Fast Forward

So...perhaps a bit of an update is in order.  

Here's my crew as they look today (or really, three weeks ago but whatever.)  Top Right and going counter-clockwise (or widdershins as some of us like to say): Chaos, Mayhem, Havoc, Bug, and the Ninja Princessa.  It was amazing and wonderful and unusual to have them all home at the same time in October.

A bazillion and twelve things have happened in the what, 27 months or so, since I last posted and it was scanty fare before that.  But here is where we are and I'll try to back fill later -

Chaos - age 19 as of this summer.  Still sassy (as you can probably tell from the picture).  Graduated from high school last spring (after some pretty serious drama which may or may not be the subject of a future post.)  He is living with my mother - after getting "kicked out" of his father's house (hey - another long story!) I wanted (very much!) for him to come back home and live with us - but he wants to stay working where he is and be around the friends he has there. He is working technically part time but about 40 hours a week at a fast food place.  He is an amazingly hard worker and is getting paid next-to-nothing.  He talks about going to college in the spring or summer or someday.  He is still passionate about history - especially World War II - and says he thinks he wants to end up being a history teacher.   Whatever he chooses is fine with me. He's a great guy and we (he and I) had a rocky summer (during which he refused to talk to me, answer my texts, or acknowledge my existence) so it was fantastic that he came home with the younger boys for Fall Break.  (He had to take a week off of work to do so - which is a big deal and not something he does. It meant a hell of a lot to me.) He's brilliant and wacky and opinionated and empathic and ... very much himself.

Mayhem - age 17 as of this summer.  A junior, handsome and suave, completely into lacrosse (goalie) and all around congenial guy.  Very interested in fashion.  He is a seriously sharp dressed man - and will have to get a job at Buckle very soon to support his shopping habit.  Still ADD as hell and struggling in school - but smart and enthusiastic.  He is one of those guys at the football games - bare chested painted up - cheering his team on.  He is kind of dating (I think) - a girl here.  They talked and texted after he left this summer and went out a couple of times when he was back for Fall Break.  He is so easy to be around.  He's in the throes of deciding which colleges he's interested in.  He is working on his art portfolio for Governor's School.  Now if only he can pass Latin this semester...

Havoc - turns 13 this month! - with Tallulah and Wasabi (4 and 6 respectively).  Havoc is in the 7th grade.  OMG - we have no more in elementary school.  And only one in middle school!  The last one to hit the teens.  It is crazee to think of.  Anyway...Havoc is wicked smart (and on the gifted track still - in spite of my continuing reservations about it). He struggles with ADD and repelling paper like Mayhem, but for some reason he is able to maintain and get enough assignments in to have great grades.  He's a lacrosse goalie too.  It has been wonderful to see him so active and physically conditioning.  He is still in love with the idea of becoming a chef. And he's gotten into drama.  He had the male lead (Daddy Warbucks) in the school musical (Annie) this Spring.  He dropped band.  I think he never got over the fact that they didn't let him play tuba.  (They gave their one tuba slot to a girl in his class.  I think it is ... weird enough that he wanted to play tuba but I truly can't imagine a girl wanting to play tuba.  That's probably sexist.  I don't know.  Of course, if she wants to I'm all about her having the chance to. But really? Why does ANYONE want to play the tuba!) Havoc jumped from instrument to instrument last year and finally said he didn't have any interest this year.

Bug - turns 21 this month!  He is putting himself through community college - getting a double associates in two things IT related.  He was working at Staples but has just gotten a much higher paying and far more interesting (to him) job as a programmer of some description.  (I'm sorry but like car information - IT details do NOT stick in my brain.  I think they are cool and understand them at the time in context - but cannot for the life of me recall them specifically enough to pass on to anyone else.  Go ahead - ask me what Linus does for a living!  It is something involving one or more of the following: data architect, systems, policy, design, chief,  technology something or other. So Bug is a chip off the ol' silicon block.) He is way more social than ever before and has become interested in fashion. Or at least in crafting his own style.  So he and Mayhem spend a lot of time together shopping for clothes.

Which brings us to the Ninja Princessa - age 16.  I love this series of pictures because it is soooooo her!  I was being silly and zoomed in for a close up and out for a full body pic and then when I zoomed in again, she made this little sound like "mweep".  I cracked up when I saw the camera.  She's a junior and in the social justice track at school.  She's president of the QSA (=Queer-Straight Alliance) at her school and on the board of Inside Out (the regional LGBTQIA youth organization).  It's interesting.  She has been a very involved member since her Freshman year.  She didn't date anyone for a long time.  When she first joined we asked if she was interested in girls.  (Not a surprising question.)  She said she thought girls were too much drama but then she went on to say she wasn't particularly interested in boys either.  "I have four brothers after all.  I KNOW what boys are like for real."  Ha!  She said she's passionate about people getting to make their own choices; she supports her friends of all varieties.  She did end up dating a very nice boy who'd been a friend for years.  But they recently broke up. :(  She is still a vegetarian and an activist for animal rights (though she is smart and informed and not like the animal rights activists I detest.)   

In short - my kids are just completely AWESOME.  I have no idea how I got so freaking lucky.  I hope to write an update about the rest of us (me, Linus, and Bet and Tallulah and Wasabi - who should have their own post I think).  Sooner than 2 years at any rate!  But don't hold your breath.  :D  Peace!

Where Do I Go Now

Hmmmm, May 27th to July 9th is a long time. A lot has happened. Here's some of it:

We enjoyed hanging out all together while we could as school wound down.

The Ninja Princessa turned 13 and started taking martial arts again. (Tae Kwon Do this time, not karate but I'm not changing her name because it just wouldn't have the same ring. )

She got a silver bracelet from her brothers that says, "A sister is a forever friend." (They picked it out!) She almost cried which made them go all boy and start hitting each other to relieve the tension. (They did not put up with hugs.)

I got a hair cut. Woo hoo!

Chaos turned 16 and had a Cthulu tentacle "cake" only someone stole one of the tentacles before I could even take a picture. Boys! I'm sure I should have posted about this earlier too because I won't do it justice here, but Chaos has this new routine that he does about being oppressed because he's a "Ginger". It's a hilarious play on a combination of the red-headed step child being left out and Black Power rhetoric. (NOT to make light of real civil rights struggles. He more or less walks that line carefully.) I'll ask him to take out the trash and he starts in on how it's always the Ginger has to do the unwanted tasks (even though the chores rotate by week and it's his week on the schedule). He's got a couple of red-headed friends at school too that he calls his Brothers In Red. We've made jokes about him being the Ginga Ninja etc, etc. At one of our hilarity infused family dinners, Chaos interrupted a story the Princessa was telling and she interrupted right back saying something like, "Can it Ginger Snap!" We lost it. Hence the "Ginger Snap" on the cake.

Chaos tried to steal my Israeli Paratrooper canvas satchel so I got him one of his own with a skull on it.

Bet went to an oceanography institute for a week and built an underwater ROV (which I will have to get pictures of because it is very cool. She's going to do some great things with her students involving the topics she studied. She's trying to write a grant to get some sextants for her classroom. How cool is that?

