enough, Annie was only wearing heavy stripes of Loreal True-Match foundation in porcelain. (I guess I caught her before she'd had time to blend it all in!).

While I was cleaning up the incriminating evidence, I told Annie that she is not allowed to put on any make-up(for the zillionth time!). She said, "You mean I can't be a grown-up anymore?" "No, Annie," I replied, "You cannot be a grown-up anymore. You have to be a 7-year-old." She looked at me and said in an accusatory tone, "That makes me feel like crying."

You and me both, Kiddo. You and me, both.

0 to 40 in 4.5!

This beauty goes from zero to 40 miles per hour in about 4 seconds.


It might hit 60 mph in just a second or two more, but I can't verify that, because we were on Parallel (which has that pesky 40 mph speed limit, although that is faster than the 20 mph residential zone we started in!) for less than a block before turning onto a street with those amber slow-down-and-watch-for-kids-because-you're-in-a-school-zone-lights flashing. But here's the main point: I bet this German masterpiece can go really fast!

Oh, For The Love Of Pete!!

Yeah. That's a pile of hair on the floor (and a snippet of red paper, too, I see.) *SIGH* And yes, it's Annie's.

And for Annie's next trick....

To The Max!

I happened upon a blog today that I had never seen before. You know when you google a phrase, you can find yourself on quite the adventure, visiting all types of places - some are interesting, some are scary, some are right what you're looking for, some are, uh, not. And some are absolutely serendipitous! I'm glad I scrolled down the page with my search results and clicked on the bottom link. I'm doubly glad I read one posting, then read a few more. Because the author? I think we might be enrolled in the same program at the inaccurately called School of Hard Knocks. It should really be called something like The Opportunity and Happiness Academy....

Okay, I'm not a magazine editor, so my musings aren't as charming as Ellen's (and probably not punctuated correctly, either,) but I encourage you to peruse her blog occasionally. And smile for me and Ryan and Emi and Annie, because we've found ourselves working a small plot of rich soil in a magical land. Sometimes, dark clouds gather and fierce winds howl across the landscape, and it might rain heavily for days on end. But then, oh, if you could just see the riot of colour sweeping across the fields and inhale the heady scent of fresh blossoms and feel the warmth of the sun smiling out of a bright blue sky, you'd know why we keep planting seeds in our little garden.

To The Max

If They Don't Know, Can They Be Held Responsible?

It's spring break. And cloudy. And 42 degrees. But to help spring break feel like spring break, the girls are attending the annual Spring Break Nature Quest at the Schlagle branch of the library, where the focus is more on nature and the environment than on books. I'm just letting you know so you don't drive out there hoping to find a copy of Twilight - 'cause you won't!

Anyway, the spring break day-camp has become a tradition for our girls. The two-hour daily sessions are filled with activities and workshops covering a variety of subjects, from astronomy to archery. On Monday, which happened to be astronomy day, the girls made constellation guides, which required the use of scissors (definitely) and pen (apparently). When I picked the girls up that day, I immediately noticed a nice hole near the knee in Annie's purple leggings. However, it didn't look quite like the type of hole that results from scraping a knee. It's edges were a little too neat. In fact, it looked like it might have been made deliberately!

Wanting to get to the bottom of this mystery, I pointed out the incriminating hole to Annie and asked her what happened. She nonchalantly explained that she ended up with an ink mark on her legging and cut it out to get rid of the offending stain. Did she forget we have a washing machine?! This is, of course, the kid who will happily cut any paper into confetti and who is periodically reminded that she, herself, does not have a hairdresser's license therefore she is not allowed to take silver blades to her own tresses (or anyone else's) simply because it's fun, so I'm not really surprised that she chose to cut a chunk out of her own clothing. Except that she's seven! Annie, naturally, added to her explanation by saying - with reference to the adults running the program, "They don't know I'm not supposed to have scissors."

What's the Kanji for Orthography?

I was scrolling through my postings menu the other day and found this one from over a year ago. I am not sure why it didn't see the light of day, but am leaning toward the "I-forgot-to-click-on-the-Publish Post-button-excuse. Fortunately (or not), it's as relevant today as it was when I actually wrote it:

Emi has an incredible appetite for learning. For a kid who insists she doesn't like school, she certainly thrives on filling her mind with all sorts of new ideas. Emi spouts off trivia like I draw breath, things like, "Did you know that Kansas used to be part of the Late Cretaceous Western Interior Sea?" and she's continually advancing her reading level. Even math and science are clicking pretty well - she's learning principles at earlier grade levels than those of us of a certain age did.

But have I menshuned her speling? Orthography is not Emi's strong sute. So I had to laugh when Ryan shared this with me a few days ago:

Among Emi's varied interests is anything her dad is interested in. Ryan enjoys studying kanji (the japanese writing system) and Emi is tickled that one of the reasons we chose her name is that "Emi" is also a fairly common Japanese name. And the kanji that Ryan chose for her name means 'laughter."

Anyway, the other day, Ryan found some of his kanji flashcards and was showing a few to Emi. She looked at them and started to get very excited. She suggested, "Hey, maybe I can use these cards and learn new kanji, like one everyday!" to which Ryan replied, "Maybe you should work on your English spelling before you start to worry about Japanese spelling." Emi considered this and gave a small grin as she answered, "Yeah, maybe you're right."