We took pictures of the dogs' noses:
Tallulah -

Wasabi -

And Linus had a birthday. Bet and I decided to make it a "theme" birthday. We woke him up with the Secret Agent Man theme song and sent him on "missions" all day long (mostly to get his own birthday presents and to eat). He got clues and maps and had special agent assisting him.

Bet and I were Agent Smith and Agent Smith. We were bad ass. And we got to boss Linus around. It was all kinds of fun. Everyone had to wear X4/GM12 Eco-transponders (i.e. nametages). Agent-In-Training "The Bug" had a cool beetle on his and Agent "Slim Dunk" had a crazy cartoon WWF Wrestler. The evening ended with a party of 12 Special Agents converging on a little Indian restaurant around the corner for dinner. Good times!

There has also been some complete crappiness - mostly involving Mr. Tapioca. The court stuff is ridiculous and the tactics his red neck lawyer employs are stupid. (I hope Mr. Tapioca isn't paying that guy very much. I have yet to receive a document from him that has fewer than five spelling/grammar/punctuation mistakes. Seriously, the last thing I got was a list of questions that weren't even numbered correctly! That doesn't even go into the insanity of the content. I have had such a hard time resisting the urge to post that document here!!!) I think one of the reasons I haven't blogged is because I haven't wanted to spew about it all.

Chaos, Mayhem, and Havoc are all with him for the summer. I get to go visit and have the boys every other weekend. The Princessa is gone for 6 weeks (which used to seem long but is 3 full weeks less than the boys are gone!) Bug is an only child with us for the first time ever. It's a very different dynamic. Bug is still in school - and kicking ass. He's gotten nothing but A's so far! (Chaos finished his semester with straight A's too! The Princessa and Mayhem? Lucky to simply finish the year - especially Mayhem whose attention span was strained to the breaking point with weeks left to tough out! Havoc breezed through but doesn't get letter grades the way the middle and high schoolers do.) Bet is home for the summer and Linus is working from home. It is a summer completely different from any other.

The good news is the triathlon training is going well. We're on track for the San Francisco half marathon in a few weeks. (Our long run this weekend is an 8 miler!) We've already done a "mock tri" the same distance as the olympic distance we're signed up for in September (swim a mile, bike 26 miles, run a 10K) and we did it in less than the cut off time for the course. Since our main goal is to finish, it was a huge confidence booster!

I'm not sure what direction Lilymania is headed. There are some challenges to mommy blogging. It's hard to find the time to blog in the moment when we are in the midst of family activities and it's even harder to blog about my kids when they are all gone for the summer. I've found on my few attempts this summer that those posts come out pretty whiny! And there are only so many cute dog posts I can write. I don't plan on abandoning ship but I'm relatively content to drift aimlessly for a while. Maybe I'll play around with the format and layout and that will spark something - but until then... PEACE!

Photo Mania

Mayhem - did I tell you he's back on restriction? Yeah, FOUR D's on a progress report will do that to you. Good thing he's cute, eh?

Bug wanted to dye his hair black. It's a little blue and kind of elfin, but I think those are pluses in his book. He got A+'s in both of his classes! Yay! We like adult high school!

Wasabi says, "Where are mah eyes?"

Tallulah says, "Treats please!"

Kira says, "But I'm not even yours!"

The Ninja Princessa says, "Yay! I'm off restriction! I can play video games for the first time since February!"

Action shot of Havoc. And a close up of the dimple.

Linus on the porch with a look of "Quoi?"

Bet from faaaaaar away. Obviously I hadn't figured out the zoom yet.

Chaos being Calvin (will post more in this series tomorrow because they are pretty funny) and also him snuggling with Tallulah on my bed.

The kids brought me tortellini in bed (b/c I don't like breakfast foods). They were cute and silly and I love them to bits!!

Guess what I got for Mother's Day?? (And if you didn't guess cute pink camera then dude, what's wrong with you?) Peace.

Havoc's Heroes

Don't mess with the chef! Spitting in your food is soooo old school. Threaten you with a wicked sharp knife? Pshaw. You give this chef any grief and he will blow you the hell up! I'm not sure Havoc would be in the running for Top Chef: Chicago but I bet he'd be the last cheftestant standing if they did a Top Chef: Extreme Action Edition! What is it about the y-chromosome that makes weapons=instant fun? Havoc likes to cook! He loves to invent and create in the kitchen! And yet - he still yearns to blow shit up with grenades. In the kitchen apparently. I don't think I will ever really understand boys. Even the cute ones, like Havoc.
Peace.

Easy As Pi

Havoc's first pie (which geek-chef that he is bears the declaration Easy as (Pi) on the top in sugared dough.) I wish you could smell the apple and cinnamon. Yummy!
Also had to share the gorgeous flowers Bet gave me for Valentine's day. Linus is finally home again. Of course there's data center drama so likely we won't get to see him this week. But we'll know he's close! Pie, my loves all being together, and glorious flowers - a few of the things making my rainy Monday morning bright. Hope you have a few of your own. Peace.

Three Near Postings And A Virus

-I had started a post (that I may or may not finish and which I may or may not publish) about racism. (Hey, it might not be lighthearted, but it's better than bitching about my ex, eh?)

-Speaking of the Tapioca tide - thank you for your support and offers to stomp. It makes me wonder if I might not be quite as nice as I wish I were that those offers make me happy (even though I would never ever wish him actual harm.) On that note I started a post on the seasonal theme of naughty vs. nice. I won't finish it because mostly it ended up with me getting coal in my stocking this year. Maybe next year, I can get past wanting to smack the shit out of several key icky people.

-I will likely finish my post about Havoc wrestling again because it involves some complicated geography and interesting smells - but I can't do it today. I have Havoc home from school with a stomach thing. If you need me, I'll be fetching ginger ale and saltines to a wan little boy snuggled on the couch with Tallulah Rockstar. They're watching Harry Potter and trying not to puke.

-Hope your day has more finished posts and less vomit than mine! Peace.

The Birthday Parties You Remember

Havoc and Linus spent the better part of Saturday afternoon getting the pizza fixings ready for the party: grocery shopping for fresh ingredients; measuring, mixing, and kneading the homemade dough, etc. It was a LOT of work. Havoc said, "If I bake bread a lot, I won't have to work out at a gym." I helped chop and display. I also helped by preheating the ovens just before the party got started. The boys were arriving - some of the parents stayed to chat and help (which was WONDERFUL, AMAZING, and PERFECT - sorry to scream at you but it was so much fun to have new adults to talk to!!) About 15 minutes after the first guest arrived and just before the last three showed up, Linus came into the kitchen and yelped, "Who turned on the oven?!! Oh no!" Guess where all that homemade pizza dough had been put to rise? We had 10 nine-year old boys, six other kids, four newly met parents, our favorite in-town Uncle, dozens of ramekins of individual pizza toppings - and a GIANT bowl of BAKED bread, but no pizza dough, no longer. All my fault! I thought I'd ruined Havoc's party. Havoc was a wee bit shocked when he saw singed towel and the huge bread creature on the counter. He gave me a look and a hug to say it was ok, but he couldn't hide that he was bummed. I really felt like crying. Good thing all those other adults were around. They got creative. "When life hands you unexpected bread bowls, make garlic butter!" they said. Havoc jumped right in on the new direction of things. He gave me another hug and said it would be all right and maybe even better this way. Spices. He LOVES to add spices to things. He and Unky Dunky started went out to cut fresh rosemary, one of the parents chopped garlic - and voila! An appetizer to feed the children while Bet ran to the store for pre-made dough. It was a good thing we thought of something to tide them over, because they were hungry and smelled yummier than little boys usually do (having tromped around the herb garden together) - and I was a tad bit concerned they would start gnawing on each other.

It ended up being a GREAT party. Wine for the adults, crazy pizzas and milkshakes for the kids and a little Ratatouille on in the background. Havoc's pals know him well and got him fantastic presents. He got this cookbook, and a stack of silicone, red, mini bundt cake forms, and bionicles and legos, and mancala, and a wooden dragon to build. What did I tell you? His friends have him pegged. I enjoyed meeting the other parents; I thought the boys were great - even the three who were on their third birthday party for the day by the time they got to us were sweet in their rambunctiousness. Now it's time for the Christmas decorations to come out. (We make sure neither to let Christmas take over Havoc's day nor to let it linger into Bet's in January.) It's sixty degrees here today which makes it a bit harder to get into the holiday spirit, but I am NOT complaining. I love it. I'm going to run in the sun while I still can and send good vibes to my pals in the Northeast who are wading through snow. Peace.

What Nine Means To Me

My baby turned nine today. Nine. Is it a big deal to other parents? It took me a while today to remember exactly why nine jars me so - why my vision of my child flickers between baby and big kid. It took me a while because it's a gut thing, a sub-terranean thing - this business of what it means to be nine. The first nine year old I ever remember knowing was a strangely wise "big kid" - cool by virtue of her advanced years. In our small troop of neighborhood girls, she was just enough older that if she had pretended not to know us at school, we wouldn't have blamed her a bit. But she never did blow us off. She wasn't like that. She was both too kind and too popular to give in to the schoolyard caste system. She was unquestionably the girl boss in our neighborhood games - the one who came up with better poses for "Swinging Statues"; the one who told us Brownies the spooky Girl Scout campfire stories; the one who knew when to sass the boys back and when to make peace so they'd show us the bird eggs they'd found. I thought her very grown up. In fact, she was so grown up in my mind's eye, that it wasn't until I was in my twenties and saw her fourth grade school picture again after so many years that I realized what a baby she had been at the time. I wept. Big, fat, hot tears splashed onto the ducky fuzzed head of my newborn as I stared at her picture. In that, admittedly post-partum hazed moment, it struck me - literally STRUCK me - that she'd been a baby, someone's baby on the awful, February day she disappeared. I'd known her parents, so my brain must have realized at some point that she was someone's child, but it was my heart - my wide open, new mom heart - that broke all over again.
I had double vision: the confident, capable, compassionate big kid I remember overlaid by the image everyone else had always seen of a vulnerable, achingly innocent, and forever nine-year old girl. Nine. Never ten.



There are some images engraved in my mind that have not changed from that day. These photographs - dark and stark - match my memory exactly. They evoke the hot smells of cigarettes and coffee and the voices of the dozens of tired volunteer searchers - all carried on the cold wind. I can hear the ragged rustle of the bushes outside of my window as the German shepherds lunge through our hedges and comb our yard under the moonlight. I can feel the hexagonal pattern of the fabric on the back seat of our car - a pattern that I traced with my fingers over and over while we waited to be waved through the police cordon to get to our house. This is a view of my neighborhood in 1975:
Copeland Drive, in front of the home of Marcia Trimble, is crowded with police cars, Civil Defense vehicles and other cars as Middle Tennessee joins forces to search for the missing nine year-old. (Gerald Holly / The Tennessean) 2/28/1975


Tom McGinn, a Philadelphia dog trainer, unloads two of his German shepherds with the help of Metro Youth Guidance Officer Howard Bassham, while Sgt. Sherman Nickens, right, watch. (J.T. Phillips / The Tennessean) 3/4/1975



It's been helpful for me to dredge up these images, to write, to acknowledge the links. The formless dread I've been feeling is no longer so formless. I am facing a threat to my family - even if it is "only" a custody challenge and it resonates back in spiraling and layering ways with early trauma, fear, and the first loss I ever faced. A loss that I shared with my neighborhood, my city, and my era.

Now that I have connected some dots - it makes sense that the bare trees, the fading light, the cold wind, and the barking dogs have felt ominous. The pieces are settling. I am settling. My old grief is very much a part of where I come from. My fear of future grief and loss on any scale relating to my children is understandable. Strangely, connecting the two has melted the icy panic inside of me. Connecting the dots of experience enables me to connect to the healing and growth I've gained too. Someday maybe I'll detail how and why Marcia's faith impacted mine. Maybe someday I'll own up to exactly how much time I spent (and how much mayonaise and lemon juice I used) trying to get my hair to look just like hers. Tonight, though, I'm going to go sneak a peek at my sleeping big boy/little kid. Tonight I'm going to breathe deeply. I'm going to trust the process - not necessarily the court process or the police process or even the family process - but the bigger, wider, more cosmic process. Strangely I find that tonight, after all this, I can trust that it really will be ok. No matter what. Peace.

**Edited to add - here is the link for the first story breaking on this case. It is a pivotal story for me personally - and a huge story for Nashville then and now. Peace.

Awry

I so wanted to have a kick ass post for the last day of NaBlo! Instead, pretty much all I can dish up is crap with a side order of stress. Weeellll - that's not completely accurate. Today is Havoc's birthday. That's fun. My "baby" is nine! I am working hard today to concentrate on him - his excitement, his sweetness, his enthusiasm. I want to be fully present to his nine-ness without the tinge of sadness that seeps from the past and the worry that casts shadows on the future. It's taking some work not to let my thoughts spiral back to the day Havoc was born. Towards the context that involved my ex. Towards the mixed up way things were when I was desperately trying to hope and pretend away my concerns. I can see myself that day: deliriously in love with my new baby, delighted with my sons who were now big brothers, joyful that my mother was so close and helpful, and lonely/sad/worried about Mr. Tapioca leaving us in the hospital because he was sick and needed to get enough rest to be able to go back to work. I want to shout to my then-self from this point in time and say, "Yes - you're right - those little red flags are not your imagining! Brace yourself! It'll be a little better for a little while and then it's going to suck glass shards! But you and your babies will be ok!"