The Importance Of Being Annie

If Annie (who is very keen on a particular canine housemate) could post, I think she'd present something like this:

Do You Ever Wonder What Became of Them?

Do you ever wonder if that 18 months or 2 years as an LDS missionary paid off? I found this story on the InnerWeb this afternoon. It began with a knock on a door one night in the winter of 1995. I was the one who rapped on the door...

Excerpted from
Japan Kobe Mission Blog 2008-2011 McIntyre Family Mission

After conference today we held a baptism for Brother Aritoshi of the Ako Branch. He was taught and baptized by Elders Nishio and Novak. This was a special service as Elder Nishio's parents and his older brother were in attendance. Elder Nishio is from Tsuyama in the Hiroshima Mission and his father was transferred here and then called as bishop of one of the wards in the Kobe Stake. His brother has been called to Fukuoka and will report in March. It is a special and unique thing to get a picture of a baptism with your family on your mission. To add to the irony, his home ward, Tsuyama, will become part of this mission in July as well with the consolidation of Hiroshima. Not sure where to transfer him going forward!

Gallery:

●First white dude from left - Elder Novak, don't know him
●First Japanese dude from left - Aritoshi, don't know him
●Second Japanese dude from left - Elder Akihito Nishio, met him when he was 5-years-old and now serving as a missionary for the LDS Church
●Third Japanese dude from left - Yoshito Nishio, met him when he was nine or ten and will begin service as a missionary for the LDS Church in March 2010
●Fourth Japanese man from left - Toshiaki Nishio, met him through his wife Yoko and now serves as a lay-minister for a congregation
●First Japanese woman from left - Yoko Nishio, knocked on her door one night and asked her what she knew about Jesus Christ and if she's like to know more
●Second white man from left - President Mcintyre, head of the Kobe Japan LDS Mission
●Second Japanese woman from left - Sister Mcintyre, wife of President Mcintyre

So was it worth it? I'd go back in a heartbeat. But, some friends of mine now have the reigns and I have all the confidence in the world in them.

We'll Be Missing You

First, please give Grandpa a hug for me.

Thank you for the day bus trips downtown - back when Kansas City actually had a viable downtown - that sandwich restaurant we went to and the iced Big Bird department store cookies you'd buy me. Sublime memories.

And who cares about Conan and Jay Leno when I got to frequently enjoy watching Johnny Carson with my grandparents? (I had to draw the line at Dallas though.)

Thank you for taking me in as a lost 6th grader for a couple years so I could attend a better school. You helped me ace every geography test I had that year. I can't forget the lunches Grandpa made for me each morning that elicited daily offers of barter or cash from 6th and 7th graders with lesser lunches. I mean, he cut the crust off my sandwiches and wrapped them in wax-paper, plus a generous helping of, no doubt, healthful goodies to round out the the most important delicious food groups.

And when I went to KU, I still could stop by any day on the way home for lunch and know you were glad to see me and willing gave me your food.

And while on my mission, I often didn't really care the contents of the letters you sent, but you faithfully wrote and that meant something. Sure, the huge tin of homemade cookies you sent to the MTC wreaked of Grandpa's cigarette smoke. I didn't notice until Matt Eagar pointed it out to me. We chucked them in the bin, but they were emotionally delicious.

Well, and then there was the time you loaned me the money so I could buy a nice diamond ring for a girl I fell in love with. I think I eventually paid you back - most of it at least. You always treated Allison and my girls with love, even when Annie steadfastly refused to put on her socks though you were certain she would become sick because of her unshod, cold feet.

I have know clue what you are up to today. Maybe the Mormon Heaven Initiation the show South Park depicted so well? Maybe you are looking for an apartment and a part-time job until you get on your feet in a new place? Are there baby quilts to make in heaven? Maybe you should just take some time to relax. Go on a drive in Grandpa's resurrected baby-blue 79' Buick Regal, go have steak and oysters with Walter - Scoma's in San Francisco is good, if you can get in (I know, you'll leave the seafood to him). If you see WC, tell him he has some explaining to do, but we can probably let by-gones be by-gones - eventually. It's been years since Auntie died - I think I was eleven. Tell Jim I wish I knew where he stashed all the recipes from the old bakery. And you probably need to take some time to get to know your baby sister Ina May, who died before you got to know her.

We'll take care of Mom and make sure she doesn't stay out too late with her friends. Dad already picked up your oxygen tubing so he won't trip over it anymore. (He'll still probably stumble around, but it just won't be on your oxygen tubing.)

And one more thing - you should probably finally learn how to drive so we don't have to shuttle you around town all the time. We enjoyed a lot of that time together, but this point is a little out-of-hand.

We love you and will miss you dearly. Anytime you want to go to the Frontier Steakhouse, I'm buying. Just let us know when.

Update: The Harzfeld's Blog was kind enough to post a brief tribute to my grandmother.

I Think Chris Martin Puts It Better....

Yeah, kind of a glum day. We all have them, I know (which in and of itself doesn't really seem to make these kinds of days any better); solidarity, bound by the common thread of bad days, simply verifies this truth: misery loves company. And, I think, a soundtrack. At least, my doldrums would prefer an accompaniment. In fact, I am pretty sure that ennui is best served with a spate of favorite music - melodies, words, mesmerizing voices - which invites melancholy, then banishes it.