But I can't shout back to myself. I also can't hear my future self shouting back to me today. I wish I could! I would love to hear that it's going to be rough going for a bit, but ultimately ok. I want that to be the message I would hear if I could. But what if the message is - "Hey - those looming depositions, the lying petitions, and the rest of the soulless court stuff? It is going to shred you and your family! Enjoy what peace drippings you can muster right now, because it's only going to get worse!" Gaaak. Fears, hopes, faith and rage. Nausea. I can't navigate that today. I can't make it go away - or be funny. (I wish I could make it funny! If Linsey can make a post that was both touching and hilarious about the love of her life being diagnosed with celiac disease - why can't I pull an iota of wry humor out of the absurdity that is this pending court case? NOT to trivialize what is so hurtful but to be able to enter into it fully enough to get past the paralyzing aspects. I want to hold up the ridiculous parts in affirmation of the entirety because being able to do so would mean my faith that it will be "ok" was solid. Can't do it today. Not by a long shot.)

No. Here's what I can do. Even if it's it's boring to write about. Today I can go to Havoc's classroom to see their international project presentations. I can admire his "German" chocolate brownies (even if I can't eat them because coconut give me hives.) I can pick up a few more birthday gifts from the Kitchenworks store for the budding chef. I can squeeze him and get us ready for tomorrow's houseful of nine year olds. I can scream and rage "Mr. Tapioca Head is a pathetic, empty liar no matter what happens in court!" in my head all the while smiling at and being pleasant to everyone. (<--I'm Southern like that.) Today I can be a flawed, angry, loving, and not-funny mom. Tomorrow I might could be something else. (<--That's the best cliffhanger I can manage. It translates to "Y'all come back, now. Ya hear?")
Peace.

The Saturday Morning Post

Thank you for the support about the teacher. I can't get Havoc out of that classroom, but I have decided to go talk to the principal. I have also decided to talk to Havoc very frankly about this situation. He LOVES school. He is a pleaser. I want him to know that he does have to figure out how to live by this teacher's rules and function in her classroom. That's an important skill even in (or maybe especially in) a situation where there is a personality conflict. However, I need my kid to know that I have issues with his teacher. I don't want him internalizing something she says (like "Havoc, you are just not creative.") It's the same way I am with my kids about music and tv and books that express a value or opinion that I either don't share or that I'm totally against. I don't forbid (most of the time) but I do make them talk to me about what they understood and what they think and I let them know where I stand and why. I can't figure out anything else at this stage - but I very much appreciate your comments!

In other news, we are off to a bat mitzvah. I've never been to one and I'm really looking forward to it. The Ninja Princessa's friends are incredible. They read and study together. They have been asked out by boys but they've decided they'd rather be friends with boys right now. (And they mean that. The Princessa stayed good friends with a boy she had a crush on and who asked her out. He totally understood her. She even thinks he's more comfortable with her now than before.**) The girls are organizing a bake sale to raise money for mistreated animals. The Princessa openly wears her pentacle and there is no issue. They talk to each other about their beliefs and experiences and affirm each other even though they are very different. It is SUCH a change! The girls from last year (with few exceptions) were boy crazy, materialistic, righteous and preachy, exclusive and bratty. Their entire repertoire was shopping for slutty clothes, gossiping about what a bitch some other girl was, sniping about whose church was better, and whining to/about their parents. I was tempted to think at first that The Princessa lucked out with her closest friends here, but even her casual friends seem like intelligent, sweet, and quirky girls! I am so willing to help the Princessa invest in these friendships. Not only are the girls great, but I've enjoyed all of their parents! (Well, duh. With just a tiny bit more thought, I suppose that's not so surprising.) I'm truly looking forward to the bat mitzvah. The only thing that has me the least bit trepidatious is that I don't know what to expect from the ceremony itself. I'd hate to make a fool of myself. Surely they'll have some way of guiding visitors through the appropriate protocols, right? Hanukkah and Passover Seder are both full of instructions and easy to be a part of (sing this, repeat that, and best of all - eat this!) I think we'll be ok. We care, we're respectful. Really we'll be ok. I'll stop worrying. Any minute now.
Peace.
**In a weird twist, it turns out that we were already friends with this boy's moms. Bet taught the boy's older sibs but since she's not teaching him we didn't put it together. At the housewarming party the Ninja Princessa eeked at me, "That's HIS mom! That's HIS mom!" I guess the Princessa's still a little crushy. The inadvertent shrieking up there in those bat frequencies gave it away. She may not be as calm and cool about this boy as she'd like to be, but I'm ok with her wanting to go slowly. Linus would like her to go even more slowly. In fact, he'd like her to move so slowly as to have all motion in the dating direction imperceptible to the naked eye. Scratch that! He doesn't want the word naked coming anywhere close to his daughter. Poor dad. Being realistic, I think we've got a few short months before the boy friends start becoming boyfriends. Still, the Princessa could do worse than this boy. He's kind, very goofy, and has nice mamas. But Linus can rest easy for at least one more night because this boy won't be at the bat mitzvah. Anna's mother told her she could invite boys and she said, "Eew. Why?" LOVE these girls.

Worst. Parent-Teacher Conference. Ever.

I've spent over a week trying to process the experience of meeting with Havoc's third grade teacher. It has not helped. At all.

Yes, Havoc is my baby. Yes, I think Havoc is brilliant. No, I do not think he is perfect. But you know what? At this stage of the game - of having FIVE children, of having been a school volunteer, of having been a soccer coach, of having been a cubscout leader for years and years and years - I feel like I've got a pretty good handle on where along the spectrum of 8-year old boy behavior my son's falls. I happen to think he's towards the upper middle end. His teacher, apparently, thinks he falls much closer to the lowest pit of the deepest, darkest bottom end.

I had ONE note home from her about a month ago that said Havoc was having a little trouble talking during class. I wrote back and said we'd speak with him and please let me know if it continued. She wrote back to say things were much better. That's all I'd heard. Until the conference. She started right off the bat - Havoc was disruptive, "hyperactive" (I have NEVER had anyone say that about him before - ever), talked all the time, had to be separated from other students in order to get his work done, was behind in his work, didn't focus, didn't listen. The woman looked me in the eye and said, "He's just not creative. He's smart enough but ..." and I don't even remember what negative things she said there because I thought my head would explode. She had said not one positive thing about my child - well, unless you count the "he's smart enough but..." comment - which I DO NOT. She said definitively my child was not creative. NOT mind you "I'm having trouble getting him to write creatively," not "It's a challenge to pull him away from the facts and get him to talk about the story in terms of feelings and experiences," but "He is not creative." I wanted to SMACK her. (What kind of teacher talks this way? Is this the kind of thing she says TO my child?!! Oooh - it best not be!)

Now - I tried listen. (Do you know how HARD it is to listen past the verbal attacks on your kid?) Havoc can be spacey and forget what he's doing in the middle of it. He does like to talk. He likes people. He's social. His big brother Mayhem is ADD as hell, so maybe now is when it starts showing up in Havoc too. All of these bits of knowledge add up to the fact that it is entirely possible Havoc is causing this teacher SOME trouble. Well, clearly he was driving her crazy. But he seems like a totally normal third grade boy to me and she's a career third grade teacher! What floored me was how over the top she was about everything - eyebrows lowered, serious frown on her face, shaking her head side to side with every word she said. From what she was saying and the way she was saying it - you would think my kid was the worst, most disruptive and disturbing child this woman had ever seen in her entire teaching career. She spoke in absolutes and labels. It was awful. I kept thinking, "If he is THAT bad, why the heck have I not heard of this sooner?!! If it's this much of a problem, how is it not reflected in his work? How could I not know something this dire about my child?!"

I asked her. I said that I had checked his work (almost all 100's!), I had not had a single note about late or missing assignments - so how were we to know he was "behind", and why hadn't she written more than that one time in his weekly folder if he was causing such tremendous problems? Her answer? She went and got another student's reading response journal and flipped through it page by page to show us how good it was compared to Havoc's. She did not actually answer any of my questions! Also? Havoc's handwriting is beautiful and this "model" student's was horrible. (Just saying.) Havoc's reading journal did, in fact, start out quite paltry, but you could see day by day that his entries were getting longer and longer and he was answering more of the "How did this reading relate to an experience you've had?" kinds of questions. Linus noted Havoc's improvement and this woman GRUDGINGLY admitted Havoc was getting better. Bet asked, "What can we do at home to support him in this?" The woman shook her head again and sort of threw up her hands while making a "phh" noise. She said, "I don't know." She had no ideas - no suggestions - as if Havoc were beyond hope. Bet started asking things like, "Would asking him these kinds of questions and getting him to write more at home help? Should we check his work for him? Should we have him..." Really, Bet came up with three or four ideas and all the teacher could do was agree with her by saying, "He needs all of that. He needs whatever help he can get." Did I mention I wanted to SMACK that bitch???

She lost what tiny shred of credibility she may have had left with me when we finally looked at his actual report card and talked about the End of Grade (EOG) tests. His report card was FINE! His grades were as good as they could possibly be! (They haven't had an opportunity to do above grade level work in two classes so those had to be marked "meets expectations" rather than exceeds them but everything else was top notch.) In terms of the behavior categories, she had only marked that he "sometimes" talked out of turn and "sometimes" didn't follow instructions. The other options were "Often" and "Always" which she did NOT mark. It was unbelievable what a discrepancy there was between what she was saying and what she'd written. Then we got to the EOG pre-tests. They'd sent home the scores for the math portion but not the reading. Turns out they are re-norming the reading test so there were no scores to give parents an idea of where their kid stands. Fishing for at least ONE FRICKIN' POSITIVE COMMENT about my child, I said, "But we don't need to worry about Havoc passing the reading EOG's, do we?" I should point out that Havoc is an amazing reader and has always tested well - a point which I EXPECTED his stupid ass teacher to remember about him and at the very least say, "No worries there." What did she say instead, you ask? She was silent for a minute and then said, "Well. He should probably be ok." Bet had had to leave early and I think she was gone by this point, but I know Linus whipped his head around. "Probably be ok?!" he asked. "Isn't he excelling in reading?" The woman pulled out a sheet of paper and looked up his in-class, beginning of the year assessment. She showed us numbers that said Havoc reads on a 7th and 8th grade level, is in the highest vocabulary and reading group they have, and that his global comprehension skills were in the 99th percentile. "Probably be ok" MY ASS! He's in the THIRD grade! What more does she want? Well, clearly she wants him to shut up. We can work on that.

I spoke with two other mother's who have sons in the same class. I needed to know if I had lost all perspective about my child. I asked them both to tell me honestly what they thought of my child's behavior in the classroom when I wasn't there. These women are both straight talkers. They would not sugar coat it. (If anything, I think they would have told me if he was out of line in any way. They both know about the court stuff and I think they thought I was asking because of that.) They both (separately) told me not to worry at all about his behavior. I pressed them. Yes, he talked some. ("They all do!" is what they said.) Yes, he squirmed some. ("They all do.") Both moms told me that Havoc was polite and respectful and they wanted to know what was going on. When I told the first mom what the teacher had said, she was floored. "No way! I PROMISE you he is not like that." The second mom called her husband over to hear what the teacher had said. He looked at his wife and said, "See! I told you! She should not be teaching. Either she doesn't like boys or she picks favorites or something!" Turns out they had had the exact same experience in their conference with her. They had been stunned because they had NEVER heard anything like it about their son. I know - and ADORE - their son. I will have him over any day of the week and twice on Sundays. I can say that about three of the boys Havoc has ever been friends with. Not only did hearing from those parents make me feel better, but I've heard third hand that previous parents have had the same complaints about this teacher. Some kids she decides she doesn't like - and that is that.

It would have been so different if she'd said things like, "Havoc is a great reader but we really need to work on digging deeper into the story. He gets the plot details but what I want him to get out of third grade is the ability to relate what he's reading to his feeling and experiences. Here are some ideas, some leading questions you can ask him when you read together at home. You do read together, don't you?" Or if, on the behavior parts, there'd been any escalation of communication showing that his squirmy-ness was beginning to be an issue. I thought parent-teacher communication was THE POINT of the Wednesday folder with the line for comments. I thought treating these issues immediately was why they had the system of warnings and moving cards over with increasing disciplinary measures for each move! How am I supposed to feel comfortable with an experienced teacher who cannot come up with a single, solitary positive comment about my child? How am I supposed to entrust my kid to her each and every day?

It is ridiculously frustrating to know that my kid is stuck in a classroom with a teacher who is completely biased against him. I hate knowing that he has to put up with a teacher who has such limited mental and emotional resources, that she can't cope with him. He may have some issues but they just cannot possibly be as severe as she made it sound or we would be hearing it from more than one source and we are not. I know that it is not at all helpful to the educational process that her attitude and negativity and unprofessionalism have made me unwilling to hear anything further she has to say about my kid. Sigh. I guess there's always hope for fourth grade.
Peace.

A Little This, A Little That

Havoc's pumpkin soup was a hit. Well, it was as much of a hit as it could be given that half the family doesn't like the taste of pumpkin! His soup was creamy and beautiful - served in the pumpkin itself. The spices were nice (paprika and coriander) and it complemented the garlic bread perfectly. The green salad was a nice touch. The kids have really gotten on board with kids' cooking night. Mayhem has the next turn and he's chosen a Rachel Ray recipe for Grilled Shrimp Scampi over Angel Hair Pasta. Yummy! (I have some teensy concerns about children using the grill so there will be major parental oversight for that part, but over all the kids are doing so much on their own - it's amazing.)

It's raining here - which the news reporters keep telling us won't bring us off of water restrictions - but still! Lovely, drippy, drenching, wet rain!! Mayhem's rain dance worked!

Hmmmm - what else to report?? I do not want to open the can of tapioca this morning. I have nothing exciting on my agenda to celebrate or agonize over. (Balance bank account, go to grocery store (again!), vacuum, scrub shower using as little water as possible - so exciting!) I have some NFL type of things to say about the changes to the draft and the Pro Bowl, but you - my five loyal readers - NONE of you like football. What is up with that?!! (If I happen to have a reader out there who does like football - send me a comment - something, anything! Let me know!) I could comment on the news (fires in SoCal - scary, be careful people!, war in Iraq - scary, be careful soldiers!, political debates - scary, be careful voters!) Training is going well with our base run being six sets of 5:30 min run to 2:00 walking. Tomorrow is a day of speed work which I suck at but secretly look forward to because it means a shorter run day. I'm building weight lifting back into the training routine. Woo hoo. Are you mesmerized yet by my thrill-a-minute lifestyle? It may not be much to blog about, but I am happier than I have ever been (minus the tapioca). I LOVE being boring this week. Count me content.
Peace.

When The Locusts Try To Cook

For kids who eat a lot (and I mean a LOT) - my children are not very savvy when it comes to cooking. The exception here being Havoc, the eight-year old chef. It's really the other four - the ones that range in age between 12 and 16 that I'm talking about. You'd think with them being the ones closest to being out on their own and having to fend for themselves that they'd show a teensie bit of interest in the process. But you'd be wrong.

We've started taking turns cooking supper. Linus has Mondays (as that's the day he's least likely to be out of town); Bet's got Tuesdays; I've got Wednesdays; and the kids have Thursdays. The weekends are mostly fend-for-yourself - which comes as a relief after the kids' night. At first we tried to have the kids cook as a group, deciding on the menu by consensus. Normally, they're pretty good at consensus building (as it's a pretty important skill in a family of eight) but when it came to food they just sort of stared at each other hungrily. We decided to have them take turns being in charge. Accountability, task delegation, planning - all good skills to develop.

The Princessa's turn was first. She did a great job, to a point. She decided she wanted to make a variation on Havoc's stuffed shells by making them with white sauce instead of red sauce. She gave me a shopping list two days before (part of the requirements), she wrote out what each brother was going to do (although they then got together and swapped jobs), and she cooked supper. I stayed out of the kitchen entirely (also part of the requirements.) In addition to being out of the kitchen, I was out of it in general due to my amnesia horseradish. I was not watching the clock. Mayhem (the skinniest and always the hungriest) came in to my room around 7:15 and asked if they could eat supper. I told him the Princessa was in charge and if she wasn't done making dinner then he just had to wait. He told me that dinner was done - it had been sitting on the counter for 20 minutes. Where was the Ninja Princessa you ask (as did I)? She had gone back upstairs to her room to listen to music and read her book. I asked her why she hadn't served supper and she said she was waiting for me. I asked her how I was supposed to know dinner was done if she didn't tell me. She said, "I don't know." I asked her why she didn't call everyone (including me) to supper. She said, "I don't know." There is a bizarre lapse in teenage cognition. Not only that but the table wasn't set, the salad she had planned wasn't fixed, and the pasta dish was cold by the time it made it to the table - an hour later than our normal time. The Ninja Princessa had nothing to offer about her deviation from our well-established dinner routine other than, "I don't know." Bet talked me out of my tree. She was exactly right to remind me that these are precisely the challenges we want the kids to face and figure out on their own.

It's Chaos' turn tonight. It was supposed to be Havoc's next but Chaos started mouthing off about the whole process and got his turn bumped up. To say that Chaos is not quite on board with this system would be an understatement. I told him on Monday night that he needed to have a grocery list to me by Tuesday if he wanted me to get anything. I reminded him on Tuesday. Yesterday when I asked him what his menu was (and mentioned it now needed to be able to be made from ingredients on hand already since he hadn't given me a list), he told me that his plan was to make ramen noodles with alfredo sauce. If "bleck!" is the first word to come to your mind, then you are not alone. Bug thinks it sounds great, but both the Princessa and Havoc made faces of complete disdain. Bet has magically got work she has to do and won't be home. Linus is home but has just had a work call that has pretty much ruined his appetite (as if he had an appetite for ramen alfredo to begin with). Mayhem is planning ahead. He's called dibs on the leftover pizza in the fridge. I'm trying to stay out of the kitchen - but Chaos sounds pretty bossy from in here.

A conversation topic that is sure to come up at supper tonight? What is working and what is not working with this new supper plan. Am I a bad mother if I admit that I am looking forward to Havoc's turn? The dinner bell has just sounded. Pray for me.
Peace.

On Parties And Parenting

We had a fantastic housewarming party last Saturday. Our dear friends C is for Coffee, Salsa Man and their two kids made the drive out. Bet's mom and Karl (a troll boy) also came for the weekend (uh, separately - in case that wasn't apparent. It would be terribly odd to think of them showing up together. Karl is 6 ft 8?9?11?! - a red headed, former rugby-playing giant of a (bisexual) man and Louise is a 5'2" smart yet scrappy, gum chewing grandma also known as Ya-Ya.) Anyway, I forget how many people we'd invited to the party, but I think about 75 showed up. Food, friends, crazy loud conversation (especially from the corner of our kitchen now known as Mojito Bend) all warmed the house. Havoc had chosen to make a special appetizer for the party. He'd listed out all the ingredients the week before, made most of it the night before, and had it perfectly displayed at the head of the food table the day of. I wish I could show you a picture of his scrumptious cheddar cheese, white wine, pecan encrusted cheese ball - but I didn't take a picture of it before the party. And it was gone before I knew it. I did have C is for Coffee take a picture of the plate - scraped bare with a few forlorn crackers abandoned and adrift. Havoc was pretty darn proud of that empty plate! I personally loved that our closest friends helped us hang shelves and art work mere hours before the party. Their touch, their mark, their laughter - it's still here even though they had to leave. I think that's what a house warming is all about. (That, and Dude, if you ever need some mums, have a housewarming party! Seriously, we have more mums now than we know what to do with and they're gorgeous!)

The rest of this week has been by turns fabulous and irritating. Parenting teens is more of an emotional roller coaster than I thought possible. I thought the infant stage (with the new mom hormones, the lack of sleep, and the baby changing every day) would be the most volatile. I mean, I knew teenagers themselves were volatile and challenging but I guess I expected the process of parenting them to be an unremitting struggle - a constant slogging. It's not. It is up and down and all over the place. We've got good grades and smiling faces. We've got a bit of slyness, a nudging of the boundaries, and a wholesale trample of the rules followed by, "Wuh? What did I do?" We've got restriction and recrimination. We've got hilarity at family dinner and full participation in family movie night. We've got treat wheedling and homework frustration. We've got a first break up for the second child to date. He's ok. Not quite broken hearted. Maybe a bit confused. Apparently it was a mutual break up for no reason. Sometimes that's the way it happens. We've got a kid scratching the word "Justis" into his arm. (Clearly, we've got spelling issues too.) Decoration by Sharpie is one thing, decoration by sharp object a whole other thing. We've got a call in to the therapist. ("Oh hey, Dr. Smith - you missed something here!") We've got hugs and tears, beautiful school pictures and kids who are even more beautiful in real life. We've got memories of our own teen struggles overlapping our understanding of what our kids are thinking, doing, and saying. In short, I think we've got the usual quota of joy and terror. I could use a little less terror, but hey!
Peace.
And speaking of peace!! How about that kick ass committee in Stockholm awarding Al Gore (and the global warming group) the Nobel Peace Prize for all of their work?!! I think it is awesome and far sighted and much deserved. We have the movie "An Inconvenient Truth". We're watching it on Family Fun Night next week.
More Peace.

It's Gettin' Hot In Here

Hotness Story #1:
The Princessa has made a bunch of new friends. The only problem? They all think Mayhem is "hot." It TOTALLY squicks the Princessa out. Mayhem thinks it's hilarious. All of last week the running gag in the family was, "Is it hot in here? Oh it's Mayhem." He rolled with it and dished it back saying things like, "Don't touch that pan. It's hot like me. Oh yeah." Middle school is such an interesting time.

Hotness Story #2:
In an encounter with a totally different kind of hotness - Havoc got a chance to tour a real, working restaurant kitchen. We'd gone to the mall to sign him up for Cub Scouts and we passed this great kitchen store. We ducked in to gaze admiringly at all the cool utensils and pans. We were about to leave when in walked a man in a chef's jacket (Chef Benjamin, according to the elegant embroidery on his chest) speaking in French to a man in a suit. They began comparing glassware. Havoc's eyes were THIS BIG. "Mama, that's the first chef I've ever seen who wasn't animated." The chef caught Havoc's stare and came over to speak with us. I explained that Havoc wanted to grow up to be a chef and this was the first time he'd seen a real chef in person. Chef Benjamin said, "And I am French. A real French chef." Havoc said he'd just started studying French that week and offered a tentative, "Bonjour." Chef Benjamin smiled and quickly spoke to the man in the suit, who we learned was named Alex. Alex looked at his watch and nodded yes. Chef Benjamin bent down and asked Havoc if he wanted to take a tour of a real kitchen. Havoc's smile could not possibly have gotten bigger as he said he'd LOVE to. Alex took us down the way to a gorgeous, exotic fusion restaurant. We saw the sushi kitchen and the experimental kitchen where the chef was developing his new recipe for tiramisu. We met the dishwasher (=the heart of the kitchen) and the pastry chef who was making expresso cookies in a mixer that looked just like our Kitchen Aid would if it had been raised in Chernobyl. We met the sous chef and saw the pizza ovens. Havoc was following Monsieur Alex's directions exactly - stepping carefully and keeping his hands tucked close. We got near the grills and it was hot. Monsieur Alex told Havoc that he should be careful but not fearful of the heat. If he really wanted to be a chef then he needed to know that kitchens were HOT. "If you can't take the heat, stay out of the kitchen." Havoc assured Mr. Alex that he could take it! It was such an unexpected treat. They were so nice and encouraging - offering my child a once-in-a-lifetime experience that he will remember forever (no matter what he ends up becoming professionally.) Havoc could not wait to get home and tell everyone about it. When I kissed him goodnight, he told me his face hurt from smiling so hard. He also said that he really believed that one day he'd be a chef. "Mama, I have this feeling inside me that is so big. I can't imagine it ever going away." I told him that if that fire continued to burn in his belly then he'd be one of the most wonderful chefs ever. I also told him that if his fire burned dimmer later and he didn't want to be a chef professionally - he could continue to enjoy cooking for himself and friends for his whole life. It was a rewarding and wonderful skill and I'd support him at every level. He hugged my neck and said, "Cool, mom. But I just know this is what I'll do." And he fell asleep smiling.
We're writing a thank you note to Chef Benjamin and Mr. Alex this afternoon. I'm going to have to let Havoc do it mostly by himself because I cannot for the life of me figure out how to convey his smile in words - but I bet Havoc can do it.
Peace.

Pep Talk For Myself

I will not be getting any of these when we finish up school supplies shopping tonight. Maybe I'm wired differently than other parents, but if I truly felt like my kid would need one then I wouldn't be able to let them go to school - ever. Am I an ostrich? I know how random and unpredictable violence has gotten. Of course I think about Columbine and Virginia Tech. I just can't help but think that the solutions that lead to safety and peace for our children are not down the path of better defensive armament.

This week is filled with new student orientations, placement tests, and meet the teacher nights. I keep typing and erasing what I want to say about this. We had a short family meeting with the kids to get organized about the week and to say that we'd found out Mr. Tapioca was no longer moving here and that he was suing for custody. We told the kids that when they felt like sharing we wanted to hear how they felt. We had to make some decisions and certainly wanted to take their thoughts/feelings into consideration. I'm sure I'll hear more as I have more one on one time with my guys this week but it's hard. Mostly it's hard to see my kids now torn about investing themselves here. Chaos got home from the time with dad and didn't want to look at his schedule to see what classes he got. Havoc (the 8 year old) told me last night while we were waiting for the muffins to bake, that since I'd gotten to have him for the weeks and Dad had only gotten the weekends for the past six years, then he thought maybe he wanted to live with dad for a while. Very interesting to me that Havoc quoted the six year part. He doesn't track time like that. He's never once shown an awareness of how long his dad and I have been divorced. It was hard to hear him parrot his dad's type of reasoning. I let him keep talking and he began to sound more like himself - trying to find a solution, trying to put things together one way and then another. He told me it was hard - he didn't want to have to choose because really, he wanted to choose both. He said part of him wished dad and I hadn't gotten divorced so we could all live together still. Then he said that wouldn't work because he'd miss Linus. He said he'd still have gotten to see Bet (as she's known them all their lives.) He finished by saying he didn't know what to decide.

I told him that I needed him to understand some very important things - the first one being he never had to "choose" one parent over the other. He could say where he wanted to live, he could say how he felt - but he didn't ever have to make a choice of one over the other. He gets to love his parents as much as he wants no matter what the living arrangements are - and that none of this custody stuff changed how much we loved him. I explained that I needed to know how he felt because that informed my decisions, but that he didn't have to make any decisions, the decisions were for the grown ups to make. He said, "Yeah the judge." I told him I still hoped his dad and I could work this out without a judge but if we couldn't then yes, a judge would have to decide for us. My peacemaker middle child, Mayhem said whatever happened would be ok with him.

Interestingly, Mayhem just came in to snuggle and talk to me. God, I love my kids. They are so ... good. I keep reminding myself how lucky we are. This custody stuff sucks. I feel threatened. I do not want my kids taken away from me. I believe with all my heart that they are better off with us because we know how to be present, how to build family, how to help them with school and how to teach them life skills. Mr. Tapioca hasn't yet been able to maintain any of that even in the time with the boys he has now. He talks a good game - but work always trumps family for him. I can't imagine how he thinks he'd be able to do all that needs to be done in daily life with the boys. But for all that - even if the "worst" case happens and I lose in court - it has to be remembered that my kids are not in a war zone; they are not doing drugs or in trouble with the law; they are not being abused and molested. And in addition to all the bad things that aren't happening to them, they are, at heart, naturally sweet guys! They will be good men. Even if this patch for our family is rocky, they will be good men.

That helps. Some. I think the more I remember it, the more it will help. I had NO IDEA that parenting would require learning to give myself pep talks. Feel free to give me advice on how to do it better! I'm not at all sure I've got the hang of it.
Peace.

If You Give A Mom A Muffin

He was very patient while the old kitchen was packed up for a month but the second the boxes were sort of unpacked at the new kitchen, he was rarin' to cook! His first project (orange glazed muffins) were such a hit that the entire dozen disappeared immediately.
His next project was an entire dinner: stuffed shells, salad, and fruit for dessert. The brothers (even Chaos - who looks grumpy in this picture but wasn't in real life) gobbled it all up. They told Havoc that if he kept cooking food this good then he should start doubling his recipes.


Havoc LOVES the whole process. He pores over the recipe books; he makes the shopping list; he cooks the food (with supervision); and he basks in the praise. The kitchen is his kingdom and he is a happy king. The rest of the house, however, is still a shambles. I can't seem to make any headway. I swear the boxes are replicating in the dark of the night. Linus has been out of town all week but Bet and I work all day unpacking and the next morning there is even more than there was before still left to unpack! Good thing Havoc knows how to bake yummy muffins to keep our energy up.
Peace.

A Month Of Sundays

Happy Fathers' Day to all the dads out there! Here at Lilymania, we are going to play catch up while the man of the house snoozes. (He and Bug - his first born and also the only child at home this weekend- stayed up until the wee sma's playing PS3, so it may be quite some time before they awaken.) The plan was to make the Dad Of The House a lovely breakfast - until we realized we'd packed up the kitchen and the oven won't be fixed until Wednesday! Plan B: IHOP.

News:
Who knew that selling the house would be the EASY part??
Turns out that buying a house is an adventure in crazymaking. We have been looking at houses, online and in person, since April. We have seen dozens of houses. We have learned a LOT about each other - and about our realtor. We found a house that would work. We went to see it three times. Sweet Hubby left with the kids to get back home. I stayed with VBGF to help close up her classroom and get her grades in. Robbie the Realtor said she had two more houses for us to see. The plan was that unless either of these two houses trumped it, we'd put an offer on the one we'd seen three times. Wouldn't you know that both houses trumped it? There was a clear top choice though. This house - oh man! We loved it. LOVED it. Naturally, the list price was 30K above our upper limit. Here is where the fun came in.

We spent the better part of the week (=Tuesday morning through Friday afternoon) "negotiating". The first step was to offer 20K less than list price. They countered by going down 2K and wanting both triple the earnest money we offered and triple the cost of repairs contingency. That was weird. They wanted a LOT of our money and they wanted us locked into the contract even if there were repairs of ten grand. Danger Will Robinson! The house was built in '56. We said back - meet you half way on the price but that's ALL the earnest money we've got and we'll up the cost of repair contingency a little bit (NOT to ten grand!) Mind you - these people are in Chicago, Sweet Hubby is back in TN, and the realtors, VBGF, and I are all in NC. Getting answers and signatures and initials is not the smoothest of processes. We went back and forth and back and forth - and finally arrived at a verbal deal. Yay! Minor celebration ensued. Robbie the Realtor told us we couldn't really celebrate until it was all signed. We waited for the signatures. Signatures were not forthcoming. Major sadness and anger ensued. Turns out the young couple could not "afford" to sell their house at the price they verbally agreed to. Note - they were already getting a discounted commission rate. Their realtor said she was in shock and this had never happened to her and she was so sorry - but she could only relay what her clients said. We thought about it. We all decided that this was the right house for us. We raised our offer up to their original counter offer. They still couldn't afford it. Our realtor was irked and said that the sellers were not acting in good faith during the whole of this process. Their realtor agreed! What to do? Walk away? Make an offer on one of the two other houses that would work (just barely) for our family? We decided that we'd make one final effort and offer the list price. [There were other weird contingencies this couple tried to throw in, but all of those details are too tiresome to go into. At one point it truly seemed like the sellers were not hip with the whole concept of what selling entails (i.e. releasing ownership of the house for an agreed upon price).] At long last, however, all documents were signed and faxed (we made them sign first before we wasted time faxing again) and celebration recommenced. (Robbie the Realtor told us we could celebrate 75% - that there was still the home inspection to get through.)

More of the story -
We saw that the house had been listed in April for 90K more than the list price for which we bought it. Somewhere near the end of all the negotiating, our realtor turns up the fact that before that it was listed for 75K more with a different realty company. I guess we should feel like we got a deal, but really? I think they were smoking crack if they thought they'd get their original list price. Yes they did updates (oh, wait until you see the pictures in a minute!) - but the house is still 50 years old and has very little curb appeal (according to R the R.) We did get a deal because we got a house we love, that suits us all, that is close (walking distance on sidewalks!) to the schools and public library and community center, AND that we could afford (even if it's a bit of a stretch!) Keep your fingers crossed for us until July 18th!!

Here are a few of the previously promised pictures!
First, Mayhem and the Princessa as they tested for their black belts. This picture was taken at the beginning - about a half an hour into the three and a half hour test. They are both still so nervous they look like they're about to hurl. The posters on the walls behind them are lists and lists of the techniques they are being tested on.

I have fantastic movies of their freestyle sparring match and grappling match. They are not usually paired in class because they are siblings so it was surprising to have them fight each other during the belt test. The sensei was both amused and impressed. The Princessa didn't slow down one bit when Mayhem sent her earrings flying and Mayhem didn't let up even when the Princessa snagged and ripped out the ties on his gi (you can see them dangling in the pictures.) This is a picture of their final test element: to hold their belts straight armed, out in frontof them (not below their chins or above their foreheads) for 3 full (and very long) minutes.
Here is their first formal bowing out as black belts. Yay!!!!


Next - Chaos is 15! We celebrate with decorated birthday cookies instead of cakes and everyone gets to pick their own theme. Chaos likes skulls.

He also likes the two new holes in his head. One of his closest friends (Nate) got Chaos a scholarship to go to camp. Nate is super excited that Chaos gets to go. Me? Not so much. It's a Baptist summer camp - away for a week. I talked to the youth minister and explained that my son was Catholic and I did NOT want to send him if he was going to be told that his baptism didn't count or that he wasn't a real Christian. The nice youth minister said that didn't happen. ("Since when?!!!" was my sister's response to that.) We'll see. I've explained to Chaos that by choosing to go, he has accepted responsibility to modify his behavior, dress, and attitude to fit within the boundaries of a much more conservative group. He says he still wants to go. I think it will be good for him to follow through on a choice like that, but I'm also a little worried about it. (Can you tell?)

And finally - I have to show off my new kitchen (squeals with delight!) Look at the skylight! Do you see the coolie, cool purple, lavender, and lilac glass mosaic above the range? Have you ever seen an island that big? It's either 9 or 10 feet long!
This is the other end of the kitchen. The black is chalkboard. Painted right onto the wall. Ok - it's weird and not really well done - but it's the only thing I don't just love, love, love about the kitchen. Havoc, however, thinks it's perfect! He can't wait to write out his menus.
Give you one guess as to what he now wants to be when he grows up!
Peace (and keep those fingers crossed for us, please!)